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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/37872-8.txt b/37872-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd95e21 --- /dev/null +++ b/37872-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16113 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The International Monthly, Vol. II, No. I, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The International Monthly, Vol. II, No. I + December 1, 1850 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: October 28, 2011 [EBook #37872] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, DEC 1, 1850 *** + + + + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Gary Rees and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by Cornell University Digital Collections) + + + + + + + + + +THE + +INTERNATIONAL + +MONTHLY + +MAGAZINE + +Of Literature, Science, and Art. + + +VOLUME II. + +DECEMBER TO MARCH, 1850-51. + + + NEW-YORK: + STRINGER & TOWNSEND, 222 BROADWAY. + FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. + BY THE NUMBER, 25 CTS.; THE VOLUME, $1; THE YEAR, $3. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +On completing the second volume of the International Magazine, the +publishers appeal to its pages with confidence for confirmation of all +the promises that have been made with regard to its character. They +believe the verdict of the American journals has been unanimous upon the +point that the _International_ has been the best journal of literary +intelligence in the world, keeping its readers constantly advised of the +intellectual activity of Great Britain, Germany, France, the other +European nations, and our own country. As a journal of the fine arts, it +has been the aim of the editor to render it in all respects just, and as +particular as the space allotted to this department would allow. And its +reproductions of the best contemporary foreign literature bear the names +of Walter Savage Landor, Mazzini, Bulwer, Dickens, Thackeray, Barry +Cornwall, Alfred Tennyson, R.M. Milnes, Charles Mackay, Mrs. Browning, +Miss Mitford, Miss Martineau, Mrs. Hall, and others; its original +translations the names of several of the leading authors of the +Continent, and its anonymous selections the titles of the great Reviews, +Magazines, and Journals, as well as of many of the most important new +books in all departments of literature. But the _International_ is not +merely a compilation; it has embraced in the two volumes already issued, +original papers, by Bishop Spencer of Jamaica, Henry Austen Layard, +LL.D., the most illustrious of living travellers and antiquaries, G.P.R. +James, Alfred B. Street, Bayard Taylor, A.O. Hall, R.H. Stoddard, +Richard B. Kimball, Parke Godwin, William C. Richards, John E. Warren, +Elizabeth Oakes Smith, Mary E. Hewitt, Alice Carey, and other authors of +eminence, whose compositions have entitled it to a place in the first +class of original literary periodicals. Besides the writers hitherto +engaged for the _International_, many of distinguished reputations are +pledged to contribute to its pages hereafter; and the publishers have +taken measures for securing at the earliest possible day the chief +productions of the European press, so that to American readers the +entire Magazine will be as new and fresh as if it were all composed +expressly for their pleasure. + +The style of illustration which has thus far been so much approved by +the readers of the _International_, will be continued, and among the +attractions of future numbers will be admirable portraits of Irving, +Cooper, Bryant, Halleck, Prescott, Ticknor, Francis, Hawthorne, Willis, +Kennedy, Mitchell, Mayo, Melville, Whipple, Taylor, Dewey, Stoddard, and +other authors, accompanied as frequently as may be with views of their +residences, and sketches of their literary and personal character. + +Indeed, every means possible will be used to render the _International +Magazine_ to every description of persons the most valuable as well as +the most entertaining miscellany in the English language. + + + CONTENTS: + + VOLUME II. DECEMBER TO MARCH, 1850-51. + + Adams, John, upon Riches, 426 + + Ambitious Brooklet, The.--_By A.O. Hall_, 477 + + Accidents will Happen.--_By C. Astor Bristed_, 81 + + Anima Mundi.--_By R.M. Milnes_, 393 + + Astor Library, The. (Illustrated,) 436 + + Attempts to Discover the Northwest Passage, On the, 166 + + Audubon, John James.--_By Rufus W. Griswold_, 469 + + Age, Old.--_By Alfred B. Street_, 474 + + _Arts, The Fine._--Munich and Schwanthaler's "Bavaria," 26.--Art in + Florence, 27.--W.W. Story's Return from Italy, 27.--Les Beautes de la + France, 27.--History of Art Exhibitions, 28.--Enamel Painting at + Berlin, 28.--Portrait of Sir Francis Drake, 28.--The Vernets, + 28.--Leutze, Powers, &c., 28.--Kaulbach, 28.--Illustrations of Homer, + 28.--Old Pictures, 29.--Michael Angelo, 29.--Conversations by the + Academy of Design, 29.--David's Napoleon Crossing the Alps, 29.--Gift + from the Bavarian Artists to the King, 190.--Charles Eastlake, + 190.--New Picture by Kaulbach, 190.--Russian Porcelain, 190.--Mr. + Healey, 191.--Von Kestner on Art, 191.--Russian Music in Paris, + 191.--The Goethe Inheritance, 191.--Art Unions; their True Character + Considered, 191.--Waagner's "Art in the Future," 313.--Thorwaldsen, + 313.--Heidel's "Illustrations of Goethe," 313.--A New Art, + 313.--Albert Durer's Illustrations of the Prayer Book, 313.--Moritz + Rugendus, and his Sketches of American Scenery, 314.--An Art Union in + Vienna, 314.--New Picture by Kaulbach, 314.--Powers's "America," + 314.--Dr. Baun's Essay on the two Chief Groups of the Friese of the + Parthenon, 314.--Victor Orsel's Paintings in the Church of Notre Dame + de Lorelle, 314.--Ehninger's Illustrations of Irving, 314.--Wolff's + Paris, 314.--M. Leutze's "Washington Crossing the Delaware," + 460.--Discovery of a Picture by Michael Angelo, 460.--The Munich Art + Union, 460. + + _Authors and Books._--A Visit to Henry Heine, 15.--Dr. Zirckel's + "Sketches from and concerning the United States," 16.--Aerostation, + 17.--New Works by M. Guizot, 17.--Works on the German Revolution, + 18.--Dr. Zimmer's Universal History, 18.--Schlosser, 18.--MS. of Le + Bel Discovered, 19.--M. Bastiat alive, and plagiarizing, + 19.--Cćsarism, 19.--Songs of Carinthia, 20.--Mr. Bryant, 20.--Dr. + Laing, 20.--French Reviewal of Mr. Elliot's History of Liberty, + 20.--Dr. Bowring, 21.--Henry Rogers and Reviews, 21.--Rabbi Schwartz + on the Holy Land, 21.--Mr. John R. Thompson, 21.--German Reviewal of + "Fashion," 22.--Ruskin's New Work, 21.--Oehlenschlager's Memoirs, + 22.--Planche on Lamartine, 22.--Prosper Mérimée, his Book on America, + &c., 22.--Hawthorne, 22.--Matthews, the American Traveller, + 23.--Professor Adler's Translation of the Iphigenia in Taurus, + 23.--The Pekin Gazette, 23.--New Book by the author of "Shakespeare + and his Friends," 23.--Vaulabelle's French History, 23.--Sir Edward + Belcher, 23.--Guizot an Editor again, 23.--Life of Southey, + 23.--Bulwer's _Ears_, 23.--The Count de Castelnau on South America, + 23.--Diplomatic and Literary Studies of Alexis de Saint Priest, + 24.--Mrs. Putnam's Review of Bowen, 24.--Herr Thaer, 24.--New Work + announced in England, 24.--"Sir Roger de Coverley; by the Spectator," + 25.--Memoir of Judge Story, 25.--Garland's Life of John Randolph, + 25.--Sir Edgerton Brydges's edition of Milton's Poems, 25.--The + Keepsake, 25.--Gray's Poems, 25.--Rev. Professor Weir, 25.--Douglas + Jerrold's Complete Works, 25.--Memoirs of the Poet Wordsworth, by his + Nephew, 25.--New German books on Hungary, 173.--"Polish Population in + Galicia," 173.--Travels and Ethnological works of Professor Reguly, + 174.--Works on Ethnology, published by the Austrian Government, + 174.--Karl Gutzlow, 174.--Neandar's Library, 174.--Karl Simrock's + Popular Songs, 175.--Belgian Literature, 175.--Prof. Johnston's Work + on America, 175.--Literary and Scientific Works at Giessen, + 175.--Beranger, 175.--The House of the "Wandering Jew," 176.--The + Count de Tocqueville upon Dr. Franklin, &c., 176.--Audubon's Last + Work, 176.--Book Fair at Leipsic, 176.--Baroness von Beck, + 177.--Berghaus's Magazine, Albert Gallatin, &c., 177.--Auerback's + Tales, 177.--Baron Sternberg, 177.--"The New Faith Taught in Art," + 177.--Freiligrath, 177.--New Adventure and Discovery in Africa, + 178.--French Almanacs, 178.--The _Algemeine Zeitung_ on Literary + Women, 178.--Cormenin on War, 178.--Writers of "Young France," + 179.--George Sand's Last Works, 179.--New Books on the French + Revolution, Mirabeau, Massena, &c., 179.--Cousin, 179.--Tomb of + Godfrey of Bouillon, 179.--Maxims of Frederic the Great, 179.--New + Poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 180.--Rectorship of Glasgow + University, 180.--Tennyson, 180.--Mayhew, D'Israeli, Leigh Hunt, The + Earl of Carlisle, &c., 180.--New Work by Joseph Balmes, 180.--The late + Mrs. Bell Martin, 181.--The _Athenćum_ on Mrs. Mowatt's Novels, + 181.--New work by Mrs. Southworth, 181.--Charles Mackay, sent to + India, 182.--Pensions to Literary Men, 182.--German Translation of + Ticknor's History of Spanish Literature, 182.--David Copperfield, + 183.--D.D. Field and the English Lawyers, 183.--Louisiana Historical + Collections, 183.--Elihu Burritt's Absurdities, 184.--John Mills, + 184.--Dr. Latham's "Races of Men," 184.--Homoeopathic Review, + 184.--Bohn's Publications, 184.--Professor Reed's Rhetoric, 185.--Mr. + Bancroft's forthcoming History, 185.--Dr. Schoolcraft, 185.--MS. of + Dr. Johnson's Memoirs, 185.--Literary "Discoveries," 185.--M. + Girardin, 185.--Vulgar Lying of the last English Traveller in America, + 186.--The Real Peace Congress, 186.--Milton, Burke, Mazzini, Webster, + 187.--Sir Francis Head, 187.--Dr. Bloomfield, 187.--New Book by Mr. + Cooper, 187.--Mr. Judd's "Richard Edney," 187.--E.G. Squier, + Hawthorne, &c., 187.--The Author of "Olive," on the Sphere of Woman, + 188.--Flemish Poems, 188.--"Lives of the Queens of Scotland," + 188.--John S. Dwight, 188.--History of the Greek Revolution, 188.--New + Edition of the Works of Goethe, 188.--W.G. Simms, Dr. Holmes, &c., + 188.--The Songs of Pierre Dupont, 189.--Arago and Prudhon, + 189.--Charles Sumner, 189.--"The Manhattaner in New Orleans," + 189.--"Reveries of a Bachelor," "Vala," &c., 189.--Of Personalities, + 297.--Last Work of Oersted, 298.--New Dramas, 299.--German Novels, + 300.--Hungarian Literature, 301.--New German Book on America, + 301.--Ruckert's "Annals of German History," 301.--Zschokke's Private + Letters, 301.--Works by Bender and Burmeister, 301.--The Countess + Hahn-Hahn, 302.--"Value of Goethe as a Poet," 302.--Hagen's History of + Recent Times, 302.--Cotta's Illustrated Bible, 302.--Wallon's History + of Slavery, 302.--Translation of the Journal of the U.S. Exploring + Expedition into German, 302.--Richter's Translation of Mrs. Barbauld, + 302.--Bodenstet's New Book on the East, 302.--Third Part of Humboldt's + "Cosmos," &c., 303.--Dr. Espe, 303.--The Works of Neander, 303.--Works + of Luther, 303.--_L'Universe Pittoresque_, 303.--M. Nisard, + 303.--French Documentary Publications, 303.--M. Ginoux, 303.--M. + Veron, 304.--Eugene Sue's New Books, 304.--George Sand in the Theatre, + 304.--Alphonse Karr, 304.--Various new Publications in Paris, + 304.--The Catholic Church and Pius IX., 305.--Notices of Hayti, + 305.--Work on Architecture, by Gailhabaud, 305.--Italian Monthly + Review, 305.--Discovery of Letters by Pope, 305.--Lord Brougham, + 305.--Alice Carey, 305.--Mrs. Robinson ("Talvi"), 306.--New Life of + Hannah More, 306.--Professor Hackett on the Alps, 306.--Mrs. Anita + George, 307.--Life and Works of Henry Wheaton, 308.--R.R. Madden, + 308.--Rev. E.H. Chapin on "Woman," 308.--Discovery of Historical + Documents of Quebec, 308.--Professor Andrews's Latin Lexicon, + 309.--"Salander," by Mr. Shelton, 309.--Prof. Bush on Pneumatology, + 309.--Satire on the Rappers, by J.R. Lowell, 309.--Henry C. Phillips + on the Scenery of the Central Regions of America, 310.--Sam. Adams no + Defaulter, 310.--Mr. Willis, 310.--Life of Calvin, 310.--Notes of a + Howadje, 310.--Mr. Putnam's "World's Progress," 310.--Mr. Whittier, + 310.--New Volume of Hildreth's History of the United States, 311.--The + Memorial of Mrs. Osgood, 311.--Fortune Telling in Paris, + 311.--Writings of Hartley Coleridge, 311.--New Books forthcoming in + London, 312.--Mr. Cheever's "Island World of the Pacific," 312.--Works + of Bishop Onderdonk, 312.--Moreau's _Imitatio Christi_, 312.--New + German Poems, 312.--Schröder on the Jews, 312.--Arago on Ballooning, + 312.--Books prohibited at Naples, 312.--Notices of Mazzini, + 313.--Charles Augustus Murray, 313.--New History of Woman, + 313.--Letters on Humboldt's Cosmos, 446.--German Version of the + "Vestiges of Creation," 447.--Hegel's _Aesthetik_, 447.--New Work in + France on the Origin of the Human Race, 448.--Lelewel on the Geography + of the Middle Ages, 448.--More German Novels, 448.--"Man in the Mirror + of Nature," 449.--Herr Kielhau, on Geology, 449.--Proposed Prize for a + Defence of Absolutism, 449.--Werner's Christian Ethics, 449.--William + Meinhold, 449.--Prize History of the Jews, 449.--English Version of + Mrs. Robinson's Work on America, 449.--Poems by Jeanne Marie, + 449.--General Gordon's Memoirs, 449.--George Sand's New Drama, + 449.--Other New French Plays, 451.--M. Cobet's History of France, + 451.--Rev. G.R. Gleig, 451.--Ranke's Discovery of MSS. by Richelieu, + 451.--George Sand on Bad Spelling, 451.--Lola Montes, + 451.--Montalembert, 451.--Glossary of the Middle Ages, 451.--A Coptic + Grammar, 451.--The Italian Revolution, 452.--Italian Archćological + Society, 452.--Abaddie, the French Traveller, 452.--The Vatican + Library, 452.--New Ode by Piron, 452.--Posthumous Works of Rossi, + 452.--Bailey, the Author of "Festus," 453.--Clinton's _Fasti_, + 453.--Captain Cunningham, 453.--Dixon's Life of Penn, 453.--Literary + Women in England, 453.--Miss Martineau's History of the Last Half + Century, 453.--The Lexington Papers, 453.--Captain Medwin, 453.--John + Clare, 454.--De Quincy's Writings, 454.--Bulwer's Poems, + 454.--Episodes of Insect Life, 454.--Dr. Achilli, 454.--Samuel Bailey, + 454.--Major Poussin, and his Work on the United States, 454.--French + Collections in Political Economy, 455.--Joseph Gales, 456.--Rev. Henry + T. Cheever, 456.--Job R. Tyson on Colonial History, 456.--Henry James, + 456.--Torrey and Neander, 457.--Works of John C. Calhoun, + 457.--Historic Certainties respecting Early America, 457.--Mr. + Schoolcraft, 457.--Dr. Robert Knox, 458.--Mr. Boker's Plays, 458.--The + _Literary World_ upon a supposed Letter of Washington, 458.--Dr. + Ducachet's Dictionary of the Church, 458.--Edith May's Poems, + 458.--The American Philosophical Society, 458.--Professor Hows, + 458.--Mr. Redfield's Publications, 458.--Rev. William W. Lord's New + Poem, 450. + + Battle of the Churches in England, 327 + + Ballad of Jessie Carol.--_By Alice Carey_, 230 + + Barry Cornwall's Last Song, 392 + + Bereaved Mother, To a.--_By Hermann_, 476 + + Biographies, Memoirs, &c., 425 + + Black Pocket-Book, The, 89 + + Bombay, A View of.--_By Peter Leicester_, 130 + + Boswell, The Killing of Sir Alexander, 329 + + Brontë and her Sisters, Sketches of Miss, 315 + + Burke, Edmund, His Residences and Grave.--_By Mrs. S.C. Hall._ + (Illustrated.) 145 + + Bunjaras, The, 377 + + Burlesques and Parodies, 426 + + Byron, Scott, and Carlyle, Goethe's Opinions of, 461 + + Camille Desmoulins, 326 + + Carey, Henry C.--_By Rufus W. Griswold_, 402 + + Castle in the Air, The.--_By R.H. Stoddard_, 474 + + Chatterton, Thomas. (Illustrated.) 289 + + Classical Novels, 161 + + Count Monte-Leone. Book Second, 45 + " " " Third, 216 + " " " Third, concluded, 349 + " " " Fourth, 495 + + Cow-Tree of South America, The, 128 + + Correspondence, Original: A Letter from Paris, 170 + + Cyprus and the Life Led There, 216 + + Davis on the Half Century: Etherization, 317 + + Dacier, Madame, 332 + + Dante.--_By Walter Savage Landor_, 421 + + Death, Phenomena of, 425 + + _Deaths, Recent._--Hon. Samuel Young, 141.--Robinson, the + Caricaturist, 141.--The Duke of Palmella, 142.--Carl Rottmann, + 142.--The Marquis de Trans, 142.--Ch. Schorn, 142.--Hon. Richard M. + Johnson, 142.--Wm. Blacker, 142.--Mrs. Martin Bell, 142.--Signor + Baptistide, 142.--Gen. Chastel, 142.--Dr. Medicus, and others, + 142.--Rev. Dr. Dwight, 195.--Count Brandenburgh, 196.--Lord Nugent, + 196.--M. Fragonard, 196.--M. Droz, 197.--Professor Schorn, + 197.--Gustave Schwab, 197.--Francis Xavier Michael Tomie, + 427.--Governors Bell and Plumer, 427.--Birch, the Painter, + 427.--Professor Sverdrup, W. Seguin, Mrs. Ogilvy, 427.--W. Howison, + 428.--H. Royer-Collard, 428.--Col. Williams, 428.--William Sturgeon, + 428.--J.B. Anthony, 428.--Mr. Osbaldiston, 428.--Professor Mau, + 428.--Madame Junot, Mrs. Wallack, &c., 428.--Herman Kriege, + 429.--Madame Schmalz, 429.--George Spence, 429.--General Lumley, + 429.--Robert Roscoe, 429.--Richie, the Sculptor, 429.--Martin d'Auch, + 429.--Rev. Walter Colton, 568.--Major d'Avezac, 569.--M. Asser, + 569.--M. Lapie, 569.--Professor Link, 569.--General St. Martin, + 570.--Frederick Bastiat, 570.--Benjamin W. Crowninshield, + 571.--Professor Anstey, 571.--Donald McKenzie, 572.--Horace Everett, + LL.D., 572.--James Harfield, 572.--Wm. Wilson, 572.--Professor James + Wallace, 572.--Joshua Milne, 572.--General Bem, 573.--T.S. Davies, + F.R.S., 573.--H.C. Schumacher, 573.--W.H. Maxwell, 573.--Alexander + McDonald, 573. + + Dickens, To Charles.--_By Walter Savage Landor_, 75 + + Drive Round our Neighborhood, in 1850, A.--_By Miss Milford_, 270 + + Duty.--_By Alfred B. Street_, 332 + + Duchess, A Peasant, 169 + + Edward Layton's Reward.--_By Mrs. S.C. Hall_, 201 + + Editorial Visit, An, 421 + + Egypt under the Pharaohs.--_By John Kinrick_, 322 + + Encouragement of Literature by Governments, 160 + + Exclusion of Love from the Greek Drama, 123 + + Fountain in the Wood, The, 129 + + French Generals of To-Day, 334 + + Gateway of the Oceans, 124 + + Ghetto of Rome, 393 + + Gleanings from the Journals, 285 + + Grief of the Weeping Willow, 31 + + Haddock, Charles B., Charge d'Affaires to Portugal. (With a + Portrait on steel.) 1 + + Hecker, Herr, described by Madame Blaze de Bury, 30 + + _Historical Review._--The United States, 560.--Europe, 564.--Mexico, + 565.--British America, 566.--The West Indies, 566.--Central America, + the Isthmus, 566.--South America, 567.--Africa, 567. + + Hunt, Leigh, upon G.P.R. James, 30 + + Ireland in the Last Age: Curran, 519 + + Journals of Louis Philippe, 377 + + Kellogg's, Mr., Exploration of Mt. Sinai, 462 + + Kimball, Richard B., the Author of "St. Leger." (Illustrated.) 156 + + Layard's Recent Gifts from Nimroud. (Illustrated.) 4 + + Layard, Austen Henry, LL.D. (With a Portrait,) 433 + + Lafayette, Talleyrand, Metternich, and Napoleon.--_Sketched + by Lord Holland_, 465 + + Last Case of the Supernatural, 481 + + Lectures, Popular, 319 + + Life at a Watering Place.--_By C. Astor Bristed_, 240 + + Lionne at a Watering Place, The, 533 + + Lost Letter, The, 522 + + Mazzini on Italy, 265 + + Mackay, Charles, Last Poems by, 348 + + Marvel, Andrew. (Illustrated.) 438 + + Mother's Last Song, The.--_By Barry Cornwall_, 270 + + _Music and the Drama.--The Astor Place Opera, Parodi, 29.--Mrs. Oake + Smith's New Tragedy, 30. + + Mystic Vial, The, Part i. 61 + " " Part ii. 249 + " " Part iii. 378 + + My Novel, Or Varieties in English Life.--_By Sir Edward + Bulwer Lytton_, Book II. Chapters i. to vi. 109 + Book II. Chapters vii. to xii. 273 + Book III. Chapters i. to xii. 407 + Book III. Chapters xiii. to xxvii. 542 + + Murder Market, The, 126 + + New Tales by Miss Martineau--The Old Governess, 163 + + Novelist's Appeal for the Canadas, A, 443 + + Old Times in New-York, 320 + + Osgood, The late Mrs.--_By Rufus W. Griswold_, 131 + + Paris Fashions for December. (Illustrated.) 144 + " " January. (Illustrated.) 286 + " " February. (Illustrated.) 431 + " " March. (Illustrated.) 567 + + Peace Society, The First, 321 + + Penn, (William,) and Macaulay, 336 + + Pleasant Story of a Swallow, 123 + + Poet's Lot, The.--_By the author of "Festus,"_ 45 + + Power's, Hiram, Greek Slave.--_By Elizabeth Barret Browning_, 88 + + Poems by S.G. Goodrich, A Biographical Review. (Illustrated.) 153 + + Public Libraries, Ancient and Modern, 359 + + Recent Deaths in the Family of Orleans, 122 + + Reminiscences of Paganini, 167 + + Responsibility of Statesmen, 127 + + Rossini in the Kitchen, 321 + + Scandalous French Dances in American Parlors, 333 + + _Scientific Miscellany._--Hydraulic Experiments in Paris, + 430.--French Populations, 430.--African Exploring Expedition, + 430.--The Hungarian Academy, 430.--Gas from Water, &c., 430.--The + French "Annuaire," 573.--Sittings of the Academy of Sciences, + 573.--New Scientific Publications, 574.--Sir David Brewster, 574. + + Sir Nicholas at Marston Moor.--_By Winthrop M. Praed_, 80 + + Sliding Scale of Inconsolables. From the French, 162 + + Smiths, The Two Miss.--_By Mrs. Crowe_, 76 + + Song of the Season.--_By Charles Mackay_, 128 + + Sounds from Home.--_By Alice G. Neal_, 332 + + Spencer, Aubrey George, LL.D., Bishop of Jamaica, 157 + + Spirit of the English Annuals for 1851, 197 + + Stanzas.--_By Alfred Tennyson_, 273 + + Statues.--_By Walter Savage Landor_, 126 + + Story Without a Name, A.--_By G.P.R. James_, 32 + " " Chapters vi. to ix. 205 + " " Chapters x. to xiii. 337 + " " Chapters xiv. to xvii. 482 + + Story of Calais, A.--_By Richard B. Kimball_, 231 + + Story of a Poet, 88 + + Swift, Dean, and his Amours. (Illustrated.) 7 + + Temper of Women, 437 + + Theatrical Criticism in the Last Age, 334 + + To a Celebrated Singer.--_By R.H. Stoddard_, 86 + + To one in Affliction.--_By G.R. Thompson_, 541 + + Troost, of Tennessee, The Late Dr. 332 + + Twickenham Ghost, The, 60 + + Valetudinarian, The Confirmed.--_By Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton_, 203 + + Vampire, The Last.--_By Mrs. Crowe_, 107 + + Voltigeur.--_By W.H. Thackeray_, 197 + + Voisenen, The Abbé de, and his Times, 511 + + Wane of the Year, The, 129 + + Webster, LL.D., Horace, and the Free Academy. (Portrait.) 444 + + Wearing the Beard.--_Dr. Marcy_, 130 + + Wiseman, Dr., Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster (Illustrated.) 143 + + Wild Sports in Algeria.--_By Jules Gerard_, 121 + + Wolf Chase, The.--_By C. Whitehead_, 86 + + +[Illustration: _C.B. Haddock_] + + +THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE + +of Literature, Art, and Science. + + +Vol. II. NEW YORK, DECEMBER 1, 1850. No. I. + + + + +OUR DIPLOMATIC SERVANTS. + +CHARLES B. HADDOCK, + +CHARGE D'AFFAIRES FOR PORTUGAL. + +[With a Portrait, Engraved by J. Andrews.] + + +Old notions of diplomacy are obsolete. The plain, straightforward, and +masterly manner in which Daniel Webster and Lord Ashburton managed the +difficult affairs which a few years ago threatened war between this +country and England have taught mankind a useful lesson on this subject. +We perceive that the London _Times_ has been engaged in a controversy +whether there should be diplomatists or no diplomatists, whether, in +fact, the profession should survive; arguing from this case conducted by +our illustrious Secretary and Lord Ashburton, that negotiation in +foreign countries is plain sailing for great men, and that common agents +would do the necessary business on ordinary occasions. We are not +prepared to accept the doctrine of the _Times_, though ready enough to +admit that it is to be preferred to the employment of such persons as +many whom we have sent abroad in the last twenty years--many who now in +various capacities represent the United States in foreign countries. +Upon this question however we do not propose now to enter. It is one +which may be deferred still a long time--until the means of +intercommunication shall be greater than steam and electricity have yet +made them, or until the evils of unworthy representation shall have +driven people to the possible dangers of an abandonment of the system +without such a reason. We design in this and future numbers of the +_International_ simply to give a few brief personal sketches of the most +honorably distinguished of the diplomatic servants of the United States +now abroad, and we commence with the newly-appointed _Charge d'Affaires_ +to Lisbon. + +Charles Brickett Haddock was born at Salisbury (now Franklin), New +Hampshire, on the 20th of June, 1796. His father, William Haddock, was a +native of Haverhill, Massachusetts. His paternal grandfather removed +from Boston to Haverhill, and married a sister of Dr. Charles Brickett, +an eminent physician of that town. The family, according to a tradition +among them, are descended from Admiral Sir Richard Haddocke, one of ten +sons and eleven daughters of Mr. Haddocke, of Lee, in England. Richard +Haddocke was an eminent officer in the Royal Navy. He was knighted +before 1678, and returned a member of Parliament the same year, and +again in 1685. He died in 1713, and was buried in the family vault at +Lee, where there is a gravestone, with brass plates on which are +engraved portraits of his father, his father's three wives, and thirteen +sons and eleven daughters. + +The mother of Dr. Haddock was Abigail Webster, a favorite sister of +Ezekiel and Daniel Webster, who, with Sarah, were the only children of +the Hon. Ebenezer Webster by his second wife, Abigail Eastman, who +survived her husband and all her daughters. Mrs. Haddock was a woman of +strong character, and greatly beloved in society. She died in December, +1805, at the age of twenty-seven, leaving two sons, Charles and William, +one about nine and the other seven years of age. Her last words to her +husband were, "I leave you two beautiful boys: my wish is that you +should educate them both." The injunction was not forgotten; both were +in due time placed at a preparatory school in Salisbury, both entered +Dartmouth College, and without an academic censure or reproof graduated +with distinction. + +The younger, having studied the profession of the law, married a +daughter of Mills Olcott, of Hanover, and after a few years, rich in +promise of professional eminence, died of consumption at Hanover, in +1835. + +The elder, Charles B. Haddock, was born in the house in which his +grandfather first lived, after he removed to the river, in Franklin; +though his childhood was chiefly spent at Elms Farms, in the mansion +built by his father, and now the favorite residence of his uncle, Daniel +Webster,--a spot hardly equaled for picturesque and tranquil beauty in +that part of New England. How much of his rural tastes and gentle +feelings the professor owes to the place of his nativity it is not for +us to determine. It is certain that a fitter scene to inspire the +sentiments for which he is distinguished, and which he delights to +refresh by frequent visits to these scenes, could not well be imagined. +Every hill and valley, every rock and eddy, seem to be familiar to him, +and to have a legend for his heart. His earliest distinct recollections, +he has often been heard to say, are the burial of a sister younger than +himself, his own baptism at the bedside of his dying mother, and the +death of his grandfather; and the first things that awakened a romantic +emotion were the flight of the night-hawk and the note of the +whippoorwill, both uncommonly numerous and noticeable there in summer +evenings. + +From 1807 he was in the academy during the summer months, and attended +the common school in winter, until 1811, when, in his sixteenth year, he +taught his own first winter school. It had been his fortune to have as +instructors persons destined to unusual eminence: Mr. Richard Fletcher, +now one of the justices of the Superior Court of Massachusetts; Justice +Willard, of Springfield; the Rev. Edward L. Parker, of Londonderry; and +Nathaniel H. Carter, the well-known poet and general writer. It was +under Mr. Carter that he first felt a genuine love of learning; and he +has always ascribed more of his literary tastes, to his insensible +influence, as he read to him Virgil and Cicero, than to any other living +teacher. His earliest Latin book was the Ćneid, over the first half of +which he had, summer after summer, fatigued and vexed himself, before +the idea occurred to him that it was an epic poem; and that idea came to +him at length not from his teachers, but from a question of his uncle, +Daniel Webster, about the descent of the hero into the infernal regions. +When a proper impression of its design was once formed, and some +familiarity with the language was acquired, Virgil was run through with +great rapidity: half a book in a day. So also with Cicero: an oration at +a lesson. There was no verbal accuracy acquired or attempted; but a +ready mastery of the current of discourse--a familiarity with the point +and spirit of the work. In August, 1812, he was admitted a freshman in +Dartmouth College. It was a small class, but remarkable from having +produced a large number of eminent men, among whom we may mention George +A. Simmons, a distinguished lawyer in northern New York, and one of the +profoundest philosophers in this country; Dr. Absalom Peters; President +Wheeler, of the University of Vermont; Governor Hubbard, of Maine; and +Professor Joseph Torrey, of the University of Vermont, since so +honorably known as the learned translator of Neander, and as being +without a superior among American scholars in a knowledge of the +profounder German literature. The late illustrious and venerated Dr. +James Marsh, the editor of Coleridge, and the only pupil of that great +metaphysician who was the peer of his master, was of the class below +his, and was an intimate companion in study. + +From the beginning of his college life it was his ambition to +distinguish himself. By the general consent of his classmates, and by +the appointment of the faculty, he held the first place at each public +exhibition through the four years in which he was a student, and at the +last commencement was complimented with having the order of the parts, +according to which the Latin salutatory had hitherto been first, so +changed that he might still have precedence and yet have the English +valedictory. During his junior year, his mind was first decidedly turned +toward religion, and with Wheeler, Torrey, Marsh, and some forty others, +he made a public profession. The two years after he left college were +spent at Andover, in the study of divinity. While here, with Torrey, +Wheeler, Marsh, and one or two more, he joined in a critical reading of +Virgil--an exercise of great value in enlarging a command of his own +language, as well as his knowledge of Latin. At the close of the second +year he was attacked with hemorrhage of the lungs, and advised to try a +southern climate for the winter. He sailed in October, 1818, for +Charleston, and spent the winter in that city and in Savannah, with +occasional visits into the surrounding country. The following summer he +traveled, chiefly on horseback, and in company with the Rev. Pliny Fisk, +from Charleston home. To this tour he ascribes his recovery. He soon +after took his master's degree, and was appointed the first Professor of +Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres in Dartmouth College. From that time a +change was obvious in the literary spirit of the instruction given at +the institution. The department to which he was called became very soon +the most attractive in the college, and some of the most distinguished +orators of our country are pleased to admit that they obtained their +first impressions of true eloquence and a correct style from the +youthful professor. He introduced readings in the Scriptures, and in +Shakspeare, Milton, and Young, with original criticisms by his pupils on +particular features of the principal works of genius, as the hell of +Virgil, Dante, and Milton; and the prominent characters of the best +tragedies, as the Jew of Cumberland and of Shakspeare; and +extemporaneous discussions of ćsthetical and political questions, as +upon the authenticity of Ossian, the authorship of Homer, the sincerity +of Cromwell, or the expediency of the execution of Charles. He also +exerted his influence in founding an association for familiar written +and oral discussions in literature, in which Dr. Edward Oliver, Dr. +James Marsh, Professor Fiske, Mr. Rufus Choate, Professor Chamberlain, +and others, acted a prominent part. + +He retained this chair until August, 1838, when he was appointed to that +of Intellectual Philosophy and Political Economy, which he now holds, +but, which, of course, will be occupied by another during his absence in +the public service--the faculty having declined on any account to accept +his resignation or to appoint a successor. + +Dr. Haddock has been invited to the professorship of rhetoric in +Hamilton College, and to the presidency of that institution, the +presidency and a professorship in the Auburn Theological Seminary, the +presidency of Bowdoin College, and, less formally, to that of several +other colleges in New England. + +In public affairs, he has for four successive years been a +representative in the New Hampshire Legislature, and in this period was +active in introducing the present common school system of the State, and +was the first commissioner of common schools, originating the course of +action in that important office which has since been pursued. He was one +of the fathers of the railroad system in New Hampshire, and his various +speeches had the effect to change the policy of the State on this +subject. He addressed the first convention called at Lebanon to consider +the practicability of a road across the State, and afterward a similar +convention at Montpelier. For two years he lectured every Sabbath +evening to the students and to the people of the village, on the +historical portions of the New Testament. For several years he held +weekly meetings for the interpretation of Scripture, in which the ladies +of the village met at his house. And for twenty years he has constantly +preached to vacant parishes in the vicinity. He has delivered +anniversary orations before the Phi Beta Kappa Societies of Dartmouth +and Yale, the Rhetorical Societies of Andover and Bangor, the Religious +Society of the University of Vermont, the New Hampshire Historical +Society, and the New England Society of New York; numerous lyceum +lectures, in Boston, Lowell, Salem, Portsmouth, Manchester, New Bedford, +and other places; and of the New Hampshire Education Society he was +twelve or fifteen years secretary, publishing annual reports. The +principal periodicals to which he has contributed are the _Biblical +Repository_ and the _Bibliotheca Sacra_. A volume of his _Addresses and +Miscellaneous Writings_ was published in 1846, and he has now a work on +rhetoric in preparation. + +He has been twice married--the last time to a sister of Mr. Kimball, the +author of "St. Leger," &c. He has three children living, and has buried +seven. + +In agriculture, gardening, and public improvements of all kinds, he has +taken a lively interest. The rural ornaments of the town in which he +lives owe much to him. He may be said to have introduced the fruit and +horticulture which are now becoming so abundant as luxuries, and so +remarkable as ornaments of the village. + +In 1843 he received the degree of D.D. from Bowdoin College. Of +Dartmouth College nearly half the graduates are his pupils. While +commissioner of common schools, he published a series of letters to +teachers and students which were more generally republished in the +various papers of the country than anything else of the kind ever before +written. Perhaps no one in this country has discussed so great a variety +of subjects. His essays upon the proper standard of education for the +pulpit, addresses on the utility of certain proposed lines of railway, +orations on the duties of the citizen to the state, lectures before +various medical societies, speeches in the New Hampshire House of +Representatives, letters written while commissioner of common schools, +contributions to periodicals, addresses before a great variety of +literary associations, writings on agriculture and gardening, yearly +reports on education, lectures on classical learning, rhetoric and +belles-lettres, and sermons, delivered weekly for more than twenty +years, illustrate a life of remarkable activity, and dedicated to the +best interests of mankind. Unmoved by the calls of ambition, which might +have tempted him to some one great and engrossing effort, his aim has +been the general good of the people. + +The following extract from the dedication, to his pupils, of his +_Addresses and Miscellaneous Writings_, evinces something of his +purpose: + +"It is now five-and-twenty years since I adopted the resolution never to +refuse to attempt anything consistent with my professional duties, in +the cause of learning, or religion, which I might be invited to do. This +resolution I have not at any time regretted, and perhaps I may say, I +have not essentially violated it. However this may be, I have never +suffered from want of something to do." + +Professor Haddock's style is remarkable for purity and correctness. His +sentences are all finished sentences, never subject to an injurious +verbal criticism, without a mistake of any kind, or a grammatical error. + +We have not written of Dr. Haddock as a politician; but he is a +thoroughly informed statesman, profoundly versed in public law, and +familiar with all the policy and aims of the American government. He is +of course a Whig. He has been educated, politically, in the school of +his illustrious uncle, and probably no man living is more thoroughly +acquainted with Mr. Webster's views, or more capable of their +application in affairs. It is therefore eminently suitable that he +should be on the list of our representatives abroad, while the foreign +department is under Mr. Webster's administration. The Whig party in New +Hampshire have not been insensible of Dr. Haddock's surpassing +abilities, of his sagacity, or his merits. Could they have done so, they +would have made him Governor, or a senator in Congress, on any of the +occasions in many years in which such officers have been chosen. +Considered without reference to party, we can think of no gentleman in +the country who would be likely to represent the United States more +worthily at foreign courts, or who by his capacities, suavity of manner, +or honorable nature, would make a more pleasing and desirable impression +upon the most highly cultivated society. Those who know him well will +assent to the justness of a classification which places him in the same +list of intellectual diplomats which embraces Bunsen, Guizot, and our +own Everett, Irving, Bancroft and Marsh. + + +[Illustration: No. I.--WINGED HUMAN-HEADED BULL.] + +DR. LAYARD'S RECENT GIFTS FROM NIMROUD. + +The researches of no antiquary or traveler in modern times have excited +so profound an interest as those of Austen Henry Layard, who has +summoned the kings and people of Nineveh through three thousand years to +give their testimony against the skeptics of our age in support of the +divine revelation. In a former number of _The International_ we +presented an original and very interesting letter from Dr. Layard +himself, upon the nature and bearing of his discoveries. Since then he +has sent to London, where they have arrived in safety, several of the +most important sculptures described in his work republished here last +year by Mr. Putnam. Among them are the massive and imposing statues of a +human-headed bull and a human-headed lion, of which we have engravings +in some of the London journals. The _Illustrated London News_ describes +these specimens of ancient art as follows: + +"No. I. is the Human-Headed and Eagle-Winged Bull. This animal would +seem to bear some analogy to the Egyptian sphynx, which represents the +head of the King upon the body of the lion, and is held by some to be +typical of the union of intellectual power with physical strength. The +sphynx of the Egyptians, however, is invariably sitting, whereas the +Nimroud figure is always represented standing. The apparent resemblance +being so great, it is at least worthy of consideration whether the head +on the winged animals of the Ninevites may not be that of the King, and +the intention identical with that of the sphynx; though we think it more +probable that there is no such connection, and that the intention of the +Ninevites was to typify their god under the common emblems of +intelligence, strength and swiftness, as signified by the additional +attributes of the bird. The specimen immediately before us is of gypsum, +and of colossal dimensions, the slab being ten feet square by two feet +in thickness. It was situated at the entrance of a chamber, being built +into the side of the door, so that one side and a front view only could +be seen by the spectator. Accordingly, the Ninevite sculptor, in order +to make both views perfect, has given the animal five legs. The four +seen in the side view show the animal in the act of walking; while, to +render the representation complete in the front view, he has repeated +the right fore leg again, but in the act of standing motionless. The +countenance is noble and benevolent in expression; the features are of +true Persian type; he wears an egg-shaped cap, with three horns and a +cord round the base of it. The hair at the back of the head has seven +ranges of curls; and the beard, as in the portraits of the King, is +divided into three ranges of curls, with intervals of wavy hair. In the +ears, which are those of a bull, are pendent ear-rings. The whole of the +dewlap is covered with tiers of curls, and four rows are continued +beneath the ribs along the whole flank; on the back are six rows of +curls, and upon the haunch a square bunch, ranged successively, and down +the back of the thigh four rows. The hair at the end of the tail is +curled like the beard, with intervals of wavy hair. The hair at the knee +joints is likewise curled, terminating in the profile views of the limbs +in a single curl of the kind (if we may use the term) called _croche +coeur_. The elaborately sculptured wings extend over the back of the +animal to the very verge of the slab. All the flat surface of the slab +is covered with cuneiform inscription; there being twenty-two lines +between the fore legs, twenty-one lines in the middle, nineteen lines +between the hind legs, and forty-seven lines between the tail and the +edge of the slab. The whole of this slab is unbroken, with the exception +of the fore-feet, which arrived in a former importation, but which are +now restored to their proper place. + +[Illustration: No. II.--WINGED HUMAN-HEADED LION.] + +"No. II. represents the Human-Headed and Winged Lion--nine feet long, +and the same in height; and in purpose and position the same as the +preceding, which, however, it does not quite equal in execution. In this +relievo we have the same head, with the egg-shaped three-horned +head-dress, exactly like that of the bull; but the ear is human, and not +that of a lion. The beard and hair of the head are even yet more +elaborately curled than the last; but the hair on the legs and sides of +the animal represents that shaggy appendage of the animal. Round the +loins is a succession of numerous cords, which are drawn into four +separate knots; at the extremities are fringes, forming as many distinct +tassels. At the end of the tail, the claw--on which we commented in a +former article--is distinctly visible. The strength of both animals is +admirably and characteristically conveyed. Upon the flat surface of this +slab, as in the last, is a cuneiform inscription; twenty lines being +between the fore legs, twenty-six in the middle, eighteen between the +hind legs, and seventy-one at the back." + +On the subject of Eastern languages, an understanding of which is +necessary to the just apprehension of these inscriptions, that most +acute antiquary, Major Rawlinson, remarks: + +"My own impression is that hundreds of the languages at one time current +through Asia are now utterly lost; and it is not, therefore, to be +expected that philologists or ethnologists will ever succeed in making +out a genealogical table of language, and in affiliating all the various +dialects. Coming to the Assyrian and Babylonian languages, we were first +made acquainted with them as translations of the Persian and Parthian +documents in the trilingual inscriptions of Persia; but lately we have +had an enormous amount of historical matter brought to light in tablets +of stone written in these languages alone. The languages in question I +certainly consider to be Semitic. I doubt whether we could trace at +present in any of the buildings or inscriptions of Assyria and Babylonia +the original primitive civilization of man--that civilization which took +place in the very earliest ages. I am of opinion that civilization first +showed itself in Egypt after the immigration of the early tribes from +Asia. I think that the human intellect first germinated on the Nile, and +that then there was, in a later age, a reflux of civilization from the +Nile back to Asia. I am quite satisfied that the system of writing in +use on the Tigris and Euphrates was taken from the Nile; but I admit +that it was carried to a much higher state of perfection in Assyria than +it had ever reached in Egypt. The earliest Assyrian inscriptions were +those lately discovered by Mr. Layard in the north-west Palace at +Nimroud, being much earlier than anything found at Babylon. Now, the +great question is the date of these inscriptions. Mr. Layard himself, +when he published his book on Nineveh, believed them to be 2500 years +before the Christian era; but others, and Dr. Hincks among the number, +brought them down to a much later date, supposing the historical tablets +to refer to the Assyrian kings mentioned in Scripture--(Shalmaneser, +Sennacherib, &c.). I do not agree with either one of these calculations +or the other. I am inclined to place the earliest inscriptions from +Nimroud between 1350 and 1200 before the Christian era; because, in the +first place, they had a limit to antiquity; for in the earliest +inscriptions there was a notice of the seaports of Phoenicia, of Tyre +and Sidon, of Byblus, Arcidus, &c.; and it was well known that these +cities were not founded more than 1500 years before the Christian era. +We have every prospect of a most important accession to our materials, +for every letter I get from the countries now being explored announces +fresh discoveries of the utmost importance. In Lower Chaldea, Mr. +Loftus, the geologist to the commission appointed to fix the boundaries +between Turkey and Persia, has visited many cities which no European had +ever reached before, and has everywhere found the most extraordinary +remains. At one place (Senkereh) he had come on a pavement, extending +from half an acre to an acre, entirely covered with writing, which was +engraved upon baked tiles, &c. At Wurka (or Ur of the Chaldees), whence +Abraham came out, he had found innumerable inscriptions; they were of no +great extent, but they were exceedingly interesting, giving many royal +names previously unknown. Wurka (Ur or Orchoe) seemed to be a holy city, +for the whole country, for miles upon miles, was nothing but a huge +necropolis. In none of the excavations of Assyria had coffins ever been +found, but in this city of Chaldea there were thousands upon thousands. +The story of Abraham's birth at Wurka did not originate with the Arabs, +as had sometimes been conjectured, but with the Jews; and the Orientals +had numberless fables about Abraham and Nimroud. Mr. Layard in +excavating beneath the great pyramid at Nimroud, had penetrated a mass +of masonry, within which he _had discovered the tomb and statue of_ +Sardanapalus, accompanied by full annals of the monarch's reign engraved +on the walls! He had also found tablets of all sorts, all of them being +historical; but the crowning discovery he had yet to describe. The +palace at Nineveh, or Koynupih, had evidently been destroyed by fire, +but one portion of the building seemed to have escaped its influence; +and Mr. Layard, in excavating in this part of the palace, had found a +large room filled with what appeared to be the archives of the empire, +ranged in successive tablets of terra cotta, the writings being as +perfect as when the tablets were first stamped. They were piled in huge +heaps from the floor to the ceiling. From the progress already made in +reading the inscriptions, I believe we shall be able pretty well to +understand the contents of these tablets; at all events, we shall +ascertain their general purport, and thus gain much valuable +information. A passage might be remembered in the book of Ezra where the +Jews, having been disturbed in building the Temple, prayed that search +might be made in the house of records for the edict of Cyrus permitting +them to return to Jerusalem. The chamber recently found there might be +presumed to be the house of records of the Assyrian kings, where copies +of the royal edicts were duly deposited. When these tablets have been +examined and deciphered, I believe that we shall have a better +acquaintance with the history, the religion, the philosophy, and the +jurisprudence of Assyria, 1500 years before the Christian era, than we +have of Greece or Rome during any period of their respective histories." + +Besides the gigantic figures of which we have copied engravings in the +preceding pages, Dr. Layard has sent to the British Museum a large +number of other sculptures, some of which are still more interesting for +the light they reflect upon ancient Assyrian history. For these, as for +the Grecian marbles and Egyptian antiquities, a special gallery is being +fitted up. + + +[Illustration: JONATHAN SWIFT.] + +DEAN SWIFT'S CHARACTER AND HIS AMOURS. + +The name of Swift is one of the most familiar in English history. Of the +twenty octavo volumes in which his works are printed, only a part of one +volume is read; but this part of a volume is read by everybody, and +admired by everybody, though singularly enough not one in a thousand +ever thinks of its real import, or appreciates it for what are and what +were meant to be its highest excellences. As the author of "Gulliver's +Travels," Swift is a subject of general interest; and this interest is +deepened, but scarcely diffused, by the chain of enigmas which has +puzzled so many of his biographers. + +The most popular life of Dean Swift is Mr. Roscoe's, but since that was +written several works have appeared, either upon his whole history or in +elucidation of particular portions of it: one of which was a careful +investigation and discussion of his madness, published about two years +ago. In the last number of _The International_ we mentioned the curious +novel of "Stella and Vanessa," in which a Frenchman has this year +essayed his defense against the common judgment in the matter of his +amours, and we copy in the following pages an article from the London +_Times_, which was suggested by this performance. + +M. De Wailly's "Stella and Vanessa" is unquestionably a very ingenious +and brilliant fiction--in every sense only a fiction--for its hypotheses +are all entirely erroneous. Even Mr. Roscoe, whose Memoir has been +called an elaborate apology, and who, as might have been expected from a +man of so amiable and charitable a character, labors to put the best +construction upon all Swift's actions,--even he shrinks from the +vindication of the Dean's conduct toward Miss Vanhomrigh and Mrs. +Johnson. In treating of the charges which are brought against Swift +while he was alive, or that have since been urged against his +reputation, the elegant historian calls to his aid every palliating +circumstance; and where no palliating circumstances are to be found, +seeks to enlist our benevolent feelings in behalf of a man deeply +unfortunate, persecuted by his enemies, neglected by his friends, and +haunted all his life by the presentiment of a fearful calamity, by which +at length in his extreme old age he was assaulted and overwhelmed. On +some points Mr. Roscoe must be said to have succeeded in this advocacy, +so honorable alike to him and to its subject; but the more serious +charges against Swift remain untouched, and probably will forever remain +so, by whatever ability, or eloquence, or generous partiality, combated. +To speak plainly, Swift was an irredeemably bad man, devoured by vanity +and selfishness, and so completely dead to every elevated and manly +feeling, that he was always ready to sacrifice those most devotedly +attached to him for the gratification of his unworthy passion for power +and notoriety. + +Swift's life, though dark and turbulent, was nevertheless romantic. He +concealed the repulsive odiousness of an unfeeling heart under manners +peculiarly fascinating, which conciliated not only the admiration and +attachment of more than one woman, but likewise the friendship of +several eminent men, who were too much dazzled by the splendor of his +conversation to detect the base qualities which existed in the +background. But these circumstances only enhance the interest of his +life. At every page there is some discussion which strongly interests +our feelings: some difficulty to be removed, some mystery to keep alive +curiosity. We neither know, strictly speaking, who Swift was, what were +the influences which raised him to the position he occupied, by what +intricate ties he was connected with Stella, or what was the nature of +that singular grief, which, in addition to the sources of sorrow to +which we have alluded, preyed on him continually, and at last +contributed largely to the overthrow of his reason. On this account it +is not possible to proceed with indifference through the circumstances +of his life, though very few careful examiners will be able to interpret +them in a lenient and charitable spirit. + +Mr. Roscoe appears to believe that everybody who regards unfavorably +Swift's genius and morals, must be actuated by envy or party spirit, but +very few of the later or earlier critics are of his opinion. In the +first place, most honorable men would rather remain unknown through +eternity than accept the Dean's reputation. As Savage Landor says, he +was "irreverential to the great and to God: an ill-tempered, sour, +supercilious man, who flattered some of the worst and maligned some of +the best men that ever lived." Whatever services he performed for the +party from which he apostatized, there is nothing in his more permanent +writings which can be of the slightest advantage to English toryism. +Indeed, in politics and in morals, he appears never to have had any +fixed principles. He served the party which he thought most likely to +make him a bishop, and deserted it when he discovered that it was losing +ground. He studied government not as a statesman but as a partisan, as a +hardy, active, and unscrupulous Swiss, who could and would do much dirty +work for a minister, if he saw reason to anticipate a liberal +compensation. He however always extravagantly exaggerated his own +powers, and so have his biographers, and so has the writer of the +following article from _The Times_, who seems to have accepted with too +little scrutiny the estimate he made of himself. The complacency with +which he frequently refers to his supposed influence over the ministers +is simply ludicrous. He entirely loses sight of both his own position +and theirs. Shrewd as he shows himself under other circumstances, he is +here as verdant as the greenest peasant from the forest. "I use the +ministers like dogs," he says in a letter to Stella, but in reality the +ministers made a dog of him, employing him to fetch and carry, and bark, +and growl, and show his sharp teeth to their enemies; and when the noise +he had made had served their purpose,--when he had frightened away many +of their assailants, and by the dirt and stench he had raised had +compelled even their friends to stand aloof, they cashiered him, as they +would a mastiff grown toothless and incapable of barking. With no more +dirty work for him to do, they sent him over to Dublin, to be rid of his +presence. + +When fairly settled down in a country which he had always hitherto +affected at least to detest, he began to feel perhaps some genuine +attachment for its people, and on many occasions he exerted himself +vigorously for their advantage; though it is possible that the real +impulse was a desire to vex and embarrass the administration, which had +so galled his self-conceit. Whatever the motive, however, he undoubtedly +worked industriously and with great effect, for the benefit of Ireland. +His style was calculated to be popular: it was simple, transparent, and +though copious, pointed and energetic. His pamphlets, in the midst of +their reasoning, sarcasm, and solemn banter, displayed an extent, a +variety and profundity of knowledge altogether unequaled in the case of +any other writer of that time. But the action of his extraordinary +powers was never guided by a spark of honorable principle. The giant was +as unscrupulous as the puniest and basest demagogue who coined and +scattered lies for our own last election. He would seem to be the model +whom half a dozen of our city editors were striving with weaker wing to +imitate. He never acknowledged any merit in his antagonists, he +scattered his libels right and left without mercy, threw out of sight +all the charities and even decencies of private life, and affirmed the +most monstrous propositions with so cool, calm and solemn an air, that +in nine cases out of ten they were sure to be believed. + +Without further observation we proceed with the interesting article of +_The Times_, occasioned by M. Leon de Wailly's curious and very clever +romance of "Stella and Vanessa." + + +[Illustration: "VANESSA." (MISS VANHOMRIGH.)] + +[From the London Times.] + +THE AMOURS OF DEAN SWIFT. + +Greater men than Dean Swift may have lived. A more remarkable man never +left his impress upon the age immortalized by his genius. To say that +English history supplies no narrative more singular and original than +the career of Jonathan Swift is to assert little. We doubt whether the +histories of the world can furnish, for example and instruction, for +wonder and pity, for admiration and scorn, for approval and +condemnation, a specimen of humanity at once so illustrious and so +small. Before the eyes of his contemporaries Swift stood a living +enigma. To posterity he must continue forever a distressing puzzle. One +hypothesis--and one alone--gathered from a close and candid perusal of +all that has been transmitted to us upon this interesting subject, helps +us to account for a whole life of anomaly, but not to clear up the +mystery in which it is shrouded. From the beginning to the end of his +days Jonathan Swift was more or less MAD. + +Intellectually and morally, physically and religiously, Dean Swift was a +mass of contradictions. His career yields ample materials both for the +biographer who would pronounce a panegyric over his tomb and for the +censor whose business it is to improve one generation at the expense of +another. Look at Swift with the light of intelligence shining on his +brow, and you note qualities that might become an angel. Survey him +under the dark cloud, and every feature is distorted into that of a +fiend. If we tell the reader what he was, in the same breath we shall +communicate all that he was not. His virtues were exaggerated into +vices, and his vices were not without the savour of virtue. The +originality of his writings is of a piece with the singularity of his +character. He copied no man who preceded him. He has not been +successfully imitated by any who have followed him. The compositions of +Swift reveal the brilliancy of sharpened wit, yet it is recorded of the +man that he was never known to laugh. His friendships were strong and +his antipathies vehement and unrelenting, yet he illustrated friendship +by roundly abusing his familiars and expressed hatred by bantering his +foes. He was economical and saving to a fault, yet he made sacrifices to +the indigent and poor sternly denied to himself. He could begrudge the +food and wine consumed by a guest, yet throughout his life refuse to +derive the smallest pecuniary advantage from his published works, and at +his death bequeath the whole of his fortune to a charitable institution. +From his youth Swift was a sufferer in body, yet his frame was vigorous, +capable of great endurance, and maintained its power and vitality from +the time of Charles II. until far on in the reign of the second George. +No man hated Ireland more than Swift, yet he was Ireland's first and +greatest patriot, bravely standing up for the rights of that kingdom +when his chivalry might have cost him his head. He was eager for reward, +yet he refused payment with disdain. Impatient of advancement, he +preferred to the highest honors the State could confer the obscurity and +ignominy of the political associates with whom he had affectionately +labored until they fell disgraced. None knew better than he the stinging +force of a successful lampoon, yet such missiles were hurled by hundreds +at his head without in any way disturbing his bodily tranquillity. +Sincerely religious, scrupulously attentive to the duties of his holy +office, vigorously defending the position and privileges of his order, +he positively played into the hands of infidelity by the steps he took, +both in his conduct and writings, to expose the cant and hypocrisy which +he detested as heartily as he admired and practiced unaffected piety. To +say that Swift lacked tenderness would be to forget many passages of his +unaccountable history that overflow with gentleness of spirit and mild +humanity; but to deny that he exhibited inexcusable brutality where the +softness of his nature ought to have been chiefly evoked--where the want +of tenderness, indeed, left him a naked and irreclaimable savage--is +equally impossible. If we decline to pursue the contradictory series +further, it is in pity to the reader, not for want of materials at +command. There is, in truth, no end to such materials. + +Swift was born in the year 1667. His father, who was steward to the +Society of the King's Inn, Dublin, died before his birth and left his +widow penniless. The child, named Jonathan after his father, was brought +up on charity. The obligation due to an uncle was one that Swift would +never forget, or remember without inexcusable indignation. Because he +had not been left to starve by his relatives, or because his uncle would +not do more than he could, Swift conceived an eternal dislike to all who +bore his name and a haughty contempt for all who partook of his nature. +He struggled into active life and presented himself to his fellow-men in +the temper of a foe. At the age of fourteen he was admitted into Trinity +College, Dublin, and four years afterward as _a special grace_--for his +acquisitions apparently failed to earn the distinction--the degree of +Bachelor of Arts was conferred upon him. In 1688, the year in which the +war broke out in Ireland, Swift, in his twenty-first year, and without a +sixpence in his pocket, left college. Fortunately for him, the wife of +Sir William Temple was related to his mother, and upon her application +to that statesman the friendless youth was provided with a home. He took +up his abode with Sir William in England, and for the space of two years +labored hard at his own improvement and for the amusement of his patron. +How far Swift succeeded in winning the good opinion of Sir William may +be learnt from the fact that when King William honored Moor Park with +his presence he was permitted to take part in the interviews, and that +when Sir William was unable to visit the King his _protégé_ was +commissioned to wait upon His Majesty, and to speak on the patron's +authority and behalf. The lad's future promised better things than his +beginning. He resolved to go into the church, since preferment stared +him in the face. In 1692 he proceeded to Oxford, where he obtained his +Master's degree, and in 1694, quarreling with Sir William Temple, who +coldly offered him a situation worth Ł100 a year, he quitted his patron +in disgust and went at once to Ireland to take holy orders. He was +ordained, and almost immediately afterward received the living of +Kilroot in the diocese of Connor, the value of the living being about +equal to that of the appointment offered by Sir William Temple. + +Swift, miserable in his exile, sighed for the advantages he had +abandoned. Sir William Temple, lonely without his clever and keen-witted +companion, pined for his return. The prebend of Kilroot was speedily +resigned in favor of a poor curate for whom Swift had taken great pains +to procure the presentation; and with Ł80 in his purse the independent +clergyman proceeded once more to Moor Park. Sir William welcomed him +with open arms. They resided together until 1699, when the great +statesman died, leaving to Swift, in testimony of his regard, the sum of +Ł100 and his literary remains. The remains were duly published and +humbly dedicated to the King. They might have been inscribed to His +Majesty's cook for any advantage that accrued to the editor. Swift was a +Whig, but his politics suffered severely by the neglect of His Majesty, +who derived no particular advantage from Sir William Temple's "remains." + +Weary with long and vain attendance upon Court, Swift finally accepted +at the hands of Lord Berkeley, one of the Lords Justices of Ireland, the +rectory of Agher and the vicarages of Laracor and Rathbeggan. In the +year 1700 he took possession of the living at Laracor, and his mode of +entering upon his duty was thoroughly characteristic of the man. He +walked down to Laracor, entered the curate's house, and announced +himself "as his master." In his usual style he affected brutality, and +having sufficiently alarmed his victims, gradually soothed and consoled +them by evidences of undoubted friendliness and good will. "This," says +Sir Walter Scott, "was the ruling trait of Swift's character to others; +his praise assumed the appearance and language of complaint; his +benefits were often prefaced by a prologue of a threatening nature." +"The ruling trait" of Swift's character was morbid eccentricity. Much +less eccentricity has saved many a murderer in our days from the +gallows. We approach a period of Swift's history when we must accept +this conclusion or revolt from the cold-blooded doings of a monster. + +During Swift's second residence with Sir William Temple he had become +acquainted with an inmate of Moor Park very different to the +accomplished man to whose intellectual pleasures he so largely +ministered. A young and lovely girl--half ward, half dependent in the +establishment--engaged the attention and commanded the untiring services +of the newly-made minister. Esther Johnson had need of education, and +Swift became her tutor. He entered upon his task with avidity, +condescended to the humblest instruction, and inspired his pupil with +unbounded gratitude and regard. Swift was not more insensible to the +simplicity and beauty of the lady than she to the kind offices of her +master; but Swift would not have been Swift had he, like other men, +returned everyday love with ordinary affection. Swift had felt tender +impressions in his own fashion before. Once in Leicestershire he was +accused by a friend of having formed an imprudent attachment, on which +occasion he returned for answer, that his "cold temper and unconfined +humor" would prevent all serious consequences, even if it were not true +that the conduct which his friend had mistaken for gallantry had been +merely the evidence "of an active and restless temper, incapable of +enduring idleness, and catching at such opportunities of amusement as +most readily occurred." Upon another occasion, and within four years of +the Leicestershire pastime, Swift made an absolute offer of his hand to +one Miss Waryng, vowing in his declaratory epistle that he would forego +every prospect of interest for the sake of his "Varina," and that "the +lady's love was far more fatal than her cruelty." After much and long +consideration Varina consented to the suit. That was enough for Swift. +He met the capitulation by charging his Varina with want of affection, +by stipulating for unheard-of sacrifices, and concluding with an +expression of his willingness to wed, "_though she had neither fortune_ +_nor beauty_," provided every article of his letter was ungrudgingly +agreed to. We may well tremble for Esther Johnson, with her young heart +given into such wild keeping. + +[Illustration: "STELLA." (ESTHER JOHNSON.)] + +As soon as Swift was established at Laracor it was arranged that Esther, +who possessed a small property in Ireland, should take up her abode near +to her old preceptor. She came, and scandal was silenced by a +stipulation insisted upon by Swift, that his lovely charge should have a +matron for a constant companion, and never see him except in the +presence of a third party. Esther was in her seventeenth year. The vicar +of Laracor was on his road to forty. What wonder that even in Laracor +the former should receive an offer of marriage, and that the latter, +wayward and inconsistent from first to last, should deny another the +happiness he had resolved never to enjoy himself? Esther found a lover +whom Swift repulsed, to the infinite joy of the devoted girl, whose fate +was already linked for good or evil to that of her teacher and friend. + +Obscurity and idleness were not for Swift. Love, that gradually consumed +the unoccupied girl, was not even this man's recreation. Impatient of +banishment, he went to London and mixed with the wits of the age. +Addison, Steele, and Arbuthnot became his friends, and he quickly proved +himself worthy of their intimacy by the publication in 1704 of his _Tale +of a Tub_. The success of the work, given to the world anonymously, was +decisive. Its singular merit obtained for its author everlasting renown, +and effectually prevented his rising to the highest dignity in the very +church which his book labored to exalt. None but an inspired madman +would have attempted to do honor to religion in a spirit which none but +the infidel could heartily approve. + +Politicians are not squeamish. The Whigs could see no fault in raillery +and wit that might serve temporal interests with greater advantage than +they had advanced interests ecclesiastical; and the friends of the +Revolution welcomed so rare an adherent to their principles. With an +affected ardor that subsequent events proved to be as premature as it +was hollow, Swift's pen was put in harness for his allies, and worked +vigorously enough until 1709, when, having assisted Steele in the +establishment of the _Tatler_, the vicar of Laracor returned to Ireland +and to the duties of a rural pastor. Not to remain, however! A change +suddenly came over the spirit of the nation. Sacheverell was about to +pull down by a single sermon all the popularity that Marlborough and his +friends had built up by their glorious campaigns. Swift had waited in +vain for promotion from the Whigs, and his suspicions were roused when +the Lord-Lieutenant unexpectedly began to caress him. Escaping the +damage which the marked attentions of the old Government might do him +with the new, Swift started for England in 1710, in order to survey the +turning of the political wheel with his own eyes, and to try his fortune +in the game. The progress of events was rapid. Swift reached London on +the 9th of September; on the 1st of October he had already written a +lampoon upon an ancient associate; and on the 4th he was presented to +Harley, the new Minister. + +The career of Swift from this moment, and so long as the government of +Harley lasted, was magnificent and mighty. Had he not been crotchety +from his very boyhood, his head would have been turned now. Swift +reigned; Swift was the Government; Swift was Queen, Lords, and Commons. +There was tremendous work to do, and Swift did it all. The Tories had +thrown out the Whigs and had brought in a Government in their place +quite as Whiggish to do Tory work. To moderate the wishes of the people, +if not to blind their eyes, was the preliminary and essential work of +the Ministry. They could not perform it themselves. Swift undertook the +task and accomplished it. He had intellect and courage enough for that, +and more. Moreover, he had vehement passions to gratify, and they might +all partake of the glory of his success; he was proud, and his pride +reveled in authority; he was ambitious, and his ambition could attain no +higher pitch than it found at the right hand of the Prime Minister; he +was revengeful, and revenge could wish no sweeter gratification than the +contortions of the great who had neglected genius and desert, when they +looked to them for advancement and obtained nothing but cold neglect. +Swift, single-handed, fought the Whigs. For seven months he conducted a +periodical paper, in which he mercilessly assailed, as none but himself +could attack, all who were odious to the Government and distasteful to +himself. Not an individual was spared whose sufferings could add to the +tranquillity and permanence of the Government. Resistance was in vain; +it was attempted, but invariably with one effect--the first wound +grazed, the second killed. + +The public were in ecstasies. The laughers were all on the side of the +satirist, and how vast a portion of the community these are, needs not +be said. But it was not in the _Examiner_ alone that Swift offered up +his victims at the shrine of universal mirth. He could write verses for +the rough heart of a nation to chuckle over and delight in. +Personalities to-day fly wide of the mark; then they went right home. +The habits, the foibles, the moral and physical imperfections of +humanity, were all fair game, provided the shaft were tipped with gall +as well as venom. Short poems, longer pamphlets--whatever could help the +Government and cover their foes with ridicule and scorn, Swift poured +upon the town with an industry and skill that set eulogy at defiance. +And because they did defy praise, Jonathan Swift never asked, and was +ever too grand to accept it. + +But he claimed much more. His disordered yet exquisite intellect +acknowledged no superiority. He asked no thanks for his labor, he +disdained pecuniary reward for his matchless and incalculable +services--he did not care for fame, but he imperiously demanded to be +treated by the greatest as an equal. Mr. Harley offered him money, and +he quarreled with the Minister for his boldness. "If we let these great +Ministers," he said, "pretend too much, _there will be no governing +them_." The same Minister desired to make Swift his chaplain. One +mistake was as great as the other. "My Lord Oxford, by a second hand, +proposed my being his chaplain, which I, by a second hand, refused. I +will be no man's chaplain alive." The assumption of the man was more +than regal. At a later period of his life he drew up a list of his +friends, ranking them respectively under the heads "Ungrateful," +"Grateful," "Indifferent," and "Doubtful." Pope appears among the +grateful. Queen Caroline among the ungrateful. The audacity of these +distinctions is very edifying. What autocrat is here for whose mere +countenance the whole world is to bow down and be "grateful!" + +It is due to Swift's imperiousness, however, to state that, once +acknowledged as an equal, he was prepared to make every sacrifice that +could be looked for in a friend. Concede his position, and for fortune +or disgrace he was equally prepared. Harley and Bolingbroke, quick to +discern the weakness, called their invulnerable ally by his Christian +name, but stopped short of conferring upon him any benefit whatever. The +neglect made no difference to the haughty scribe, who contented himself +with pulling down the barriers that had been impertinently set up to +separate him from rank and worldly greatness. But, if Swift shrank from +the treatment of a client, he performed no part so willingly as that of +a patron. He took literature under his wing and compelled the Government +to do it homage. He quarreled with Steele when he deserted the Whigs, +and pursued his former friend with unflinching sarcasm and banter, but +at his request Steele was maintained by the Government in an office of +which he was about to be deprived. Congreve was a Whig, but Swift +insisted that he should find honor at the hands of the Tories, and +Harley honored him accordingly. Swift introduced Gay to Lord +Bolingbroke, and secured that nobleman's weighty patronage for the poet. +Rowe was recommended for office, Pope for aid. The well-to-do, by +Swift's personal interest, found respect, the indigent, money for the +mitigation of their pains. At Court, at Swift's instigation, the Lord +Treasurer made the first advances to men of letters, and by the act made +tacit confession of the power which Swift so liberally exercised, for +the advantage of everybody but himself. But what worldly distinction, in +truth, could add to the importance of a personage who made it a point +for a Duke to pay him the first visit, and who, on one occasion, +publicly sent the Prime Minister into the House of Commons to call out +the First Secretary of State, whom Swift wished to inform that he would +not dine with him if he meant to dine late? + +A lampoon directed against the Queen's favorite, upon whose red hair +Swift had been facetious, prevented the satirist's advancement in +England. The see of Hereford fell vacant in 1712. Bolingbroke would now +have paid the debt due from his Government to Swift, but the Duchess of +Somerset, upon her knees, implored the Queen to withhold her consent +from the appointment, and Swift was pronounced by Her Majesty as "too +violent in party" for promotion. The most important man in the kingdom +found himself in a moment the most feeble. The fountain of so much honor +could not retain a drop of the precious waters for itself. Swift, it is +said, laid the foundations of fortune for upward of forty families who +rose to distinction by a word from his lips. What a satire upon power +was the satirist's own fate! He could not advance himself in England one +inch. Promotion in Ireland began and ended with his appointment to the +Deanery of St. Patrick, of which he took possession, much to his disgust +and vexation, in the summer of 1713. + +The summer, however, was not over before Swift was in England again. The +wheels of government had come to a dead lock, and of course none but he +could right them. The Ministry was at sixes and sevens. Its very +existence depended upon the good understanding of the chiefs, +Bolingbroke and Harley, and the wily ambition of the latter, jarring +against the vehement desires of the former, had produced jealousy, +suspicion, and now threatened immediate disorganization. A thousand +voices called the Dean to the scene of action, and he came full of the +importance of his mission. He plunged at once into the vexed sea of +political controversy, and whilst straining every effort to court his +friends, let no opportunity slip of galling their foes. His pen was as +damaging and industrious as ever. It set the town in a fever. It caused +Richard Steele to be expelled from the House of Commons, and it sent the +whole body of Scotch peers, headed by the Duke of Argyle, to the Queen, +with the prayer that a proclamation might be issued for the discovery of +their libeller. Swift was more successful in his assaults than in its +mediation. The Ministers were irreconcilable. Vexed at heart with +disappointment, the Dean, after his manner, suddenly quitted London, and +shut himself up in Berkshire. One attempt he made in his strict +seclusion to uphold the Government and save the country, and the +composition is a curiosity in its way. He published a proposition for +the exclusion of all Dissenters from power of every kind, for +disqualifying Whigs and Low Churchmen for every possible office, and for +compelling the presumptive heir to the throne to declare his abomination +of Whigs, and his perfect satisfaction with Her Majesty's present +advisers. Matters must have been near a crisis when this modest pamphlet +was put forth; and so they were. By his intrigues Bolingbroke had +triumphed over his colleagues, and Oxford was disgraced. The latter, +about to retire into obscurity, addressed a letter to Swift, entreating +him, if he were not tired of his former prosperous friend, "to throw +away so much time on one who loved him as to attend him upon his +melancholy journey." The same post brought him word that his own victory +was won. Bolingbroke triumphant besought his Jonathan, as he loved his +Queen, to stand by her Minister, and to aid him in his perilous +adventure. Nothing should be wanting to do justice to his loyalty. The +Duchess of Somerset would be reconciled, the Queen would be gracious, +the path of honor should lie broad, open, and unimpeded before him. +Bolingbroke and Harley were equally the friends of Swift. What could he +do in his extremity? What would a million men, taken at random from the +multitude, have done, had they been so situated, so tempted? Not that +upon which Swift in his chivalrous magnanimity, at once decided. He +abandoned the prosperous to follow and console the unfortunate. "I +meddle not with Lord Oxford's faults," is his noble language, "as he was +a Minister of State, but his personal kindness to me was excessive. He +distinguished and chose me above all men when he was great." Within a +few days of Swift's self-denying decision Queen Anne was a corpse, +Bolingbroke and Oxford both flying for their lives, and Swift himself +hiding his unprotected head in Ireland amidst a people who at once +feared and hated him. + +During Swift's visit to London in 1710 he had regularly transmitted to +Stella, by which name Esther Johnson is made known to posterity, an +account of his daily doings with the new Government. The journal +exhibits the view of the writer that his conduct invariably presents. It +is full of tenderness and confidence, and not without coarseness that +startles and shocks. It contains a detailed and minute account, not only +of all that passed between Swift and the Government, but of his +changeful feelings as they arose from day to day, and of his physical +infirmities, that are commonly whispered into the ear of a physician. If +Swift loved Stella in the ordinary acceptation of the term, he took +small pains in his diary to elevate the sentiments with which she +regarded her hero. The journal is not in harmony throughout. Toward the +close it lacks the tenderness and warmth, the minuteness and +confidential utterance, that are so visible at the beginning. We are +enabled to account for the difference. Swift had enlarged the circle of +his female acquaintance whilst fighting for his friends in London. He +had become a constant visitor, especially, at the house of a Mrs. +Vanhomrigh, who had two daughters, the eldest of whom was about twenty +years of age, and had the same Christian name as Stella. Esther +Vanhomrigh had great taste for reading, and Swift, who seems to have +delighted in such occupation, condescended, for the second time in his +life, to become a young lady's instructor. The great man's tuition had +always one effect upon his pupils. Before Miss Vanhomrigh had made much +progress in her studies she was over head and ears in love, and, to the +astonishment of her master, she one day declared the passionate and +undying character of her attachment. Swift met the confession with a +weapon far more potent when opposed to a political foe than when +directed against the weak heart of a doting woman. He had recourse to +raillery, but, finding his banter of no avail, endeavored to appease the +unhappy girl by "an offer of devoted and everlasting friendship, founded +on the basis of virtuous esteem." He might with equal success have +attempted to put out a conflagration with a bucket of cold water. There +was no help for the miserable man. He returned to his deanery at the +death of Queen Anne with two love affairs upon his hands, but with the +stern resolution of encouraging neither, and overcoming both. + +Before quitting England he wrote to Esther Vanhomrigh, or Vanessa, as he +styles her in his correspondence, intimating his intention to forget +everything in England and to write to her as seldom as possible. So far +the claims of Vanessa were disposed of. As soon as he reached his +deanery he secured lodgings for Stella and her companion, and reiterated +his determination to pursue his intercourse with the young lady upon the +prudent terms originally established. So far his mind was set at rest in +respect of Stella. But Swift had scarcely time to congratulate himself +upon his plans before Vanessa presented herself in Dublin, and made +known to the Dean her resolution to take up her abode permanently in +Ireland. Her mother was dead, so were her two brothers; she and her +sister were alone in the world, and they had a small property near +Dublin, to which it suited them to retire. Swift, alarmed by the +proceeding, remonstrated, threatened, denounced--all in vain. Vanessa +met his reproaches with complaints of cruelty and neglect, and warned +him of the consequences of leaving her without the solace of his +friendship and presence. Perplexed and distressed, the Dean had no other +resource than to leave events to their own development. He trusted that +time would mitigate and show the hopelessness of Vanessa's passion, and +in the meanwhile he sought, by occasional communication with her, to +prevent any catastrophe that might result from actual despair. But his +thoughts for Vanessa's safety were inimical to Stella's repose. She +pined and gradually sunk under the alteration that had taken place in +Swift's deportment toward her since his acquaintance with Vanessa. +Swift, really anxious for the safety of his ward, requested a friend to +ascertain the cause of her malady. It was not difficult to ascertain it. +His indifference and public scandal, which spoke freely of their +unaccountable connection, were alone to blame for her sufferings. It was +enough for Swift. He had passed the age at which he had resolved to +marry, but he was ready to wed Stella provided the marriage were kept +secret and she was content to live apart. Poor Stella was more than +content, but she overestimated her strength. The marriage took place, +and immediately afterward the husband withdrew himself in a fit of +madness, which threw him into gloom and misery for days. What the +motives may have been for the inexplicable stipulations of this wayward +man it is impossible to ascertain. That they were the motives of a +diseased, and at times utterly irresponsible, judgment, we think cannot +be questioned. Of love, as a tender passion, Swift had no conception. +His writings prove it. The coarseness that pervades his compositions has +nothing in common with the susceptibility that shrinks from disgusting +and loathsome images in which Swift reveled. In all his prose and +poetical addresses to his mistresses there is not one expression to +prove the weakness of his heart. He writes as a guardian--he writes as a +friend--he writes as a father, but not a syllable escapes him that can +be attributed to the pangs and delights of the lover. + +Married to Stella, Swift proved himself more eager than ever to give to +his intercourse with Vanessa the character of mere friendship. He went +so far as to endeavor to engage her affections for another man, but his +attempts were rejected with indignation and scorn. In the August of the +year 1717 Vanessa retired from Dublin to her house and property near +Cellbridge. Swift exhorted her to leave Ireland altogether, but she was +not to be persuaded. In 1720 it would appear that the Dean frequently +visited the recluse in her retirement, and upon such occasions Vanessa +would plant a laurel or two in honor of her guest, who passed his time +with the lady reading and writing verses in a rural bower built in a +sequestered part of her garden. Some of the verses composed by Vanessa +have been preserved. They breathe the fond ardor of the suffering maid, +and testify to the imperturbable coldness of the man. Of the innocence +of their intercourse there cannot be a doubt. In 1720 Vanessa lost her +last remaining relative--her sister died in her arms. Thrown back upon +herself by this bereavement, the intensity of her love for the Dean +became insupportable. Jealous and suspicious, and eager to put an end to +a terror that possessed her, she resolved to address herself to Stella, +and to ascertain from her own lips the exact nature of her relations +with her so-called guardian. The momentous question was asked in a +letter, to which Stella calmly replied by informing her interrogator +that she was the Dean's wife. Vanessa's letter was forwarded by Stella +to Swift himself, and it roused him to fury. He rode off at once to +Cellbridge, he entered the apartment in which Vanessa was seated, and +glared upon her like a tiger. The trembling creature asked her visitor +to sit down. He answered the invitation by flinging a packet on the +table, and riding instantly away. The packet was opened; it contained +nothing but Vanessa's letter to Stella. Her doom was pronounced. The +fond heart snapped. In a few weeks the hopeless, desolate Vanessa was in +her grave. + +Swift, agonized, rushed from the world. For two months subsequently to +the death of Vanessa his place of abode was unknown. But at the end of +that period he returned to Dublin calmer for the conflict he had +undergone. He devoted himself industriously again to affairs of State. +His pen had now a nobler office than to sustain unworthy men in +unmerited power. We can but indicate the course of his labors. Ireland, +the country not of his love, but of his birth and adoption, treated as a +conquered province, owed her rescue from absolute thraldom to Swift's +great and unconquerable exertions on her behalf. He resisted the English +Government with his single hand, and overcame them in the fight. His +popularity in Ireland was unparalleled even in that excited and +generous-hearted land. Rewards were offered to betray him, but a million +lives would have been sacrificed in his place before one would have +profited by the patriot's downfall. He was worshiped, and every hair of +his head was precious and sacred to the people who adored him. + +In 1726 Swift revisited England, for the first time since the death of +Queen Anne, and published, anonymously as usual, the famous satire of +_Gulliver's Travels_. Its immediate success heralded the universal fame +that masterly and singular work has since achieved. Swift mingled once +more with his literary friends, and lived almost entirely with Pope. +Yet courted on all sides he was doomed again to bitter sorrow. News +reached him that Stella was ill. Alarmed and full of self-reproaches, he +hastened home to be received by the people of Ireland in triumph, and to +meet--and he was grateful for the sight--the improved and welcoming +looks of the woman for whose dissolution he had been prepared. In March, +1727, Stella being sufficiently recovered, the Dean ventured once more +to England, but soon to be resummoned to the hapless couch of his +exhausted and most miserable wife. Afflicted in body and soul, Swift +suddenly quitted Pope, with whom he was residing at Twickenham, and +reaching his home, was doomed to find his Stella upon the verge of the +grave. Till the last moment he continued at her bedside, evincing the +tenderest consideration, and performing what consolatory tasks he might +in the sick chamber. Shortly before her death part of a conversation +between the melancholy pair was overheard. "Well, my dear," said the +Dean, "if you wish it, it shall be owned." Stella's reply was given in +fewer words. "_It is too late._" "On the 28th of January," writes one of +the biographers of Swift, "Mrs. Johnson closed her weary pilgrimage, and +passed to that land where they neither marry nor are given in marriage," +the second victim of one and the same hopeless and consuming passion. + +Swift stood alone in the world, and for his punishment was doomed to +endure the crushing solitude for the space of seventeen years. The +interval was gloomy indeed. From his youth the Dean had been subject to +painful fits of giddiness and deafness. From 1736 these fits became more +frequent and severe. In 1740 he went raving mad, and frenzy ceased only +to leave him a more pitiable idiot. During the space of three years the +poor creature was unconscious of all that passed around him, and spoke +but twice. Upon the 19th of October, 1745, God mercifully removed the +terrible spectacle from the sight of man, and released the sufferer from +his misery, degradation, and shame. + +The volumes, whose title is found below,[1] and which have given +occasion to these remarks, are a singular comment upon a singular +history. It is the work of a Frenchman who has ventured to deduce a +theory from the _data_ we have submitted to the reader's notice. With +that theory we cannot agree: it may be reconcilable to the romance which +M. de Wailly has invented, but it is altogether opposed to veritable +records that cannot be impugned. M. de Wailly would have it that Swift's +marriage with Stella was a deliberate and rational sacrifice of love to +principle, and that Swift compensated his sacrificed love by granting +his principle no human indulgences; that his love for Vanessa, in fact, +was sincere and ardent, and that his duty to Stella alone prevented a +union with Vanessa. To prove his case M. de Wailly widely departs from +history, and makes his hypothesis of no value whatever, except to the +novel reader. As a romance, written by a Frenchman, _Stella and Vanessa_ +is worthy of great commendation. It indicates a familiar knowledge of +English manners and character, and never betrays, except here and there +in the construction of the plot, the hand of a foreigner. It is quite +free from exaggeration, and inasmuch as it exhibits no glaring +anachronism or absurd caricature, is a literary curiosity. We accept it +as such, though bound to reject its higher claims. The mystery of +Swift's amours has yet to be cleared up. We explain his otherwise +unaccountable behavior by attributing his cruelty to prevailing +insanity. The career of Swift was brilliant, but not less wild than +dazzling. The sickly hue of a distempered brain gave a color to his acts +in all the relations of life. The storm was brewing from his childhood; +it burst forth terribly in his age, and only a moment before all was +wreck and devastation, the half-distracted man sat down and made a will, +by which he left the whole of his worldly possessions for the foundation +of a lunatic asylum. + + [1: _Stella and Vanessa: A Romance from the French. By Lady Duff + Gordon. In two vols. Bentley. 1850.] + + + + +AUTHORS AND BOOKS. + + +We find in the _Deutsche Zeitung aus Böhmen_, an account of a visit to +the great German satirist and poet Henry Heine, who lives at Paris, +where, as is known, he has long been confined to his bed with a +lingering illness. We translate the following for the _International_:-- + +"It is indeed a painful or rather a terrible condition in which Heine +now is and has been for the past year; though the paralysis has made no +progress, it has at least experienced no alleviation. He has now lain +near two years in bed, and during that time has not seen a tree nor a +speck of the blue sky. He cannot raise himself, and scarcely moves. His +left eye is blind, his right can just perceive objects, but cannot bear +the light of day. His nights are disturbed by fearful torments, and only +morphine can produce him the least repose. Hope of recovery has long +been given up, and he himself entertains no illusions on that subject. +He knows that his sufferings can end only with death. He speaks of this +with the utmost composure." + +The writer goes on to contradict, as calumnious, the report that Heine +had become religious, saying, that he bears his tortures without "the +assistance of saints of any color, and by the inward power of the free +man." He does not regard himself as a sinner, and has nothing to repent +of, since he has but rejoiced like a child, in everything +beautiful--chasing butterflies, finding flowers by the way-side, and +making a holiday of his whole life. He has, however, often called +himself religious, by way of contradiction, and from antipathy to a +certain clique who openly proclaim themselves atheists, and under that +sonorous title seek to exercise a certain terror on others. + +It seems that Heine has lost a great deal of property through various +speculators who have persuaded him to join in their schemes. The writer +says: "Heine's friends are enraged at many of these individuals, and +urge him to attack them publicly, and show them up in their true light. +He owes this satisfaction to himself and to us; at the same time it +would conciliate many who have not pardoned him the cavalier air with +which he has turned off the most respectable notabilities of literature +and patriotism, in order to amuse himself in the company of some +adventurer." By this love for out-of-the-way characters, the writer +thinks that Heine must have collected the materials for a humorous +novel, which could equal the best productions of Mendoza, Smollett, or +Dickens; his experiences in this line have cost him a great deal of +money. We translate the conclusion of the article:-- + +"We shall be asked if Heine really continues to write? Yes; he writes, +he works, he dictates poems without cessation; perhaps he was never in +his whole life as active as now. Several hours a day he devotes to the +composition of his memoirs which are rapidly advancing under the hand of +his secretary. His mind still resembles, in its wonderful fullness and +vigor, those fantastic ball-nights of Paris, which, under the open sky, +unfold an endless life and variety. There rings the music, there rushes +the dance, and the loveliest and grotesquest forms flit hither and +thither. There are silent arbors for tears of happiness and sorrow, and +places for dancing, with light, full of loud bold laughter. Rockets +after rockets mount skyward, scattering millions of stars, and endless +extravagance of art, fire, poesy, passion, flames up, showing the world +now in green, now in purple light, till at last the clear silver stars +come out, and fill us with infinite delight, and the still consciousness +of life's beauty. Yes, Heine lives and writes incessantly. His body is +broken, but not his mind, which, on the sick bed rises to Promethean +power and courage. His arm is impotent; not so his satire, which still +in its velvet covering bears the fearful knife that has flayed alive so +many a Maryas. Yes, his frame is worn away, but not the grace in every +movement of his youthful spirit. Along with his memoirs, a complete +volume of poems has been written in these two years. They will not +appear till after the death of the poet; but I can say of them that they +unite in full perfection all the admirable gifts which have rendered his +former poems so brilliant. So struggles this extraordinary man against a +terrible destiny, with all the weapons of the soul, never despairing in +this vehement suffering, never descending to tears--bidding defiance to +the worst. As I stood before that sick bed, it seemed as if I saw the +sufferer of the Caucasus bound in iron chains, tortured by the vulture, +but still confronting fate unappalled, and there alone on the sea-shore +caressed by sea-nymphs. Yes, this is the sick-bed and the death-bed of a +great and free man; and to have come near him is not only a great +happiness but a great instruction." + +Heine has never been well known in this country. The only work +by him we have seen in English is his _Beitrage zur Deutschen +Literatur-Geschichte_, translated by Mr. G.W. Haven, and published in +Boston, in 1846. It is remarkably clever, and audacious, as the +productions of this German-Frenchman generally are. He is now +fifty-three years of age, having been born at Dusseldorff, in 1797. As +several wealthy bankers, and other persons of substance, in Paris, are +related to him, and he has a pension from the French Government, he is +not likely to suffer very much from the losses of property referred to +in the _Zeitung aus Böhmen_. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Otto Zirckel has just published at Berlin a volume called "Sketches +from and concerning the United States," which has some curious +peculiarities to the eyes of an American. It is intended as a guide for +Germans who wish either to emigrate to this country or to send their +money here for investment. It begins with a description of the voyage to +America and of the East, West and South of the Union; next it describes +the position of the farmer, physician, clergyman, teacher, jurist, +merchant, and editor, and the chance of the emigrant in each of these +professions. It is written with spirit and humor, and a good deal of +practical judgment and wisdom are concisely and clearly expressed. The +curious part is the advice given to speculators who wish to invest their +money here at a high rate of interest. The author seems to think America +a perfect Eldorado for money lenders, and his book cannot fail to +produce a considerable increase in the amount of German capital employed +in this country. The various state and national loans are described +correctly, showing that Dr. Zirckel might venture safely into the mazes +of Wall Street. The history of repudiation he has studied with care, and +the necessity of final resumption of payments even in Mississippi he +estimates with justice. He suggests as the safest means of managing +matters, that a number of wealthy families should combine their funds +and send over a special agent in whom they can confide, to manage the +same in shaving notes, speculating in land, lending on bond and +mortgage, and making money generally. Thus they can get a high return +and live comfortably in Europe on the toil of Americans, all of which +will be much more grateful to the capitalists than useful to this +country. Better for us to have no foreign capital at all than to have +the interest thereon carried away and consumed in Europe. + + * * * * * + +Emile Silvestre has sent forth a new volume, _Un Philosophe sous les +Toits_. + + * * * * * + +The work on Aerostation, by Mr. Green, recently published in +Philadelphia, has been much noticed in Europe, where--particularly in +France--the subject has attracted large attention, in consequence of the +death of Gale, (formerly a player at our Bowery Theater,) near Bordeaux, +and the recent wicked and ridiculous ascents with horses, ostriches, &c. +from the Hippodrome in Paris, and some experiments in ballooning at +Madrid. In an interesting paper in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, for the +fifteenth of October, we have an account of numerous theories, +experiments, and accidents, constituting an entertaining _resumé_ of the +whole matter. Few instances of intrepidity, danger, and escape, excite +livelier emotion than the crossing from England to France by Blanchard, +and Dr. Jeffries, an American, on the seventh of January, 1785. When, by +the loss of gas, the balloon descended rapidly over the channel, and +approached near the surface of the sea, after everything had been thrown +out, even to their clothes, Jeffries offered to leap into the sea, and +by thus lightening the balloon further, afford Blanchard a chance of +safety. "We must both be lost as the case is," said he; "if you think +your preservation is possible, I am ready to sacrifice my life." The +French military ascents are particularly described. Companies of +aeronauts were formed and trained, and Bonaparte took one of them with +him to Egypt, but the British captured all the apparatus for the +generation of gas. The First Consul caused ascents in picturesque +balloons to be made on occasions of public rejoicing for victories, in +order to strike the imaginations of the Egyptians, and an aerostatic +academy was established near Paris. The writer mentions that Lieutenant +Gale, like poor Sam Patch, so famous for a similar absurdity, and for a +similar and not less miserable end, had drank too much brandy for +self-possession in a dangerous predicament. He thinks that the problem +of the direction or government of balloons cannot possibly be solved +with the mechanical means which science now commands; and that, as they +may be usefully employed for the study of the great physical laws of the +globe, all experiments should be restricted to the object of advancing +science. He dwells on what might be accomplished toward ascertaining the +true laws of the decrease of temperature in the elevated regions of the +air, of the decrease of density of the atmosphere, of the decrease of +humidity according to atmospheric heights, and of the celerity of sound. +After all the experiments, and all that has been written upon the +subject, we are confident that the direction of a balloon is quite +impossible, except by a process which we have never yet seen suggested; +that is, by the rapid decomposition of the air in its way, so that a +tube extended in the direction in which it is desired to move, shall +open continually a vacuum into which the pressure of the common +atmosphere shall impel the carriage. + + * * * * * + +The _Journal des Debats_ announces for publication two works from the +pen of Guizot. The hero of the first is General Monk. Its title is _The +Downfall of the Republic in England in 1660, and the Reestablishment of +the Monarchy: A Historic Study_. It may be regarded as new, though part +has been published before in the form of articles in the _Revue +Française_. These articles appeared in 1837. M. Guizot has carefully +revised them, and added a great deal of new matter. The work is also to +be enriched with a number of curious documents never before published, +such as a letter from Richard Cromwell to General Monk, and seventy +dispatches from M. de Bordeaux, then French Ambassador at London, to +Cardinal Mazarin. These dispatches have been found in the archives of +the Foreign Office at Paris. The work has a new preface, which the +_Debats_ says will prove to be no less important in a political than a +historical point of view. The second book is that so well known in this +country upon Washington. We do not understand that anything new is added +to it. It was in the first place issued as the introduction of the +translation into French of Sparks's _Life of Washington_, which the +French journalist says is the most exact and complete work yet published +on the war of independence and the foundation of the United States. +"Monk and Washington," adds the _Debats_: "on the one side a republic +falling and a monarchy rising again into existence, on the other a +monarchy giving birth to a republic; and M. Guizot, formerly the prime +minister of our monarchy, now amid the perplexities of our own republic +the historian of these two great men and these two great events! Were +contrasts ever seen more striking, and more likely to excite a powerful +interest?" + +This is very well for the _Debats_. But the omissions by Mr. +Sparks--sometimes from carelessness, sometimes from ignorance, and +sometimes from an indisposition to revive memories of old feuds, or to +cover with disgrace names which should be dishonored; and his occasional +verbal alterations of Washington's letters prevent that general +satisfaction with which his edition of Washington would otherwise be +regarded. We are soon to have histories of the Revolution, from both +Sparks and Bancroft, in proper form. The best documentary history is +not, as the _Debats_ fancies, this collection of Washington's letters, +but Mr. Force's "Archives,"--of which, with its usual want of sagacity +or regard for duty, Congress is publishing but one tenth of the edition +necessary, since every statesman in our own country, and every writer on +American history at home or abroad, needs a copy of it, and from its +extent and costliness it will never be reprinted. + + * * * * * + +The Rabbi Cahen has published at Paris the Book of Job, which concludes +his learned version of the Hebrew Bible. + + * * * * * + +Works on the German Revolution and German Politics.--An excellent book +on the Prussian revolution is now being published at Oldenburg. It is +from the pen of Adolf Stahr, a writer of remarkable force and clearness. +He belongs to the party most bitterly disappointed by the turn affairs +have taken in Germany. We mean the democratic monarchists, who labored +under the illusion that they might see Prussia converted into a sort of +republic with a hereditary chief, like Belgium. They desired a monarchy, +with a parliament elected by universal suffrage, and democratic +institutions of every kind. Stahr's book breathes all the bitterness of +their rage at the success of absolutism in snatching from them every +slightest vestige of hope. His book is published serially, four parts +having already been issued. As a record of facts it deserves the praise +of great industry and lucidity in collection and arrangement, while on +every page there glows in suppressed eloquence the indignation of a +generous and manly heart. Of course Stahr cannot be called a historian +in the usual sense of the term. He is rather a political pamphleteer, +maintaining at length the ideas and chastising the foes of his party. + +Another and a more permanently valuable work on this subject is the +_Revolutions-Chronik_ (Revolutionary Chronicle) of Dr. Adolf Wolff, +published by Hempel of Berlin. This is a collection of authentic +documents, such as proclamations, placards, letters, legislative acts, +&c., connected with the revolution. They are not only arranged in due +order, but are combined with a clear and succinct narrative of the +events and circumstances to which they relate. We know of no man more +competent than Dr. Wolff to the successful execution of so important an +undertaking. Without being a partisan, his sympathies are decidedly on +the popular side, and the clearness of his judgment cannot be blinded by +any of the feints and stratagems in which the period abounded. He is now +engaged upon the revolution in Prussia, but intends to treat all the +manifestations of the time throughout Germany in the same thorough and +reliable manner. His work will be invaluable to future historians of +this eventful period; at the same time it reads like a romance, not only +from the nature of the events, but from the spirit and keenness of the +style. + +Two other striking contributions to the history of this stormy epoch +have been made by Bruno Bauer, the well known rationalist. Bauer treats +the political and religious parties of modern Germany with the same +scornful satire and destructive analysis which appear in his theological +writings. He delights in pitting one side against the other and making +them consume each other. His first book is called the _Bürgerliche +Revolution in Deutschland_, (the Burghers' Revolution in Germany); it +was published above a year ago, and attracted a great deal of attention +from the fact that it took neither side, but with a sort of +Mephistophelian superiority, showed that every party had been alike +weak, timid, hesitating, short-sighted, and useless. The New-Catholics +of Ronge's school were especially treated with unsparing severity. Bauer +has now just brought out his second book, which is particularly devoted +to the Frankfort Parliament. In this also the Hegelian Logic is applied +with the same result. The author proves that all that was done in that +body was worth nothing and produced nothing. There is not a particle of +sympathetic feeling in the whole book; but only cold and contemptuous +analysis. It has not made very much of an impression in Germany. Both +these works, and, indeed, the whole school of ultra-Hegelian skeptics +generally, are a singular reaction upon the usual warmth and +sentimentality of German character and literature. They are the very +opposite extreme, and so a very natural product of the times. For our +part we like them quite as well as the other side of the contrast. + + * * * * * + +Germany is the richest of all countries in historical literature. +Nowhere have all the events of human experience been so variously, +profoundly, or industriously investigated. Ancient history especially +has been most exhaustively treated by the Germans. One of the best and +most comprehensive works in this category is that of Dr. Zimmer, the +seventh edition of which, revised and enlarged, has just been published +at Leipzic. Dr. Zimmer does not proceed upon the hypotheses of Niebuhr +and others, but conceives that the writing of history and romance ought +to be essentially different. The whole work is in one volume of some 450 +pages, and of course greatly condensed. It discusses the history of +India, China, and Japan; the western Asiatic States, Assyria, Babylonia, +Syria, Phoenicia, India, down to the fall of Jerusalem; the other +parts of Asia; Egypt to the battle of Actium, with a dissertation on +Egyptian culture; Carthage; Greece to the fall of Corinth; Rome under +the emperors down to the year 476; and concludes with an account of the +literature of classical antiquity. + +As we have no manual of this sort in English, that is written up to the +latest results of scholarship, we hope to see some American undertaking +a version of Dr. Zimmer's book. There is considerable learning and +talent in the two octavos on the same subject by Dr. Hebbe, and +published last year by Dewitt & Davenport; but we strongly dislike some +of the doctrines of the work, which are _not_ derived from a thorough +study. + + * * * * * + +The seventh volume of Professor Schlosser's History of the Eighteenth +Century, and of the Nineteenth till the overthrow of the French Empire, +appeared, in translation, in London, on the first of November. Volume +eighth, completing the work, with a copious index, is preparing for +early publication. + + * * * * * + +The Discovery of a lost MS. of Jean Le Bel is mentioned in the Paris +papers, as having been made by M. Polain, keeper of the Archives at +Ličge, among the MSS. in the _Bibliothčque de Bourgogne_, at Brussels. +It is on the eve of publication, and will be comprised in an octavo +volume, in black letter. This work was supposed to be irretrievably +lost. It was found by M. Polain, transcribed and incorporated into a +prose _Chronicle de Ličge_, by Jean des Pres, dit _d'Ontremeuse_. It +comprises a period between 1325 and 1340, which are embraced in one +hundred and forty-six chapters of the first book of _Froissart_. It +therefore contains only the first part of Le Bel's Chronicle: +nevertheless it is a fragment of much importance. Froissart cannot be +considered as a contemporary historian of the events recorded in his +first book, but Le Bel was connected with the greater portion of them, +and was acquainted with them either from personal knowledge or through +those who had authentic sources of information. + + * * * * * + +Monsieur Bastiat, the political economist, (who has shown more economy +in the matter of credit for the best ideas in his books, than in +anything else we know of,) is not dead, as in the last _International_ +was stated. The _Courier and Enquirer_ correspondent says: + + "I am glad to say that the report which reached Paris from Italy, + of the death of F. Bastiat, a noted writer on political economy, is + unfounded. That gentleman is recovering his health, and it is now + believed will be able, at the opening of the session, to resume his + seat in the Assembly." + +Since his return from Italy he has published at Paris a new edition of +his latest production, the _Harmonies Economiques_, in which he has +availed himself in so large a degree and in so discreditable a manner of +the ideas of Mr. Henry C. Carey, of New Jersey, who, since he first gave +to the public the essentials of M. Bastiat's performance, has himself, +in a volume, entitled _The Harmony of Interests_, published some three +or four months ago in Philadelphia, largely and forcibly illustrated his +just and admirable doctrines. In the _Harmonies Economiques_ M. Bastiat +seeks to prove that the interests of classes and individuals in society, +as now constituted, are harmonious, and not antagonistic as certain +schools of thinkers maintain. Commercial freedom he avers, instead of +urging society toward a state of general misery, tends constantly to the +progressive increase of the general abundance and well being. In +sustaining this proposition M. Bastiat teaches the optimism of the +socialists, and holds that injustice is not a necessary thing in human +relations, that monopoly and pauperism are only temporary, and that +things must come right at last. The powers of nature, the soil, +vegetation, gravitation, heat, electricity, chemical forces, waters, +seas, in short the globe and all the endowments with which God has +enriched it, are the common property of the entire race of man, and in +proportion as society advances this common property is more equally +distributed and enjoyed. Capital assists men in their efforts to improve +this magnificent inheritance; competition is a powerful lever with which +they set in movement and render useful the gratuitous gifts of God; the +social instinct leads them to make a continual exchange of services; and +even now, though the powers of nature enter into these services, those +who receive them pay only for the labor of their fellows, not for +natural products; and the accumulation of capital constantly diminishes +the rate of interest and enables the laborer to derive a greater return +from his toil. M. Bastiat also gives a new definition of value, which he +says is _the relation of two services exchanged_. This is all, we +believe, that he _claims_ to offer as perfectly new,--the main part of +his book appearing as a clearer exposition of the doctrine of Adam +Smith. It will be seen that the theory of the book is infinitely +superior to that of Ricardo or Malthus; it has borrowed truths from the +advanced thinkers of the age; but he would be a bold critic who should +affirm that it had not mingled far-reaching errors with them. + + * * * * * + +M. Romieu's book in defense of despotism, (lately published in France,) +sounds as if it had been written for the _North American Review_, but it +never could have been sent to its editor, or it would have been adopted +and published by him. It is entitled "The Era of the Cćsars," and its +argument is, that history, ancient and modern, and the situation of the +contemporary world, prove that force, the sword, or _Cćsarism_, has +ultimately decided, and will prevail, in the affairs of the nations. +Representative assemblies, Monsieur Romieu considers ridiculous, and +mischievous, and in the end fatal: such, at least, he contends, is the +experience of France; and as for the liberty of the press, it means a +form of tyranny which destroys all other liberty. At the beginning of +the century, M. de Fontanes said what (he thinks) multitudes of the +soundest minds would reecho, "I shall never deem myself free in a +country where freedom of the press exists." He would convert all +journals into mere chronicles, and have them strictly watched. Force, he +says, is the only principle, even in governments styled free. He +includes Switzerland and the United States. The condition and destinies +of France he handles with special hardihood. Cćsarism is here already +desired and inaugurated--not monarchy, which requires faith in it, nor +constitutional government, which is an expedient and an illusion, but a +supreme authority capable of maintaining itself, and _commanding_ +respect and submission. Mr. Walsh reviews the work in one of his letters +to the _Journal of Commerce_; and judging from Mr. Walsh's +correspondence on the recent attempts to establish free institutions in +Europe, we might suspect him of a hearty sympathy with M. Romieu, whom +he describes as an erudite, conscientious personage, formerly a prefect +of a department, and a member of the Assembly. + + * * * * * + +The German poet, Anastasius Grün, has just published, at Leipzic a +collection of the _popular songs of Carinthia_, translated from the +original. Carinthia, as, perhaps, all our readers are not aware, is one +of the southerly provinces of the Austrian empire, on the borders of +Turkey; and, during all the wars of Austria with the Moslems, had to +bear the brunt of the fighting. And even after peace was concluded the +Carinthians kept up a sort of minor war on their own account, being +constantly exposed to incursions from the other side of the frontier. +Thus for centuries their country was one extended fortification, and the +whole population in constant readiness to rush to arms when the signal +fires blazed upon the hills. Then every house was a fortress, and even +the churches were surrounded with palisades and ditches, behind which +the women and children sought refuge with their movables when the alarm +came too near. From this period of constant and savage warfare the +popular songs of the country date their origin. Curious to say, many of +their heroes are borrowed from the traditions and history of neighboring +lands. Thus the Servian champion Marko figures a good deal in this +poetry, while the figure which has more importance than all the others +is a foreign and almost fabulous being, called King Mathias; wherever +this mystic personage can be laid hold of and historically identified, +he appears to be Mathias Corvin, king of Hungary. The Carinthians +attribute to him not only all the exploits of a variety of notable +characters, but also the vices of some celebrated illustrations of +immorality. Nor is his career accomplished; according to the tradition +of the southern Slavonians, King Mathias is not yet dead, but sleeps in +a grotto in the interior of Hungary, waiting for the hour of waking, +like Frederick the Redbeard in the Kyffhäuser, Charlemagne in the +Untersberg at Salzburg, Holger the Dane near Kronburg, and King Arthur +in a mountain of his native country. There sits King Mathias with his +warriors, by a table under a linden tree. Another song makes him, like +Orpheus with Eurydice, go down to hell with his fiddle in his hand to +bring thence his departed bride. But he has no better luck than Orpheus; +on the way out she breaks the commanded silence by saying a word to her +companion, and so is lost forever. These songs are still sung by the +Carinthian soldiers at night, around their watch-fires. There are others +of more modern origin, but they are weak and colorless compared with +these relics of the old heroic time. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Bryant's delightful "Letters of a Traveler," of which we have +heretofore spoken, has been issued by Mr. Putnam in a new and very +beautiful edition, enriched with many exquisite engravings, under the +title of "The Picturesque Souvenir." It is a work of permanent value, +and in the style of its publication is hardly surpassed by any of the +splendid volumes of the season. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Laing, one of those restless English travelers who have printed +books about the United States, is now a prominent personage in +Australia, where he has been elected a member of the newly instituted +Legislature, for the city of Sidney. Upon the conclusion of the canvass +he made a speech, after which he was dragged home in his carriage by +some of the more energetic of his partisans, the horses having been +removed by them for that purpose. He is opposed to the Government. + + * * * * * + +The History of Liberty, by Mr. Samuel Elliot, of Boston, is examined at +considerable length and in a very genial spirit, in the last number of +the _Revue des Deux Mondes_--a review, by the way, in which much more +attention appears to be paid to our literature than it receives in the +_North American_. The writer observes, in the beginning, that the two +initial volumes of Mr. Elliot's great work, now published, in which the +_Liberty of Rome_ is treated, would be a superhuman performance, if +Niebuhr, Muller, Heeren, Grote, and Thirlwall, had not written, and +compares the work of our countryman with the poem on the same subject by +Thomson, the author of "The Seasons." He says: + + "Mr. Elliot's work breathes a lofty morality; a grave and masculine + reserve; a deep and constant fear of not having done the best. He + may be subject,--like other Americans more or less _ideologists_ + and system-mongers,--to illusions; but he has the true remedy: his + _ideal_ is well placed; he can sympathize fervently with all the + pursuits and employments of human activity; he cherishes a profound + respect for prudence, and moderation; for an enlarging survey and + indulgence of human necessities; for that generosity and virtue + which is tender above all of what has life, and seeks to conciliate + a complete transformation in the ideas of men. Until now, it would + have been difficult to find a thinker who, in judging the Romans, + would not have celebrated their inordinate patriotism, as their + chief glory. Their heroes were admired precisely for the ardor with + which they sacrificed everything--even their children or their + conscience--to the interests of country or party. Mr. Elliot, on + the contrary, discovers in this heroism only a lamentable + deficiency of true virtue and honor; of a sound moral sense and + equitable liberality. To our apprehension, a great reform--an + historical event--is to be recognized in this new moral + repugnance--this new tendency to deem the spirit of _party_ an evil + and a danger. Formerly, nothing was conceived to be nobler than to + serve your party, without stint or reservation;--nothing more + disgraceful than to abandon it even when you could not entertain + the same opinions. The condemnation and reversal of this doctrine + would be a moral advancement more important for human futurity, + than many of the occurrences or the revolutions of the last sixty + years, that have made the most noise." + +We believe Mr. Elliot's leisure is not to be seriously interrupted by +public employments, and trust, therefore, that he will proceed, with as +much rapidity as possible, with his grand survey of the advance of +Liberty, down even to our own day--which it is not unlikely will +conclude a very important era of his subject. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Bowring, who is now, we believe, British Consul at Canton, was the +editor of the last and only complete edition of Jeremy Bentham's works; +he has been one of the most voluminous contributors to the Westminster +Review, and he is eminent as a linguist, though if we may judge by some +of his performances, not very justly so. He translated and edited +specimens of the poetry of several northern nations, and it has often +been charged as an illustration of his dishonesty, that he omitted a +stanza of the sublime hymn of Derzhaven, a Russian, to the Deity, +because it recognized the divinity of Christ, as it is held by +Trinitarians--the Doctor being a Unitarian. He is sharply satirized, and +treated frequently with extreme and probably quite undeserved contempt, +in the Diaries and Correspondence of the late Hugh Swinton Legaré. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Henry Rogers, of Birmingham, has published in London two stout +volumes of his contributions to the _Edinburgh Review_. They are not the +best things that ever appeared under the old "buff and blue," though +they are neat and very readable. Hitherto Professor Rogers has not been +known in literature, except by an edition of the works of Burke. The +reviewals or essays in this collection are divided into biographical, +critical, theological, and political. The first volume consists +principally of a series of sketches of great minds,--in the style, +half-biographical, half-critical, of which so many admirable specimens +have adorned the literature of this age. Indeed, such _demonstrations_ +in mental anatomy have been a favorite study in all ages. Among Mr. +Rogers's subjects, are Pascal, Luther, Leibnitz, and Plato, and he +promises sketches of Descartes, Malabranche, Hobbes, Berkeley, and +Locke. The first article, on Thomas Fuller, may look rather dry at +first; but the interest increases, we admire the quaintness of old +Fuller, and not less the fine, accurate, and complete picture given of +his life, character, and works. In this, as in the other biographical +articles, Mr. Rogers tells his story fluently. If he has not the wit of +Sydney Smith, nor the brilliance of Macaulay, he has not the prosiness +of Alison, nor the bitterness of Gifford. He is witty with Fuller, +sarcastic with Marvell, energetic with Luther, philosophical and precise +with Leibnitz, quietly satirical with Pascal, and reflective and +intellectual with Plato. "Dead as a last year's reviewal" is no longer +among the proverbs. Books are too numerous to be read, and people make +libraries of the quarterlies,--thanks to the facilities afforded by Mr. +Leonard Scott! And reviews, properly written,--evincing some knowledge +of the books which furnish their titles, are very delightful and useful +reading, frequently more so than the productions which suggest them, of +which they ought always to give an intelligible description. And this +condition is fulfilled almost always by the reviews published in London +and Edinburgh. Our _North American_ sometimes gives us tolerably +faithful abstracts, and its readers would be glad if its writers would +confine themselves to such labors. But we read an article in it not long +ago, under the title of Mr. Carey's "Past and Present," which contained +no further allusion to this book, nor the slightest evidence that the +"reviewer" had ever seen it. On the other hand, the last number contains +a paper on the Homeric question, purporting to have been occasioned by +Mr. Grote's History of Greece, but deriving its learning, we understand, +altogether from Mr. Mure's History of Greek Literature, a work so +extensive that it is not likely to be reprinted, or largely imported. + +This custom which now obtains, of reprinting reviewals, we believe was +begun in this country, where Mr. Emerson brought out a collection of +Carlyle's Essays, Andrews Norton one of Macaulay's, Dr. Furness one of +Professor Wilson's, Mr. Edward Carey one of Lord Jeffrey's, &c. several +years before any such collections appeared in England. + + * * * * * + +Respecting the Holy Land, no work of so much absolute value has appeared +since Dr. Robinson's, as the Historical and Geographical Sketch by Rabbi +Joseph Schwartz, in a large and thick octavo, with numerous +illustrations, lately published in Philadelphia by Mr. Hart. Rabbi +Schwartz resided in Palestine sixteen years, and he is the only Jew of +eminence who has written of the country from actual observation, since +the time of Benjamin of Tudela. The learned author wrote his work in +Hebrew, and it has been translated by Rabbi Isaac Leeser, one of the +ablest divines in Philadelphia. It is addressed particularly to Jewish +readers, to whom the translator remarks in his preface, "It is hoped +that it may contribute to extend the knowledge of Palestine, and rouse +many to study the rich treasures which our ancient literature affords, +and also to enkindle sympathy and kind acts for those of our brothers +who still cling to the soil of our ancestors and love the dust in which +many of our saints sleep in death, awaiting a glorious resurrection and +immortality." + + * * * * * + +Mr. John R. Thompson, the accomplished and much esteemed editor of the +_Southern Literary Messenger_, whose genuine and intelligent love of +literature is illustrated in every number of his excellent magazine, has +just published a wise and eloquent address on the present state of +education in Virginia, which was delivered before the literary societies +of Washington College, at Lexington. It discloses the causes of the +ignorance of reading and writing by seventy thousand adults in Virginia, +and forcibly and impressively urges the necessity of a thorough literary +culture to the common prosperity. + + * * * * * + +A New Play by Mr. Marston, founded on the story of Philip Augustus of +France and Marie de Méranie, has been put into rehearsal at the Olympic +Theater in London. + + * * * * * + +The Leipzic _Grenzboten_ notices Mrs. Maberly's new romance of "Fashion" +(which we believe has not yet been republished in America) with great +praise, as a work of striking power and artistic management. +Nevertheless, says the critic, this romance has excited in England as +much anger as attention, and this he attributes to the truth with which +the authoress has depicted the aristocratic world. He then makes the +following remarks, which are curious enough to be translated: "The +meaning of the word 'fashion' cannot be rendered in a foreign language. +_La mode_ and its tyranny approach somewhat to the sense, but still it +remains unintelligible to us Germans, because we have no idea of the +capricious, silly, and despotic laws of fashion in England. They do not +relate, as with us, to mere outward things, as clothes and furniture, +but especially to position and estimation in high society. In order to +play a part on that stage it is necessary to understand the mysterious +conditions and requirements which the goddess Fashion prescribes. High +birth and riches, wit and beauty, find no mercy with her if her +whimsical laws are not obeyed. In what these laws consist no living soul +can say: they are double, yes three-fold, the _je ne sais quoi_ of the +French. The exclusiveness of English society is well known, a +peculiarity in which it is only excelled by its copyist the American +society of New York and Boston. But it is not enough to have obtained +admission into the magic circle: there, too, fashion implacably demands +its victims, and to her as to Moloch earthly and heavenly goods, wealth, +and peace of soul, are offered up." + + * * * * * + +John Ruskin, who has written of painting, sculpture and architecture, in +a manner more attractive to mere amateurs than any other author, will +soon publish his elaborate work, "The Authors of Venice." +Notwithstanding his almost blind idolatry of Turner, and his other +heresies, Ruskin is one of the few writers on art who open new vistas to +the mind; vehement, paradoxical, and one-sided he may be, but no other +writer _clears_ the subject in the same masterly manner--no other writer +suggests more even to those of opposite opinions. + + * * * * * + +The first two volumes of Oehlenschlager's _Lebens Erinnerungen_ have +appeared at Vienna, and attract more observation than anything else in +the late movements in the German literature. The poet's early struggles +give one kind of interest to this work, and his friendship with +illustrious litterateurs another. Madame de Stael, Goethe, Schiller, the +Schlegels, Steffens, Hegel, and other representatives of German thought, +pass in succession through these pages, mingled with pictures of Danish +life, and criticisms on the Danish drama. Like most German biographies, +this deals as much with German literature as with German life. + + * * * * * + +Gustave Planche, a clever Parisian critic, has in the last number of _La +Revue des Deux Mondes_, an article on Lamartine's novels and +Confessions, issued within the year. He spares neither the prose nor +poetry of the romantic statesman. He classes the _History of the +Girondists_ with the novels. On the whole he thinks there is less of +fact, or more of transmutation of fact, than in Sir Walter Scott's +Waverley series: as in Scott's Life of Napoleon there was less of +veracity than in any even of his professed fictions founded upon +history. These romancists are never to be trusted, except in their own +domains. + + * * * * * + +Prosper Mérimée, known among the poets by his _Theatre de Clara Gazul_, +and who by his _Chronique du Temps de Charles IX._ and _Colomba_, was +entitled to honorable mention in literature, has written a very clever +book about the United States--the fruit of a visit to this country last +year--which an accomplished New-Yorker is engaged in translating. His +last previous performance was a Life of Pedro the Cruel, which has been +translated and published in London, and is thus spoken of in the +_Literary Gazette_:-- + + "The subject hardly yields in romantic variety, strange turns of + fortune, characters of strong expression, and tragedies of the + deepest pathos, to anything created by the imagination. Within the + period and in the land which was marked by the fortunes of Pedro of + Castile, the scene is crowded with figures over which both history + and song have thrown a lasting interest. The names of Planche of + France, Inez de Castro of Portugal, Du Guesclin,--the Black Prince, + the White Company--belong alike to romance and to reality. The very + 'Don Juan' of Mozart and Byron plays his part for an hour as no + fabulous gallant at the court of Seville; Moors and Christians join + in the council or in the field here, as well as in the strains of + the Romancero; and the desperate game played for a crown by the + rival brothers whose more than Theban strife was surrounded by such + various objects of pity, admiration or terror, wants no incident, + from its commencement to its climax, to fill the just measure of a + tragic theme. One more striking could scarcely have been desired by + a poet; yet M. Mérimée, who claims that character, has handled it + with the judgment and diligence of an historian." + + * * * * * + +Nathaniel Hawthorne, the greatest living American writer born in the +present century, has just published, through Ticknor, Reed and Fields, a +volume for juvenile readers, in the preface to which he says: + + "It has not been composed without a deep sense of responsibility. + The author regards children as sacred, and would not for the world + cast anything into the fountain of a young heart that might + embitter and pollute its waters. And even in point of the literary + reputation to be aimed at, juvenile literature is as well worth + cultivating as any other. The writer, if he succeed in pleasing his + little readers, may hope to be remembered by them till their own + old age--a far longer period of literary existence than is + generally attained by those who seek immortality from the judgments + of full grown men." + + * * * * * + +An attentive correspondent of the _International_, at Vienna, mentions +that letters have been received there from the eccentric but daring and +intelligent American, Dr. Mathews, formerly of Baltimore, who, some +years since, assumed the style of the Arabs, with a view to discovery in +Northern and Central Africa. We hope to obtain further information of +Dr. Mathews, respecting whose adventures there has not hitherto been +anything in the journals for several years. + + * * * * * + +Professor G.J. Adler, of the New York University, the learned author of +the German and English Dictionary, is now printing a translation which +he has just completed, of the _Iphigenia in Taurus_, by Goethe. Of the +eighteen that remain of the sixty to ninety plays of Euripides, the +_Iphigenia at Tauri_ is one of the most remarkable. When Goethe returned +from Italy, his spirit was infused with the love of ancient art, and his +ambition tempting him to a rivalry of its masters, he selected this +subject, to which he brought, if not his finest powers, his severest +labor; and the drama of Iphigenia--which is in many respects very +different from that of Euripides,--is, next to Faust, perhaps the +noblest of his works. We are not aware that it has hitherto appeared in +English. The forthcoming translation, (which is in the press of the +Appletons,) strikes us very favorably. It is exact, and is generally +flowing and elegant. + + * * * * * + +The Official Paper of China has a name which means the _Pekin Gazette_. +It is impossible to ascertain when its publication was first commenced, +but it seems to be the oldest newspaper in the world. There is a +tradition that it began under the Sung dynasty in the latter part of the +tenth century. It is originally a sort of handbill, containing official +notices, posted up on the walls of the Capital and sent in manuscript to +provincial officers. At Canton it is printed for the public at large and +sold. It appears every other day in the form of a pamphlet of ten or +twelve pages. It consists of three parts; the first is devoted to Court +news, such as the health and other doings of the Imperial family; the +second gives the decrees of the Sovereign; the third contains the +reports and memorials of public functionaries made to the imperial +government on all subjects concerning the interests of the country. The +decrees are concise in style; the reports and memorials are the +perfection of verbiage. The former have the force of laws, the Emperor +being both legislative and executive. As a record of materials for +history the _Gazette_ is of little value, for a little study shows that +lies are abundant in it, and that its statements are designed as much to +conceal as to make known the facts. Since the English war the number of +documents published relating to affairs with foreign nations is very +small. Something is given respecting the finances, but that too, is of +very little value. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Williams, who wrote "Shakspeare and his Friends," &c., has just +published a novel entitled "The Luttrells." It was very high praise of +his earlier works that they were by many sagacious critics attributed to +Savage Landor. His novels on the literature of the Elizabethan age +evince taste and feeling, and his sketches of the Chesterfield and +Walpole period in "Maids of Honor," are happily and gracefully done. +"The Luttrells" has passages occasionally more powerful but hardly so +pleasing as some in the books we have named. In mere style it is an +improvement on his former efforts. In the early passages of the story +there is nice handling of character, and frequent touches of genuine +feeling. + + * * * * * + +The fifth volume of Vaulabelle's _Histoire de la Restauration_, a +conscientious and carefully written history of France and the Bourbon +family, from the restoration in 1815 down to the overthrow of Charles +X., has just been published at Paris. It receives the same praise as the +preceding volumes. M. Vaulabelle it may be remembered was for a brief +period, in 1848, General Cavaignac's Minister of Education and Public +Worship. + + * * * * * + +Captain Sir Edward Belcher, C.B., R.N., &c., whose presence in New York +we noted recently, is now in Texas, superintending the settlement of a +large party of first class English emigrants. A volume supplemental to +his "Voyage of H.M.S. Samarang," illustrative of the zoology of the +expedition, has been published in London by Arthur Adams, F.L.S. + + * * * * * + +M. Guizot, it is said, is going back to his old profession of editor. He +is to participate in the conduct of the _Journal des Debats_, in which, +of course, he will sign his articles. We do not always agree with M. +Guizot, but we cannot help thinking him, upon the whole, the most +respectable man who for a long time has been conspicuous in affairs in +France. + + * * * * * + +The sixth and concluding volume of the life and correspondence of Robert +Southey, edited by C.C. Southey--illustrated with a view of Southey's +Monument in Crosthwaite Church, and a view of Crosthwaite, from Greta +Hill--was published in London, early in November, and will soon be +reissued by Harpers. + + * * * * * + +Somebody having said that Bulwer had lost his hearing, and was in a very +desponding way in consequence, he has written to the _Morning Post_ to +say he is by no means deaf, but that if he were he should not much +despond on that account, "for the quality and material of the talk +that's going is not calculated to cause any great regret for the +deprivation of one's ears." + + * * * * * + +The second volume of the Count de Castelnau's Expedition into the +Central Regions of South America, under the auspices of the French +government, has just been published in Paris. + + * * * * * + +An eminent diplomatist of France has just published two volumes of most +interesting revelations drawn from his own note-books and personal +knowledge. We allude to the _Etudes Diplomatiques et Litteraires_ of +Count Alexis de Saint Priest. On the partition of Poland especially, it +casts an entirely new and conclusive light. M. Saint Priest shows that +apart from the internal anarchy and weakness of Poland, the catastrophe +was the work not of Russia as has been commonly supposed, but of +Frederic the Great of Prussia. Russia had no interest in dividing +Poland; in fact she was already supreme in that country; and besides, +her policy has never been that of an active initiative,--she waits for +the fruit to fall, and does not take the trouble of shaking the tree +herself. The great criminal then in this Polish affair was Prussia, and +the cause was the historic antagonism between Germany and Poland. M. +Saint Priest sketches the character of Frederic with the hand of a +master. "We shall see him," he says in approaching that part of his +subject, "we shall see him as he was, both adventurous and patient, +ardent and calm, full of passion yet perfectly self-possessed, capable +of embracing the vastest horizon and of shutting himself up for the +moment in the most limited detail, his eyes reaching to the farthest +distance, his hand active in the nearest vicinity, approaching his aim +step by step through by-paths, but always gaining it at last by a single +bound. We shall see him employing the most indefatigable, the most +tenacious, the most persevering will in the service of his idea, +preparing it, maturing it by long and skillful reparation, and imposing +it on Europe not by sudden violence, but by the successive and cunning +employment of flattery and intimidation. And finally, when all is +consummated, we shall see him succeed in avoiding the responsibility and +throwing it altogether upon his coadjutors, with an art all the more +profound for the simplicity under which its hardihood was concealed, and +the indifference which masked its avidity. To crown so audacious a +maneuver, he will not hesitate to declare, that "since he has never +deceived any one, he will still less deceive posterity! And in fact he +has treated them with a perfect equality: he made a mock of posterity as +well as of his contemporaries." With regard to the part of France in the +division of Poland, M. Saint Priest attempts to prove that the French +monarchy could not prevent the catastrophe; but that it was in the +revolutionary elements then fermenting in France and opposed to the +monarchy, that Frederic found his most powerful allies. Of course he +defends the monarchy from blame in the matter, and we shall not +undertake to say that he is wrong in so doing. Certainly the downfall of +Poland cannot be regarded as an isolated event, but as a part of the +great series of movements belonging to the age, in which causes the most +antagonistic in their nature often cooperated in producing the same +effect. M. Saint Priest further reasons that the providential mission of +Poland was to oppose Turkey and Islamism, and when the latter ceased to +rise the former necessarily declined. But our space will not permit us +to follow this interesting work any farther. The careful students of +history will not fail to consult it for themselves. + + * * * * * + +Mary Lowell Putnam, a daughter of the Rev. Dr. Lowell of Boston, and +sister of James Russell Lowell, the poet, is the author of an +annihilating reviewal, in the last _Christian Examiner_, of Mr. Bowen on +the Hungarian Struggle for Independence. The _Tribune_ contains a +_resumé_ of the controversy, in which it had itself been honorably +distinguished, and furnishes the following sketch of Professor Bowen's +antagonist: + + "Without any ambition for literary distinction, leading a life of + domestic duties and retirement, and pursuing the most profound and + various studies from an insatiate thirst for knowledge, this + admirable person has shown herself qualified to cope with the + difficulties of a complicated historical question, and to vanquish + a notorious Professor on his own ground. The manner in which she + has executed her task (and her victim) is as remarkable for its + unpretending modesty as for its singular acuteness and logical + ability. She writes with the graceful facility of one who is + entirely at home on the subject, conversant from long familiarity + with its leading points, and possessing a large surplus of + information in regard to it for which she has no present use. If + she exhibits a generous sympathy with the cause of the oppressed, + she does not permit the warmth of her feelings to cloud the + serenity of her judgment. She conducts the argument with an almost + legal precision, and compels her opponent to submit to the force of + her intellect." + +Harvard would certainly be a large gainer if Mrs. Putnam could succeed +Mr. Bowen as professor of _History_, or,--as the libeller of Kossuth +_fills_ so small a portion of the chair,--if she could be made associate +professor; but to this she would have objections. + + * * * * * + +In Leipsic a monument has been erected by the German agriculturists to +Herr Thaer, who has done so much amongst them for agricultural science. +It consists of a marble column nine feet high, on which stands the +statue of Thaer, life size. It is surrounded by granite steps and an +iron balustrade. The column bears the inscription, "To their respected +teacher, Albert Thaer, the German Agriculturists--1850." + + * * * * * + +A New Novel by Bulwer Lytton is announced by Bentley, to appear in three +volumes. Dickens, having completed his "David Copperfield," will +immediately commence a new serial story. Thackeray, it is rumored, has a +new work in preparation altogether different from anything he has yet +published. The Lives of Shakspeare's Heroines are announced to appear in +a series of volumes. + + * * * * * + +"Sir Roger de Coverly: By the Spectator," is one of the newest and most +beautiful books from the English press. It is illustrated by Thompson, +from designs by Frederick Tayler, and edited with much judgment by Mr. +Henry Wills. The idea of the book is an extremely happy one. It is not +always easy to pick out of the eight volumes of the _Spectator_ the +papers which relate to _Sir Roger de Coverley_, when we happen to want +them. Here we have them all, following close upon each other, forming so +many chapters of the Coverley Chronicle, telling a succinct and charming +story, with just so much pleasing extract from other papers as to throw +light upon the doings of Sir Roger, and enough graceful talk about the +London of Queen Anne's time (by way of annotation) to adapt one's mind +completely to the de Coverley tone of sentiment. The _Spectator_--we +mean the modern gazette of that name--says of it:-- + + "The character of Sir Roger de Coverley is a creation which, in its + way, has never been surpassed; never perhaps equaled except by the + _Vicar of Wakefield_. The de Coverley establishment and the Vicar's + family have a strong general likeness. They are the same + simple-minded, kind-hearted English souls, in different spheres of + society. The thirty papers of the _Spectator_ devoted to Sir Roger + and his associates, now that we have them together, form a perfect + little novel in themselves, from the reading of which we rise as we + rise from that of Goldsmith, healthier and happier. There never was + so beautiful an illustration of how far mere genuine heartiness of + disposition and rectitude of purpose can impart true dignity to a + character, as Sir Roger de Coverley. He is rather beloved than + esteemed. He talks all the way up stairs on a visit. He is a + walking epitome of as many vulgar errors as Sir Thomas Browne + collected in his book. He has grave doubts as to the propriety of + not having an old woman indicted for a witch. He is brimful of the + prejudices of his caste. He has grown old with the simplicity of a + child. Captain Sentry must keep him in talk lest he expose himself + at the play. And yet about all he does there is an unassuming + dignity that commands respect; and for strength and consistency in + the tender passion Petrarch himself does not excel him. Sir Roger's + unvarying devotion to his widow, his incessant recurrence to the + memory of his affection to her, the remarks relating to her which + the character of Andromache elicits from him at the play, and the + little incident of her message to him on his death-bed, form as + choice a record of passionate fidelity as the sonnets of the + Italian. How beautiful, too, is that death-scene--how quietly + sublime! Let us add that the good Sir Roger is surrounded by people + worthy of him. Will. Wimble, with his good-natured, useless + services; Captain Sentry, brave and stainless as his own sword, and + nearly as taciturn; the servant who saved him from drowning; the + good clergyman who is contented to read the sermons of others; the + innkeeper who must needs have his landlord's head for a sign; the + _Spectator_ and his cronies: and then, and still, the Widow!" + + * * * * * + +Mr. William W. Story, to whose sculptures we have referred elsewhere, is +engaged in the preparation of a memoir of his father, the great jurist. + + * * * * * + +The Life of John Randolph, by Hugh A. Garland, has been published by the +Appletons in two octavos. It is interesting--as much so perhaps as any +political biography ever written in this country--but the subject was so +remarkable, and the materiel so rich and various, that it might have +been made very much more attractive than it is. Mr. Garland's style is +decidedly bad--ambitious, meretricious and vulgar--but it was impossible +to make a dull work upon John Randolph's history and character. + + * * * * * + +The Best Edition of Milton's Poems ever published in America--a reprint +of the best ever published in England--that of Sir Edgerton Brydges, has +just been printed by George S. Appleton of Philadelphia, and the +Appletons of New York. It is everything that can be desired in an +edition of the great poet, and must take the place, we think, of all +others that have been in the market. We are also indebted to the same +publishers for an admirable edition of Burns, which if not as +judiciously edited as the Milton of Sir Edgerton Brydges, is certainly +very much better than any we have hitherto possessed. + + * * * * * + +The Keepsake: a Gift for the Holidays, is one of the most +splendid--indeed is the _most_ richly executed annual of the season. We +have not had leisure to examine its literary contents, but they are for +the most part by eminent writers. In unique and variously beautiful +bindings, "The Keepsake" is desirable to all the lovers of fine art. + + * * * * * + +Gray's Poems, with a Life of the author by Professor Henry Reed, has +been published by Mr. Henry C. Baird, of Philadelphia, in a volume the +most elegant that has been issued this year from the press of that city. +The engravings are specimens of genuine art, and the typography is as +perfect as we have ever seen from the printers of Paris or London. + + * * * * * + +The Rev. Duncan Harkness Weir, a distinguished _alumnus_ of the +university and author of an essay "On the tenses of the Hebrew verb," +which appeared in "Kitto's Journal of Sacred Literature" for October +last, has been elected Professor of Oriental Languages, in the College +and University of Glasgow, in room of the late Dr. Gray. + + * * * * * + +Douglass Jerrold announces a republication of all his writings for the +last fifteen years, in weekly numbers, commencing on the first of +January next--"a most becoming contribution to the Industry of Nations +Congress of 1851." + + * * * * * + +The Rev. Christopher Wordsworth, a nephew of William Wordsworth, has +nearly completed the memoirs of the poet, which will be reprinted, with +a preface by Professor Henry Reed, by Ticknor, Reed and Fields, of +Boston. + + + + +The Fine Arts. + + +Schwanthaler's Bavaria, and the Theresienwiese at Munich.--On the +western side of Munich several streets converge in a plain which is the +arena of the great popular festival that takes place every October. +Around this plain, which is called the Theresienwiese, as well as around +the whole district in which the city is placed, the land rises some +thirty or forty feet. Near the spot where the green waters of the Iser +break through this ridge, King Louis founded the Hall of Fame, which is +to transmit to posterity the busts of renowned natives of the country. +This edifice is in Doric style, and with its two wings forms a +court-yard, opening toward the city. In the center of this court is +placed upon a granite pedestal, thirty feet high, a colossal statue of +bronze, fifty-four feet high, representing Bavaria, to which we have +several times referred in _The International_--our European +correspondence enabling us to anticipate in regard to subjects of +literature and art generally even the best-informed foreign journals. + +The Hall of Fame will not be completed for some years, but the statue is +finished, and was first exposed to view on the 9th of October. The +execution of this statue was committed by King Louis to Schwanthaler, +who began by making a model of thirteen feet in height. In order to +carry out the work a wooden house was erected at the royal foundry, and +a skeleton was built by masons, carpenters, and smiths, to sustain the +earth used in the mould for the full-sized model. This was begun in +1838, and ere long the figure stood erect. The subsequent work on the +model occupied two years. The result was greatly praised by the critics, +who wondered at the skill which had been able to give beauty as well as +dignity to a statue of so large dimensions. It holds up a crown of +oak-leaves in the left hand, while the right, resting upon the hip, +grasps an unsheathed sword twined with laurel, beneath which rests a +lion. The breast is covered with a lion's skin which falls as low as the +hips; under it is a simple but admirably managed robe extending to the +feet. The hair is wreathed with oak-leaves, and is disposed in rich +masses about the forehead and temples, giving spirit to the face and +dignity to the form. Such was the model, and such is the now finished +statue. But the subsequent steps in its completion are worthy of a +particular description. + +The model was in gypsum, and the first thing done was to take a mould +from it in earth peculiarly prepared for the reception of the melted +metal. The first piece, the head, was cast September 11th, 1844. It +weighs one hundred and twenty hundred-weight, and is five or six feet in +diameter: the remainder was cast at five separate times. When the head +was brought successful out of the mould, King Louis and many of the +magnates of Germany were present. The occasion was in fact a festival, +which Müller, the inspector of the royal bronze foundry and probably the +first living master of the art of casting in bronze, rendered still more +brilliant by illuminations and garlands of flowers. Vocal music also was +not wanting, as the artists of Munich were present in force, and their +singing is noted throughout Germany. Since last July workmen have been +constantly engaged in transporting the pieces of bronze weighing from +200 to 300 cwt. to the place where the statue was to be erected. For +this purpose a wagon of peculiar construction was used, with from +sixteen to twenty horses to draw it. On the 7th of August the last +piece, the head, was conveyed; it was attended by a festal procession. +The space within the head is so great that some twenty-eight men can +stand together in it. The body, the main portions of which were made in +five castings, weighs from 1300 to 1500 cwt., and has a diameter of +twelve feet; the left arm, which is extended to hold the wreaths, from +125 to 130 cwt.; its diameter is five feet, and the diameter of its +index finger six inches. The nail of the great toe can hardly be covered +with both a man's hands. A door in the pedestal leads to a cast-iron +winding stairway which ascends to the head, within which benches have +been arranged for the comfort of visitors, several of whom can sit there +together with ease. The light enters through openings arranged in the +hair, whence also the eye can enjoy the view of the city and the +surrounding country with the magical Alps in the background. The entire +mass of bronze, weighing about 2600 cwt., was obtained from Turkish +cannon lost in the sea at Navarino and recovered by Greek divers. The +value of the bronze is about sixty thousand dollars. The sitting lion +has a height of near thirty feet. It was cast in three pieces, and +completes the composition in the most felicitous manner. + +The statue having been completed, the final removing of the scaffolding +around it and its full exposure to the public took place on the 9th of +October. This was a day of great festivity at Munich and its vicinity. A +platform had been erected directly in front of the statue for the +accommodation of King Maximilian and his suite. The festivities began +with an enormous procession of carriages, led by bands of music and +bearing the representatives of the different industrial and agricultural +trades, with symbols of their respective occupations. As they passed +before the King's platform each carriage stopped, saluted his majesty, +and received a few kindly words in reply. The procession was closed by +the artists of Munich. The carriages took their station in a half circle +around the platform. Soon after, accompanied by the thunder of cannon, +the board walls surrounding the scaffold were gradually lowered to the +ground. The admiration of the statue (which by the way is exactly +fifty-four feet high), was universal and enthusiastic. All beholders +were delighted with the harmony of its parts and the loveliness of its +expression notwithstanding its colossal size. The ceremonies of the day +were closed with speeches and music; the painter Tischlein made a speech +lauding King Louis as the creator of a new era for German art. A very +numerous chorus sung several festive hymns composed for the occasion, +after which the multitude dispersed. + + * * * * * + +The Dominican Monastery of San Marco at Florence has for centuries been +regarded with special interest by the lovers of art for the share it has +had in the history of their favorite pursuit. Nor has its part been of +less importance in the sphere of politics. The wanderer through its +halls is reminded not only of Fra Angelico da Fičsole and Fra +Bartolommeo, to whose artistic genius the monastery is indebted for the +treasures which adorn its halls, refectory, corridors, and cells, but of +Cosimo de Medici, Lorenzo his great descendant, of Savonarola, and the +long series of contests here waged against temporal and spiritual +tyranny. The works of Giotto and Domenico Ghirlandajo are likewise to be +found in the monastery, and there also miniature pictures of the most +flourishing period of art may be seen ornamenting the books of the +choir. Every historian who has written upon Florence has taken care not +to omit San Marco and its inhabitants. + +We are glad to announce that a society of artists at Florence has +undertaken to give as wide a publicity as possible to the noblest +productions of art in this monastery. A former work by the same men is a +good indication of what may now be expected from them. Some years since +they published copies of the most important pictures from the collection +of the Florentine Academy of Art. They gave sixty prints with +explanations. Among engravings from galleries this was one of the best, +containing in moderate compass a history of Tuscan art from Cimabue to +Andrea del Sarto. The new work, which has long been in preparation but +has been delayed by unfavorable circumstances, will now be carried +through the press without delay. Its title is, _San Marco Convento dei +Padri Predicatori in Firenze illustrato e inciso principalmente nei +dipinti del B. Giovanni Angelico_. Antonio Parfetti, the successor of +Morghen and Garavaglia as professor of the art of engraving on copper at +the Florentine Academy, has the artistic supervision of the enterprise. +Father Vincenzo Marchese, to whom the public are indebted for the work +well known to all students, on the artists of the Dominican order, is to +furnish a history of the monastery, a biography of Fra Angelico, +together with explanations of the engravings. Everything is thus in the +most capable hands. The execution of the copperplates leaves nothing to +be desired. The draughtsmen and engravers having had the best +preparatory practice in the above-mentioned series from the Academy, +have fully entered into the spirit of the originals; both outlines and +shading are said by the best critics to combine the greatest delicacy +with exactness, and to reproduce the expression of feeling which is the +difficulty in these Florentine works, with tact and truth. As yet they +have finished only the smaller frescoes which adorn almost every cell; +but they will soon have ready the larger ones, which will show how this +painter, whose sphere was mainly the pious emotions of the soul, was +also master of the most thrilling effects. The same is proved by the +powerful picture of the Crucifixion in the chapter hall, with its heads +so full of expression, a selection from which has just been published by +G.B. Nocchi, who some years since issued the well-known collection of +drawings from the Life of Jesus in the Academy. The impression of the +frescoes on Chinese paper has been done with the greatest care. Forty +plates and forty printed folio sheets will complete the work, which is +to be put at a moderate price. These illustrations of San Marco will be +universally welcomed with delight by the admirers of the beautiful, for +there the painter who most purely represented Christian art passed the +greater part of his life, leaving behind him an incomparable mass of the +most characteristic and charming creations. + + * * * * * + +Mr. William W. Story, who some time since abandoned a lucrative +profession to devote himself to art, has recently returned from Rome, +where he had been practicing sculpture during the past three years. Mr. +Story, we understand, has brought home with him to Boston several models +of classical subjects, the fruits of his labors abroad, which are spoken +of in the highest terms by those who have had the privilege of +inspecting them. Mr. Story is the only son of the late Justice Story of +Massachusetts. Before going abroad he had distinguished himself by some +of his attempts at sculpture, one of which was a bust of his father, +which he executed in marble. A copy of this work has been purchased or +ordered by some of his father's admirers in London, to be placed in one +of the Inns of Court. Mr. Story also made himself known by a volume of +miscellaneous poems, published in 1845. It is his intention, we learn, +to return to Italy in the spring. + + * * * * * + +Les Beautes de la France is the title of a splendid new work now +publishing at Paris. It consists of a collection of engravings on steel, +representing the principal cities, cathedrals, public monuments, +chateaux, and picturesque landscapes of France. Each engraving is +accompanied by four pages of text, giving the complete history of the +edifice or locality represented. What is curious about it is that the +engravings are made in London, for what reason we are not informed. + + * * * * * + +The first exhibition of paintings, such as is now given annually by our +academies, was at Paris in the year 1699. In September of that year, at +the suggestion of Mansart, the first was held in the Louvre. It +consisted of two hundred and fifty-three paintings, twenty-four pieces +of sculpture, and twenty-nine engravings. The second and last during the +reign of Louis XIV. was opened in 1704. That was composed of five +hundred and twenty specimens. During the reign of Louis XV., from 1737, +there were held twenty-four expositions. That of 1767 was remarkable for +the presence of several of the marine pieces of Claude Joseph Vernet. +During the reign of Louis XVI., from 1775 to 1791 there were nine +expositions. The _Horatii_, one of the master pieces of David, figured +in that of 1785. His first pieces had appeared in that of 1782. The +former Republic, too, upon stated occasions "exposed the works of the +artists forming the general commune of the arts." It was in these that +David acquired his celebrity as a painter which alone saved his head +from the revolutionary axe. The Paris exhibition will this year commence +on the fifteenth of December. + + * * * * * + +The largest specimen of Enamel Painting probably in the world, has +recently been completed by Klöber and Martens at Berlin. It is four and +a half feet high, and eight feet broad, and it is intended for the +castle church at Wittenberg. The subject is Christ on the Cross, and at +his feet, on the right, stands Luther holding an open bible and looking +up to the Savior; and, on the left, Melancthon, the faithful cooperator +of the great reformer. The tombs of both are in this church, and it is +known that to those who, after the capture of the town, desired to +destroy these tombs, the emperor, Charles V., answered, "I war against +the living, not against the dead!" It was to the portal of this church +that Luther affixed the famous protest against indulgences which +occasioned the first movement of the Reformation. The king has caused +two doors to be cast in bronze, with this protest inscribed on them, so +that it will now be seen there in imperishable characters. + + * * * * * + +The original portrait of Sir Francis Drake wearing the jewel around his +neck which Queen Elizabeth gave him, is now in London for the purpose of +being copied for the United Service Club. Sir T.T.F.E. Drake, to whom it +belongs, carried to London at the same time, for the inspection of the +curious in such matters, the original jewel, which, beyond the interest +of its associations with Elizabeth and Drake, is valuable as a work of +art. On the outer case is a carving by Valerio Belli, called Valerio +Vincentino, of a black man kneeling to a white. This is not mentioned by +Walpole in his account of Vincentino. Within is a capital and +well-preserved miniature of Queen Elizabeth, by Isaac Oliver, set round +with diamonds and pearls. + + * * * * * + +The Family of Vernet--the "astonishing family of Vernet"--is thus +referred to by a Paris correspondent of the _Courier and Enquirer_: + + "History, probably, does not show another instance of so remarkable + a descent from father to son, through four generations, of the + possession, in an eminent degree, of a special and rare talent. + Claude Joseph was born in 1714, and was the son of a distinguished + painter of his day, Antoine Vernet. He excelled all his + contemporaries in sea pieces. His son, Antoine Charles Horace + Vernet, was, after David, one of the first painters of the empire, + excelling especially in battle scenes. His Rivoli, Marengo, + Austerlitz, Wagram, and his twenty-eight plates illustrative of the + campaign of Bonaparte in Italy, have secured a very high reputation + for A.C.H. Vernet. The greatest living French painter--perhaps it + may be truly said, the greatest painter of the day--is Horace + Vernet, son of the last named. He was born in 1789 _in the Louvre_. + He, like his father, excels in battle scenes and is remarkable for + the vivacity and boldness of his conceptions. He is now covering + the walls of the historic gallery at Versailles with canvas, which + will cause him to descend to posterity as the greatest of his + family. None of your readers who have visited Versailles, but have + stood before and admired till the picture seemed almost reality, + his living representations of recent military events in Africa. His + last admirable picture of Louis Napoleon on _horseback_ will, it is + stated, be one of the greatest attractions of the approaching + exposition." + + * * * * * + +M. Leutze is expected home from Germany in the spring. He left +Philadelphia, the last time, nearly ten years ago. He will accompany his +great picture of "Washington crossing the Delaware." Powers's statue of +Calhoun, with the left arm broken off by the incompetent persons who at +various times were engaged in attempting to recover it, upon being +removed from the sea under which it had lain nearly three months was +found as fresh in tone as when it came from the chisel of the sculptor. +It has been placed in the temple prepared for it in Charleston. Mr. +Ranney has completed a large picture representing Marion and his Men +crossing the Pedee. + + * * * * * + +Kaulbach, according to a letter from Berlin in the November _Art +Journal_, was to leave that city about the middle of October, in order +to resume for the winter his duties as Director of the Academy of +Munich. The sum which he will receive for his six great frescoes and the +ornamental frieze, will be 80,000 thalers (12,000_l._ sterling) and this +is secured to him, as the contract was made before the existence of a +constitutional budget. + + * * * * * + +Homer's Odyssey furnishes the subjects for a series of frescoes now +being executed in one of the royal palaces at Munich. Six halls are +devoted to the work; four of them are already finished, sixteen cantos +of the poem being illustrated on their walls. The designs are by +Schwanthaler, and executed by Hiltensperger. Between the different +frescoes are small landscapes representing natural scenes from the same +poem. + + * * * * * + +If we credit all the accounts of pictures by the old masters, we must +believe that they produced as many works as with ordinary energy they +could have printed had they lived till 1850. The _Journal de Lot et +Garonne_ states that in the church of the Mas-d'Agenais, Count Eugčne de +Lonley has discovered, in the sacristy, concealed beneath dust and +spiders' webs, the 'Dying Christ,' painted by Rubens in 1631. The head +of Christ is said to be remarkable for the large style in which it is +painted, for drawing, color, and vigorous expression. + + * * * * * + +A picture painted on wood, and purchased in 1848 at a public sale in +London, where it was sold as the portrait of an Abbess by Le Brozino, +has been examined by the Academy of St. Luke at Rome, to whose judgment +it was submitted by the purchaser, and unanimously recognized as the +work of Michael Angelo, and as representing the illustrious Marchesa de +Pescara, Victoria Colonna. + + * * * * * + +The National Academy of Design has resolved, that the entire body of +artists in this city should be invited to assemble for social +intercourse, in the saloons of the Academy, on the first Wednesday +evening of every month, commencing in December, and continuing until the +season of the annual exhibition. + + * * * * * + +The French President has presented to the Museum of the Louvre David's +celebrated painting of Napoleon Bonaparte crossing the Alps. This work +was for many years at Bordentown, New Jersey, in possession of Joseph +Bonaparte. + + * * * * * + +The _Art Journal_ for November contains an engraving on steel of the +marble bust by Mr. Dunham of Jenny Lind. This bust, we believe, was +recently sold in New York, by Mr. Putnam, for four hundred dollars. + + * * * * * + +Herman's series of pictures called Illustrations of German History, +which gained great praise in Southern Germany some two years since, are +now being engraved on steel at Munich, and will soon be published. + + + + +Music and the Drama. + + +THE ASTOR PLACE OPERA + +We have watched with interest the attempts which have been made for +several years to establish permanently the Italian opera in New York. +Although we disapprove of some of the means which have been used to +accomplish this object, yet, upon the whole, those who have been +efficient in the matter, both amateurs and artists, are entitled to the +hearty commendation of our musical world. To the enterprising Maretzek +belongs the palm, for his energy, liberality, and discrimination, in +bringing forward, in succession, so many great works, and so many +artists of superior excellence. No man could have accomplished what has +been accomplished by Maretzek, without a combination of very rare +endowments. Let the public then see to it that one who has done so much +for the cultivation and gratification of a taste for the most refining +and delightful of the arts, does not remain unappreciated and +unrewarded. Of the last star which has been brought forward by M. +Maretzek, the musical critic of _The International_ (who has been many +years familiar with the performances of the most celebrated artists in +London, Paris, St. Petersburgh and Vienna, and who, it is pertinent to +mention, never saw M. Maretzek or Mlle. Parodi except in the orchestra +or upon the stage) gives these opinions. + +As an artist, Parodi ranks among the very best of Europe. +Notwithstanding so few years have elapsed since her first appearance +upon the stage, she has attained a reputation second only to that of +Grisi and Persiani. We have often had the pleasure of listening to both +of these last-named celebrities, in their principal rôles, and have +dwelt with rapture upon their soul-stirring representations. We have +also listened to the Norma and the Lucrezia Borgia of Parodi, and have +been equally delighted and astonished. Her excellences may be briefly +summed up as follows: With an organ of very great compass and of perfect +register, she combines immense power and endurance, and a variety and +perfection of intonation unsurpassed by any living artist. When she +portrays the softer emotions--affection, love, or benevolence--nothing +can be more sweet, pure, and melodious, than her tones; when rage, +despair, hate, or jealousy, seize upon her, still is she true to nature, +and her notes thrill us to the very soul, by their perfect truthfulness, +power, and intensity of expression. If gayety is the theme, no bird +carols more blithely than the Italian warbler. What singer can sustain a +high or a low tone, or execute a prolonged and varied shake, with more +power and accuracy than Parodi? What prima donna can run through the +chromatic scale, or dally with difficult cadenzas, full of unique +intervals, with more ease and precision than our charming Italian? Who +can execute a musical tour de force with more effect than she has so +recently done in Norma and Lucrezia? + +Persiani has acquired her great reputation by husbanding her powers for +the purpose of making frequent points, and on this account she is not +uniform, but by turn electrifies and tires her audience. She passes +through the minor passages, undistinguished from those around her, but +in the concerted pieces, and wherever she can introduce a cadenza or a +_tour de force_, she carries all before her. Parodi is good +_everywhere_--in the dull recitative, and in the secondary and +unimportant passages. Her magnificent acting, combined with her superb +vocalization, enchain through the entire opera. + +Grisi, like Parodi, is always uniform and accurate in her +representations, and upon the whole should be regarded as the queen of +song; but with these exceptions we know of no person who deserves a +higher rank as a true artist than Parodi. As yet she is not sufficiently +understood. She electrifies her hearers, and secures their entire +sympathies, but they have still to learn that silvery and melodious +tones, and cool mechanical execution, do not alone constitute a genuine +artist or a faultless prima donna. When the public understand how +perfectly Parodi identifies herself with the emotions and passions she +has to portray,--when they appreciate the immense variety of intonations +with which she illustrates her characters, and the earnestness and +intensity with which she throws her whole nature into all she does--then +she will be hailed as the greatest artist ever on this continent, and +one of the greatest in the world. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. E. Oakes Smith's new tragedy called "The Roman Tribute," has been +produced in Philadelphia for several nights in succession, with very +decided success. The leading character in this play, a noble old Roman, +is quite an original creation. He is represented as a mixture of antique +patriotism, heroic valor, sublime fidelity, and stern resolution, tinged +with a beautiful coloring of romance which softens and relieves his more +commanding virtues. Several feminine characters of singular loveliness +are introduced. The play abounds in scenes of deep passion and thrilling +pathos, while its chaste elegance of language equally adapts it for the +closet or the stage. It was brought out with great splendor of costume, +scenery, proscenium, and the other usual accessories of stage effect, +and presented one of the most gorgeous spectacles of the season. We are +gratified to learn that the dramatic talent of this richly-gifted lady, +concerning which we have before expressed ourselves in terms of high +encomium, has received such a brilliant illustration from the test of +stage experiment. Mrs. Oakes Smith's admirable play of "Jacob Leisler" +will probably be acted in New York during the season. + + * * * * * + +LEIGH HUNT UPON G.P.R. JAMES. + +I hail every fresh publication of James, though I half know what he is +going to do with his lady, and his gentleman, and his landscape, and his +mystery, and his orthodoxy, and his criminal trial. But I am charmed +with the new amusement which he brings out of old materials. I look on +him as I look on a musician famous for "variations." I am grateful for +his vein of cheerfulness, for his singularly varied and vivid +landscapes, for his power of painting women at once lady-like and loving +(a rare talent,) for making lovers to match, at once beautiful and +well-bred, and for the solace which all this has afforded me, sometimes +over and over again, in illness and in convalescence, when I required +interest without violence, and entertainment at once animated and mild. + + * * * * * + +HERR HECKER DESCRIBED BY MADAME BLAZE DE BURY. + +We have heretofore given in the _International_ some account of Madame +Blaze de Bury, and have made some extracts from her piquant and +otherwise remarkable book, "Germania."[2] Looking it over we find +considerable information respecting Herr Hecker, who, since his +unfortunate attempt to revolutionize Germany, has lived in the United +States, being now, we believe, a farmer somewhere in the West. According +to the adventurous Baroness, Hecker was the first man in Germany to +declare for revolution. He was born, near Mannheim, in 1811; he took a +doctor's degree in the University of Heidelberg, followed the profession +of the law, and was elected a member of the Lower House in his 31st +year. Thenceforth he was active in opposition. He possessed all the +chief attributes of a popular leader, and his person was graceful and +commanding, his temperament ardent, his eloquence impassioned. Although +the Grand Duke Leopold was the "gentlest and most paternal of +sovereigns," according to Madame de Bury, still there were many radical +defects in the constitution of Baden. Against these defects Hecker waged +war, and with some success, which instigated him to further efforts +against the government. At length he was beaten on a motion to stop the +supplies, and he retired into France disgusted with his countrymen. +After some time he returned impregnated with the reddest republicanism. +He found sympathy in Baden, and when the revolution broke out in Paris, +he resolved to raise the standard of Republicism in Germany. In April, +1848, he set out for Constance, with four drummers and eight hundred +Badeners. He and they, extravagantly dressed and armed, proceeded +unopposed, singing "Hecker-songs," and comparing their progress to the +march of the French over the Simplon! They arrived at Constance, and +called the people to arms, but the people would not come. The slouched +hats and huge sabers of the patriots did not produce the desired +impression, and then _it rained_. In short, the movement failed. +Finally, having beaten up all the most disaffected parts of the country +for recruits, Hecker arrived at Kandern with twelve hundred men. Here +Gagern met him with a few hundred regular troops. Hecker attempted to +gain them over with the cry of "German brotherhood," but Gagern kept +them steady until he fell, mortally wounded, on the bridge. Then there +was a slight skirmish; both parties retreated, and act the first of the +drama closed. Meanwhile the _Vor Parlament_ had been summoned, and the +National Assembly of Frankfort had met in the Paulskircke, to the number +of four hundred deputies; their self-constituted task was simply to +reform all Germany. Frankfort was stirring and joyous upon this +occasion, as it had used to be in former days, when within its walls +was elected the Head of the Holy Roman Empire. Bells were rung, cannon +fired, triumphal arches raised, green boughs and rainbow-colored banners +waved, flowers strewn in the streets, tapestries hung from windows and +balconies, hands stretched forth in greeting, voices strained to call +down blessings; all that popular enthusiasm could invent was there, and +one immense cry of rejoicing saluted what was fondly termed the +"Regeneration of Germany." The tumults, the misery, the bloodshed, and +the disappointment that followed, until the Rump of this "magniloquent +Parliament" sought shelter at Stuttgardt, are fresh in our memory. + + [2: Germania: its Courts, Camps, and People. By the Baroness Blaze + de Bury. London: Colburn.] + +Hecker, having done his utmost to "agitate" his country, and having +failed "to inspire a dastard populace with the spirit of the ancient +Roman people," as Madame expresses it, he fled to America. But his name +was still a tower of strength to his Red brethren and the _Freicorps_ of +the Schwartzwald and the Rhine. In Western Germany a year ago last +summer his return was enthusiastically expected by the revolutionary +army. "When Hecker comes," said they, "we shall be invincible." He came: +his followers crowded round him and implored him at once to lead them on +to victory! "Victory be d--d," was the reply of the returned exile; "go +home to your plows and your vines and your wives and children, and leave +me to attend to mine." Hecker had only come to Europe for his family, +and he returned almost immediately to America. Meanwhile the war blazed +up for a little while and then expired, leaving behind it the _Deutsche +Verwirrung_[3] as it now presents itself in Germania.[4] + + [3: Literally, the _German entanglement_.] + + [4: Hecker seems to have been a sincere enthusiast; and it is + always observed by his friends that he renounced ease and comfort + for the cause that he espoused. We append a single verse from one + of the "Hecker songs" that were in 1849 in the mouth of every + Badish republican:-- + + "Look at Hecker wealth-renouncing, + O'er his head the red plume waves, + Th' awakening people's will announcing, + For the tyrant's blood he craves! + Mud boots thick and solid wears he, + All round Hecker's banner come, + And march at sound of Hecker's drum."] + + + + +Original Poetry. + + +THE GRIEF OF THE WEEPING WILLOW. + + Round my cottage porch are wreathing + Creeping vines, their perfume breathing + To the balmy breeze of Spring. + Near it is a streamlet flowing, + Where old shady trees are growing; + But of _one alone_ I sing. + + O'er the water sadly bending, + With the wave its leaflets blending, + Stands a lonely willow tree. + And the shadow seems e'erlasting, + That its boughs are always casting + O'er the tiny wavelets' glee. + + Oft I've wondered what the sorrow, + That ne'er know a gladsome morrow, + In the mourner's heart was sealed; + But no bitter wail of sadness, + Nor low tone of chastened gladness, + Had the willow tree revealed. + + When the breeze its leaves was lifting; + When the snows were round it drifting, + Seemed it still to grieve the same. + Round its trunk a vine is twining, + But its tendrils too seem pining + For a hand to tend and claim. + + Type of love that bears life's testing, + They earth's rudest storms are breasting; + Harmed not--so together borne; + And like girl to lover clinging, + Passing time is only bringing + Strength for every coming morn. + + Of one summer eve I ponder, + When I musing chanced to wander + By the streamlet's margin bright. + Moonbeams thro' the leaves were streaming, + And each leaping wave was gleaming + With a paly, astral light. + + O'er me hung the weeping willow; + Mossy bank was balmy pillow, + And in slumber sweet I dreamed: + Dreamed of music round me gushing, + That as winds o'er harp-strings rushing, + E'er like angel's whisper seemed. + + Oh, those low-breathed tones of sorrow; + Would that mortal tongue could borrow + Power to sing their sweetness o'er; + Here and there a sentence gleaming, + Soon my spirit caught the meaning + That the mournful numbers bore. + + Sleeper, who beneath my shade, + Hath thy couch of dreaming made; + Listen as I breathe to thee + All my mournful history. + Childhood, youth, and womanhood, + Have beneath my branches stood; + And of each as pass thy slumbers, + Speak my melancholy numbers. + + Of a fair-haired child I tell, + Who, one evening shadows fell, + Many a bright and gladsome hour + Passed mid haunt of bird and flower; + O'er the grassy meadow straying, + By the streamlet's margin playing, + Free from thoughts of care and sadness, + Full of life, and joy, and gladness. + Where my branches lowly hung + Oft her fairy form hath swung, + And methinks her laugh I hear, + Gaily ringing sweet and clear, + As with fading light of day, + Tripped her dancing feet away, + With many smiles and fewer tears, + Thus flew childhood's sunny years. + Soon she in my shadow stood, + On the verge of womanhood: + O'er her pale and thoughtful brow + Sunny tress was braided now; + Softer tones her lips were breathing, + Calmer smiles around them wreathing, + Than in childhood's gayer day, + Sported from those lips away. + Often with her came another; + But more tender than a brother + Seemed he in the care of her + Who was his perfect worshiper. + His the hand that trained the vine + Round my mossy trunk to twine; + 'Twas the parting gift of one, + Whom no more I looked upon. + Memories of bygone hours + Seemed to her its fragile flowers. + And each bursting, fragrant blossom + Wore she on her gentle bosom, + 'Till like them in sad decay, + Passed her maiden life away. + Once, and only once again, + To the trysting place she came: + Sad and tearful was her eye, + And I heard a mournful sigh, + Breathed from out the parted lips, + Whose smile seemed quenched by grief's eclipse. + Leaf and flower were fading fast, + 'Neath the autumn's chilling blast. + And all nature seemed to be + Kindred with her misery. + Winter passed--but spring's warm sun + Brought not back the long-missed one. + And though vainly, still I yearn + For that stricken one's return. + + HERMANN + +_Riverside, Nov. 10, 1850._ + + + + +A STORY WITHOUT A NAME.[5] + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE BY + +G.P.R. JAMES, ESQ. + + [5: Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by + G.P.R. James, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the + United States, for the Southern District of New York.] + + +CHAPTER I. + +Let me take you into an old-fashioned country house, built by architects +of the early reign of James the First. It had all the peculiarities--I +might almost say the oddities--of that particular epoch in the building +art. Chimneys innumerable had it. Heaven only knows what rooms they +ventilated; but their name must have been legion. The windows were not +fewer in number, and much more irregular: for the chimneys were gathered +together in some sort of symmetrical arrangement, while the windows were +scattered all over the various faces of the building, with no apparent +arrangement at all. Heaven knows, also, what rooms they lighted, or were +intended to light, for they very little served the purpose, being +narrow, and obstructed by the stone mullions of the Elizabethan age. +Each too had its label of stone superincumbent, and projecting from the +brick-work, which might leave the period of construction somewhat +doubtful--but the gables decided the fact. + +They, too, were manifold; for although the house had been built all at +once, it seemed, nevertheless, to have been erected in detached masses, +and joined together as best the builder could; so that there were no +less than six gables, turning north, south, east, and west, with four +right angles, and flat walls between them. These gables were +surmounted--topped, as it were, by a triangular wall, somewhat higher +than the acute roof, and this wall was constructed with a row of steps, +coped with freestone, on either side of the ascent, as if the architect +had fancied that some man or statue would, one day or another, have to +climb up to the top of the pyramid, and take his place upon the crowning +stone. + +It was a gloomy old edifice: the bricks had become discolored; the +livery of age, yellow and gray lichen, was upon it; daws hovered round +the chimney tops; rooks passed cawing over it, on the way to their +conventicle hard by; no swallow built under the eaves; and the trees, as +if repelled by its stern, cold aspect, retreated from it on three sides, +leaving it alone on its own flat ground, like a moody man amidst a gay +society. + +On the fourth side, indeed, an avenue--that is to say, two rows of old +elms--crept cautiously up to it in a winding and sinuous course, as if +afraid of approaching too rapidly; and at the distance of some five or +six hundred yards, clumps of old trees, beeches and evergreen oaks, and +things of somber foliage, dotted the park, only enlivened by here and +there a herd of deer. + +Now and then, a milk-maid, a country woman going to church or market, a +peasant, or a game-keeper, might be seen traversing the dry brown +expanse of grass, and but rarely deviating from a beaten path, which led +from one stile over the path wall to another. It was all somber and +monotonous: the very spirit of dullness seemed to hang over it; and the +clouds themselves--the rapid sportive clouds, free denizens of the sky, +and playmates of the wind and sunbeam--appeared to grow dull and tardy, +as they passed across the wide space open to the view, and to proceed +with awe and gravity, like timid youth in the presence of stern old age. + +Enough of the outside of the house. Let me take you into the interior, +reader, and into one particular room--not the largest and the finest; +but one of the highest. It was a little oblong chamber, with one window, +which was ornamented--the only ornament the chamber had--with a decent +curtain of red and white checked linen. On the side next the door, and +between it and the western wall, was a small bed. A walnut-tree table +and two or three chairs were near the window. In one corner stood a +washing-stand, not very tidily arranged, in another a chest of drawers; +and opposite the fire-place, hung from nails driven into the wall, two +or three shelves of the same material as the table, each supporting a +row of books, which by the dark black covers, brown edges, and thumbed +corners, seemed to have a right to boast of some antiquity and much use. + +At the table, as you perceive, there is seated a boy of some fifteen +years of age, with pen and ink and paper, and an open book. If you look +over his shoulder, you will perceive that the words are Latin. Yet he +reads it with ease and facility, and seeks no aid from the dictionary. +It is the "Cato Major" of Cicero. Heaven! what a book for a child like +that to read! Boyhood studying old age! + +But let us turn from the book, and examine the lad himself more closely. +See that pale face, with a manlike unnatural gravity upon it. Look at +that high broad brow, towering as a monument above the eyes. Remark +those eyes themselves, with their deep eager thought; and then the gleam +in them--something more than earnestness, and less than wildness--a +thirsty sort of expression, as if they drank in that they rested on, and +yet were unsated. + +The brow rests upon the pale fair hand, as if requiring something to +support the heavy weight of thought with which the brain is burdened. He +marks nothing but the lines of that old book. His whole soul is in the +eloquent words. He hears not the door open; he sees not that tall, +venerable, but somewhat stiff and gaunt figure, enter and approach him. +He reads on, till the old man's Geneva cloak brushes his arm, and his +hand is upon his shoulder. Then he starts up--looks around--but says +nothing. A faint smile, pleasant yet grave, crosses his finely cut lip; +but that is the only welcome, as he raises his eyes to the face that +bends over him. Can that boy in years be already aged in heart? + +It is clear that the old man--the old clergyman, for so he evidently +is--has no very tender nature. Every line of his face forbids the +supposition. The expression itself is grave, not to say stern. There is +powerful thought about it, but small gentleness. He seems one of those +who have been tried and hardened in some one of the many fiery furnaces +which the world provides for the test of men of strong minds and strong +hearts. There has been much persecution in the land; there have been +changes, from the rigid and severe to the light and frivolous--from the +light and frivolous to the bitter and cruel. There have been tyrants of +all shapes and all characters within the last forty years, and fools, +and knaves, and madmen, to cry them on in every course of evil. In all +these chances and changes, what fixed and rigid mind could escape the +fangs of persecution and wrong? He had known both; but they had changed +him little. His was originally an unbending spirit: it grew more tough +and stubborn by the habit of resistance; but its original bent was still +the same. + +Fortune--heaven's will--or his own inclination, had denied him wife or +child; and near relation he had none. A friend he had: that boy's +father, who had sheltered him in evil times, protected him as far as +possible against the rage of enemies, and bestowed upon him the small +living which afforded him support. He did his duty therein +conscientiously, but with a firm unyielding spirit, adhering to the +Calvinistic tenets which he had early received, in spite of the +universal falling off of companions and neighbors. He would not have +yielded an iota to have saved his head. + +With all his hardness, he had one object of affection, to which all that +was gentle in his nature was bent. That object was the boy by whom he +now stood, and for whom he had a great--an almost parental regard. +Perhaps it was that he thought the lad not very well treated; and, as +such had been his own case, there was sympathy in the matter. But +besides, he had been intrusted with his education from a very early +period, had taken a pleasure in the task, had found his scholar apt, +willing, and affectionate, with a sufficient touch of his own character +in the boy to make the sympathy strong, and yet sufficient diversity to +interest and to excite. + +The old man was tenderer toward him than toward any other being upon +earth; and he sometimes feared that his early injunctions to study and +perseverance were somewhat too strictly followed--even to the detriment +of health. He often looked with some anxiety at the increasing paleness +of the cheek, at the too vivid gleam of the eye, at the eager nervous +quivering of the lip, and said within himself, "This is overdone." + +He did not like to check, after he had encouraged--to draw the rein +where he had been using the spur. There is something of vanity in us +all, and the sternest is not without that share which makes man shrink +from the imputation of error, even when made by his own heart. He did +not choose to think that the lad had needed no urging forward; and yet +he would fain have had him relax a little more, and strove at times to +make him do so. But the impulse had been given: it had carried the youth +over the difficulties and obstacles in the way to knowledge, and now he +went on to acquire it, with an eagerness, a thirst, that had something +fearful in it. A bent, too, had been given to his mind--nay, to his +character, partly by the stern uncompromising character of him to whom +his education had been solely intrusted, partly by his own peculiar +situation, and partly by the subjects on which his reading had chiefly +turned. + +The stern old Roman of the early republic; the deeds of heroic +virtue--as virtue was understood by the Romans; the sacrifice of all +tender affections, all the sensibilities of our nature to the rigid +thought of what is right; the remorseless disregard of feelings +implanted by God, when opposed to the notion of duties of man's +creation, excited his wonder and his admiration, and would have hardened +and perverted his heart, had not that heart been naturally full of +kindlier affections. As it was, there often existed a struggle--a sort +of hypothetical struggle--in his bosom, between the mind and the heart. +He asked himself sometimes, if he could sacrifice any of those he knew +and loved--his father, his mother, his brother, to the good of his +country, to some grave duty; and he felt pained and roused to resistance +of his own affections when he perceived what a pang it would cost him. + +Yet his home was not a very happy one; the kindlier things of domestic +life had not gathered green around him. His father was varying and +uneven in temper, especially toward his second son; sometimes stern and +gloomy, sometimes irascible almost to a degree of insanity. Generous, +brave, and upright, he was; but every one said, that a wound he had +received on the head in the wars, had marvelously increased the +infirmities of his temper. + +The mother, indeed, was full of tenderness and gentleness; and doubtless +it was through her veins that the milk of human kindness had found its +way into that strange boy's heart. But yet she loved her eldest son +best, and unfortunately showed it. + +The brother was a wild, rash, reckless young man, some three years +older; fond of the other, yet often pleased to irritate--or at least to +try, for he seldom succeeded. He was the favorite, however, somewhat +spoiled, much indulged; and whatever was done, was done for him. He was +the person most considered in the house; his were the parties of +pleasure; his the advantages. Even now the family was absent, in order +to let him see the capital of his native land, to open his mind to the +general world, to show him life on a more extended scale than could be +done in the country; and his younger brother was left at home, to pursue +his studies in dull solitude. + +Yet he did not complain; there was not even a murmur at his heart. He +thought it all quite right. His destiny was before him. He was to form +his fortune for himself, by his own abilities, his own learning, his own +exertions. It was needful he should study, and his greatest ambition for +the time was to enter with distinction at the University; his brightest +thoughts of pleasure, the comparative freedom and independence of a +collegiate life. + +Not that he did not find it dull; that gloomy old house, inhabited by +none but himself and a few servants. Sometimes it seemed to oppress him +with a sense of terrible loneliness; sometimes it drove him to think of +the strange difference of human destinies, and why it should be +that--because it had pleased Heaven one man should be born a little +sooner or a little later than another, or in some other place--such a +wide interval should be placed between the different degrees of +happiness and fortune. + +He felt, however, that such speculations were not good; they led him +beyond his depth; he involved himself in subtilties more common in those +days than in ours; he lost his way; and with passionate eagerness flew +to his books, to drive the mists and shadows from his mind. Such had +been the case even now; and there he sat, unconscious that a complete +and total change was coming over his destiny. + +Oh, the dark workshop of Fate! what strange things go on therein, +affecting human misery and joy, repairing or breaking shackles for the +mind, the means of carrying us forward in a glorious cause, the +relentless weights which hurry us down to destruction! While you sit +there and read--while I sit here and write, who can say what strange +alterations, what combinations in the most discrepant things may be +going on around--without our will, without our knowledge--to alter the +whole course of our future existence? Doubtless, could man make his own +fate, he would mar it; and the impossibility of doing so is good. The +freedom of his own actions is sufficient, nay, somewhat too much; and it +is well for the world, aye, and for himself--that there is an overruling +Providence which so shapes circumstances around him, that he cannot go +beyond his limit, flutter as he will. + +There is something in that old man's face more than is common with +him--a deeper gravity even than ordinary, yet mingled with a tenderness +that is rare. There is something like hesitation, too--ay, hesitation +even in him who during a stormy life has seldom known what it is to +doubt or to deliberate: a man of strict and ready preparation, whose +fixed, clear, definite mind was always prompt and competent to act. + +"Come, Philip, my son," he said, laying his hand, as I have stated, on +the lad's shoulder, "enough of study for to-day. You read too hard. You +run before my precepts. The body must have thought as well as the mind; +and if you let the whole summer day pass without exercise, you will soon +find that under the weight of corporeal sickness the intellect will flag +and the spirit droop. I am going for a walk. Come with me; and we will +converse of high things by the way." + +"Study is my task and my duty, sir," replied the boy; "my father tells +me so, you have told me so often, and as for health I fear not. I seem +refreshed when I get up from reading, especially such books as this. It +is only when I have been out long, riding or walking, that I feel +tired." + +"A proof that you should ride and walk the more," replied the old man. +"Come, put on your hat and cloak. You shall read no more to-day. There +are other thoughts before you; you know, Philip," he continued, "that by +reading we get but materials, which we must use to build up an edifice +in our own minds. If all our thoughts are derived from others gone +before us, we are but robbers of the dead, and live upon labors not our +own." + +"Elder sons," replied the boy, with a laugh, "who take an inheritance +for which they toiled not." + +"Something worse than that," replied the clergyman, "for we gather what +we do not employ rightly--what we have every right to possess, but upon +the sole condition of using well. Each man possessed of intellect is +bound to make his own mind, not to have it made for him; to adapt it to +the times and circumstances in which he lives, squaring it by just +rules, and employing the best materials he can find." + +"Well, sir, I am ready," replied the youth, after a moment of deep +thought; and he and his old preceptor issued forth together down the +long staircase, with the slant sunshine pouring through the windows upon +the unequal steps, and illuminating the motes in the thick atmosphere we +breathe, like fancy brightening the idle floating things which surround +us in this world of vanity. + +They walked across the park toward the stile. The youth was silent, for +the old man's last words seemed to have awakened a train of thought +altogether new. + +His companion was silent also; for there was something working within +him which embarrassed and distressed him. He had something to tell that +young man, and he knew not how to tell it. For the first time in his +life he perceived, from the difficulty he experienced in deciding upon +his course, how little he really knew of his pupil's character. He had +dealt much with his mind, and that he comprehended well--its depth, its +clearness, its powers; but his heart and disposition he had not scanned +so accurately. He had a surmise, indeed, that there were feelings strong +and intense within; but he thought that the mind ruled them with +habitual sway that nothing could shake. Yet he paused and pondered; and +once he stopped, as if about to speak, but went on again and said +nothing. + +At length, as they approached the park wall, he laid his finger on his +temple, muttering to himself, "Yes, the quicker the better. 'Tis well to +mingle two passions. Surprise will share with grief--if much grief there +be." Then turning to the young man, he said, "Philip, I think you loved +your brother Arthur?" + +He spoke loudly, and in plain distinct tones; but the lad did not seem +to remark the past tense he used. "Certainly, sir," he said, "I love him +dearly. What of that?" + +"Then you will be very happy to hear," replied the old man, "that he has +been singularly fortunate--I mean that he has been removed from earth +and all its allurements--the vanities, the sins, the follies of the +world in which he seemed destined to move, before he could be corrupted +by its evils, or his spirit receive a taint from its vices." + +The young man turned and gazed on him with inquiring eyes, as if still +he did not comprehend what he meant. + +"He was drowned," said the clergyman, "on Saturday last, while sailing +with a party of pleasure on the Thames;" and Philip fell at his feet as +senseless as if he had shot him. + + +CHAPTER II. + +I must not dwell long upon the youthful scenes of the lad I have just +introduced to the reader; but as it is absolutely needful that his +peculiar character should be clearly understood, I must suffer it to +display itself a little farther before I step from his boyhood to his +maturity. + +We left Philip Hastings senseless upon the ground, at the feet of his +old preceptor, struck down by the sudden intelligence he had received, +without warning or preparation. + +The old man was immeasurably shocked at what he had done, and he +reproached himself bitterly; but he had been a man of action all his +life, who never suffered thought, whether pleasant or painful, to impede +him. He could think while he acted, and as he was a strong man too, he +had no great difficulty in taking the slight, pale youth up in his arms, +and carrying him over the park stile, which was close at hand, as the +reader may remember. He had made up his mind at once to bear his young +charge to a small cottage belonging to a laborer on the other side of +the road which ran under the park wall; but on reaching it, he found +that the whole family were out walking in the fields, and both doors and +windows were closed. + +This was a great disappointment to him, although there was a very +handsome house, in modern taste, not two hundred yards off. But there +were circumstances which made him unwilling to bear the son of Sir John +Hastings to the dwelling of his next neighbor. Next neighbors are not +always friends; and even the clergyman of the parish may have his +likings and dislikings. + +Colonel Marshal and Sir John Hastings were political opponents. The +latter was of the Calvinistic branch of the Church of England--not +absolutely a non-juror, but suspected even of having a tendency that +way. He was sturdy and stiff in his political opinions, too, and had but +small consideration for the conscientious views and sincere opinions of +others. To say the truth, he was but little inclined to believe that any +one who differed from him had conscientious views or sincere opinions at +all; and certainly the demeanor, if not the conduct, of the worthy +Colonel did not betoken any fixed notion or strong principles. He was a +man of the Court--gay, lively, even witty, making a jest of most things, +however grave and worthy of reverence. He played high, generally won, +was shrewd, complaisant, and particular in his deference to kings and +prime ministers. Moreover, he was of the very highest of the High Church +party--so high, indeed, that those who belonged to the Low Church party, +fancied he must soon topple over into Catholicism. + +In truth, I believe, had the heart of the Colonel been very strictly +examined, it would have been found very empty of anything like real +religion. But then the king was a Roman Catholic, and it was pleasant to +be as near him as possible. + +It may be asked, why then did not the Colonel go the same length as his +Majesty? The answer is very simple. Colonel Marshal was a shrewd +observer of the signs of the times. At the card table, after the three +first cards were played, he could tell where every other card in the +pack was placed. Now in politics he was nearly as discerning; and he +perceived that, although King James had a great number of honors in his +hand, he did not hold the trumps, and would eventually lose the game. +Had it been otherwise, there is no saying what sort of religion he might +have adopted. There is no reason to think that Transubstantiation would +have stood in the way at all; and as for the Council of Trent, he would +have swallowed it like a roll for his breakfast. + +For this man, then, Sir John Hastings had both a thorough hatred and a +profound contempt, and he extended the same sensations to every member +of the family. In the estimation of the worthy old clergyman the Colonel +did not stand much higher; but he was more liberal toward the Colonel's +family. Lady Annabella Marshal, his wife, was, when in the country, a +very regular attendant at his church. She had been exceedingly +beautiful, was still handsome, and she had, moreover, a sweet, +saint-like, placid expression, not untouched by melancholy, which was +very winning, even in an old man's eyes. She was known, too, to have +made a very good wife to a not very good husband; and, to say the truth, +Dr. Paulding both pitied and esteemed her. He went but little to the +house, indeed, for Colonel Marshal was odious to him; and the Colonel +returned the compliment by never going to the church. + +Such were the reasons which rendered the thought of carrying young +Philip Hastings up to The Court--as Colonel Marshal's house was +called--anything but agreeable to the good clergyman. But then, what +could he do? He looked in the boy's face. It was like that of a corpse. +Not a sign of returning animation showed itself. He had heard of +persons dying under such sudden affections of the mind; and so still, so +death-like, was the form and countenance before him, as he laid the lad +down for a moment on the bench at the cottage door, that his heart +misgave him, and a trembling feeling of dread came over his old frame. +He hesitated no longer, but after a moment's pause to gain breath, +caught young Hastings up in his arms again, and hurried away with him +toward Colonel Marshal's house. + +I have said that it was a modern mansion; that is to imply, that it was +modern in that day. Heaven only knows what has become of it now; but +Louis Quatorze, though he had no hand in the building of it, had many of +its sins to answer for--and the rest belonged to Mansard. It was the +strangest possible contrast to the old-fashioned country seat of Sir +John Hastings, who had his joke at it, and at the owner too--for he, +too, could jest in a bitter way--and he used to say that he wondered his +neighbor had not added his own name to the building, to distinguish it +from all other courts; and then it would have been Court Marshal. Many +were the windows of the house; many the ornaments; pilasters running up +between the casements, with sunken panels, covered over with quaint +wreaths of flowers, as if each had an embroidered waistcoat on; and a +large flight of steps running down from the great doorway, decorated +with Cupids and cornucopias running over with this most indigestible +kind of stone-fruit. + +The path from the gates up to the house was well graveled, and ran in +and out amongst sundry parterres, and basins of water, with the Tritons, +&c., of the age, all spouting away as hard as a large reservoir on the +top of the neighboring slope could make them. But for serviceable +purposes these basins were vain, as the water was never suffered to rise +nearly to the brim; and good Dr. Paulding gazed on them without hope, as +he passed on toward the broad flight of steps. + +There, however, he found something of a more comfortable aspect. The +path he had been obliged to take had one convenience to the dwellers in +the mansion. Every window in that side of the house commanded a view of +it, and the Doctor and his burden were seen by one pair of eyes at +least. + +Running down the steps without any of the frightful appendages of the +day upon her head, but her own bright beautiful hair curling wild like +the tendrils of a vine, came a lovely girl of fourteen or fifteen, just +past the ugly age, and blushing in the spring of womanhood. There was +eagerness and some alarm in her face: for the air and haste of the +worthy clergyman, as well as the form he carried in his arms, spoke as +plainly as words could have done that some accident had happened; and +she called to him, at some distance, to ask what was the matter. + +"Matter, child! matter!" cried the clergyman, "I believe I have half +killed this poor boy." + +"Killed him!" exclaimed the girl, with a look of doubt as well as +surprise. + +"Ay, Mistress Rachael," replied the old man, "killed him by unkindly and +rashly telling him of his brother's death, without preparation." + +"You intended it for kind, I am sure," murmured the girl in a sweet low +tone, coming down the steps, and gazing on his pale face, while the +clergyman carried the lad up the steps. + +"There, Miss Marshal, do not stay staring," said Dr. Paulding; "but pray +call some of the lackeys, and bid them bring water or hartshorn, or +something. Your lady-mother must have some essences to bring folks out +of swoons. There is nothing but swooning at Court, I am told--except +gaming, and drinking, and profanity." + +The girl was already on her way, but she looked back, saying, "My father +and mother are both out; but I will soon find help." + +When the lad opened his eyes, there was something very near, which +seemed to him exceedingly beautiful--rich, warm coloring, like that of a +sunny landscape; a pair of liquid, tender eyes, deeply fringed and full +of sympathy; and the while some sunny curls of bright brown hair played +about his cheek, moved by the hay-field breath of the sweet lips that +bent close over him. + +"Where am I?" he said. "What is the matter? What has happened? Ah! now I +recollect. My brother--my poor brother! Was it a dream?" + +"Hush, hush!" said a musical voice. "Talk to him, sir. Talk to him, and +make him still." + +"It is but too true, my dear Philip," said the old clergyman; "your +brother is lost to us. But recollect yourself, my son. It is weak to +give way in this manner. I announced your misfortune somewhat suddenly, +it is true, trusting that your philosophy was stronger than it is--your +Christian fortitude. Remember, all these dispensations are from the hand +of the most merciful God. He who gives the sunshine, shall he not bring +the clouds? Doubt not that all is merciful; and suffer not the +manifestations of His will to find you unprepared or unsubmissive." + +"I have been very weak," said the young man, "but it was so sudden! +Heaven! how full of health and strength he looked when he went away! He +was the picture of life--almost of immortality. I was but as a reed +beside him--a weak, feeble reed, beside a sapling oak." + +"'One shall be taken, and the other left,'" said the sweet voice of the +young girl; and the eyes both of the youth and the old clergyman turned +suddenly upon her. + +Philip Hastings raised himself upon his arm, and seemed to meditate for +a moment or two. His thoughts were confused and indistinct. He knew not +well where he was. The impression of what had happened was vague and +indefinite. As eyes which have been seared by the lightning, his mind, +which had lost the too vivid impression, now perceived everything in +mist and confusion. + +"I have been very weak," he said, "too weak. It is strange. I thought +myself firmer. What is the use of thought and example, if the mind +remains thus feeble? But I am better now. I will never yield thus +again;" and flinging himself off the sofa on which they had laid him, he +stood for a moment on his feet, gazing round upon the old clergyman and +that beautiful young girl, and two or three servants who had been called +to minister to him. + +We all know--at least, all who have dealt with the fiery things of +life--all who have felt and suffered, and struggled and conquered, and +yielded and grieved, and triumphed in the end--we all know how +short-lived are the first conquests of mind over body, and how much +strength and experience it requires to make the victory complete. To +render the soul the despot, the tyranny must be habitual. + +Philip Hastings rose, as I have said, and gazed around him. He struggled +against the shock which his mere animal nature had received, shattered +as it had been by long and intense study, and neglect of all that +contributes to corporeal power. But everything grew hazy to his eyes +again. He felt his limbs weak and powerless; even his mind feeble, and +his thoughts confused. Before he knew what was coming, he sunk fainting +on the sofa again, and when he woke from the dull sort of trance into +which he had fallen, there were other faces around him; he was stretched +quietly in bed in a strange room, a physician and a beautiful lady of +mature years were standing by his bedside, and he felt the oppressive +lassitude of fever in every nerve and in every limb. + +But we must turn to good Doctor Paulding. He went back to his rectory +discontented with himself, leaving the lad in the care of Lady Annabella +Marshal and her family. The ordinary--as the man who carried the letters +was frequently called in those days--was to depart in an hour, and he +knew that Sir John Hastings expected his only remaining son in London to +attend the body of his brother down to the family burying place. It was +impossible that the lad could go, and the old clergyman had to sit down +and write an account of what had occurred. + +There was nothing upon earth, or beyond the earth, which would have +induced him to tell a lie. True, his mind might be subject to such +self-deceptions as the mind of all other men. He might be induced to +find excuses to his own conscience for anything he did that was +wrong--for any mistake or error in judgment; for, willfully, he never +did what was wrong; and it was only by the results that he knew it. But +yet he was eagerly, painfully upon his guard against himself. He knew +the weakness of human nature--he had dealt with it often, and observed +it shrewdly, and applied the lesson with bitter severity to his own +heart, detecting its shrinking from candor, its hankering after +self-defense, its misty prejudices, its turnings and windings to escape +conviction; and he dealt with it as hardly as he would have done with a +spoiled child. + +Calmly and deliberately he sat down to write to Sir John Hastings a full +account of what had occurred, taking more blame to himself than was +really his due. I have called it a full account, though it occupied but +one page of paper, for the good doctor was anything but profuse of +words; and there are some men who can say much in small space. He blamed +himself greatly, anticipating reproach; but the thing which he feared +the most to communicate was the fact that the lad was left ill at the +house of Colonel Marshal, and at the house of a man so very much +disliked by Sir John Hastings. + +There are some men--men of strong mind and great abilities--who go +through life learning some of its lessons, and totally neglecting +others--pre-occupied by one branch of the great study, and seeing +nothing in the course of scholarship but that. Dr. Paulding had no +conception of the change which the loss of their eldest son had wrought +in the heart of Sir John and Lady Hastings. The second--the neglected +one--had now become not only the eldest, but the only one. His illness, +painfully as it affected them, was a blessing to them. It withdrew their +thoughts from their late bereavement. It occupied their mind with a new +anxiety. It withdrew it from grief and from disappointment. They thought +little or nothing of whose house he was at, or whose care he was under; +but leaving the body of their dead child to be brought down by slow and +solemn procession to the country, they hurried on before, to watch over +the one that was left. + +Sir John Hastings utterly forgot his ancient feelings toward Colonel +Marshal. He was at the house every day, and almost all day long, and +Lady Hastings was there day and night. + +Wonderful how--when barriers are broken down--we see the objects brought +into proximity under a totally different point of view from that in +which we beheld them at a distance. There might be some stiffness in the +first meeting of Colonel Marshal and Sir John Hastings, but it wore off +with exceeding rapidity. The Colonel's kindness and attention to the +sick youth were marked. Lady Annabella devoted herself to him as to one +of her own children. Rachael Marshal made herself a mere nurse. Hard +hearts could only withstand such things. Philip was now an only child, +and the parents were filled with gratitude and affection. + + +CHAPTER III. + +The stone which covered the vault of the Hastings family had been +raised, and light and air let into the cold, damp interior. A ray of +sunshine, streaming through the church window, found its way across the +mouldy velvet of the old coffins as they stood ranged along in solemn +order, containing the dust of many ancestors of the present possessors +of the manor. There, too, apart from the rest were the coffins of those +who had died childless; the small narrow resting-place of childhood, +where the guileless infant, the father's and mother's joy and hope, +slept its last sleep, leaving tearful eyes and sorrowing hearts behind, +with naught to comfort but the blessed thought that by calling such from +earth, God peoples heaven with angels; the coffins, too, of those cut +off in the early spring of manhood, whom the fell mower had struck down +in the flower before the fruit was ripe. Oh, how his scythe levels the +blossoming fields of hope! There, too, lay the stern old soldier, whose +life had been given up to his country's service, and who would not spare +one thought or moment to soften domestic joys; and many another who had +lived, perhaps and loved, and passed away without receiving love's +reward. + +Amongst these, close at the end of the line, stood two tressels, ready +for a fresh occupant of the tomb, and the church bell tolled heavily +above, while the old sexton looked forth from the door of the church +toward the gates of the park, and the heavy clouded sky seemed to menace +rain. + +"Happy the bride the sun shines upon; happy the corpse the heaven rains +upon!" said the old man to himself. But the rain did not come down; and +presently, from the spot where he stood, which overlooked the park-wall, +he saw come on in slow and solemn procession along the great road to the +gates, the funeral train of him who had been lately heir to all the fine +property around. The body had been brought from London after the career +of youth had been cut short in a moment of giddy pleasure, and father +and mother, as was then customary, with a long line of friends, +relations, and dependents, now conveyed the remains of him once so +dearly loved, to the cold grave. + +Only one of all the numerous connections of the family was wanting on +this occasion, and that was the brother of the dead; but he lay slowly +recovering from the shock he had received, and every one had been told +that it was impossible for him to attend. All the rest of the family had +hastened to the hall in answer to the summons they had received, for +though Sir John Hastings was not much loved, he was much respected and +somewhat feared--at least, the deference which was paid to him, no one +well knew why, savored somewhat of dread. + +It is a strange propensity in many old persons to hang about the grave +to which they are rapidly tending, when it is opened for another, and to +comment--sometimes even with a bitter pleasantry--upon an event which +must soon overtake themselves. As soon as it was known that the funeral +procession had set out from the hall door, a number of aged people, +principally women, but comprising one or two shriveled men, tottered +forth from the cottages, which lay scattered about the church, and made +their way into the churchyard, there to hold conference upon the dead +and upon the living. + +"Ay, ay!" said one old woman, "he has been taken at an early time; but +he was a fine lad, and better than most of those hard people." + +"Ay, Peggy would praise the devil himself if he were dead," said an old +man, leaning on a stick, "though she has never a good word for the +living. The boy is taken away from mischief, that is the truth of it. If +he had lived to come down here again, he would have broken the heart of +my niece's daughter Jane, or made a public shame of her. What business +had a gentleman's son like that to be always hanging about a poor +cottage girl, following her into the corn-fields, and luring her out in +the evenings?" + +"Faith! she might have been proud enough of his notice," said an old +crone; "and I dare say she was, too, in spite of all your conceit, +Matthew. She is not so dainty as you pretend to be; and we may see +something come of it yet." + +"At all events," said another, "he was better than this white-faced, +spiritless boy that is left, who is likely enough to be taken earlier +than his brother, for he looks as if breath would blow him away." + +"He will live to do something yet, that will make people talk of him;" +said a woman older than any of the rest, but taller and straighter; +"there is a spirit in him, be it angel or devil, that is not for death +so soon." + +"Ay! they're making a pomp of it I warrant," said another old woman, +fixing her eyes on the high road under the park wall, upon which the +procession now entered. "Marry, there are escutcheons enough, and coats +of arms! One would think he was a lord's son, with all this to do! But +there is a curse upon the race anyhow; this man was the last of eleven +brothers, and I have heard say, his father died a bad death. Now his +eldest son must die by drowning--saved the hangman something, +perchance--we shall see what comes of the one that is left. 'Tis a curse +upon them ever since Worcester fight, when the old man, who is dead and +gone, advised to send the poor fellows who were taken, to work as slaves +in the colonies." + +As she spoke, the funeral procession advanced up the road, and +approached that curious sort of gate with a penthouse over it, erected +probably to shelter the clergyman of the church while receiving the +corpse at the gate of the burial-ground, which was then universally to +be found at the entrance to all cemeteries. She broke off abruptly, as +if there was something still on her mind which she had not spoken, and +ranging themselves on each side of the church-yard path, the old men and +women formed a lane down which good Dr. Paulding speedily moved with +book in hand. The people assembled, whose numbers had been increased by +the arrival of some thirty or forty young and middle-aged, said not a +word as the clergymen marched on, but when the body had passed up +between them, and the bereaved father followed as chief-mourner, with a +fixed, stern, but tearless eye, betokening more intense affliction +perhaps, in a man of his character, than if his cheeks had been covered +with drops of womanly sorrow, several voices were heard saying aloud, +"God bless and comfort you, Sir John." + +Strange, marvelously strange it was, that these words should come from +tongues, and from those alone, which had been so busily engaged in +carping censure and unfeeling sneers but the moment before. It was the +old men and women alone who had just been commenting bitterly upon the +fate, history, and character of the family, who now uttered the unfelt +expressions of sympathy in a beggar-like, whining tone. It was those who +really felt compassion who said nothing. + +The coffin had been carried into the church, and the solemn rites, the +beautiful service of the Church of England, had proceeded some way, when +another person was added to the congregation who had not at first been +there. All eyes but those of the father of the dead and the lady who sat +weeping by his side, turned upon the new-comer, as with a face as pale +as death, and a faltering step, he took his place on one of the benches +somewhat remote from the rest. There was an expression of feeble +lassitude in the young man's countenance, but of strong resolution, +which overcame the weakness of the frame. He looked as if each moment he +would have fainted, but yet he sat out the whole service of the Church, +mingled with the crowd when the body was lowered into the vault, and saw +the handful of earth hurled out upon the velvet coffin, as if in mockery +of the empty pride of all the pomp and circumstance which attended the +burial of the rich and high. + +No tear came into his eyes--no sob escaped from his bosom; a slight +quivering of the lip alone betrayed that there was strong agitation +within. When all was over, and the father still gazing down into the +vault, the young lad crept quietly back into a pew, covered his face +with his hand, and wept. + +The last rite was over. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust were committed. Sir +John Hastings drew his wife's arm through his own, and walked with a +heavy, steadfast, and unwavering step down the aisle. Everybody drew +back respectfully as he passed; for generally, even in the hardest +hearts, true sorrow finds reverence. He had descended the steps from the +church into the burying ground, and had passed half way along the path +toward his carriage, when suddenly the tall upright old woman whom I +have mentioned thrust herself into his way, and addressed him with a +cold look and somewhat menacing tone-- + +"Now, Sir John Hastings," she said, "will you do me justice about that +bit of land? By your son's grave I ask it. The hand of heaven has +smitten you. It may, perhaps, have touched your heart. You know the land +is mine. It was taken from my husband by the usurper because he fought +for the king to whom he had pledged his faith. It was given to your +father because he broke his faith to his king and brought evil days upon +his country. Will you give me back the land, I say? Out man! It is but a +garden of herbs, but it is mine, and in God's sight I claim it." + +"Away out of my path," replied Sir John Hastings angrily. "Is this a +time to talk of such things? Get you gone, I say, and choose some better +hour. Do you suppose I can listen to you now?" + +"You have never listened, and you never will," replied the old woman, +and suffering him to pass without further opposition, she remained upon +the path behind him muttering to herself what seemed curses bitter and +deep, but the words of which were audible only to herself. + +The little crowd gathered round her, and listened eagerly to catch the +sense of what she said, but the moment after the old sexton laid his +hand upon her shoulder and pushed her from the path, saying, "Get along +with you, get along with you, Popish Beldam. What business have you here +scandalizing the congregation, and brawling at the church door? You +should be put in the stocks!" + +"I pity you, old worm," replied the old woman, "you will be soon among +those you feed upon," and with a hanging head and dejected air she +quitted the church-yard. + +In the meanwhile Dr. Paulding had remained gazing down into the vault, +while the stout young men who had come to assist the sexton withdrew the +broad hempen bands by which the coffin had been lowered, from beneath +it, arranged it properly upon the tressels in its orderly place among +the dead, and then mounted by a ladder into the body of the church, +again preparing to replace the stone over the mouth of the vault. He +then turned to the church door and looked out, and then quietly +approached a pew in the side aisle. + +"Philip, this is very wrong," he said; "your father never wished or +intended you should be here." + +"He did not forbid me," replied the young man. "Why should I only be +absent from my brother's funeral?" + +"Because you are sick. Because, by coming, you may have risked your +life," replied the old clergyman. + +"What is life to a duty?" replied the lad. "Have you not taught me, sir, +that there is no earthly thing--no interest of this life, no pleasure, +no happiness, no hope, that ought not to be sacrificed at once to that +which the heart says is right?" + +"True--true," replied the old clergyman, almost impatiently; "but in +following precept so severely, boy, you should use some discrimination. +You have a duty to a living father, which is of more weight than a mere +imaginary one to a dead brother. You could do no good to the latter; as +the Psalmist wisely said, 'You must go to him, but he can never come +back to you.' To your father, on the contrary, you have high duties to +perform; to console and cheer him in his present affliction; to comfort +and support his declining years. When a real duty presents itself, +Philip, to yourself, to your fellow men, to your country, or to your +God--I say again, as I have often said, do it in spite of every possible +affection. Let it cut through everything, break through every tie, +thrust aside every consideration. There, indeed, I would fain see you +act the old Roman, whom you are so fond of studying, and be a Cato or a +Brutus, if you will. But you must make very sure that you do not make +your fancy create unreal duties, and make them of greater importance in +your eyes than the true ones. But now I must get you back as speedily as +possible, for your mother, ere long, will be up to see you, and your +father, and they must not find you absent on this errand." + +The lad made no reply, but readily walked back toward the court with Dr. +Paulding, though his steps were slow and feeble. He took the old man's +arm, too, and leaned heavily upon it; for, to say the truth, he felt +already the consequences of the foolish act he had committed; and the +first excitement past, lassitude and fever took possession once more of +every limb, and his feet would hardly bear him to the gates. + +The beautiful girl who had been the first to receive him at that house, +met the eyes both of the young man and the old one, the moment they +entered the gardens. She looked wild and anxious, and was wandering +about with her head uncovered; but as soon as she beheld the youth, she +ran toward him, exclaiming, "Oh, Philip, Philip, this is very wrong and +cruel of you. I have been looking for you everywhere. You should not +have done this. How could you let him, Dr. Paulding?" + +"I did not let him, my dear child," replied the old man, "he came of his +own will, and would not be let. But take him in with you; send him to +bed as speedily as may be; give him a large glass of the fever-water he +was taking, and say as little as possible of this rash act to any one." + +The girl made the sick boy lean upon her rounded arm, led him away into +the house, and tended him like a sister. She kept the secret of his +rashness, too, from every one; and there were feelings sprang up in his +bosom toward her during the next few hours which were never to be +obliterated. She was so beautiful, so tender, so gentle, so full of all +womanly graces, that he fancied, with his strong imagination, that no +one perfection of body or mind could be wanting; and he continued to +think so for many a long year after. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Enough of boyhood and its faults and follies. I sought but to show the +reader, as in a glass, the back of a pageant that has past. Oh, how I +sometimes laugh at the fools--the critics. God save the mark! who see no +more in the slight sketch I choose to give, than a mere daub of paint +across the canvas, when that one touch gives effect to the whole +picture. Let them stand back, and view it as a whole; and if they can +find aught in it to make them say "Well done," let them look at the +frame. That is enough for them; their wits are only fitted to deal with +"leather and prunella." + +I have given you, reader--kind and judicious reader--a sketch of the +boy, that you may be enabled to judge rightly of the man. Now, take the +lad as I have moulded him--bake him well in the fiery furnace of strong +passion, remembering still that the form is of hard iron--quench and +harden him in the cold waters of opposition, and disappointment, and +anxiety--and bring him forth tempered, but too highly tempered for the +world he has to live in--not pliable--not elastic; no watchspring, but +like a graver's tool, which must cut into everything opposed to it, or +break under the pressure. + +Let us start upon our new course some fifteen years after the period at +which our tale began, and view Philip Hastings as that which he had now +become. + +Dr. Paulding had passed from this working day world to another and a +better--where we hope the virtues of the heart may be weighed against +vices of the head--a mode of dealing rare here below. Sir John Hastings +and his wife had gone whither their eldest son had gone before them; and +Philip Hastings was no longer the boy. Manhood had set its seal upon his +brow only too early; but what a change had come with manhood!--a change +not in the substance, but in its mode. + +Oh, Time! thy province is not only to destroy! Thou worker-out of human +destinies--thou new-fashioner of all things earthly--thou blender of +races--thou changer of institutions--thou discoverer--thou +concealer--thou builder up--thou dark destroyer; thy waters as they flow +have sometimes a petrifying, sometimes a solvent power, hardening the +soft, melting the strong, accumulating the sand, undermining the rock! +What had been thine effect upon Philip Hastings? + +All the thoughts had grown manly as well as the body. The slight youth +had been developed into the hardy and powerful man; somewhat +inactive--at least so it seemed to common eyes--more thoughtful than +brilliant, steady in resolution, though calm in expression, giving way +no more to bursts of boyish feeling, somewhat stern, men said somewhat +hard, but yet extremely just, and resolute for justice. The poetry of +life--I should have said the poetry of young life--the brilliancy of +fancy and hope, seemed somewhat dimmed in him--mark, I say seemed, for +that which seems too often is not; and he might perhaps have learnt to +rule and conceal feelings which he could not altogether conquer or +resist. + +Still there were many traces of his old self visible: the same love of +study, the same choice of books and subjects of thought, the same +subdued yet strong enthusiasms. The very fact of mingling with the +world, which had taught him to repress those enthusiasms, seemed to have +concentrated and rendered them more intense. + +The course of his studies; the habits of his mind; his fondness for the +school of the stoics, it might have been supposed, would rather have +disgusted him with the society in which he now habitually mingled, and +made him look upon mankind--for it was a very corrupt age--with +contempt, if not with horror. + +Such, however, was not the case. He had less of the cynic in him than +his father--indeed he had nothing of the cynic in him at all. He loved +mankind in his own peculiar way. He was a philanthropist of a certain +sort; and would willingly have put a considerable portion of his +fellow-creatures to death, in order to serve, and elevate, and improve +the rest. + +His was a remarkable character--not altogether fitted for the times in +which he lived; but one which in its wild and rugged strength, commanded +much respect and admiration even then. Weak things clung to it, as ivy +to an oak or a strong wall: and its power over them was increased by a +certain sort of tenderness--a protecting pity, which mingled strangely +with his harder and ruder qualities. He seemed to be sorry for +everything that was weak, and to seek to console and comfort it, under +the curse of feebleness. It seldom offended him--he rather loved it, it +rarely came in his way; and his feeling toward it might approach +contempt but never rose to anger. + +He was capable too of intense and strong affections, though he could not +extend them to many objects. All that was vigorous and powerful in him +concentrated itself in separate points here and there; and general +things were viewed with much indifference. + +See him as he walks up and down there before the old house, which I have +elsewhere described. He has grown tall and powerful in frame; and yet +his gait is somewhat slovenly and negligent, although his step is firm +and strong. He is not much more than thirty-one years of age; but he +looks forty at the least; and his hair is even thickly sprinkled with +gray. His face is pale, with some strong marked lines and indentations +in it; yet, on the whole, it is handsome, and the slight habitual frown, +thoughtful rather than stern, together with the massive jaw, and the +slight drawing down of the corners of the mouth, give it an expression +of resolute firmness, that is only contradicted by the frequent +variation of the eye, which is sometimes full of deep thought, sometimes +of tenderness; and sometimes is flashing with a wild and almost +unearthly fire. + +But there is a lady hanging on his arm which supports her somewhat +feeble steps. She seems recovering from illness; the rose in her cheek +is faint and delicate; and an air of languor is in her whole face and +form. Yet she is very beautiful, and seems fully ten years younger than +her husband, although, in truth, she is of the same age--or perhaps a +little older. It is Rachael Marshal, now become Lady Hastings. + +Their union did not take place without opposition; all Sir John +Hastings' prejudices against the Marshal family revived as soon as his +son's attachment to the daughter of the house became apparent. Like most +fathers, he saw too late; and then sought to prevent that which had +become inevitable. He sent his son to travel in foreign lands; he even +laid out a scheme for marrying him to another, younger, and as he +thought fairer. He contrived that the young man should fall into the +society of the lady he had selected, and he fancied that would be quite +sufficient; for he saw in her character, young as she was, traits, much +more harmonious, as he fancied, with those of his son, than could be +found in the softer, gentler, weaker Rachael Marshal. There was energy, +perseverance, resolution, keen and quick perceptions--perhaps a little +too much keenness. More, he did not stay to inquire; but, as is usual in +matters of the heart, Philip Hastings loved best the converse of +himself. The progress of the scheme was interrupted by the illness of +Sir John Hastings, which recalled his son from Rome. Philip returned, +found his father dead, and married Rachael Marshal. + +They had had several children; but only one remained; that gay, light, +gossamer girl, like a gleam darting along the path from sunny rays +piercing through wind-borne clouds. On she ran with a step of light and +careless air, yet every now and then she paused suddenly, gazed +earnestly at a flower, plucked it, pored into its very heart with her +deep eyes, and, after seeming to labor under thought for a moment, +sprang forward again as light as ever. + +The eyes of the father followed her with a look of grave, thoughtful, +intense affection. The mother's eyes looked up to him, and then glanced +onward to the child. + +She was between nine and ten years old--not very handsome, for it is not +a handsome age. Yet there were indications of future beauty--fine and +sparkling eyes, rich, waving, silky hair, long eyelashes, a fine +complexion, a light and graceful figure, though deformed by the stiff +fashions of the day. + +There was a sparkle too in her look--that bright outpouring of the heart +upon the face which is one of the most powerful charms of youth and +innocence. Ah! how soon gone by! How soon checked by the thousand loads +which this heavy laboring world casts upon the buoyancy of youthful +spirits--the chilling conventionality--the knowledge, and the fear of +wrong--the first taste of sorrow--the anxieties, cares, fears--even the +hopes of mature life, are all weights to bear down the pinions of young, +lark-like joy. After twenty, does the heart ever rise up from her green +sod and sing at Heaven's gate as in childhood? Never--ah, never! The +dust of earth is upon the wing of the sky songster, and will never let +her mount to her ancient pitch. + +That child was a strange combination of her father and her mother. She +was destined to be their only one; and it seemed as if nature had taken +a pleasure in blending the characters of both in one. Not that they were +intimately mingled, but that they seemed like the twins of Laconia, to +rise and set by turns. + +In her morning walk; in her hours of sportive play; when no subject of +deep thought, no matter that affected the heart or the imagination was +presented to her, she was light and gay as a butterfly; the child--the +happy child was in every look, and word, and movement. But call her for +a moment from this bright land of pleasantness--present something to her +mind or to her fancy which rouses sympathies, or sets the energetic +thoughts at work, and she was grave, meditative, studious, deep beyond +her years. + +She was a subject of much contemplation, some anxiety, some wonder to +her father. The brightness of her perceptions, her eagerness in the +pursuit of knowledge, her vigorous resolution even as a child, when +convinced that she was right, showed him his own mind reflected in hers. +Even her tenderness, her strong affections, he could comprehend; for the +same were in his own heart, and though he believed them to be +weaknesses, he could well understand their existence in a child and in a +woman. + +But that which he did not understand--that which made him marvel--was +her lightness, her gayety, her wild vivacity--I might almost say, her +trifling, when not moved by deep feeling or chained down by thought. + +This was beyond him. Yet strange! the same characteristics did not +surprise nor shock him in her mother--never had surprised or shocked +him; indeed he had rather loved her for those qualities, so unlike his +own. Perhaps it was that he thought it strange, his child should, in any +mood, be so unlike himself; or perhaps it was the contrast between the +two sides of the same character that moved his wonder when he saw it in +his child. He might forget that her mother was her parent as well as +himself; and that she had an inheritance from each. + +In his thoughtful, considering, theoretical way, he determined +studiously to seek a remedy for what he considered the defect in his +child--to cultivate with all the zeal and perseverance of paternal +affection, supported by his own force of character, those qualities +which were most like his own--those, in short, which were the least +womanly. But nature would not be baffled. You may divert her to a +certain degree; but you cannot turn her aside from her course +altogether. + +He found that he could not--by any means which his heart would let him +employ--conquer what he called the frivolity of the child. Frivolity! +Heaven save us! There were times when she showed no frivolity, but, on +the contrary, a depth and intensity far, far beyond her years. Indeed, +the ordinary current of her mind was calm and thoughtful. It was but +when a breeze rippled it that it sparkled on the surface. Her father, +too, saw that this was so; that the wild gayety was but occasional. But +still it surprised and pained him--perhaps the more because it was +occasional. It seemed to his eyes an anomaly in her nature. He would +have had her altogether like himself. He could not conceive any one +possessing so much of his own character, having room in heart and brain +for aught else. It was a subject of constant wonder to him; of +speculation, of anxious thought. + +He often asked himself if this was the only anomaly in his child--if +there were not other traits, yet undiscovered, as discrepant as this +light volatility with her general character: and he puzzled himself +sorely. + +Still he pursued her education upon his own principles; taught her many +things which women rarely learned in those days; imbued her mind with +thoughts and feelings of his own; and often thought, when a season of +peculiar gravity fell upon her, that he made progress in rendering her +character all that he could wish it. This impression never lasted long, +however; for sooner or later the bird-like spirit within her found the +cage door open, and fluttered forth upon some gay excursion, leaving all +his dreams vanished and his wishes disappointed. + +Nevertheless he loved her with all the strong affection of which his +nature was capable; and still he persevered in the course which he +thought for her benefit. At times, indeed, he would make efforts to +unravel the mystery of her double nature, not perceiving that the only +cause of mystery was in himself: that what seemed strange in his +daughter depended more upon his own want of power to comprehend her +variety than upon anything extraordinary in her. He would endeavor to go +along with her in her sportive moods--to let his mind run free beside +hers in its gay ramble; to find some motive for them which he could +understand; to reduce them to a system; to discover the rule by which +the problem was to be solved. But he made nothing of it, and wearied +conjecture in vain. + +Lady Hastings sometimes interposed a little; for in unimportant things +she had great influence with her husband. He let her have her own way +wherever he thought it not worth while to oppose her; and that was very +often. She perfectly comprehended the side of her daughter's character +which was all darkness to the father; and strange to say, with greater +penetration than his own, she comprehended the other side likewise. She +recognized easily the traits in her child which she knew and admired in +her husband, but wished them heartily away in her daughter's case, +thinking such strength of mind, joined with whatever grace and +sweetness, somewhat unfeminine. + +Though she was full of prejudices, and where her quickness of perception +failed her, altogether unteachable by reason, yet she was naturally too +virtuous and good to attempt even to thwart the objects of the father's +efforts in the education of his child. I have said that she interfered +at times, but it was only to remonstrate against too close study, to +obtain frequent and healthful relaxation, and to add all those womanly +accomplishments on which she set great value. In this she was not +opposed. Music, singing, dancing, and a knowledge of modern languages, +were added to other branches of education, and Lady Hastings was so far +satisfied. + + +CHAPTER V. + +The Italian singing-master was a peculiar man, and well worthy of a few +words in description. He was tall and thin, but well built; and his face +had probably once been very handsome, in that Italian style, which, by +the exaggeration of age, grows so soon into ugliness. The nose was now +large and conspicuous, the eyes bright, black, and twinkling, the mouth +good in shape, but with an animal expression about it, the ear very +voluminous. + +He was somewhat more than fifty years of age, and his hair was speckled +with gray; but age was not apparent in wrinkles and furrows, and in gait +he was firm and upright. + +At first Sir Philip Hastings did not like him at all. He did not like to +have him there. It was against the grain he admitted him into the house. +He did it, partly because he thought it right to yield in some degree to +the wishes of his wife; partly from a grudging deference to the customs +of society. + +But the Signor was a shrewd and world-taught man, accustomed to overcome +prejudices, and to make his way against disadvantages; and he soon +established himself well in the opinion of both father and mother. It +was done by a peculiar process, which is well worth the consideration of +all those who seek _les moyens de parvenir_. + +In his general and ordinary intercourse with his fellow-men, he had a +happy middle tone,--a grave, reticent manner, which never compromised +him to anything. A shrewd smile, without an elucidatory remark, served +to harmonize him with the gay and vivacious; a serious tranquillity, +unaccompanied by any public professions, was enough to make the sober +and the decent rank him amongst themselves. Perhaps that class of +men--whether pure at heart or not--have always overestimated decency of +exterior. + +All this was in public however. In private, in a _tęte-ŕ-tęte_, Signor +Guardini was a very different man. Nay more, in each and every +_tęte-ŕ-tęte_ he was a different man from what he appeared in the other. +Yet, with a marvelous art, he contrived to make both sides of his +apparent character harmonize with his public and open appearance. Or +rather perhaps I should say that his public demeanor was a middle tint +which served to harmonize the opposite extremes of coloring displayed by +his character. Nothing could exemplify this more strongly than the +different impressions he produced on Sir Philip and Lady Hastings. The +lady was soon won to his side. She was predisposed to favor him; and a +few light gay sallies, a great deal of conventional talk about the +fashionable life of London, and a cheerful bantering tone of persiflage, +completely charmed her. Sir Philip was more difficult to win. +Nevertheless, in a few short sentences, hardly longer than those which +Sterne's mendicant whispered in the ear of the passengers, he succeeded +in disarming many prejudices. With him, the Signor was a stoic; he had +some tincture of letters, though a singer, and had read sufficient of +the history of his own land, to have caught all the salient points of +the glorious past. + +Perhaps he might even feel a certain interest in the antecedents of his +decrepit land--not to influence his conduct, or to plant ambitious or +nourish pure and high hopes for its regeneration--but to waken a sort of +touch-wood enthusiasm, which glowed brightly when fanned by the stronger +powers of others. Yet before Sir Philip had had time to communicate to +him one spark of his own ardor, he had as I have said made great +progress in his esteem. In five minutes' conversation he had established +for himself the character of one of a higher and nobler character whose +lot had fallen in evil days. + +"In other years," thought the English gentleman, "this might have been a +great man--the defender unto death of his country's rights--the advocate +of all that is ennobling, stern, and grand." + +What was the secret of all this? Simply that he, a man almost without +character, had keen and well-nigh intuitive perceptions of the +characters of others; and that without difficulty his pliable nature and +easy principles would accommodate themselves to all. + +He made great progress then in the regard of Sir Philip, although their +conversations seldom lasted above five minutes. He made greater progress +still with the mother. But with the daughter he made none--worse than +none. + +What was the cause, it may be asked. What did he do or say--how did he +demean himself so as to produce in her bosom a feeling of horror and +disgust toward him that nothing could remove? + +I cannot tell. He was a man of strong passions and no principles: that +his after--perhaps his previous--life would evince. There is a +touchstone for pure gold in the heart of an innocent and highminded +woman that detects all baser metals: they are discovered in a moment: +they cannot stand the test. + +Now, whether his heart-cankering corruption, his want of faith, honesty, +and truth, made themselves felt, and were pointed out by the index of +that fine barometer, without any overt act at all--or whether he gave +actual cause of offense, I do not know--none has ever known. + +Suddenly, however, the gay, the apparently somewhat wayward girl, now +between fifteen and sixteen, assumed a new character in her father's and +mother's eyes. With a strange frank abruptness she told them she would +take no more singing lessons of the Italian; but she added no +explanation. + +Lady Hastings was angry, and expostulated warmly; but the girl was firm +and resolute. She heard her mother's argument, and answered in soft and +humble tones that she would not,--could not learn to sing any +longer--that she was very sorry to grieve or to offend her mother; but +she had learned long enough, and would learn no more. + +More angry than before, with the air of indignant pride in which +weakness so often takes refuge, the mother quitted the room; and the +father then, in a calmer spirit, inquired the cause of her resolution. + +She blushed like the early morning sky; but there was a sort of +bewildered look upon her face as she replied, "I know no cause--I can +give no reason, my dear father; but the man is hateful to me. I will +never see him again." + +Her father sought for farther explanation, but he could obtain none. +Guardini had not said anything nor done anything, she admitted, to give +her offense; but yet she firmly refused to be his pupil any longer. + +There are instincts in fine and delicate minds, which, by signs and +indications intangible to coarser natures, discover in others thoughts +and feelings, wishes and designs, discordant--repugnant to themselves. +They are instincts, I say, not amenable to reason, escaping analysis, +incapable of explanation--the warning voice of God in the heart, bidding +them beware of evil. + +Sir Philip Hastings was not a man to allow aught for such impulses--to +conceive or understand them in the least. He had been accustomed to +delude himself with reasons, some just, others very much the reverse, +but he had never done a deed or entertained a thought for which he could +not give some reason of convincing power to his own mind. + +He did not understand his daughter's conduct at all; but he would not +press her any farther. She was in some degree a mysterious being to him. +Indeed, as I have before shown, she had always been a mystery; for he +had no key to her character in his own. It was written in the unknown +language. + +Yet, did he love or cherish her the less? Oh no! Perhaps a deeper +interest gathered round his heart for her, the chief object of his +affections. More strongly than ever he determined to cultivate and form +her mind on his own model, in consequence of what he called a strange +caprice, although he could not but sometimes hope and fancy that her +resolute rejection of any farther lessons from Signor Guardini arose +from her distaste to what he himself considered one of the frivolous +pursuits of fashion. + +Yet she showed no distaste for singing; for somehow every day she would +practice eagerly, till her sweet voice, under a delicate taste, acquired +a flexibility and power which charmed and captivated her father, +notwithstanding his would-be cynicism. He was naturally fond of music; +his nature was a vehement one, though curbed by such strong restraints; +and all vehement natures are much moved by music. He would sit calmly, +with his eyes fixed upon a book, but listening all the time to that +sweet voice, with feelings working in him--emotions, thrilling, deep, +intense, which he would have felt ashamed to expose to any human eye. + +All this however made her conduct toward Guardini the more mysterious; +and her father often gazed upon her beautiful face with a look of +doubting inquiry, as one may look on the surface of a bright lake, and +ask, What is below? + +That face was now indeed becoming very beautiful. Every feature had been +refined and softened by time. There was soul in the eyes, and a gleam of +heaven upon the smile, besides the mere beauties of line and coloring. +The form too had nearly reached perfection. It was full of symmetry and +grace, and budding charms; and while the mother marked all these +attractions, and thought how powerful they would prove in the world, the +father felt their influence in a different manner: with a sort of +abstract admiration of her loveliness, which went no further than a +proud acknowledgment to his own heart that she was beautiful indeed. To +him her beauty was as a gem, a picture, a beautiful possession, which he +had no thought of ever parting with--something on which his eyes would +rest well pleased until they closed forever. How blessed he might have +been in the possession of such a child could he have comprehended +her--could he have divested his mind of the idea that there was +something strange and inharmonious in her character! Could he have made +his heart a woman's heart for but one hour, all mystery would have been +dispelled; but it was impossible, and it remained. + +No tangible effect did it produce at the time; but preconceptions of +another's character are very dangerous things. Everything is seen +through their medium, everything is colored and often distorted. That +which produced no fruit at the time, had very important results at an +after period. + +But I must turn now to other scenes and more stirring events, having I +trust made the reader well enough acquainted with father, mother, and +daughter, at least sufficiently for all the purposes of this tale. It is +upon the characters of two of them that all the interest if there be any +depends. Let them be marked then and remembered, if the reader would +derive pleasure from what follows. + +TO BE CONTINUED. + + +[From "The Album." Manchester, November, 1850.] + +THE POET'S LOT. + +BY PHILIP JAMES BAILEY, AUTHOR OF "FESTUS," ETC. + + Nature in the poet's heart is limned + In little, as in landscape stones we see + The swell of land, and groves, and running streams, + Fresh from the wolds of Chaos; or perchance + The imaged hint of antemundane life,-- + A photograph of preexistent light,-- + Or Paradisal sun. So, in his mind + The broad conditions of the world are graven, + Thoroughly and grandly; in accord wherewith + His life is ruled to be, and eke to bear. + Wisdom he wills not only for himself, + But undergoes the sacred rites whereby + The privilege he hath earned he may promulge, + And all men make the partners of his light. + Between the priestly and the laic powers + The poet stands, a bright and living link; + Now chanting odes divine and sacred spells-- + Now with fine magic, holy and austere, + Inviting angels or evoking fiends; + And now, in festive guise arrayed, his brow + With golden fillet bounden round--alone, + Earnest to charm the throng that celebrates + The games now--now the mysteries of life, + With truths ornate and Pleasure's choicest plea. + Thus he becomes the darling of mankind, + Armed with the instinct both of rule and right, + And the world's minion, privileged to speak + When all beside, the medley mass, are mute: + Distills his soul into a song--and dies. + + + + +THE COUNT MONTE-LEONE: OR, THE SPY IN SOCIETY.[6] + +TRANSLATED FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE FROM THE FRENCH OF +H. DE ST. GEORGES. + +_Continued from Page 512._ + + [6: Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by + Stringer & Townsend, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of + the United States, for the Southern District of New York.] + + +BOOK SECOND.--THE VIPER'S NEST. + +Rightly enough had the young girl been called "The White Rose of +Sorrento." Monte-Leone had based on her his most ardent hopes and +tenderest expectations. Nothing in fact could be more angelic than the +expression of her face. She seemed the _virgo immaculata_ of Rubens, the +_virgo_ of divine love. What would first attract attention at Aminta's +appearance was a marble pallor, the paleness of that beautiful marble of +Carara, in which when Canova had touched it the blood seemed to rush to +the surface and circulate beneath the transparent flesh of the great +master. + +We must however say that beneath the long lids of the young Neapolitan, +the observer would have discovered an expression of firmness and +decision rarely found in so young a girl. Any one who examined her +quickly saw that in her frail and delicate frame there was a soul full +of energy and courage, and that if it should ever be aroused, what she +wished must be, _God willing_. Nothing in nature is more persevering and +irresistible than woman's will, especially if the woman be an Italian. + +Antonia Rovero, the mother of Aminta and Taddeo, was the widow of a rich +banker of Naples, devoted to the cause of Murat, and had been created by +the late king one of his senators and then minister of finances. In this +last office M. Rovero died, and his widow, after having received every +kindness from Murat, retired to Sorrento. Taddeo then felt an interest +in everything which had a tendency to overturn the government of +Fernando IV. The restoration of the latter had crushed his ambition and +broken his fortunes. On that account he had become one of the Pulcinelli +whom we have described in the last book. + +While this well-beloved son of an affectionate mother, this brother so +idolized by an affectionate sister, languished perhaps like Monte-Leone, +Madame Rovero and her daughter in their quiet retreat fancied that +Taddeo was enjoying at Naples all the pleasures of the Carnival and +abandoning himself to all the follies of that day of pleasure. +Sometimes, however, as the sun set on the hills of Sorrento, Aminta said +to her mother, "Taddeo forgets us. It is not pleasant to enjoy this +beautiful day without him. Were we three together, how delicious it +would be!" Then Aminta would take a volume of Alfieri, her favorite +author, and wander alone amid the fields. + +The day on which the scene we are about to describe happened was one of +those burning ones, which make us even in winter fancy that an eternal +spring exists in that heaven-protected land. We may add that the winter +of 1816 was peculiar even in Italy, and that the sun was so warm and the +heat so genial that nature under their influence put on the most +luxuriant vegetation. The favorite haunt of Aminta was a green hill, +behind which was a pretty and simple house, the cradle of one of the +most wonderful geniuses of the world. This genius was Tasso. A bust of +the poet in _terra cotta_ yet adorned the façade of the house, which +though then in ruins has since been rebuilt. At that time the room of +the divine yet unfortunate lover of Leonora did not exist--the sea had +swept over it. Admirers of the poet yet however visited the remnants of +his habitation. The tender heart of Aminta yet paid a pious worship to +them, and "The White Rose of Sorrento" went toward "The House of Tasso." +Aminta's mother was always offended when she indulged in such distant +excursions. + +She did not however go alone. A singular being accompanied her. This +being was at once a man and a reptile. His features would have denoted +the age of sixteen. They were the most frightful imaginable. A forehead +over which spread a few reddish hairs; a mouth almost without teeth; +small eyes, sad and green, which were however insupportably bright when +they were lit up by anger; long and bony arms; legs horribly thin; a +short and square bust,--all united to make a being so utterly +ungraceful, so inhuman, that the children of the village had nicknamed +him _Scorpione_--so like that reptile's was his air. The _morale_ of +Scorpione was worthy of his _physique_. The true name of this child was +Tonio. Being the son of Aminta's nurse, he had never in his life been +separated from her, and seemed to grow daily more ugly as she became +more beautiful. He became so devoted to Aminta that he never left her. +This whimsical intimacy was not that of children, the attachment of +brother and sister, but that of the intellectual and brute being, of the +master and dog. He was the dog of Aminta. He accompanied and watched +over her in all her long walks. Did a dangerous pass occur, he took her +up and carried her across the pool or torrent, so that not a drop of +water touched her. If any one chanced to meet her and sought to speak to +her, he first growled, and then having looked at Aminta, made the bold +man understand that like a mastiff he would protect her against all +assailants. + +During the winter evenings when Aminta read to her mother, Tonio lying +at the fair reader's feet, warmed them in his bosom, where she suffered +them to remain with as much carelessness as she would have let them rest +on the back of a dog. She became so used to his horrid features, that +she no longer thought them repulsive. No contrast was stronger than that +these two presented. It was like the association of an angel and a +devil. + +The young girl had in vain attempted to impart some knowledge to +Scorpione: his nature did not admit of it. Had he been able to +comprehend anything, if the simple idea of right and wrong could have +reached his heart, Aminta would have accomplished much. This Cretin,[7] +however, knew but three things in the world, to love, to serve, and to +defend Aminta. Nothing more. + + [7: The Cretins are a miserable, feeble and almost idiotic race, + found not infrequently in the south of France. They have sometimes + been horribly persecuted.] + +Accompanied by her faithful dog one day, the fair creature had walked to +the house of Tasso. She had perhaps twenty times gone through those +magnificent ruins, and read over again and again the inscription every +tourist fancies himself obliged to engrave with his dagger's point on +the tesselated walls of the poet's home. One which seemed new attracted +her attention. Thus it read: + +"One must have suffered as much as the lover of Leonora, to be unhappy +in the paradise of Sorrento." + +These three lines were signed by the Marquis de Maulear. + +Aminta read the inscription two or three times, without fancying that it +related to her. The simple style touched her heart, and with no slight +emotion, she left the wall. + +At that moment the sun was at the height of its power, and shed its +burning rays over nature. Aminta's straw hat sheltered her from the +torrents of lava which seemed to fall from heaven and a few drops of +perspiration stood on her marble forehead. While she was seeking in the +ruined house for some shadowed nook, Scorpione amused himself behind a +wall in torturing a gray lizard he had found, and which had taken refuge +in a hole, from which it could not get out. The cruel child made +numerous blows at the timid animal whenever it attempted to escape. He +was perfectly delighted when he had beaten out the eyes of the animal, +and the poor creature, rushing out, surrendered himself. One thrust +completed the work, and it died in convulsions. Aminta found Scorpione +thus engaged. + +"Fie, fie," said she, "you deserve to suffer as much pain as you have +inflicted on this poor animal." + +"I am no lizard, but a scorpion, as the children of Sorrento say. I have +a sting always ready for those who seek to injure me." He showed his +dagger. + +Aminta left, and Tonio, glancing at his mistress like a dog which has +been punished, placed his back against the wall and pretended to sleep. +Before long he really did sleep. + +Not far from Tasso's house there was a grotto, beneath which ran a +little stream, overgrown with aquatic herbs, and which beyond doubt in +other days fed the fish-ponds of the house. It however had insensibly +dried up, and only a feeble thread could henceforth be traced. This was +the grotto which gave Aminta the refuge she sought. A mossy bench was +placed by the side of a stream. She sat on it, took her book, and +recited aloud the harmonious verses of her favorite bard. She gradually +felt the influence of the heat. For a while she contended against the +approach of sleep, which, however, ere long surrounded her with its +leaden wings. The sight of Aminta became clouded, and shadowy mists +passed before her eyes. Her brow bowed down, her head fell upon the +rustic pillow. She was in oblivion. It was noon. All at this hour in +Italy, and especially in Naples, slumber, "except," says the proverb, +certainly not complimentary to my countrymen, "_Frenchmen and dogs_." +The fact is, that Frenchmen, when they travel, pay no attention to the +customs of the country. A Frenchman who travels unfortunately insists +that everything should be done _a la Française_, in countries and +climates where such a life as ours is impossible. + +A profound silence covered all nature. The indistinct humming of insects +in the air for a while troubled him; then all was silent. The wind even +was voiceless, and the wave which beat on the rock seemed to repress +every sound to avoid interrupting the repose of earth and heaven. + +All at once, distant steps were heard. At first they were light, then +more positive and distinct as they resounded on the calcined rock which +led to Tasso's house. A young man of twenty-five approached. He was +almost overcome by the sultriness. A whip and spurs showed that he had +just dismounted. He had left his horse in an orange grove. Overcome, he +had sought a shelter, and remembering the ruins he had seen a few days +before, hoped to find freshness and repose there. The poet's mansion, +the roof of which had fallen in, did not answer his expectations. He +hurried toward the very place where Aminta slept. His eyes, dazzled by +the brilliant light, did not at first distinguish the young girl in the +darkness of the grotto. After a few moments, however, his sight became +stronger, and he was amazed at the white form which lay on the mossy +seat. Gradually the form became more distinct, and finally the young +stranger was able to distinguish a beautiful girl. Just then a brilliant +sunlight passed over the top of the crumbling wall and fell on her, +enwrapping her in golden light, and, as it were, framing her angelic +head like a glory round one of Raphael's pictures. + +Henri de Maulear, such was the young man's name, fancied that an angelic +vision stood before him. Had the princess Leonora's ghost visited the +scenes Tasso loved so well? Had a great sculptor, Canova, in one of his +charming deliriums reproduced the features of Tasso's mistress and +placed his work in the grotto where the great poet sighed? Marble alone +could compete with Aminta's whiteness. Her round and waxen arms seemed +to have been formed of the purest Carara marble. + +Aminta uttered a sigh and dissipated the illusion of the stranger. It +was not an admirable statue exhibited to him, but a work of nature. It +was such a woman as a poetic and tender heart dreams of--a woman not to +be loved, but adored. Love is earthly; adoration belongs to heaven. + +Henri de Maulear, fascinated by increasing admiration, did not dare to +advance. He held his breath and was afraid, so great was his excitement, +that this wonderful beauty would faint away. Another sentiment, however, +soon took possession of him. A mortal terror filled his soul--death and +sleep were united. A fearful danger menaced the maiden, whence it seemed +no human power could rescue her. In the folds of Aminta's dress, in her +very bosom, Henri saw a strange object, whose whimsical colors +contrasted strangely with the whiteness of her dress. It was one of +those strange things known in Italy as _pointed-headed_ vipers. Their +bite takes effect so rapidly, their poison becomes so soon infused in +the blood, that victims die within a few minutes. Aminta had lain down +near a nest of these dangerous reptiles. The warmth of her body had +gradually attracted them to her, and while she slept they had nestled in +her very bosom. She had been motionless. They had not as yet moved. Any +change of posture however would bring on a terrible catastrophe, a +compulsory witness of which Henri de Maulear would from necessity be. +What assistance could he render her? How could he arouse her without +awaking the reptiles also? With a pale face and icy sweat on his brow, +he thought in vain to contrive a means to save her. What however was his +terror as he saw her make a slight movement! She reached out one of her +arms, held it in the air, and then let it fall on her breast which was +covered with reptiles. Her motion aroused the vipers. For a moment they +became agitated, then uncoiled themselves, and hid their heads in the +folds of her dress. One of them again coiled himself up, passed his thin +tongue through his lips like a _gourmand_ after a feast: the head was +drawn back and the creature assumed the form of a spiral urn, exhibited +all its rings of ruby and _malachete_, and then drawing back in a line +full of grace, disappeared among its fellows, and sank to sleep as if it +were exhausted with its own efforts. + +During this terrible scene, Maulear could not breathe. The very +pulsation of his heart was stopped, his soul having left his body to +protect Aminta. For the nonce she was safe. But a terrible death yet +hung over her. Maulear did not lose sight of her. Ere long he saw her +bosom heave; he saw her gasp, and her face gradually become flushed. She +was dreaming. Should she make any motion, she would disturb the vipers. +This idea excited him so much that for a while he thought they were +awakened. Their hisses sounded in his ears, and he eagerly looked aside +to avoid the terrible spectacle. His glance however fell on an object +which as yet he had not perceived. So great was his joy that he could +with difficulty refrain from crying aloud. He saw an earthen vase full +of milk, in a dark portion of the cave, left there by some shepherd +anxious to preserve his evening meal from the heat of the summer sun. He +remembered what naturalists say of the passion entertained by reptiles +for milk. The well-known stories of cows, the dugs of whom had been +sucked dry by snakes, were recalled to his mind. Rushing toward the +vase, he seized it and bore it to the mossy rock. Just then Aminta +awoke. + + +II.--SCORPIONE. + +Having looked around her, Aminta saw Maulear, pale and with an excited +face. He could not restrain his terror and surprise. By a motion more +rapid than thought, he pointed out to her the terrible beings that +nestled in her bosom, and said earnestly and eagerly: "Do not move or +you will die!" He could make no choice as to the means of saving her. It +became necessary for him to rescue her at once, to confront her with +danger, and rely on her strength of mind to brave it, by remaining +motionless. He thought possibly she might succumb beneath its aspect. +This was the result. She looked toward the terrible reptiles Maulear +pointed out to her. Horror took possession of her. Her heart ceased to +beat, and her blood curdled. She fainted. Luckily, however, this +happened without any motion, without even a nervous vibration sufficient +to awake the serpents. Henri uttered a sigh of happiness and delight, +for beyond doubt Heaven protected Aminta and himself. Approaching the +vase of milk, he placed it near her. Dipping his fingers in it, he +scattered a few drops over the reptiles. + +They moved. The milk directly attracted their attention, and as soon as +they had tasted it they became aware of its presence. Lifting up their +pointed heads to receive what was offered them, they directed their eyes +toward the vase. When they had once seen it, they began to untwine their +coils and to crawl toward it, like young girls hurrying to the bath. The +mossy bench was near the rock. To remove her from the grotto Henri had +to displace the vase. He had courage enough to wait until the last viper +had gone into it. Seizing it then, he placed it gently on the ground. +Passing his arms under the inanimate body of the girl, he sought to +carry her away. Just then she recovered from her fainting. Aware that +she was in the arms of a strange man, she made a violent effort to get +away, and cast herself from her bed on the ground to escape from this +embrace. In her disorder and agitation, and contest with Maulear, who +sought to restrain her, in the half obscurity of the grotto her foot +touched the coil of vipers. + +She fell shrieking on his bosom. He left the grotto with his precious +burden. Her cry had revealed to him the new misfortune, to which at +first he paid no attention, but which now terrified him. The cry awoke +Scorpione. His ear being familiarized with all the tones of his +mistress, he would have recognized this amid a thousand. Quicker than +the thunderbolt he rushed from the house, and stood at the door just +when Maulear seized her. + +Scorpione fancied the stranger bore away his foster-sister, and rushed +on him as furiously as he would have done on a midnight robber. He +seized Maulear in the breast with his right hand, the nails of which +were trenchant as a needle, while with the left he sought to thrust the +dagger in his heart. Aminta herself was however a shield to his bosom, +and he clasped her closely. In the appearance of the horrid monster, +Maulear almost forgot the perilous situation from which he had just +extricated himself. For a time he fancied he was under the spell of some +terrible vision, being unable to believe one person could unite so many +deformities. With terror then he saw Scorpione seize on him and seek to +snatch the body of Aminta from him. A second cry of Aminta, less +distinct however than the first, changed the scene and recalled two of +the actors to their true interest. + +"Wretch!" said Maulear to Tonio, "if you wish gold I will give it you. +Wait however till I resuscitate this girl." + +"Aminta needs the care of none, when I am by!" said Scorpione. "She is +my mistress, my sister: I watch over her." + +"At all events you watch over her very badly," said Henri, placing +Aminta on a broken stone. "I found her asleep here, with the vipers +nestling in her bosom." + +A groan escaped from the throat of Scorpione as he heard these words. He +fell at Aminta's feet, with such an expression of grief, such cruel +despair, that Maulear despite of himself was moved. "Vipers! +pointed-headed! Have they stung her? tell me," said Tonio to Maulear. "I +will die if she does!" + +He sunk on the ground, mad with rage and terror. The eyes of Maulear +glittered with somber horror. A nervous terror seized him, and, +paralyzed by fright, he pointed out to Tonio the white leg of Aminta, +around which a viper had coiled itself. Scorpione sprang forward and +tore the reptile away, throwing it far from him. This took place in less +than a second. Maulear would have done precisely what Scorpione had +done, but thought was not more rapid than the movement of Aminta's +foster-brother. Above the buskin of the girl a spot of blood appeared on +her silk stocking. This came from the bite of the serpent. It was death. +Maulear, kneeling before Aminta, reached forth his hand to touch the +wound. Tonio rudely pushed him aside. "No one," said he in a sharp harsh +voice, mingled with which was an accent of indignation, "may touch +Aminta!" Tonio alone has that right, and Madame Rovero would drive him +away if he permitted it!" + +"But she will die unless I aid her!" + +"And how can you?" said Scorpione, looking impudently at him. "What do +you know about pointed-heads? You do not even know the only remedy. But +I do, and will cure her." + +There was such conviction in the words, that Maulear almost began to +entertain hope. What probability however was there that this kind of +brute would find means energetic and sure enough to restore the warmth +of life to one over whom the coldness of death had already begun to +settle, to stop the flow of poison which already permeated her frame? +Maulear doubted, trembled, and entertained again the most miserable +ideas. "If you would save her," said he to Scorpione, "there is but one +thing to do. Hurry to the nearest physician and bring him hither to +cauterize the wound and burn out the poison." + +"Physicians are fools!" said Scorpione. "When my mother was thirty years +of age, beautiful and full of life, they let her die. Though she was +only my mother, I would have strangled them. If they were not to save +Aminta, however, I would kill them as I would dogs!" Nothing can give an +idea of his expression as he pronounced the words, "_though she was only +my mother_." It betokened atrocious coldness and indifference. The +glance however he threw on the maiden at the very idea of her death was +full of intense affection. + +"Save her then!" said Maulear, seizing the idea that this half-savage +creature was perhaps aware of some secret means furnished by nature to +work a true miracle in favor of the victim. The features of Aminta began +to be disturbed; a livid pallor took possession of her; light +contractions agitated her features; her lids became convulsive, opening +and shutting rapidly. Scorpione observed all these symptoms. "Well," +said he, placing his hand on her heart, "it beats yet. The poison moves +on: let us stop it." + +Kneeling before her, he grasped the wounded limb, and took off the light +silk stocking. Then taking his dagger from his bosom, he made a slight +incision with the sharp point where the reptile had bitten her. She +uttered a cry of pain. "What are you about?" said Maulear, offended. + +"Do you not see," replied Scorpione, "that I am opening the door for the +escape of the poison?" + +Without speaking a word, he leaned over the wound, applied his lips, and +sucked the blood which ran from it. Twice or thrice he spat out the +blood and resumed the occupation of sublime courage. The ugliness of +Scorpione entirely disappeared from Maulear's eyes, and the monster +seemed to him a saving angel descended from heaven to rescue another +angel from death. A few seconds passed by in terrible and solemn +silence. Scorpione supported Aminta's head, and attempted to read in her +face the effect of his heroism. Henri de Maulear also knelt, and glanced +from heaven to the girl, invoking aid from one, and feeling profound +anxiety for the other. + +Aminta sighed, but not with pain. An internal relief was already +experienced by her. Scorpione seized her hand in his, and feeling her +pulse, laughed aloud. He said, "_The Scorpion has overcome the viper_: +Aminta will live!" + +"But you? you?" said Maulear, as he saw Scorpione's strength give way. + +"Me? oh, I perhaps will die--that however is a different matter." Though +he did not know it, Scorpione might have been right. Felix Fontana, the +great Italian, one of the most distinguished physicians of the +eighteenth century, in his celebrated _Riserche Chemiche Sopra il Veleno +della Vipera_, affirms that to suck out the poison of the viper, even +when it does not touch the vital organs, suffices to cause such an +inflammation of the organs of the mouth that death always results from +it. + +Boundless admiration and profound pity appeared in the heart of Maulear +when he heard the answer of Tonio. He even forgot Aminta, and hurried to +her generous liberator. He took him in his arms, and sustained his head, +which in nervous spasms he beat violently against the rock. This +deformed creature became really a friend and brother to Maulear; he had +saved one whom even Heaven abandoned. He had accomplished the most +admirable sacrifice, that equal almost to Christ, who gave his life to +ransom that of his fellows. + +Just then steps were heard in the distance, and many persons approached +the solitude where such terrible scenes were occurring. A woman of about +fifty years of age, with dignified and beautiful features and +distinguished tournure, advanced with an expression of intense terror. +Looking all around, she seemed much terrified. She soon saw the three +characters of our somber drama. Passing hurriedly and rapidly as if she +had been a girl toward Aminta, who lay extended on the ground, she +seized and convulsively clasped her to her heart, without however being +able to utter a word. Her tearful eyes declared however that she was +aware some great misfortune had befallen her child. This woman was +Madame Rovero. Those who accompanied her were old servants of the +family, and surrounded Aminta. They were ignorant as Madame Rovero was +of the danger the young girl had undergone. Aminta however had begun to +recover, and pointed to Tonio, who lay in convulsions in Maulear's arms. +"What, monsieur, has happened?" said Madame de Rovero to Maulear. +"Having become uneasy at my daughter's prolonged absence, I have come to +her usual resort and find her dying and this lad writhing in your arms." + +"Madame, excuse me," said Maulear, "if I do not now make explanation in +relation to the cruel events which have taken place. Time at present is +too precious. Your daughter I trust will live. But this poor fellow +demands all our care. He has sacrificed himself to rescue your child, +and to him you owe now all your happiness. Near this place I have two +horses. Suffer me to place your daughter on one, and do you return with +her to your house. I will on the other hurry with Tonio as fast as +possible to Sorrento." + +Henri took a silver whistle from his pocket and sounded it. A groom soon +appeared with two horses. What he had proposed was soon executed, not +however without difficulty, for Aminta was much enfeebled, and Scorpione +contended violently with those who sought to place him in front of +Maulear, who had already mounted. Madame Rovero went sadly toward +Sorrento, bearing pale and bloody the young girl who had gone on that +very morning from her mother's villa so joyous, happy, and beautiful. +Maulear hurried to the house of the physician which had been pointed out +to him. While they were bringing in Aminta's foster-brother, Henri told +the doctor what had taken place. He examined the lad, and his brow +became overcast. Scorpione was speechless, and but for the faint +pulsations of his heart one might have thought him lifeless. No external +symptom betrayed the effect of the poison except the head of the +patient, which was terribly swollen. His mouth and especially the lower +jaw appeared the seat of suffering, and with a sensation of horror +Maulear saw between the violet lips of the patient a green and tense +tongue, at the appearance of which the physician exhibited much emotion. + +"What do you think of his condition?" said Maulear. + +"The great Felix Fontana says, in such cases there is no safety. Lazarus +Spallanzini, however, another savant of the eighteenth century, +published at Venice, in 1767, in the Giornole D'Italia, an admirable +dissertation on wounds caused by the bite of reptiles, especially on +those of the vipers. Treating of suction and its consequences, he points +out a means of cure for it. It is however so terrible and dangerous that +I know not if I should use it." + +"Use it, sir. There is," said Maulear, "only the alternative of it and +death." + +"The man will live, but in all probability will never speak again." He +waited for Maulear's answer. + +"May I consult the family?" said the young man. "I will have returned in +an hour." + +"In ten minutes," said the doctor, "he will be dead." + +"Act quickly, then, monsieur: all his friends would act as I do." + +The physician left: in a few minutes he returned with one of his +assistants, bearing a red hot iron. Maulear shuddered. The physician +placed the patient in a great arm-chair, to which he fastened him with +strong straps of leather. Then, when he was satisfied that no spasm or +motion of the unfortunate man would interrupt the operation, he placed a +speculum in his mouth. The speculum in its expansion tore apart the jaws +of Tonio, and kept them distended, so that the interior orifice of the +throat could be seen. Seizing the hot iron, he plunged it into the +throat of the unhappy man, turned back the palate from the tongue, and +moved it several times about, while the agonizing guttural cries of the +patient were mingled with the sharp hissing of the iron. Torrents of +tears filled his eyes. At this terrible spectacle Maulear fainted. + + +III.--THE CONCERT. + +Henri Marquis de Maulear was scarcely twenty-six, and was what all would +have called a handsome man. A fine tall person, delicate features, and a +profusion of rich blond hair, curling naturally, justified the +appellation which the world, and especially the female portion of it, +conferred on him. To these external advantages, was united a brilliant +education, rather superficial than serious, and more graceful than +solid. He had dipped without examination in everything. He, however, +knew it to be essential to seem to understand all the subjects of French +conversation, in the saloons of Paris: nothing more. + +The Prince Maulear, the only son of whom Henri was, had accompanied the +Bourbons in their exile, and been one of the faithful at Mettau and +Hartwell. After having undergone banishment with the Princes, his +illustrious friends, he returned to France with Louis XVIII. and shared +with Messieurs de Blacas, Vitrolles, d'Escars and others, the favor and +confidence of the king. A widower, and the recipient of a large fortune +from the restoration of the unsold portion of his estates, cold and +harsh in behavior, the Prince returned from exile in 1815, with the same +ideas he had borne away in 1788. The Prince de Maulear was the true type +of those unchangeable prejudices which can neither learn nor forget. He +was educated in France by a sister of his mother, the Countess of +Grandnesnil, an ancient canoness, a noble lady, who was a second mother +to the young Marquis after death had borne away his own. The Countess +had not emigrated like her brother-in-law. The care demanded by the +delicate health of the heir of the family could not admit of the fatigue +of endless travel, made necessary by emigration. Therefore, the heir of +the Maulears remained under the charge of the Countess. When he grew up, +beneath the ćgis of the Countess, he completed his education, and at a +later day entered society. She exercised over his mind and heart that +influence which affection and the usage of familiar intercourse confer. +Watching over him with maternal care, seeking to ascertain his wishes +that she might be able to gratify them, making him happy in every way in +her power, she was beloved by the Marquis with all his heart. He could +not have loved a mother more. + +The consequence of this education by a woman was that the moral had +somewhat stifled the intellectual. Besides, this kind of fanaticism of +the Countess for her nephew, her constant attention to gratify every +caprice, her readiness to excuse his faults, even when she should have +blamed them severely, made his education vicious as possible, and +brought out two faults with peculiar prominence. His character was very +weak; and he had great self-confidence. The Prince de Maulear found the +son he had left a child in the cradle, a man of twenty-six, and was +literally forced to make his acquaintance. + +The noble bearing and distinguished manners of the young man pleased him +especially. He was also graceful, gallant and brave, and the Prince saw +himself restored to youth in the person of his son. He did not make +himself uneasy about his sentiments, being satisfied that his son was +learned in stable lore, a good rider, skillful in the use of weapons, +heroic and enterprising. He rejoiced at his fortune, as it would make +Henri happy, and anticipated a brilliant and fortunate career for his +son. Henri had no profession, and the Prince procured for him the +appointment of secretary of legation to Naples. He had held this post +six months when he appears in our history. + +Henri had never loved. Much ephemeral gallantry, and many easy +conquests, which soon passed away, had occupied his time without +touching his heart, and this was his situation when for the first time +he saw the White Rose of Sorrento. As we have said, he became sick at +the terrible surgical operation. He did not revive until all was over. +The unfortunate Tonio had been placed in one of the rooms of the +doctor's house, and the latter declared, that in consideration of the +importance of the case, he would himself attend to the patient, and +would not leave him until he should have been completely restored, +unless, added he, death should remove the responsibility. The Marquis +being satisfied that the savior of Aminta would not be neglected, +hurried with the doctor to Madame Rovero's villa. Nothing could be more +simple and charming, and nothing in Italy had struck him so forcibly. +The very look of the house told how happy were its inhabitants. At the +extremity of Sorrento, it was surrounded by large trees, and winter +seemed never to inflict any severity upon it. + +An old servant admitted the strangers. He recognized Maulear, for he had +been with Madame when she recovered her daughter. + +"Madame expects you, gentlemen," said he, when he saw the young Marquis +and the Doctor. "I will accompany you to the room." He went before them +to a pretty room on the ground floor, where he left them a short time. + +Maulear carefully examined it. All betokened elegant tastes in its +occupants. In the middle was an elegant grand piano of Vienna; on the +desk the Don Giovanna of Mozart; and on a pedestal near the window an +exquisite model of Tasso's house. A round table of Florentine +workmanship, of immense value, stood near one side of the apartment. The +valuable Mosaics were, however, hidden by a collection of albums, +keepsakes, and engravings. There were also on it vases of alabaster, +filled with perfumed flowers, and the whole room was lit up by the rays +of the setting sun, the brilliancy of which were softened as they passed +across the park. Madame Rovero entered with a servant. "Take the +Doctor," said she, "to my daughter's room, whither I will come +immediately. You, sir," said she, pointing Maulear to a chair, "will +please to tell me for what I am your debtor. I am sure your claims are +large." He gave Madame Rovero a detailed account of what had happened +since he met Aminta in the grotto, until the cruel devotion of Tonio. + +"Tonio has told you the truth, Monsieur," said Madame Rovero; "the +terrible remedy he had the courage to employ is known in the country to +be infallible, though, as yet, few examples of such heroism have +occurred. The doctor alone can satisfy us of the safety of my daughter." +Madame Rovero moved toward the door to satisfy herself in relation to +this engrossing subject, when the doctor entered. She trembled before +him like a criminal before a judge, when he seeks to divine the nature +of a terrible sentence. "The young lady is in no danger. I have examined +the wound carefully; no trace of poison remains. The poor lad has +entirely exhausted it." The mother lifted her eyes to heaven in +inexpressible gratitude. + +"What hopes have you, doctor, of the poor lad?" + +"He will live, but that is all science can do." + +"Do not neglect one who has so absolute a right to my gratitude." + +Turning then to Maulear, she said, "In a few days, Monsieur, my daughter +and myself will expect you. She will soon be restored, and we will thank +you for your services." + +Maulear bade adieu to Mme. Rovero, not as a stranger or acquaintance of +a few minutes, but as a friend who leaves a family with whom he is +intimate. He left them with regret, as persons to whom he was devoted, +and with whom he was willing to pass his life. Within a few hours, a +strange change had been wrought in him. Struck with admiration at +Aminta, the danger with which he found her surrounded, the successive +agitations of the scene, the sweet influence exerted by her on his +heart, the alternations of hope and fear, everything combined to disturb +the placidity of his withered and somewhat _blazé_ soul which scarcely +seemed plastic enough to receive a profound and tender expression. He +then experienced for Aminta what he had not amid all that terrible.... +The features of the young girl he had borne in his memory, contracted as +they were by pain, did not seem to him less charming, and excited a +warmer interest than ever. Never before had the most beautiful in all +the eclât of dress and manners appeared so attractive as the pale Aminta +in her mortal agony. To sum up all, he was in love, and in love for the +first time. + +Henri left Sorrento with a painful sensation, and returned to Naples, +where pleasure and warm receptions awaited him, from the many beauties +on whom he expended the "small change" of his heart. As he said himself, +he never was ruined by sensitiveness, keeping all the wealth of his +heart for a good opportunity. That opportunity was come. He returned to +the palace of the embassy, far different in his condition from what he +was when he left. With the most perfect _sang-froid_ therefore he read +the following note which his valet had given him when he came in-- + +"The Duke de Palma, minister of police, requests the Marquis de Maulear +to pass the evening with him." + +Lower down in another hand was written-- + +_"Do not fail. La Felina will sing, and at two o'clock we will have a +supper of our intimate friends. You know whether or not you are one of +the number."_ + +The Duke of Palma, minister of police of the kingdom of Naples, was one +of the friends of Fernando IV. He was not a great minister, but was +young and intellectual. His principal merit was that he amused his +master, by recounting secret intrigues, whimsical adventures, and +delicate affairs, a knowledge of which he acquired by means of his +position. Thus he found favor with Fernando, who was not served, but +amused and satisfied. Sovereigns who are amused are indulgent. Maulear +hesitated a long time before he accepted the invitation. His soul was +occupied by new and delicious emotions. It seemed to him to be +profanity to transport them to such a different and dissipated scene. He +however shrunk from solitude, and the idea of living apart from Aminta +for whole days, made him desire the amusement and excitement promised by +the invitation. The entertainment was superb. All the noble, elegant and +rich of Naples were bidden. The concert began. The first pieces were +scarcely listened to, in consequence of the studiously late entries of +many distinguished personages, and of many pretty women, who would not +on any account enter _incognito_ either a drawing-room or a theater, and +were careful never to come thither until the moment when their presence +would attract attention or produce interruption. Silence however +pervaded in a short time all the assemblage. The crowd which a moment +before had been so agitated became at once calm and mute. A fairy spell +seemed to have transfixed them. A fairy was really come--that of +music.... The Queen of the theater of Italy, _La Bella Felina_--that +strange sibyl of the ball at San Carlo. The excitement to hear her was +great, and the prima donna had immense success. The young woman, by +coming to his soirée, did the minister of police a great favor: The +singer had during the whole year refused the most brilliant invitations +and the largest sums to sing any where but at San Carlo. Thrice she had +appeared on the concert gallery, and thrice descended amid immense +applause. + +Great is the triumph of song. Yet its success is fleeting and ephemeral, +and may be annihilated by the merest accident. The glory is frail, the +fortune uncertain, of all that emanates from the human throat. + +The concert was over and all left. Henri and the intimate friends alone, +of whom the Duke spoke, passed into an elegant and retired room into +which the minister led La Felina. "Messieurs," said he, "the Signora +honors me by partaking of our collation. Let us bow before the Queen of +Song and thank her for the honor she confers on us." The cantatrice +exhibited no embarrassment at being alone amid so many of another sex, +so notorious for the volatility of their manners. Her habitual calm and +dignity did not hide a kind of restraint from the observation of +Maulear. She replied by a few graceful words to the gallantries of which +she was the object. They then all sat down. Many witty remarks were made +by the guests. Champagne increased Neapolitan volubility, and heads were +beginning to grow light, when the minister seeing that La Felina was ill +at ease at the conversation, said, "The supper, Signora, of a minister +of police should be unique as that of a banker or senator. Where else +would one learn of piquant adventures, scandal, hidden crimes, but at my +house, for I am the keeper of all records and the compulsory confessor +of all. I wish then to give you another fruit and to tell you of a +strange adventure, the hero of which is a person all of you know. That +man is Count Monte-Leone." + +The name of Monte-Leone, so well known in Naples, created the greatest +sensation. All were silent and listened to the Duke of Palma. La Felina +became strangely pale. + + +IV.--THE DUKE OF PALMA. + +"You know," said the Duke to his friends, "that the Count Monte-Leone +has for a long time professed opinions entirely opposed to the +government of our sovereign king Fernando. The heir of the political +errors of his unfortunate father, he seems to travel fatally toward the +same sad fate. The king long ago bade us close our eyes to the guilty +conduct of the young Count. His Majesty was unwilling to continue on the +son the rigors to which his father had been subjected. A revelation of +great importance forced us to act, and we caused the offender to be +arrested for an offence of which he must make a defence before the +appointed tribunal. During many months the Count contrived to avoid all +efforts made to arrest him. At last, however, in consequence of a +youthful escapade in which he should by no means have indulged, his +retreat was revealed to us. The house which concealed him and his +accomplices was found out on the night of the last ball of San Carlo. +The countersign of his associates had been revealed to us by a traitor, +and our precautions were so skillfully taken, that the three friends of +Monte-Leone were arrested one after the other, at the very door of his +house, without in the least rendering the arrest of the Count doubtful. +Two hours after, Monte-Leone, arrested by our agents, was borne to the +_Castle del Uovo_, a safe and sure prison, whence as yet no prisoner +ever escaped. The report of the chief of the expedition," continued the +Duke, "states, that he saw a woman fainting on the floor. He adds, that +he thought he had nothing to do with it, his orders relating entirely to +the four of whom he obtained possession." + +During this preamble La Felina more than once inhaled the perfume of her +_bouquet_. When, however, she looked up, her face expressed no trouble +or change. + +"The three friends of Count Monte-Leone," said the Duke, "are a +Frenchman, a German, and an Italian. The first is the Count of Harcourt, +son of the Duke, one of the noblest and most powerful men of France. We +cannot fancy how the heir of so noble a family has become involved in +such a plot, where persons of his rank have all to lose and nothing to +gain. He is a brilliant young madcap, amiable and adventurous, like +almost all of his countrymen, and became a conspirator merely for +recreation and to while away the time he cannot occupy with love and +pleasure. The second is a graver character: the son of a Bohemian +pastor, imbued with the philosophic and political opinions of his +countrymen, Sand, Koerner, and the ideologists of his country, he dreams +of leveling ideas which would set all Europe in a blaze. He has become a +conspirator from conviction, is a madman full of genius, but one of +those who must be shut up, before they become furious. The fanatical +friendship of this young man to Monte-Leone involved him in the party of +which he is the shadow and the reflection. He is a conspirator, _ex +necessitate_, who will never act from his own motive, and who, +consequently, is a subject of no apprehension to us, as long as he has +no head, no chief to nerve his arm, and urge him onward. We have without +any difficulty exonerated Italy from the reproach of containing these +three men, without any scandal or violence.... The German on the very +night of his arrest was sent to the city of Elbogen, his native city, +with recommendations to the paternal care and surveillance of the +friendly governments through which he was to pass. The Count of Harcourt +has already seen the shores of France. When this brilliant gentleman +placed his foot on the deck of the vessel, he was informed that +henceforth he was forbidden ever to return to Naples, under penalty of +perpetual imprisonment. Young Rovero was confined in this identical +palace, until such time as the trial of Count Monte-Leone shall be +terminated. I am informed that he does nothing but sigh after a +mysterious beauty, the charms and voice of whom are incomparable." + +La Felina again put her bouquet to her face. + +"I am now come, Messieurs, to the true hero of this romance." + +Just then he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of one of his +secretaries, who whispered briefly to him, and placed before him a box +mysteriously sealed, with this superscription--_"To His Excellency +Monsignore the Duke of Palma, minister of police, and to him alone."_ + +The countenance of the minister expressed surprise, as his secretary +said, "Read, Monsignore, and verify the contents of the box." + +The Duke requested his guests' pardon, and unsealed the letter, which he +rapidly read. He then opened the box, examined it with curiosity, and +without taking out the objects it contained, said, "It is unheard of: it +is almost miraculous." + +The minister's exclamations put an end to all private conversations, and +every eye was turned upon him, "Messieurs," said he with emotion, "I +thought I was about to tell you a strange thing, but all that I know has +become complicated by so strange an accident, that I am myself +amazed--used as I am to mysterious and criminal events." + +At a signal, the secretary left, and the Duke continued: "The trial of +Count Monte-Leone was prepared. Vaguely accused of being the chief of +the secret society, the object of which was the overturning of the +monarchy, he might have been acquitted from want of proof of his +participation in this dark and guilty work, when three witnesses came +forward to charge him with having presided in their own sight over one +of the assemblages which in secret discuss of the death of kings by the +enemies of law and order. + +"On this formal declaration made by three well-known inhabitants of the +town of _Torre del Greco_, devoted to king Fernando, the Count was +sought for by the police, arrested as I have told you, and imprisoned in +the _Castle del Uovo_. Every means was taken to make sure of the person +of the prisoner. The garrison of the castle was increased, lest there +should be some daring _coup de main_ to deliver him. The charge of him +was intrusted to the most stern and incorruptible of the jailers, who +was however carefully watched by the agents of the government. This +excess of precaution had nearly cost the life of the prisoner, from the +fact that he was placed in a dungeon into which the sea broke. Judge of +my surprise when yesterday, two of the accusers of the Count, the +Salvatori, came to my hotel insisting that two days before, just as the +population of _Torre del Greco_ was leaving church, their eldest brother +Stenio Salvatori had been poignarded at his door by Count Monte-Leone. + +"'This evidence,' continued they, 'will be confirmed by all the +inhabitants of the town, in the presence of whom the affair happened.' I +refused to believe anything so improbable. I told them the Count had +been a prisoner several days, and assured them I would have been +informed of his escape. Overcome by their persuasions, shaken in my +conviction by their oaths, I determined to satisfy myself that the Count +was at the prison, and went thither." + +The Duke had not deceived the auditors by his promises, for the interest +had rapidly increased, and every one listened to his words with intense +curiosity. A single person only seemed listless and uninterested. This +was La Felina, whose eye never lost sight of the box which the secretary +had given the Duke, and which he had shut, so that no one knew the +nature of the contents. The Duke resumed his story: + +"The new governor of the Castle, whom I had appointed after the +inundation, was not informed of my visit. No one expected me, yet all +was calm and in good order. + +"'Signore,' said I to the governor, 'I am informed that the prisoner I +have confided to your charge, the Count Monte-Leone, has escaped from +the fortress. If this be so, you know the severity of military law, and +must expect its utmost rigor.' As he heard this menace, the governor +grew pale. I fancied his change of color came because he was aware of +some error, and I awaited his answer with anxiety. 'If the Count has +escaped, Monsignore,' he replied, 'it must have been within an hour, for +it is not more than twice that time since I saw him.' + +"I was amazed. Unwilling as I was to be face to face with the Count, the +violence and exasperation of whom I was aware of, I ordered myself to be +led to his cell. The jailer threw back the door on its hinges, and far +from finding the room unoccupied, I saw him stretched on a bed, and +reading a book, which seemed very much to interest him. He appeared +pale and thin. A year had passed since I had seen him, brilliantly and +carefully dressed, giving tone to the saloons, the cynosure of which he +was. Dignified and haughty, and always polite, even in the coarse dress +he wore, the Count rose, recognized, and bowed to me. 'I did not,' said +he, 'expect the honor of a visit from his excellency the minister of +police, and would have wished to receive him in my palace. As the state +of affairs is, however, he must be satisfied with the rude hospitality +of the humble room I occupy.' He offered me his only stool. I said, 'Not +I, Count, but yourself, have been the cause that you are thus situated. +If you had chosen, you might have lived happy, free, and esteemed, as +your rank and birth entitled you. Remember that all must be attributed +to yourself, if you exchange all these advantages for the solitude of a +prison and the dangers which your opinions have brought on you.' 'Shall +I dare to ask, Monsignore, is the visit I receive an act of benevolence, +or of official duty?' 'I am come hither, Count, from duty. The rumor of +your escape is spread everywhere. A crime committed on the day before +yesterday in the vicinity of Naples is attributed to you, and I am come +to ascertain here if there be any foundation for the accusation.' The +Count laughed. 'Monsignore,' said he, 'one never leaves this place +except under the charge of keepers. As for the new crime of which I am +accused, and of which I know nothing, I trust that the good sense of the +judges will think me innocent as of the imaginary offenses which brought +me hither.' + +"The calmness and sang-froid of Monte-Leone, the improbability of the +story told me, excited a trouble and confusion which did not escape the +observation of the prisoner. 'Monsignore,' said he, 'we have met under +happier circumstances. I expect and ask a favor from no one. I can +however ask an indulgence from so old an acquaintance as yourself. Hurry +on my trial! The preliminary captivity I undergo is one of the greatest +outrages of the law. While a man is uncondemned he should not be +punished. God does not send any one to hell untried and uncondemned. My +life is sad here. This book, the only one allowed me,' said he, +presenting me with it open at the page where he had been reading when I +entered, 'this great book, _De Consolatione Philosophić_ of Anicius +Severinus Boethius, does not console but afflicts me; for in spite of +myself I remember that the author, imprisoned by a tyrant at Pavia, +terminated in torture a life of glory. If such be my fate, signore,--if +I am guilty, the punishment is great enough: if I am not guilty, it is +too great.' + +"I was touched by this logical reasoning. Far more influence however was +exerted on me by his noble tranquillity and the natural dignity +misfortune often kindles up in the noblest souls. 'Count,' said I, 'be +assured that within a few days you will be placed on trial,' and I +retired satisfied with the mistake or falsehood of Monte-Leone's +accusers. + +"I found the Salvatori at my palace. I told them that they played a +terrible game. I said, 'If you had brought a false charge against a +young man at liberty, and on the head of whom there lay no accusation, +your crime would be capital, and you would be vulgar calumniators, such +as are too often made infamous by our criminal records. This matter is +however so complicated by revenge that it will excite general horror, +and draw on you all the severity of the law. Count Monte-Leone, whom you +accused of having poignarded your brother, is now in the _Castle del +Uovo_, which I left a few minutes ago, and where I saw him.' + +"Nothing can describe the singular expression of the faces of the two +men as they listened. But they still persisted that they had spoken the +truth, and were sternly dismissed by me, affirming that they would prove +all they had said. They have kept their word, and here is the evidence," +said the Duke, opening the box and exhibiting a glittering ring, on +which was engraved the escutcheon of Monte-Leone. + +"This ring," said he, "is acknowledged to be one of the _chef +d'oeuvres_ of Benvenuto Cellini. It has an historical fame, and is +considered one of the most admirable works of that great artist. Twenty +times the government has sought to buy it, but the Monte-Leoni have +uniformly refused to part with it. This letter accompanied the precious +jewel: + +"_Monsignore_: Heaven has come to our aid. Since our evidence, +corroborated by that of all _Torre del Greco_, could not convince you of +the truth of our accusation--since you refuse to believe that Count +Monte-Leone, to avenge himself, wounded our brother, we send you this +ring, engraved with his arms, which he lost in his contest with Stenio +Salvatori, and which God has placed in our hands to confound and to +punish him. + +"Raphael and Paolo Salvatori." + +"All is lost!" said La Felina. + +"What now shall we believe?" said the Duke to his guests. + + +V.--THE VISIT. + +The story of the Duke of Palma was concluded by the last question. All +seemed wrapped in doubt in relation to this singular incident. The night +was far advanced, and the company separated. + +The Duke escorted La Felina to her carriage. Just however as the door +was about to close on him, he said: "Would you not like, beautiful +Felina, to know the name of the woman at Count Monte-Leone's on the +night of the ball?" + +"Why ask that question?" said she. + +"Because," he said, "I know no one more beautiful or more attractive." + +"Her name?" said the singer, with emotion. + +"Is La Felina!" said the Duke. "What surprises you?" he added; "a +minister of police, from his very office, knows everything." La Felina +said to herself, "But he does not!" + +The spirited horses bore the carriage rapidly away. + +In the story of Monte-Leone the name of Taddeo Rovero had especially +arrested the attention of Maulear. Was Taddeo a relation or connection +of Aminta? During the few minutes he had passed at Sorrento he had +learned nothing of the Roveri, and had asked no questions of Aminta. +Allied however by the heart to this family already, he naturally enough +took interest in the dangers its members incurred. He therefore +determined to return at once and ascertain this fact from the minister, +when a note handed to him drove the matter completely from his mind. +Thus ran the note: + +"_Monsieur_: My daughter now knows how much she is indebted to you, and +the efforts you made to rescue her from the fearful danger which menaced +her. The heroic remedy employed by Tonio has luckily succeeded. Aminta +is entirely recovered and is unwilling to delay any longer the tribute +of gratitude. Let me also, Monsieur, again offer you mine. If you will +deign to receive them in our poor villa, we will be delighted to see you +there to-day. + +Your grateful, + +Antonia Rovero." + +The heart of Maulear quivered with joy at these words. He would in the +course of a few hours see Aminta, the impression of whose beauty had so +deeply impressed his heart, and from whom he had fancied he would yet be +separated for days. He mounted his best horse and rapidly crossed the +distance which separated him from Sorrento. Two hours after the receipt +of the letter he knocked at the door of Signora Rovero. The old servant +again admitted him. + +"The Signorina is in no danger," said he to Maulear, as soon as he saw +him. Nothing is more graceful than this familiarity of old servants, who +as it were are become from devotion a portion of the family of their +masters. "We know," added the good man taking and kissing Maulear's hand +respectfully, "that we owe all to your Excellency, who drove away the +vipers which otherwise had stung her on the heart, and allowed Tonio no +time to rescue her." + +There was such an expression of gratitude in the features of the old +man, that Maulear was deeply moved. + +"The Signora and the Signorina expect you, Count, to thank you." The old +man let tears drop on the hand of the Marquis. + +"What noble hearts must the mistresses of such servants have," thought +Maulear as he stood in waiting. + +Signora Rovero hurried to meet him, but not with a cold ceremony. The +stranger who had contributed to the salvation of her daughter henceforth +was a friend to her. "Come, come," said Signora Rovero, "she expects +you." + +The door was opened, and they were in the presence of Aminta. The White +Rose of _Sorrento_ never vindicated more distinctly her right to the +name. + +Half reclining on a sofa of pearl velvet, Aminta was wrapped in a large +dressing-gown, the vaporous folds of which hung around her. Her face, +become yet more pale from suffering, was, as it were, enframed in light +clouds of gauze. One might have fancied her a beautiful alabaster +statue, but for the two beautiful bandeaus of black and lustrous hair +which were drawn around her charming face. + +"My child," said Signora Rovero, as she led Henri forward, "the Marquis +of Maulear proves that he is not insensible of the value of our thanks, +since he has come so promptly to receive them." + +"Alas! Signora," said Henri to the mother of Aminta, "the true savior of +your daughter is not myself, but the generous lad who risked his own +life for hers. God, however, is my witness, that had I been aware I +could have thus saved her, I would not have hesitated to employ the +means." + +The chivalric and impassioned tone with which these words were +pronounced, made both mother and daughter look at Henri. The latter, +however, immediately cast down her eyes, confused by the passionate +expression of his. + +"Monsieur," said Aminta, with emotion, "I might doubt such devotion from +you, to a person who was a stranger, were I not aware of the nobility +and generosity of the French character." + +For the first time Maulear heard Aminta speak. She had one of those +fresh and sweet voices, so full of melody and persuasion, that every +word she spoke had the air of a caress--one of those delicious voices +with which a few chosen natures alone are endowed, which are never heard +without emotion, and are always remembered with pleasure. If the head +and imagination of the Marquis were excited by her charms, his heart +submitted to the influence of her angelic voice, for it emanated from +her soul; and Maulear, as he heard her delicious notes, thought there +was in this young girl something to love besides beauty. + +The physician had ordered the patient to repose. He feared the wound +made by Tonio's dagger would re-open if she walked. By the side of her +sofa, therefore, the hours of Maulear rolled by like seconds. + +The father, an educated and dignified man, had superintended, in person, +the education of his two children. Wishing neither to separate nor to +leave them, for he loved them both alike, his cares were equally divided +between them, so that Aminta, profiting by the lessons given to her +brother, shared in his masculine and profound education, and acquired +information far surpassing that ordinarily received by her sex. The +seeds of science had fallen on fertile ground. A studious mind had +developed them in meditation and solitude, and this beautiful child +concealed serious merit under a frail and delicate form. These +treasures, vailed by modesty, revealed themselves by rare flashes, which +soon disappeared, leaving those lucky enough to witness them, dazzled +and amazed. + +A few brilliant remarks escaped the young girl during Maulear's visit. +He could not restrain the expression of his admiration, and Signora +Rovero, when she saw her daughter confused, told Maulear, who had been +her teacher. In spite of this attractive conversation, one thought was +ever present to the mind of Maulear, who was the Taddeo Rovero of whom +the minister had spoken? The tranquillity the ladies seemed to enjoy, +might be little consonant with the situation of the accomplice of +Monte-Leone. Perhaps they did not know his fate. He resolved to satisfy +himself. + +"Signora," said he to the mother, "there is in Naples a young man named +Taddeo Rovero." + +"My son--the brother of my daughter; one of the pleasantest men of +Naples, whom I regret that I cannot introduce to you. Though he loves us +tenderly, our seclusion has little to attract him. City festivities and +pleasures often take him from us. Naples is now very brilliant." + +The heart of Maulear beat when he heard the poor mother speak of her +son's pleasures. + +"My brother is the soul of honor and courage," said Aminta, "but his +head is easily turned. I fear he is too much under the influence of his +best friends." + +"My daughter means his best friends," said Signora Rovero, gaily, "the +brilliant Count Monte-Leone, one of the proudest nobles of Naples. +Taddeo loves him as a brother. But my Aminta has no sympathy with him." + +The Marquis was glad to hear Signora Rovero speak thus--and he admired +the quick perception of the young girl, who thus, almost by intuition, +foresaw the danger into which Monte-Leone had tempted Taddeo. + +The dislike of Aminta to Monte-Leone, thus referred to by the Signora +Rovero, brought the blood to her cheeks. She blushed to see one of her +sentiments thus displayed before a stranger. In the impenetrable +sanctuary of her soul, she wished to reserve for herself alone her +impressions of pain and sorrow, her antipathies and affections. Besides, +by means of one of those inspirations, the effect, but not the reason, +of which is perceived by us, Aminta was aware that Maulear was the last +man in the world before whom her internal thoughts should be referred +to. Maulear comprehended the cause of her embarrassment. He again spoke +of Taddeo. Once launched on this theme, Signora Rovero spoke of nothing +else but her adored son, of his youth, prospects, and of the hopes she +had formed of him. While she thus dreamed of glory and success for +Taddeo, the latter was a captive in a secret prison. + +"I am astonished," said the Signora, "that my son is so long absent +without suffering his sister and myself to hear from him. For fifteen +days we have not heard, and I beg you, Marquis, on your return to +Naples, to see him, and inform him of the accident which has befallen +Aminta. Tell him to come hither as soon as possible." + +"I will see him, Signora, and if possible will return him to you." + +As he made this reply, Henri promised to use every effort and all his +credit to restore the son and brother of these ladies. Just then a sigh +was heard in the saloon, and Maulear looked around, surprised, and +almost terrified at the agony expressed. Aminta arose, hurried toward +the portico, and lifting up the curtain in front of it, cried out, "It +is he--it is he! Mother, he calls me! I must go!" + +As soon, however, as her foot touched the floor, she uttered a cry of +agony. "It is nothing," said she, immediately. "I thought myself strong +enough, yet I suffer much; do not mind me, but attend to poor Tonio." +Signora Rovero passed into the next room. + +"It is he," said Aminta to Maulear, with the greatest emotion. "It is my +savior, my foster-brother, whom we have sent for hither, contrary even +to the advice of the Doctor. We were, however, unwilling to confide the +duty of attending on him to any one. Besides, he would die of despair +did he think we forgot him." + +Signora Rovero returned. "The sufferings of the poor lad are terrible," +said she; "his fever, however, is lessened, his delirium has passed +away, and the physician assures me that he will live. Thanks for it are +due to God, for if he died Aminta and I would die." + +The day was advancing, and Maulear would not leave without seeing Tonio. +His eyes were bloodshot, his lips livid and pendent, his cheeks swollen +by the cauterization he had undergone. All horror at his appearance, +however, disappeared when Maulear remembered what he had done. He looked +at him as the early Christians did at martyrs. His eyes were yet humid +when he returned to Aminta. The latter perceived his trouble, and gave +him her pretty hand with an expression of deep gratitude. + +"Thank you, Monsieur," said she, "for your compassion for Tonio. A heart +like yours exhibits itself in tears, and I shall not forget those you +have shed." These words, at once simple and affecting, touched the heart +of Maulear. A great effort was necessary to keep him from falling at the +feet of Aminta. Placing his lips respectfully on the hand offered to +him, he bade adieu to Signora Rovero, and set out for Naples, bearing +with him a precious treasury of memories, hope, anticipation, and +wishes--of everything, in fine, which composes the first and most +adorable pages of the history of our loves: the charming preface to the +yet unread book. + +On the next day Maulear visited the Duke of Palma. "Monsignore," said +he to the minister, "I am about to ask you a favor to which I attach +immense value. The pardon of young Rovero, who has been, your Excellency +tells me, rather imprudent than guilty." The Duke laughed. "His liberty! +On my word, Marquis, I would be much obliged if he would accept it." + +"What does this mean, Monsignore?" said Maulear. + +"That Rovero refuses liberty. The king, fancying that mildness would +cure his folly, ordered me to dismiss the _novice_ to his family. I told +Rovero. He replied, 'I refuse a pardon--I ask for justice: I am innocent +or guilty; if guilty, I deserve punishment; if innocent, let them acquit +me. I will not leave this prison except by force, as I entered it.' Thus +I have a prisoner in spite of my wish to release him." + +"I will see him," said the Marquis, "and will speak to him of his +mother." + + +VI.--THE PRISONER. + +The Hotel of the Minister of Police at Naples had been constructed on +the site and on the foundation of the old palace of the Dukes of Palma, +ancestors of the present Duke. Amid the vestiges of the old palace, +which still existed, was an ancient chapel, connected with the new +edifice. This chapel, abandoned long before, had been changed into a +prison, for the reception of persons arrested secretly by the Minister +of Police, into the offences of whom he wished to inquire personally, +before he turned them over to justice. Of this kind was young Rovero. +King Fernando wearied of foolish and ephemeral conspiracies which +disturbed, without endangering his monarchy, combated with all his power +the disposition of his ministers to be rigorous, and the Duke of Palma +to please his master suppressed the various plots which arose +everywhere. This indulgent and pacific system did not all comport with +the revolutionary ideas of Count Monte-Leone, and the deposition of the +brothers Salvatori, united to public rumor, made the arrest of the Count +unavoidably necessary beyond all doubt, much to the annoyance of +Fernando IV. and his minister. An example was needed. One criminal must +be severely punished to terrify all the apostles of dark sedition. The +more exalted the rank of the culprit, the greater the effect of the +example would be. Young Rovero, by refusing his pardon, subjected the +Duke of Palma to a new annoyance. His refusal made a trial necessary, or +he would be forced to release him, contrary to his own protestations, +and therefore subject the government to the odium of arbitrary injustice +and a criminal attack on the liberties of the people. This would be a +new theme of declamation for malcontents. The motives assigned by Taddeo +for insisting on a trial were specious and dignified. We will however, +soon see that they had no reality, and only masked the plans of the +prisoner. A strange event had taken place in the old chapel we have +mentioned, and in which Rovero was shut up. + +Before we relate what follows, we must acquaint the reader with the +secret sentiments of young Rovero. All had done justice to the seductive +grace, which attracted so many adorers to the feet of the singer. +Rovero, the youngest of the band of four, felt far more than admiration +for the prima donna. His soul, hitherto untouched by passion, became +aware of an emotion of which it had not been cognisant, at the sight of +the great artist, the fire and energetic bursts of whom gave so powerful +expression to her glances. Rovero had hitherto thought of women only +under ordinary conditions, adorned with that timid modesty and grace +which seem to call on the ruder sex for protection,--as charming +creatures whom God has formed to command in obeying, to triumph by +weakness. The young and chaste girl, the seraphic reverie of lovers of +twenty, was effaced by the radiant beauty presented him by chance. The +native nobility of Felina, her elegant habits, the ardent imagination +which had expanded the love of her art, the very practice of her +profession which ceaselessly familiarized her with the works of the +great masters, with the royal sovereigns she represented, had enhanced +her natural dignity, with an almost theatrical majesty, which so +perfectly harmonized with her person, so entirely consorted with her +habits, form and queenly bearing, that she might have been fancied a +Juno or a Semiramis disguised as a noble Neapolitan lady, rather than +the reverse, which really was the case. Glittering with these +attractions to which Taddeo had hitherto been insensible, she appeared +to him: like an enchantress and the modern Circe, dragging an +enthusiastic people in her train, and ruling in the morning in her +boudoir, which glittered with velvet and gold, and in the evening making +three thousand people fanatical with her voice and magic talent, it was +not unnatural that she subdued him. The impression produced on Taddeo by +La Felina on the evening they were at the Etruscan house, was so keen, +so new, so full of surprise and passion, that the young man left the +room, less to ascertain what had become of the two friends who had +preceded him, than to avoid the fascination exerted on him by the eyes +of La Felina. He had not seen her since. + +Like Von Apsberg and d'Harcourt, taken in the snare which had been set +for him by the police of Naples, Taddeo was captured after a brief but +violent contest. It seemed to him that his soul was torn from his body +when he was separated from La Felina. He had however previously heard +her at San Carlo. Though charmed by her talent and wonderful beauty, the +illusion was so perfect that he fancied he saw the Juliet of Zingarelli +or the Donna Anna of Mozart, but not a woman to be herself adored,--in +one word, the magnificent Felina. The fancy of the Neapolitan was +enkindled by the eyes of the Neapolitan. He did not love, but was +consumed. In the cold and solitary cell he had occupied for some days, +he forgot danger, his friends, and almost his mother and sister. Rovero +thought only of his love. Concentrating all power in his devotion, he +evoked La Felina, and in his mind contemplated her. Wild words wrested +from him by delirium declared to the phantom all his hopes and fears. In +his fancy he ran over all the perfections of this beautiful being. It +seemed to him that his idol hovered around the prison, shedding its rays +on him, and filling his heart and senses with an ardor the impotence of +which he cursed. Religious exaltation, like the enthusiasm of love, +assumes in solitude gigantic proportions unknown to the most pious man +and most devoted lover living in the world. Long days and endless nights +occupied with one idea, fixed and immutable, rising before us like the +ghost of Banquo in our dreams, and when we wake, are a sufficient +explanation of the martyrs of love, of the cloister, or of the Thebais. + +Many days had passed since the Duke of Palma had imprisoned young +Rovero. We have already spoken of the ideas which occupied his mind. +Ever under the influence of one thought, the life of the young prisoner +was but one dream of love, which so excited his imagination that he +could scarcely distinguish fiction from reality, and after a troubled +sleep he asked if he had addressed his burning declarations to the +phantom of the singer or to La Felina herself. + +Taddeo in his cell was not subjected to the malicious barbarities with +which Monte-Leone had been annoyed. The Duke of Palma wished the inmates +of his palace, though they might be prisoners, not to complain of their +fare. Taddeo had a bed and not a pallet. He could read and write, it is +true only by means of a doubtful light which reached him through the +stained windows of the antique chapel. This light however was mottled by +the blue cloak of St. Joseph and the purple robe of St. John. Sometimes +it fell on the pavement in golden checkers, after having passed through +the _glory_ of the Virgin. Still it was the light of day, which is half +the sustenance of a prisoner. + +On the fourth night after Rovero's arrest, he reposed rather than rested +on the only chair in his cell, soothed by the wind which beat on the +windows. The rays of the moon passed through the high windows of the old +chapel, and the long tresses of moss which overhung them assumed +fantastic forms as they swung to and fro at the caprice of the wind. A +faint murmur was heard. A white shadow which seemed to rush from the +wall passed over the marble pavement toward the prisoner, looked at him +carefully, and said, with an accent of joy, "It is either he, or I am +mistaken." + +The shadow moved on. + +After the lapse of a few seconds it was about to disappear, when it was +seized by a nervous arm which restrained it. A cry was heard. Rovero, +who had at first seen it but vaguely as it approached him, and who had +convulsively grasped it, was now thoroughly awakened, and seeing the +visitant about to disappear, seized it forcibly. A dense cloud just at +that moment vailed the moon, and the cell became as dark as night. + +"It is a woman!" said Taddeo, and his heart beat violently. A soft and +delicate hand was placed on his lips. + +"If you are heard, I am lost!" said his visitor, in a trembling voice. + +"Who are you? and what do you want?" said Taddeo, suffering his voice to +escape through the delicate fingers which sought to close his lips. + +"I am looking for you: what I wish you will know in four days: who I am +is a secret, and I rely on your honor not to seek to penetrate it." Then +by a rapid movement, the visitor pulled the vail again over her face. + +Just then the clouds passed away, and the moon shone brilliantly, +lighting up the old chapel, and exhibiting to Taddeo the tall and lithe +form of her who held him captive. + +One need not like Taddeo have retained the minutest peculiarities of La +Felina to render it possible to distinguish her lithe stature and +magnificent contour. But his reason could not be convinced, and had not +the singer's hand been pressed on his lips he would have fancied that a +new dream had evoked the phantom of one of whom he had never ceased to +think. "Lift up your vail, Felina," said he. But at the evidence of +terror which she exhibited, he resumed. "Do not attempt to deceive me. +In your presence my heart could not be mistaken, for it meditates by day +and dreams by night of you alone. I know not what good angel has guided +you hither, in pity of the torment I have endured since I left you. An +hour, Felina, in your presence, has sufficed to enslave my soul forever. +Through you have I learned that I have a soul, and by you has the void +in my heart been completely filled." + +"He loves me!" murmured Felina, with an accent of surprise and deep +pity. This however was uttered in so low a tone that the prisoner did +not hear her. + +"Hear me," said Rovero. "You told us at Monte-Leone's that you loved one +of the four." + +"True," said the singer, in a feeble voice. + +"You said that for him you would sacrifice your life." + +"True." + +"That like an invisible providence you would watch over his life and +fate: that this would be the sacred object of your life." + +"I also said," Felina answered, "that my love would ever be unknown, and +that the secret would die with me." + +"Well," said Rovero, "I know him. This man, the ardent passion of whom +you divined, to whom you are come as a minister of hope, is before you, +is at your feet." + +"How know you that I would not have done as much for each of your +friends?" + +Taddeo felt a hot iron pass through his soul. + +"Hear me," said she; "time is precious. Watched, and the object +everywhere of espionage, from motives of which you must ever be ignorant +I have penetrated hither, by means of a bold will and efforts which were +seconded by chance. I wished to satisfy myself that you were really the +person I sought for, and, hidden beneath this vail, and by a yet greater +concealment, that of your honor, to remain unknown, and accomplish my +purpose, with your cooperation, which otherwise must fail. I was +ignorant then of what I know now. I knew not your sentiments, or I would +have kept my secret." + +"Why fear my love?" said Rovero; "think you I sell my devotion? A love +which hesitates is not love. Mine will obey for the pleasure of obeying +you. But let your requests be great and difficult to be fulfilled, that +you may estimate me by my deeds." + +"You have a noble heart, Rovero, and in it I have confidence. God grant +your capacity fall not below your courage. In four days you will know +what I expect from you." + +"And will you," said he, in a voice stifled with emotion, "tell me which +of the four you love?" + +"You will then know. To you alone will I reveal the secret." + +"How can I live until then!" said Rovero, with a sigh. + +The sound of footsteps was heard. The sentinels were being relieved. It +was growing late, and while Rovero, at a motion from La Felina, went to +the door to listen to what was passing, she disappeared like a shadow +behind a column. Rovero looked around, and was alone. He examined the +walls, attempting to discover the secret issue. No fissure was visible, +there was no sign of the smallest opening, and a dumb sound only replied +to the blows of Rovero on the wall. He sunk on his chair, and covered +his face with his hands, that his thoughts might be distracted by no +external object. A few hours afterward the Duke of Palma caused him to +be informed of his pardon. + +The presence of La Felina had changed everything. The dark walls of the +chapel appeared more splendid than those of the palaces of the Doria, +Cavalcante, Carafa, or of the Pignatelli. He would not have exchanged +the humid walls of his cell for the rich mosaics of the _Museo +Borbonico_, the rival of that of the Vatican. The pavement had been +pressed by the feet of La Felina, and Rovero yet fancied that he saw the +prints of her footsteps. + +Two days after the nocturnal scene we have described, a stranger +appeared in the cell of the son of Signora Rovero. "Excuse me, sir," +said he to the prisoner, "that I have thus intruded without an +introduction. The motive, however, which conducts me hither will admit +of no delay, and I am sure you will excuse me when you shall have +learned it." + +Rovero bowed coldly, fancying that he had to do with some new police +agent. + +"I am come to appeal to you in behalf of two ladies who worship you, and +are inconsolable in your absence." + +"Two ladies!" said Rovero, with surprise. Yet, under the empire of +passion, he added--"Signor, I love but one." He paused and was much +confused by the avowal he had made. + +"At least," said the stranger, "you love three; for in a heart like +yours family affections and a deeper passion exist together. The ladies +of whom I speak, Signor, are your mother and sister." + +The prisoner blushed. His adored mother, his beautiful sister, were +exiled from his memory! In the presence of a stranger, too, this filial +crime was revealed; a despotic passion had made him thus guilty. +"Signor," said he, "you have thought correctly. Notwithstanding the +forgetfulness of my mind, with which though I protest my heart has +nothing to do, their names are dear to me, and I pray you tell me what +they expect from me." + +"They expect you to return," said the stranger. "A service I rendered +them has made me almost a friend, and my interest in them has induced me +to come without their consent to speak to you in their behalf." + +"Signor," said Rovero, "tell me to whom I have the honor to speak; not +that a knowledge of your name will enhance my gratitude, but that I may +know to whom I must utter it." + +"Signor, I am the Marquis de Maulear. Chance has revealed to me your +strange rejection of the liberty which other prisoners would so eagerly +grasp at. The minister has informed me of your motives, and, though +honorable, permit me to suggest that you do not forget your duty. Did +your mother know your condition, her life would be the sacrifice." + +Taddeo forgot all when he heard these words, admitting neither of +discussion nor of reply. + +"Signor," continued Maulear, "what principle, what opinions can combat +your desire to see your mother, and to rescue her from despair? Bid the +logic of passion and political hatred be still, and hearken only to +duty. Follow me, and by the side of your noble mother you will forget +every scruple which now retains you." + +Rovero for some moments was silent. He then fixed his large black eyes +on those of Maulear, and seemed to seek to read his thoughts. + +"Marquis," said he, "I scarcely know you, but there is such sincerity in +your expression that I have confidence in you, and am about to prove it. +Swear on your honor not to betray me, and I will tell you all." + +"I swear." + +"Well," said Taddeo, hurrying him as far as possible from the door that +he might be sure he was not overheard; "I accept the liberty offered +me; but for a reason which I can reveal to no one, I must remain a few +days in this cell. Suffer the minister and all to think that I persist +in this refusal. In two days I will have changed my plans, and before +sunset on the third, _I will have returned with you to Sorrento_." + +Henri, surprised, could not help looking at Rovero. + +"Do not question me, Signor, for I cannot reply. I have told you all I +can, and not one other word shall leave my mouth." + +"I may then tell Signora Rovero, that you will return." + +"Announce to her that in me you have found another friend, and that in +three days, _you will place me in her arms_." + +Taking Maulear's hand he clasped it firmly. + +"Thanks, Signor," said Maulear, "I accept your friendship. With people +like you, this fruit ripens quickly. Perhaps, however, you will discover +that it has not on that account less flavor and value." + +Maulear tapped thrice at the door of the cell; the turnkey appeared, and +Henri left, as he went out casting one last look of affection on Taddeo. + +Never did time appear so long to Aminta's brother as that which +intervened between Maulear's departure and the night he was so anxious +for. That night came at last. The keeper brought his evening meal. He +did not wish to be asleep as he was on the first occasion, when La +Felina visited him. He was unwilling to lose a single moment of her +precious visit. Remembering that his preceding nights had been agitated +and almost sleepless, apprehensive that he would be overcome by +weariness, he resolved to stimulate himself. Like most of the +Neapolitans, he was very temperate, and rarely drank wine; he preferred +that icy water, flavored with the juice of the orange or lime, of which +the people of that country are so fond. He now, however, needed +something to keep him awake, and asked for wine. + +He approached the table on which his evening meal was placed, he took a +flask of Massa wine, one of the best of Naples; he poured out a goblet +and drank it, and felt immediately new strength course through his +veins. + +He sat on his bed and listened anxiously for the slightest sound, to the +low accents of the night, to those indescribable sounds which are +drowned by the tumults of the day, and of whose existence, silence and +night alone make us aware. The hours rolled on, and at every stroke of +the clock his heart kept time with every blow of the iron hammer on the +bell of bronze. At last the clock struck twelve. Midnight, the time for +specters and crimes, was come. A few minutes before the clock sounded, +he perceived that the sleep of which he had been so much afraid +gradually made his eyelids grow heavy--and that though he sought to +overcome the feeling, his drowsiness increased to such a degree that he +was forced to sit down. + +I spoke in one of my preceding chapters of the tyrannical power +exercised by sleep over all organizations, and especially in those +situations when man is least disposed to yield to it. Never had this +absolute master exercised a more despotic power; this pitiless god +seemed to place his iron thumb on the eyes of the prisoner, and to close +them by force. A strange oppression of his limbs, an increasing +disturbance of his memory and thought, a kind of invincible torpor, +rapidly took possession of the young man. Then commenced a painful +contest between mind and body,--the latter succumbed. He felt his body +powerless, his reason grow dim, and his strength pass away. In vain he +sought to see, to hear, to watch, to live, to contend with an enemy +which sought to make him senseless, inert and powerless. His head fell +upon his bosom and he sank to sleep. + +Just then, he heard a light noise, the rustling of a silk dress, and a +timid step. With a convulsive effort he opened his eyes, and saw La +Felina within a few feet of his bed. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and +fell upon the white hand of the singer. She touched Rovero's face to +assure herself that he was in reality asleep. + +END OF PART II. + + +[From the Gem.] + +"THE TWICKENHAM GHOST." + + Come to the casement to-night, + And look out at the bright lady-moon; + Come to the casement to-night, + And I'll sing you your favorite tune! + Where the stream glides beside the old tower, + My boat shall be under the wall,-- + Oh, dear one! be there in your bower, + With Byron, a lamp, and your shawl. + + Oh! come where no troublesome eye + Can look on the vigil love keeps; + When there is not a cloud in the sky, + What maid, _but an old maiden_, sleeps? + And you know not how sweet is the tone + Of a song from a lip we have press'd, + When it breathes it "by moonlight alone," + To the ear of _the one_ it loves best. + + Oh! daylight love's music but mars, + (As it breaks up the dance of the elves!) + The moon and the stream and the stars, + Should hear it alone with ourselves: + And who'd be content with "_I may_," + If they only would think of "_I might_?" + Or _who'd_ listen to music by day, + That had listened to music by night? + + The Opera's over by one, + Lady Jersey's grows stupid at two; + I'll dance just one waltz, and have done, + Then be off, on the pony, for Kew! + My boat holds a cloak--a guitar, + And it waits by that dark bridge for me: + And I'll row, by the light of one star, + Love's own, to the old tower, by three! + + I'll bring you that sweet canzonette, + That we practiced together last year; + And my own little miniature set + Round with emeralds--tis _such_ a dear! + You promised you'd love me as long + As your heart felt me close to it, there; + And, dear one! for that and the song, + _Won't_ you give me the locket of hair? + + Farewell, sweet! be not in a fright, + Should your grandmamma bid you beware + Of a youth, who was murdered one night, + And whose ghost haunts the dark waters there: + For _you_ know, ever since his decease, + Of a harmless young ghost that's allow'd + To go, by the River Police, + Serenading about in his shroud! + + + + +[From the Dublin University Magazine.] + +THE MYSTIC VIAL: OR, THE LAST DEMOISELLE DE CHARREBOURG. + + +I.--THE GAME OF BOWLS. + +More than a century ago--we know not whether the revolution has left a +vestige of it--there stood an old chateau, backed by an ancient and +funereal forest, and approached through an interminable straight avenue +of frowning timber, somewhere about fifteen leagues from Paris, and +visible from the great high road to Rouen. + +The appliances of comfort had once been collected around it upon a +princely scale; extensive vineyards, a perfect wood of fruit-trees, +fish-ponds, mills, still remained, and a vast park, abounding with cover +for all manner of game, stretched away almost as far as the eye could +reach. + +But the whole of this palatial residence was now in a state of decay and +melancholy neglect. A dilapidated and half-tenanted village, the feudal +dependency of the seignorial domain, seemed to have sunk with the +fortunes of its haughty protector. The steep roofs of the Chateau de +Charrebourg and its flanking towers, with their tall conical caps, were +mournfully visible in the sun among the rich foliage that filled the +blue hazy distance, and seemed to overlook with a sullen melancholy the +village of Charrebourg that was decaying beneath it. + +The Visconte de Charrebourg, the last of a long line of ancient +seigneurs, was still living, and though not under the ancestral roof of +his chateau, within sight of its progressive ruin, and what was harder +still to bear, of its profanation; for his creditors used it as a +storehouse for the produce of the estate, which he thus saw collected +and eventually carted away by strangers, without the power of so much as +tasting a glass of its wine or arresting a single grain of its wheat +himself. And to say the truth, he often wanted a pint of the one and a +measure or two of the other badly enough. + +Let us now see for ourselves something of his circumstances a little +more exactly. The Visconte was now about seventy, in the enjoyment of +tolerable health, and of a pension of nine hundred francs (Ł36) per +annum, paid by the Crown. His creditors permitted him to occupy, +besides, a queer little domicile, little better than a cottage, which +stood just under a wooded hillock in the vast wild park. To this were +attached two or three Lilliputian paddocks, scarcely exceeding an +English acre altogether. Part of it, before the door, a scanty bit we +allow, was laid a little parterre of flowers, and behind the dwelling +was a small bowling-green surrounded by cherry-trees. The rest was +cultivated chiefly for the necessities of the family. In addition to +these concessions his creditors permitted him to shoot rabbits and catch +perch for the use of his household, and that household consisted of +three individuals--the Visconte himself, his daughter Lucille (scarcely +seventeen years of age), and Dame Marguerite, in better times her +nurse--now cook, housemaid, and all the rest. + +Contrast with all this what he had once been, the wealthy Lord of +Charrebourg, the husband of a rich and noble wife, one of the most +splendid among the satellites of a splendid court. He had married rather +late, and as his reverses had followed that event in point of time, it +was his wont to attribute his misfortunes to the extravagance of his +dear and sainted helpmate, "who never could resist play and jewelry." +The worthy Visconte chose to forget how much of his fortune he had +himself poured into the laps of mistresses, and squandered among the +harpies of the gaming-table. The result however was indisputable, by +whatever means it had been arrived at, the Visconte was absolutely +beggared. + +Neither had he been very fortunate in his family. Two sons, who, +together with Lucille, had been the fruit of his marriage, had both +fallen, one in a duel, the other in a madcap adventure in Naples. + +And thus of course ended any hope of seeing his fortunes even moderately +reconstructed. + +We must come now to the lonely dwelling which serves all that is left of +the family of Charrebourg for a palace. It is about the hour of five +o'clock in the afternoon of a summer's day. Dame Marguerite has already +her preparations for supper in the kitchen. The Visconte has gone to the +warren to shoot rabbits for to-morrow's dinner. Two village lads, who +take a pleasure in obliging poor old Marguerite--of course neither ever +thinks of Lucille--have just arrived at the kitchen door. Gabriel has +brought fresh spring water, which, from love of the old cook, he carries +to the cottage regularly every morning and evening. Jacque has brought +mulberries for "the family," from a like motive. The old woman has +pronounced Jacque's mulberries admirable; and with a smile tapped +Gabriel on the smooth brown cheek, and called him her pretty little +water carrier. They loiter there as long as they can; neither much likes +the other; each understands what his rival is about perfectly well; +neither chooses to go while the other remains. + +Jacque, sooth to say, is not very well favored, sallow, flat-faced, with +lank black hair, small, black, cunning eyes, and a wide mouth; he has a +broad square figure, and a saucy swagger. Gabriel is a slender lad, with +brown curls about his shoulders, ruddy brown face, and altogether +good-looking. These two rivals, you would say, were very unequally +matched. + +Poor Gabriel! he has made knots to his knees of salmon-color and blue, +the hues of the Charrebourg livery. It is by the mute eloquence of such +traits of devotion that his passion humbly pleads. He wishes to belong +to her. When first he appears before her in these tell-tale ribbons, +the guilty knees that wear them tremble beneath him. He thinks that now +she must indeed understand him--that the murder will out at last. But, +alas! she, and all the stupid world beside, see nothing in them but some +draggled ribbons. He might as well have worn buckles--nay, _better_; for +he suspects that cursed Jacque understands them. But in this, indeed, he +wrongs him; the mystery of the ribbons is comprehended by himself alone. + +He and Jacque passed round the corner of the quaint little cottage; they +were crossing the bowling-green. + +"And so," sighed poor Gabriel, "I shall not see her to-day." + +"Hey! Gabriel! Jacque! has good Marguerite done with you?--then play a +game of bowls together to amuse me." + +The silvery voice that spoke these words came from the coral lips of +Lucille. Through the open casement, clustered round with wreaths of vine +in the transparent shade, she was looking out like a portrait of Flora +in a bowering frame of foliage. Could anything be prettier? + +Gabriel's heart beat so fast that he could hardly stammer forth a +dutiful answer; he could scarcely see the bowls. The beautiful face +among the vine-leaves seemed everywhere. + +It would have been worth one's while to look at that game of bowls. +There was something in the scene at once comical and melancholy. Jacque +was cool, but very clumsy. Gabriel, a better player, but all bewildered, +agitated, trembling. While the little daughter of nobility, in drugget +petticoat, her arms resting on the window-sill, looked out upon the +combatants with such an air of unaffected and immense superiority as the +queen of beauty in the gallery of a tilting-yard might wear while she +watched the feats of humble yeomen and villein archers. Sometimes +leaning forward with a grave and haughty interest; sometimes again +showing her teeth, like little coronels of pearl, in ringing laughter, +in its very unrestrainedness as haughty as her gravity. The spirit of +the noblesse, along with its blood, was undoubtedly under that slender +drugget bodice. Small suspicion had that commanding little damsel that +the bipeds who were amusing her with their blunders were playing for +love of her. Audacity like that was not indeed to be contemplated. + +"Well, Gabriel has won, and I am glad of it, for I think he is the +better lad of the two," she said, with the prettiest dogmatism +conceivable. "What shall we give you, Gabriel, now that you have won the +game? let me see." + +"Nothing, Mademoiselle--nothing, I entreat," faltered poor Gabriel, +trembling in a delightful panic. + +"Well, but you are hot and tired, and have won the game beside. +Marguerite shall give you some pears and a piece of bread." + +"I wish nothing, Mademoiselle," said poor Gabriel, with a melancholy +gush of courage, "but to die in your service." + +"Say you so?" she replied, with one of those provokingly unembarrassed +smiles of good-nature which your true lovers find far more killing than +the cruelest frown; "it is the speech of a good villager of Charrebourg. +Well, then, you shall have them another time." + +"But, as your excellence is so good as to observe, I have won the game," +said Gabriel, reassured by the sound of his own voice, "and to say I +should have something as--as a token of victory, I would ask, if +Mademoiselle will permit, for my poor old aunt at home, who is so very +fond of those flowers, just one of the white roses which Mademoiselle +has in her hand; it will give her so much pleasure." + +"The poor old woman! Surely you may pluck some fresh from the bush; but +tell Marguerite, or she will be vexed." + +"But, Mademoiselle, pardon me, I have not time: one is enough, and I +think there are none so fine upon the tree as that; besides, I know she +would like it better for having been in Mademoiselle's hand." + +"Then let her have it by all means," said Lucille; and so saying, she +placed the flower in Gabriel's trembling fingers. Had he yielded to his +impulse, he would have received it kneeling. He was intoxicated with +adoration and pride; he felt as if at that moment he was the sultan of +the universe, but her slave. + +The unconscious author of all this tumult meanwhile had left the window. +The rivals were _tęte-ŕ-tęte_ upon the stage of their recent contest. +Jacque stood with his hand in his breast, eyeing Gabriel with a sullen +sneer. _He_ held the precious rose in his hand, and still gazed at the +vacant window. + +"And so your aunt loves a white rose better than a slice of bread?" +ejaculated Jacque. "Heaven! what a lie--ha, ha, ha!" + +"Well, I won the game and I won the rose," said Gabriel, tranquilly. "I +can't wonder you are a little vexed." + +"Vexed?--bah! I thought she would have offered you a piece of money," +retorted Jacque; "and if she _had_, I venture to say we should have +heard very little about that nice old aunt with the _penchant_ for white +roses." + +"I'm not sordid, Jacque," retorted his rival; "and I did not want to put +Mademoiselle to any trouble." + +"How she laughed at you, Gabriel, your clumsiness and your ridiculous +grimaces; but then you do make--ha, ha, ha!--such very comical faces +while the bowls are rolling, I could not blame her." + +"She laughed more at you than at me," retorted Gabriel, evidently +nettled. "_You_ talk of clumsiness and grimaces--upon my faith, a pretty +notion." + +"Tut, man, you must have been deaf. You amused her so with your +writhing, and ogling, and grinning, and sticking your tongue first in +this cheek and then in that, according as the bowl rolled to one side or +the other, that she laughed till the very tears came; and after all +that, forsooth, she wanted to feed you like a pig on rotten pears; and +then--ha, ha, ha!--the airs, the command, the magnificence. Ah, la! it +was enough to make a cow laugh." + +"You are spited and jealous; but don't dare to speak disrespectfully of +Mademoiselle in my presence, sirrah," said Gabriel, fiercely. + +"Sirrah me no sirrahs," cried Jacque giving way at last to an +irrepressible explosion of rage and jealousy. "I'll say what I think, +and call things by their names. You're an ass, I tell you--an ass; and +as for her, she's a saucy, impertinent little minx, and you and she, and +your precious white rose, may go in a bunch to the devil together." + +And so saying, he dealt a blow with his hat at the precious relic. A +quick movement of Gabriel's, however, arrested the unspeakable +sacrilege. In an instant Jacque was half frightened at his own audacity; +for he knew of old that in some matters Gabriel was not to be trifled +with, and more than made up in spirit for his disparity in strength. +Snatching up a piece of fire-wood in one hand, and with the other +holding the sacred flower behind him, Gabriel rushed at the miscreant +Jacque, who, making a hideous grimace and a gesture of ridicule, did not +choose to await the assault, but jumped over the low fence, and ran like +a Paynim coward before a crusader of old. The stick flew whizzing by his +ear. Gabriel, it was plain, was in earnest; so down the woody slope +toward the stream the chase swept headlong; Jacque exerting his utmost +speed, and Gabriel hurling stones, clods, and curses after him. When, +however, he had reached the brook, it was plain the fugitive had +distanced him. Pursuing his retreat with shouts of defiance, he here +halted, hot, dusty, and breathless, inflamed with holy rage and +chivalric love, like a Paladin after a victory. + +Jacque meanwhile pursued his retreat at a slackened pace, and now and +then throwing a glance behind him. + +"The fiend catch him!" he prayed. "I'll break his bird-traps and smash +his nets, and I'll get my big cousin, the blacksmith, to drub him to a +jelly." + +But Gabriel was happy: he was sitting under a bush, lulled by the +trickling of the stream, and alone with his visions and his rose. + +The noble demoiselle in the mean time took her little basket, intending +to go into the wood and gather some wild strawberries, which the old +Visconte liked; and as she never took a walk without first saluting her +dear old Marguerite-- + +"Adieu, ma bonne petite maman," she said, running up to that lean and +mahogany-complexioned dame, and kissing her heartily on both cheeks; "I +am going to pick strawberries." + +"Ah, ma chere mignonne, I wish I could again see the time when the +lackeys in the Charrebourg blue and salmon, and covered all over with +silver lace, would have marched behind Mademoiselle whenever she walked +into the park. Parbleu, that was magnificence!" + +"Eh bien, nurse," said the little lady, decisively and gravely, "we +shall have all that again." + +"I hope so, my little pet--why not?" she replied, with a dreary shrug, +as she prepared to skewer one of the eternal rabbits. + +"Ay, why not?" repeated the demoiselle, serenely. "You tell me, nurse, +that I am beautiful, and I think I am." + +"Beautiful--indeed you are, my little princess," she replied, turning +from the rabbit, and smiling upon the pretty questioner until her five +thin fangs were all revealed. "They said your mother was the greatest +beauty at court; but, _ma foi_! she was never like you." + +"Well, then, if that be true, some great man will surely fall in love +with me, you know, and I will marry none that is not richer than ever my +father, the Visconte, was--rely upon that, good Marguerite." + +"Well, my little pet, bear that in mind, and don't allow any one to +steal your heart away, unless you know him to be worthy." + +At these words Lucille blushed--and what a brilliant vermilion--averted +her eyes for a moment, and then looked full in her old nurse's face. + +"Why do you say that, Marguerite?" + +"Because I feel it, my pretty little child," she replied. + +"No, no, no, no," cried Lucille, still with a heightened color, and +looking with her fine eyes full into the dim optics of the old woman; +"you had some reason for saying that--you know you had!" + +"By my word of honor, no," retorted the old woman, in her turn +surprised--"no, my dear; but what is the matter--why do you blush so?" + +"Well, I shall return in about an hour," said Lucille, abstractedly, and +not heeding the question; and then with a gay air she tripped singing +from the door, and so went gaily down the bosky slope to the edge of the +wood. + + +II.--THE GENTLEMAN IN BLUE AND SILVER. + +Lucille had no sooner got among the mossy roots of the trees, than her +sylvan task commenced, and the fragrant crimson berries began to fill +her basket. Her little head was very busy with all manner of marvelous +projects; but this phantasmagoria was not gloomy; on the contrary, it +was gorgeous and pleasant; for the transparent green shadow of the +branches and the mellow singing of the birds toned her daydreams with +their influence. + +In the midst of those airy pageants she was interrupted by a substantial +and by no means unprepossessing reality. A gentleman of graceful form +and mien, dressed in a suit of sky-blue and silver, with a fowling-piece +in his hand, and followed closely by a bare-legged rustic, carrying a +rude staff and a well-stored game-bag, suddenly emerged from behind a +mass of underwood close by. It was plain that he and Lucille were +acquainted, for he instantly stopped, signing to his attendant to pursue +his way, and raising his three-cornered hat, bowed as the last century +only could bow, with an inclination that was at once the expression of +chivalry and ease. His features were singularly handsome, but almost too +delicate for his sex, pale, and with a certain dash of melancholy in +their noble intelligence. + +"You here, Monsieur Dubois!" exclaimed Lucille, in a tone that a little +faltered, and with a blush that made her doubly beautiful. "What strange +chance has conducted you to this spot?" + +"My kind star--my genius--my good angel, who thus procures me the honor +of beholding Mademoiselle de Charrebourg--an honor than which fortune +has none dearer to me--no--none _half_ so prized." + +"These are phrases, sir." + +"Yes; phrases that expound my heart. I beseech you bring them to the +test." + +"Well, then," she said, gravely, "let us see. Kneel down and pick the +strawberries that grow upon this bank; they are for the Visconte de +Charrebourg." + +"I am too grateful to be employed." + +"You are much older, Monsieur, than I." + +"No doubt." + +"And have seen more of the world, too." + +"True, Mademoiselle," and he could not forbear smiling. + +"Well, then, you ought not to have tried to meet me in the park so often +as you did--or indeed at all--you know very well you ought not." + +"But, Mademoiselle, what harm can the most ill-natured of human critics +discover----" + +"Oh, but listen to me. I begin to fear I have been wrong in talking to +you as I have done; and if so, you ought not to have presented yourself +to me as you did. I have reflected on it since. In fact, I don't know +who you are, Monsieur Dubois. The Charrebourgs do not use to make +companions of everybody; and you may be a roturier, for anything I can +tell." + +Monsieur Dubois smiled again. + +"I see you laugh because we are poor," she said, with a heightened color +and a flashing glance. + +"Mademoiselle misunderstands me. I am incapable of that. There is no +point at which ridicule can approach the family of Charrebourg." + +"That is true, sir," she said, haughtily; and she added, "and on that +account I need not inquire wherefore people smile. But this seems plain +to me--that I have done very wrong in conversing alone with a gentleman +of whom I know nothing beyond his name. You must think so yourself, +though you will not say it; and as you profess your willingness to +oblige me, I have only to ask that all these foolish conversations may +be quite forgotten between us. And now the _petit pannier_ is filled, +and it is time that I should return. Good evening, Monsieur +Dubois--farewell." + +"This is scarcely a kind farewell, considering that we have been good +friends, Mademoiselle de Charrebourg, for so long." + +"Good friends--yes--for a long time; but you know," she continued, with +a sad, wise shake of her pretty head, "I ought not to allow gentlemen +whom I chance to meet here to be my friends--is it not so? This has only +struck me recently, Monsieur Dubois; and I am sure you used to think me +very strange. But I have no one to advise me; I have no mother--she is +dead; and the Visconte seldom speaks to me; and so I fear I often do +strange things without intending; and--and I have told you all this, +because I should be sorry you thought ill of me, Monsieur Dubois." + +She dropped her eyes for a moment to the ground, with an expression at +once very serious and regretful. + +"Then am I condemned to be henceforward a stranger to _dear_ +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg?" + +"I have told you all my thoughts, Monsieur Dubois," she answered, in a +tone whose melancholy made it nearly as tender as his own. But, perhaps, +some idea crossed her mind that piqued her pride; for suddenly +recollecting herself, she added, in a tone it may be a little more +abrupt and haughty than her usual manner-- + +"And so, Monsieur Dubois, once for all, good evening. You will need to +make haste to overtake your peasant attendant; and as for me, I must run +home now--adieu." + +Dubois followed her hesitatingly a step or two, but stopped short. A +slight flush of excitement--it might be of mortification--hovered on his +usually pale cheek. It subsided, however, and a sudden and more tender +character inspired his gaze, as he watched her receding figure, and +followed its disappearance with a deep sigh. + +But Monsieur Dubois had not done with surprises. + +"Holloa! sir--a word with you," shouted an imperious voice, rendered +more harsh by the peculiar huskiness of age. + +Dubois turned, and beheld a figure, which penetrated him with no small +astonishment, advancing toward him with furious strides. We shall +endeavor to describe it. + +It was that of a very tall, old man, lank and upright, with snow-white +mustaches, beard, and eyebrows, all in a shaggy and neglected state. He +wore an old coat of dark-gray serge, gathered at the waist by a belt of +undressed leather, and a pair of gaiters, of the same material, reached +fully to his knees. From his left hand dangled three rabbits, tied +together by the feet, and in his right he grasped the butt of his +antiquated fowling-piece, which rested upon his shoulder. This latter +equipment, along with a tall cap of rabbit skins, which crowned his +head, gave him a singular resemblance to the old prints of Robinson +Crusoe; and as if the _tout ensemble_ was not grotesque enough without +such an appendage, a singularly tall hound, apparently as old and +feeble, as lank and as gray as his master, very much incommoded by the +rapidity of his pace, hobbled behind him. A string scarce two yards +long, knotted to his master's belt, was tied to the old collar, once +plated with silver, that encircled his neck, and upon which a close +scrutiny might have still deciphered the armorial bearings of the +Charrebourgs. + +There was a certain ludicrous sympathy between the superannuated hound +and his master. While the old man confronted the stranger, erect as Don +Quixote, and glaring upon him in silent fury, as though his eyeballs +would leap from their sockets, the decrepit dog raised his bloodshot, +cowering eyes upon the self-same object, and showing the stumps of his +few remaining fangs, approached him with a long, low growl, like distant +thunder. The man and his dog understood one another perfectly. +Conscious, however, that there might possibly be some vein of ridicule +in this manifest harmony of sentiment, he bestowed a curse and a kick +upon the brute, which sent it screeching behind him. + +"It seems, sir, that you have made the acquaintance of Mademoiselle de +Charrebourg?" he demanded, in a tone scarcely less discordant than those +of his canine attendant. + +"Sir, I don't mean to consult you upon the subject." + +Robinson Crusoe hitched his gun, as though he was about to "let fly" at +the invader of his solitudes. + +"I demand your name, sir." + +"And _I_ don't mean to give it." + +"But give it you shall, sir, by ----." + +"It is plain you understand catching rabbits and dressing their skins +better than conversing with gentlemen," said the stranger, as with a +supercilious smile he turned away. + +"Stay, sir," cried the old gentleman, peremptorily, "or I shall slip my +dog upon you." + +"If you do, I'll shoot him." + +"You have insulted me, sir. You wear a _couteau de chasse_--so do I. +Destiny condemns the Visconte de Charrebourg to calamity, but not to +insult. Draw your sword." + +"The Visconte de Charrebourg!" echoed Dubois, in amazement. + +"Yes, sir--the Visconte de Charrebourg, who will not pocket an affront +because he happens to have lost his revenues." + +Who would have thought that any process could possibly have +metamorphosed the gay and magnificent courtier, of whose splendid +extravagance Dubois had heard so many traditions, into this grotesque +old savage. + +"There are some houses, and foremost among the number that of +Charrebourg," said the young man, with marked deference, raising his +hat, "which no loss of revenue can possibly degrade, and which, +associated with the early glories of France, gain but a profounder title +to our respect, when their annals and descent are consecrated by the +nobility of suffering." + +Nebuchadnezzar smiled. + +"I entreat that Monsieur le Visconte will pardon what has passed under a +total ignorance of his presence." + +The Visconte bowed, and resumed, gravely but more placidly-- + +"I must then return to my question, and ask your name." + +"I am called Dubois, sir." + +"Dubois! hum! I don't recollect, Monsieur Dubois, that I ever had the +honor of being acquainted with your family." + +"Possibly not, sir." + +"However, Monsieur Dubois, you appear to be a gentleman, and I ask you, +as the father of the noble young lady who has just left you, whether you +have established with her any understanding such as I ought not to +approve--in short, any understanding whatsoever?" + +"None whatever, on the honor of a gentleman. I introduced myself to +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg, but she has desired that our acquaintance +shall cease, and _her_ resolution upon the subject is, of course, +decisive. On the faith of a gentleman, you have there the entire truth +frankly stated." + +"Well, Monsieur Dubois, I believe you," said the Visconte, after a +steady gaze of a few seconds; "and I have to add a request, which is +this--that, unless through me, the acquaintance may never be sought to +be renewed. Farewell, sir. Come along, Jonquil!" he added, with an +admonition of his foot, addressed to the ugly old brute who had laid +himself down. And so, with a mutual obeisance, stiff and profound, +Monsieur Dubois and the Visconte de Charrebourg departed upon their +several ways. + +When the old Visconte entered his castle, he threw the three rabbits on +the table before Marguerite, hung his fusil uncleaned upon the wall, +released his limping dog, and stalked past Lucille, who was in the +passage, with a stony aspect, and in total silence. This, however, was +his habit, and he pursued his awful way into his little room of state, +where seated upon his high-backed, clumsy throne of deal, with his +rabbit-skin tiara on his head, he espied a letter, with a huge seal, +addressed to him, lying on his homely table. + +"Ha! hum. From M. Le Prun. The ostentation of the Fermier-General! the +vulgarity of the bourgeois, even in a letter!" + +Alone as he was, the Visconte affected a sneer of tranquil superiority; +but his hand trembled as he took the packet and broke the seal. Its +contents were evidently satisfactory: the old man elevated his eyebrows +as he read, sniffed twice or thrice, and then yielded to a smile of +irrepressible self-complacency. + +"So it will give him inexpressible pleasure, will it, to consult my +wishes. Should he become the purchaser of the Charrebourg estate, he +entreats--ay, that is the word--that I will not do him the injustice to +suppose him capable of disturbing me in the possession of my present +residence." The Visconte measured the distance between the tiled floor +and the ceiling, with a bitter glance, and said, "So our +bourgeois-gentilhomme will permit the Visconte de Charrebourg--ha, +ha--to live in this stinking hovel for the few years that remain to him; +but, _par bleu_, that is fortune's doing, not his. I ought not to blame +this poor bourgeois--he is only doing what I asked him. He will also +allow me whatever '_privileges_' I have hitherto enjoyed--that of +killing roach in the old moat and rabbits in the warren; scarce worth +the powder and shot I spend on them. _Eh, bien!_ after all what more +have I asked for? He is also most desirous to mark, in every way in his +power, the profound respect he entertains for the Visconte de +Charrebourg. How these fellows grimace and caricature when they attempt +to make a compliment! but he can't help that, and he is trying to be +civil. And, see, here is a postscript I omitted to read." + +He readjusted his spectacles. It was thus conceived:-- + +"P.S.--I trust the Visconte de Charrebourg will permit me the honor of +waiting upon him, to express in person my esteem and respect; and that +he will also allow me to present my little niece to Mademoiselle de +Charrebourg, as they are pretty nearly of the same age, and likely, +moreover, to become neighbors." + +"Yes," he said, pursuing a train of self-gratulation, suggested by this +postscript; "it was a _coup_ of diplomacy worthy of Richelieu himself, +the sending Lucille in person with my letter. The girl has beauty; its +magic has drawn all these flowers and figures from the pen of that dry +old schemer. Ay, who knows, she may have fortune before her; were the +king to see her----" + +But here he paused, and, with a slight shake of the head, muttered, +"Apage sathanas!" + + +III.--THE FERMIER-GENERAL. + +The Visconte ate his supper in solemn silence, which Lucille dared not +interrupt, so that the meal was far from cheerful. Shortly after its +conclusion, however, the old man announced in a few brief sentences, as +much of the letter he had just received as in any wise concerned her to +know. + +"See _you_ and Marguerite to the preparations; let everything, at least, +be neat. He knows, as all the world does, that I am miserably poor; and +we can't make this place look less beggarly than it is; but we must make +the best of it. What can one do with a pension of eight hundred +francs--bah!" + +The latter part of this speech was muttered in bitter abstraction. + +"The pension is too small, sir." + +He looked at her with something like a sneer. + +"It is too small, sir, and ought to be increased." + +"Who says so?" + +"Marguerite has often said so, sir, and I believe it. If you will +petition the king, he will give you something worthy of your rank." + +"You are a pair of wiseheads, truly. It cost the exertions of powerful +friends, while I still had some, to get that pittance; were I to move in +the matter now, it is more like to lead to its curtailment than +extension." + +"Yes, but the king admires beauty, and I am beautiful," she said, with a +blush that was at once the prettiest, the boldest, and yet the purest +thing imaginable; "and I will present your petition myself." + +Her father looked at her for a moment with a gaze of inquiring wonder, +which changed into a faint, abstracted smile; but he rose abruptly from +his seat with a sort of shrug, as if it were chill, and, muttering his +favorite exorcism, "Apage sathanas!" walked with a flurried step up and +down the room. His face was flushed, and there was something in its +expression which forbade her hazarding another word. + +It was not until nearly half an hour had elapsed that the Visconte +suddenly exclaimed, as if not a second had interposed-- + +"Well, Lucille, it is not _quite_ impossible; but you need not mention +it to Marguerite." + +He then signed to her to leave him, intending, according to his wont, to +find occupation for his solitary hours in the resources of his library. +This library was contained in an old chest; consisted of some score of +shabby volumes of all sizes, and was, in truth, a queer mixture. It +comprised, among other tomes, a Latin Bible and a missal, in intimate +proximity with two or three other volumes of that gay kind which even +the Visconte de Charrebourg would have blushed and trembled to have seen +in the hands of his child. It resembled thus the heterogeneous furniture +of his own mind, with an incongruous ingredient of superinduced +religion; but, on the whole, unpresentable and unclean. He took up the +well-thumbed Vulgate, in which, of late years, he had read a good deal, +but somehow, it did not interest him at that moment. He threw it back +again, and suffered his fancy to run riot among schemes more exciting +and, alas! less guiltless. His daughter's words had touched an evil +chord in his heart--she had unwittingly uncaged the devil that lurked +within him; and this guardian angel from the pit was playing, in truth, +very ugly pranks with his ambitious imagination. + +Lucille called old Marguerite to her bedroom, and there made the +astonishing disclosure of the promised visit; but the old woman, though +herself very fussy in consequence, perceived no corresponding excitement +in her young mistress; on the contrary, she was sad and abstracted. + +"Do you remember," said Lucille, after a long pause, "the story of the +fair demoiselle of Alsace you used to tell me long ago? How true her +lover was, and how bravely he fought through all the dangers of +witchcraft and war to find her out again and wed her, although he was a +noble knight, and she, as he believed, but a peasant's daughter. +Marguerite, it is a pretty story. I wonder if gentlemen are as true of +heart now?" + +"Ay, my dear, why not? love is love always; just the same as it was of +old is it now, and will be while the world wags." + +And with this comforting assurance their conference ended. + +The very next day came the visit of Monsieur Le Prun and his niece. The +Fermier-General was old and ugly, there is no denying it; he had a +shrewd, penetrating eye, moreover, and in the lines of his mouth were +certain unmistakable indications of habitual command. When his face was +in repose, indeed, its character was on the whole forbidding. But in +repose it seldom was, for he smiled and grimaced with an industry that +was amazing. + +His niece was a pretty little fair-haired girl of sixteen, with +something sad and even _funeste_ in her countenance. The fragile +timidity of the little blonde contrasted well with the fire and energy +that animated the handsome features of her new acquaintance. Julie St. +Pierre, for that was her name, seemed just as unconscious of Lucille's +deficient toilet as she was herself, and the two girls became, in the +space of an hour's ramble among the brakes and bushes of the park, as +intimate as if they had spent all their days together. Monsieur Le Prun, +meanwhile, conversed affably with the Visconte, whom he seemed to take a +pleasure in treating with a deference which secretly flattered alike his +pride and his vanity. He told him, moreover, that the contract for the +purchase of the Charrebourg estate was already completed, and pleased +himself with projecting certain alterations in the Visconte's humble +residence, which would certainly have made it a far more imposing piece +of architecture than it ever had been. All his plans, however, were +accompanied with so many submissions to the Visconte's superior taste, +and so many solicitations of "permission," and so many delicate +admissions of an ownership, which both parties knew to be imaginary, +that the visitor appeared in the attitude rather of one suing for than +conferring a favor. Add to all this that the Fermier-General had the +good taste to leave his equipage at the park gate, and trudged on foot +beside his little niece, who, in rustic fashion, was mounted on a +donkey, to make his visit. No wonder, then, that when the Croesus and +his little niece took their departure, they left upon the mind of the +old Visconte an impression which (although, for the sake of consistency, +he was still obliged to affect his airs of hauteur) was in the highest +degree favorable. + +The acquaintance thus commenced was not suffered to languish. Scarce a +day passed without either a visit or a _billet_, and thus some five or +six weeks passed. + +Lucille and her new companion became more and more intimate; but there +was one secret recorded in the innermost tablet of her heart which she +was too proud to disclose even to her gentle friend. For a day--days--a +week--a fortnight after her interview with Dubois, she lived in hope +that every hour might present his handsome form at the cottage door to +declare himself, and, with the Visconte's sanction, press his suit. +Every morning broke with hope, every night brought disappointment with +its chill and darkness, till hope expired, and feelings of bitterness, +wounded pride, and passionate resentment succeeded. What galled her +proud heart most was the fear that she had betrayed her fondness to him. +To be forsaken was hard enough to bear, but to the desolation of such a +loss the sting of humiliation superadded was terrible. + +One day the rumble of coach-wheels was heard upon the narrow, broken +road which wound by the Visconte's cottage. A magnificent equipage, +glittering with gold and gorgeous colors, drawn by four noble horses +worthy of Cinderella's state-coach, came rolling and rocking along the +track. The heart of Lucille beat fast under her little bodice as she +beheld its approach. The powdered servants were of course to open the +carriage-door, and Dubois himself, attired in the robes of a prince, was +to spring from within and throw himself passionately at her feet. In +short, she felt that the denouement of the fairy tale was at hand. + +The coach stopped--the door opened, and Monsieur Le Prun descended, and +handed his little niece to the ground; Lucille wished him and Dubois +both in the galleys. + +He was more richly dressed than usual, more ceremonious, and if possible +more gracious. He saluted Lucille, and after a word or two of +commonplace courtesy, joined the old Visconte, and they shortly entered +the old gentleman's chamber of audience together, and there remained for +more than an hour. At the end of that time they emerged together, both a +little excited as it seemed. The Fermier-General was flushed like a +scarlet withered apple, and his black eyes glowed and flashed with an +unusual agitation. The Visconte too was also flushed, and he carried his +head a little back, with an unwonted air of reserve and importance. + +The adieux were made with some little flurry, and the equipage swept +away, leaving the spot where its magnificence had just been displayed as +bleak and blank as the space on which the pageant of a phantasmagoria +has been for a moment reflected. + +The old servant of all work was charmed with this souvenir of better +days. Monsieur Le Prun had risen immensely in her regard in consequence +of the display she had just gloated upon. In the estimation of the +devoted Marguerite he was more than a Midas. His very eye seemed to gild +everything it fell upon as naturally as the sun radiates his yellow +splendor. The blue velvet liveries, the gold-studded harness, the +embossed and emblazoned coach, the stately beasts with their tails tied +up in great bows of broad blue ribbons, with silver fringe, like an +Arcadian beauty's chevelure, the reverential solemnity of the gorgeous +lacqueys, the _tout ensemble_ in short, was overpowering and delightful. + +"Well, child," said the Visconte, after he and Lucille had stood for a +while in silence watching the retiring equipage, taking her hand in his +at the same time, and leading her with a stately gravity along the +narrow walk which environed the cottage, "Monsieur Le Prun, it must be +admitted, has excellent taste; _par bleu_, his team would do honor to +the royal stables. What a superb equipage! Happy the woman whom fortune +will elect to share the splendor of which all that we have just seen is +but as a sparkle from the furnace--fortunate she whom Monsieur Le Prun +will make his wife." + +He spoke with so much emotion, directed a look of such triumphant +significance upon his daughter, and pressed her hand so hard, that on a +sudden a stupendous conviction, at once horrible and dazzling, burst +upon her. + +"Monsieur!--for the love of God do you mean--do you mean----?" she said, +and broke off abruptly. + +"Yes, my dear Lucille," he returned with elation, "I _do_ mean to tell +you that you--_you_ are that fortunate person. It is true that you can +bring him no wealth, but he already possesses more of that than he knows +how to apply. You can, however, bring him what few other women possess, +an ancient lineage, an exquisite beauty, and the simplicity of an +education in which the seeds of finesse and dissipation have not been +sown, in short, the very attributes and qualifications which he most +esteems--which he has long sought, and which in conversation he has +found irresistible in you. Monsieur Le Prun has entreated me to lay his +proposals at your feet, and you of course convey through me the +gratitude with which you accept them." + +Lucille was silent and pale; within her a war and chaos of emotions were +struggling, like the tumult of the ocean. + +"I felicitate you, my child," said the Visconte, kissing her throbbing +forehead; "in you the fortunes of your family will be restored--come +with me." + +She accompanied him into the cottage; she was walking, as it were, in a +wonderful dream; but amidst the confusion of her senses, her perplexity +and irresolution, there was a dull sense of pain at her heart, there was +a shadowy figure constantly before her; its presence agitated and +reproached her, but she had little leisure to listen to the pleadings of +a returning tenderness, even had they been likely to prevail with her +ambitious heart. Her father rapidly sketched such a letter of +complimentary acceptance as he conceived suitable to the occasion and +the parties. + +"Read that," he said, placing it before Lucille. "Well, that I think +will answer. What say you, child?" + +"Yes, sir," she replied with an effort; "it is true; he does me indeed +great honor; and--and I accept him; and now, sir, I would wish to go and +be for a while alone." + +"Do so," said her father, again kissing her, for he felt a sort of +gratitude toward her as the prime cause of all those comforts and +luxuries, whose long despaired-of return he now beheld in immediate and +certain prospect. Not heeding this unwonted exuberance of tenderness, +she hurried to her little bed-room, and sat down upon the side of her +bed. + +At first she wept passionately, but her girlish volatility soon dried +these tears. The magnificent equipage of Monsieur Le Prun swept before +her imagination. Her curious and dazzled fancy then took flight in +speculations as to the details of all the, as yet, undescribed splendors +in reserve. Then she thought of herself married, and mistress of all +this great fortune, and her heart beat thick, and she laughed aloud, and +clapped her hands in an ecstasy of almost childish exultation. + +Next day she received a long visit from Monsieur Le Prun, as her +accepted lover. Spite of all his splendor, he had never looked in her +eyes half so old, and ugly and sinister, as now. The marriage, which was +sometimes so delightfully full of promise to her vanity and ambition, in +his presence most perversely lost all its enchantment, and terrified +her, like some great but unascertained danger. It was however too late +now to recede; and even were she free to do so, it is more than probable +that she could not have endured the sacrifice involved in retracting her +consent. + +The Visconte's little household kept early hours. He himself went to bed +almost with the sun; and on the night after this decisive visit--for +such Monsieur Le Prun's first appearance and acceptation in the +character of an affianced bridegroom undoubtedly was--Lucille was lying +awake, the prey of a thousand agitating thoughts, when, on a sudden, +rising on the still night air came a little melody--alas! too well +known--a gay and tender song, chanted sweetly. Had the voice of Fate +called her, she could not have started more suddenly upright in her bed, +with eyes straining, and parted lips--one hand pushing back the rich +clusters of hair, and collecting the sound at her ear, and the other +extended toward the distant songster, and softly marking the time of +the air. She listened till the song died away, and covering her face +with her hands, she threw herself down upon the pillow, and sobbing +desolately, murmured--"too late!--too late!" + + +IV.--THE STRANGE LADY IN WHITE. + +The visits of the happy Fermier-General occurred, of course, daily, and +increased in duration. Meanwhile preparations went forward. The +Visconte, supplied from some mysterious source, appeared to have an +untold amount of cash. He made repeated excursions to the capital, which +for twenty years he had not so much as seen; and handsome dresses, +ornaments, &c., for Lucille, were accompanied by no less important +improvements upon his own wardrobe, as well as various accessions to the +comforts of their little dwelling--so numerous, indeed, as speedily to +effect an almost complete transformation in its character and +pretensions. + +Thus the time wore on, in a state of excitement, which, though checkered +with many fears, was on the whole pleasurable. + +About ten days had passed since the peculiar and delicate relation we +have described was established between Lucille and Monsieur Le Prun. +Urgent business had called him away to the city, and kept him closely +confined there, so that, for the first time since his declaration, his +daily visit was omitted upon this occasion. Had the good Fermier-General +but known all, he need not have offered so many apologies, nor labored +so hard to console his lady-love for his involuntary absence. The truth, +then, is, as the reader no doubt suspects, Lucille was charmed at +finding herself, even for a day, once more her own absolute mistress. + +A gay party from Paris, with orders of admission from the creditors, +that day visited the park. In a remote and bosky hollow they had seated +themselves upon the turf, and, amid songs and laughter, were enjoying a +cold repast. Far away these sounds of mirth were borne on the clear air +to Lucille. Alas! when should she laugh as gaily as those ladies, who, +with their young companions, were making merry?--when again should music +speak as of old with her heart, and bear in its chords no tone of +reproach and despair? This gay party broke up into groups, and began +merrily to ramble toward the great gate, where, of course, their +carriages were awaiting them. + +Attracted mournfully by their mirth, Lucille rambled onward as they +retreated. It was evening, and the sunbeams slanted pleasantly among the +trees and bushes, throwing long, soft shadows over the sward, and +converting into gold every little turf, and weed, and knob, that broke +the irregular sweep of the ground. + +She had reached a part of the park with which she was not so familiar. +Here several gentle hollows were converging toward the stream, and trees +and wild brushwood in fresh abundance clothed their sides, and spread +upward along the plain in rich and shaggy exuberance. + +From among them, with a stick in his hand, and running lightly in the +direction of her father's cottage, Gabriel suddenly emerged. + +On seeing her at the end of the irregular vista, which he had just +entered, however, he slackened his pace, and doffing his hat he +approached her. + +"A message, Gabriel?" she inquired. + +"Yes, if Mademoiselle pleases," said he, blushing all over, like the +setting sun. "I was running to the Visconte's house to tell +Mademoiselle." + +"Well, Gabriel, and what is it?" + +"Why, Mademoiselle, a strange lady in the glen desires me to tell +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg that she wishes to see her." + +"But did she say why she desired it, and what she wished to speak to me +about?" + +"No, Mademoiselle." + +"Then tell her that Mademoiselle de Charrebourg, knowing neither her +name nor her business, declines obeying her summons," said she, +haughtily. Gabriel bowed low, and was about to retire on his errand, +when she added-- + +"It was very dull of you, Gabriel, not to ask her what she wanted of +me." + +"Madame, without your permission, I dare not," he replied, with a deeper +blush, and a tone at once so ardent and so humble, that Lucille could +not forbear a smile of the prettiest good nature. + +"In truth, Gabriel, you are a dutiful boy. But how did you happen to +meet her?" + +"I was returning, Mademoiselle, from the other side of the stream, and +just when I got into the glen, on turning round the corner of the gray +stone, I saw her standing close to me behind the bushes." + +"And I suppose you were frightened?" she said, archly. + +"No, Mademoiselle, indeed; though she was strangely dressed and very +pale, but she spoke to me kindly. She asked me my name, and then she +looked in my face very hard, as a fortune-teller does, and she told me +many strange things, Mademoiselle, about myself; some of them I knew, +and some of them I never heard before." + +"I suppose she _is_ a fortune-teller; and how did she come to ask for +me?" + +"She inquired if the Visconte de Charrebourg still lived on the estate, +and then she said, 'Has he not a beautiful daughter called Lucille?' and +I, Mademoiselle, made bold to answer, 'O yes, madame, yes, in truth.'" + +Poor Gabriel blushed and faltered more than ever at this passage. + +"'Tell Mademoiselle,' she said, 'I have something that concerns her +nearly to tell her. Let her know that I am waiting here; but I cannot +stay long.' And so she beckoned me away impatiently, and I, expecting to +find you near the house was running, when Mademoiselle saw me." + +"It is very strange; stay, Gabriel, I _will_ go and speak to her, it is +only a step." + +The fact was that Lucille's curiosity (as might have been the case with +a great many of her sex in a similar situation) was too strong for her, +and her pride was forced to bend to its importunity. + +"Go you before," she said to Gabriel, who long remembered that evening +walk in attendance upon Lucille, as a scene so enchanting and delightful +as to be rather a mythic episode than an incident in his life; "and +Gabriel," she added, as they entered the cold shadow of the thick +evergreens, and felt she knew not why, a superstitious dread creep over +her, "do you wait within call, but so as not to overhear our +conversation; you understand me." + +They had now emerged from the dark cover into the glen, and looking +downward toward the little stream, at a short distance from them, the +figure of the mysterious lady was plainly discernible. She was sitting +with her back toward them upon a fragment of rock, under the bough of an +old gnarled oak. Her dress was a sort of loose white robe, it might be +of flannel, such as invalids in hospitals wear, and a red cloak had +slipped from her shoulders, and covered the ground at her feet. Thus, +solitary and mysterious, she suggested the image of a priestess cowering +over the blood of a victim in search of omens. + +Lucille approached her with some trepidation, and to avoid coming upon +her wholly by surprise she made a little detour, and thus had an +opportunity of seeing the features of the stranger, as well as of +permitting her to become aware of her approach. + +Her appearance, upon a nearer approach, was not such as to reassure +Lucille. She was tall, deadly pale, and marked with the smallpox. She +had particularly black eyebrows, and awaited the young lady's approach +with that ominous smile which ascends no higher than the lips, and +leaves the eyes and forehead dark, threatening, and uncertain. +Altogether, there was a character, it might be of insanity, it might be +of guilt, in the face, which was formidable. + +Lucille wished herself at home, but there was that in the blood of the +Charrebourgs which never turned away from danger, real or imaginary, +when once confronted. + +"So you are Lucille de Charrebourg?" said the figure, looking at her +with that expression of malice, which is all the more fearful that it +appears causeless. + +"Yea, Madame, that is my name; will you be so good as to tell me, +beside, the name of the lady who has been kind enough to desire an +interview with me?" + +"For a name; my dear, suit yourself; call me Sycorax, Jezebel, or what +you please, and I will answer to it." + +"But what are you?" + +"There again I give you a _carte blanche_; say I am a benevolent fairy; +you don't seem to like that? or your guardian-angel? nor that neither! +Well, a witch if you please, or a ghost, or a fortune-teller--ay, that +will do, a fortune-teller--so that is settled." + +"Well, Madame, if I may not know either your name or occupation, will +you be good enough at least to let me hear your business." + +"Surely, my charming demoiselle; you should have heard it immediately +had you not pestered me with so many childish questions. Well, then, +about this Monsieur Le Prun?" + +"Well, Madame?" said Lucille, not a little surprised. + +"Well, my dear, I'm not going to tell you whether this Monsieur Le Prun +is an angel, for angels they say _have_ married women; or whether he is +a Bluebeard--you have heard the story of Bluebeard, my little dear--but +this I say, be he which he may, _you_ must not marry him." + +"And pray, who constrains my will?" exclaimed the girl, scornfully, but +at the same time inwardly frightened. + +"_I_ do, my pretty pigeon; if you marry him, you do so forewarned, and +if he don't punish you _I_ will." + +"How dare you speak in that tone to me?" said Lucille, to whose cheek +the insolent threat of the stranger called a momentary flush of red; +"_you_ punish me, indeed, if _he_ does not! I'll not permit you to +address me so; besides I have help close by, if I please to call for +it." + +All this time the woman was laughing inwardly, and fumbling under her +white robe, as if in search of something. + +"I say he may be an angel, or he may be a bluebeard, I don't pretend to +say which," she continued, with a perfectly genuine contempt of +Lucille's vaunting, "but I have here an amulet that never fails in cases +like this; it will detect and expel the devil better than blessed water, +_vera crux_, or body of our Lord, for these things have sometimes +failed, but this can never. With the aid of this you cannot be deceived. +If he be a good man its influence will be ineffectual against him; but +if, on the other hand, he be possessed of evil spirits, then test him +with it, and you will behold him for a moment as he is." + +"Let me see it, then." + +"Here it is." + +She drew from under the white folds of her dress a small spiral bottle, +enameled with some Chinese characters, and set in a base and capital of +chased gold, with four little spiral pillars at the corners connecting +the top and bottom, and leaving the porcelain visible between. It had, +moreover, a stopper that closed with a spring, and altogether did not +exceed two inches in length, and in thickness was about the size of a +swan's quill. It looked like nothing earthly, but what she had described +it. For a scent-bottle, indeed, it might possibly have been used; but +there was something odd and knowing about this little curiosity, +something mysterious, and which seemed as though it had a tale to tell. +In short, Lucille looked on it with all the interest, and if the truth +must be spoken, a good deal of the awe, which its pretensions demanded. + +"And what am I to do with this little bauble?" she asked, after she had +examined it for some moments curiously. + +"When you want to make trial of its efficacy, take it forth, look +steadily in his face, and say, 'I expect to receive the counterpart of +this,' that is all. If he be a good man, as who can say, the talisman +will leave him as it finds him. But if he be, as some men are, the slave +of Satan, you will see, were it but for a second, the sufferings and +passions of hell in his face. Fear not to make trial of it, for no harm +can ensue; you will but know the character you have to deal with." + +"But this is a valuable bauble, its price must be considerable, and I +have no money." + +"Well, suppose I make it a present to you." + +"I should like to have it--but--but----." + +"But I am too poor to part with it on such terms, and you too proud to +take it--is that your meaning? Never mind, I can afford to give it, and, +proud as you are, you can afford to take it. Hide it until the time to +try him comes, and then speak as I told you." + +"Well, I will accept it," said Lucille, coldly, but her voice trembled +and her face was pale; "and this I know, if there be any virtue of any +sort in the toy, it can only prove Monsieur Le Prun's goodness. Yes, he +is a very kind man, and all the world, I am told, speaks of his +excellence." + +"Very probably," said the stranger, "but mark my words, don't marry him; +if you do, you shall see me again." + +"Halloa, devil! are you deaf?" thundered a sneering voice from a crag at +the opposite side. "Come, come, it's time we were moving." + +The summons came from a broad, short, swarthy fellow, with black +mustaches and beard, arrayed in a suit of dusky red. He had one hand +raised high above his head beckoning to her, and with the other he +furiously shook the spreading branch of a tree beside him; the prominent +whites of his eyes, and his grinning teeth, were, even at that distance, +seen conspicuous; and so shaggy, furious, and unearthly did he seem, +that he might well have represented some wild huntsman or demon of the +wood. It seemed, indeed, as though a sort of witches' dance were to be +held that night in the old park of Charrebourg, and that some of the +preternatural company had reached the trysting-place before their time. + +The ill-omened woman in white hastily gathered up her mantle, without +any gesture or word of farewell. With hurried strides her tall figure +glided off toward the apparition in red, and both speedily disappeared +among the hazy cover at the other side. + +The little hollow was now deserted, except for Lucille. It was not till +they had quite vanished, and that she was left there alone, that she +felt something akin to terror steal over her, and hurried from the scene +of her strange interview as from a haunted spot. A little way up the +rising bank Gabriel was awaiting her return, sorely disappointed that +fortune had in no wise made her debtor to his valor. + +Long before she reached home the sun had gone down, and the long dusky +shadows had given place to the thin, cold haze of approaching night. +Often as she glided onward among rocks and bushes she felt an +instinctive impulse, something between terror and aversion, prompting +her to hurl the little spiral vial far from her among the wild weeds and +misty brakes, where, till doomsday, it might never be found again. But +other feelings, stranger in their kind, determined her at least to defer +the sacrifice, and so she reached her chamber with the mysterious gift +fast in her tiny grasp. + +Here she again examined it, more minutely than before; it contained +neither fluid nor powder of any sort, and was free from any perfume or +odor whatsoever; and excepting that the more closely she inspected it, +the more she discovered in its workmanship to excite her admiration, her +careful and curious investigation was without result. As she carefully +folded up the curious souvenir, and secreted it in the safest corner of +the safest drawer, she thought over the interview again and again, and +always with the same result as respected the female who had bestowed it, +namely, that if not actually a lady, she had at least the education and +the manners of a person above the working classes. + +That night Lucille was haunted with ugly dreams. Voices were speaking to +her in threats and blasphemies from the little vial. The mysterious lady +in white would sit huddled up at the foot of her bed, and the more she +smiled the more terrible became her scowl, until at last her countenance +began to dilate, and she slowly advanced her face closer and closer, +until, just as her smiling lips reached Lucille, she uttered a yell, +whether of imprecation or terror she could not hear, but which scared +her from her sleep like a peal of thunder. Then a great coffin was +standing against the wall with Monsieur Le Prun in it dead and shrouded, +and a troop of choristers began singing a requiem, when on a sudden the +furious voice she had heard that evening screamed aloud, "To what +purpose all this hymning, seeing the corpse is possessed by evil +spirits;" and then such looks of rage and hatred flitted over the livid +face in the coffin, as nothing but hell could have inspired. Then again +she would see Monsieur Le Prun struggling, his face all bloody and +distorted, with the man in red and the strange lady of the talisman, who +screamed, laughing with a detestable glee, "Come bride, come, the +bridegroom waits." Such horrid dreams as these haunted her all night, so +much so that one might almost have fancied that an evil influence had +entered her chamber with the little vial. But the songs of gay birds +pruning their wings, and the rustle of the green leaves glittering in +the early sun round her window, quickly dispelled the horrors which had +possessed her little room in the hours of silence and darkness. It was, +notwithstanding, with a sense of fear and dislike that she opened the +drawer where the little vial lay, and unrolling all the paper envelopes +in which it was carefully folded, beheld it once more in the clear light +of day. + +"Nothing, nothing, but a grotesque little scent-bottle--why should I be +afraid of it?--a poor little pretty toy." + +So she said, as she folded it up again, and deposited it once more where +it had lain all night. But for all that she felt a mysterious sense of +relief when she ran lightly from her chamber into the open air, +conscious that the harmless little toy was no longer present. + + +V.--THE CHATEAU DES ANGES. + +The next day Monsieur Le Prun returned. His vanity ascribed the manifest +agitation of Lucille's manner to feelings very unlike the distrust, +alarm, and aversion which, since her last night's adventure, had filled +her mind. He came, however, armed with votive evidences of his passion, +alike more substantial and more welcome than the gallant speeches in +which he dealt. He brought her, among other jewels, a suit of brilliants +which must have cost alone some fifteen or twenty thousand francs. He +seemed to take a delight in overpowering her with the costly exuberance +of his presents. Was there in this a latent distrust of his own personal +resources, and an anxiety to astound and enslave by means of his +magnificence--to overwhelm his proud but dowerless bride with the almost +fabulous profusion and splendor of his wealth? Perhaps there was, and +the very magnificence which dazzled her was prompted more by meanness +than generosity. + +This time he came accompanied by a gentleman, the Sieur de Blassemare, +who appeared pretty much what he actually was--a sort of general agent, +adviser, companion, and hanger-on of the rich Fermier-General. + +The Sieur de Blassemare had his _titres de noblesse_, and started in +life with a fair fortune. This, however, he had seriously damaged by +play, and was now obliged to have recourse to that species of dexterity, +to support his luxuries, which, employed by others, had been the main +agent in his own ruin. The millionaire and the parvenu found him +invaluable. He was always gay, always in good humor; a man of birth and +breeding, well accepted, in spite of his suspected rogueries, in the +world of fashion--an adept in all its ways, as well as in the mysteries +of human nature; active, inquisitive, profligate; the very man to pick +up intelligence when it was needed--to execute a delicate commission, or +to advise and assist in any project of taste. In addition to all these +gifts and perfections, his fund of good spirits and scandalous anecdote +was inexhaustible, and so Monsieur Le Prun conceived him very cheaply +retained at the expense of allowing him to cheat him quietly of a few +score of crowns at an occasional game of picquet. + +This fashionable sharper and voluptuary was now somewhere about +five-and-forty; but with the assistance of his dress, which was +exquisite, and the mysteries of his toilet, which was artistic in a high +degree, and above all, his gayety, which never failed him, he might +easily have passed for at least six years younger. + +It was the wish of the benevolent Monsieur Le Prun to set the Viscount +quite straight in money matters; and as there still remained, like the +electric residuum in a Leyden vial after the main shock has been +discharged, some few little affairs not quite dissipated in the +explosion of his fortunes, and which, before his reappearance even in +the background of society, must be arranged, he employed his agile +aid-de-camp, the Sieur de Blassemare, to fish out these claims and +settle them. + +It was not to be imagined that a young girl, perfectly conscious of her +beauty, with a great deal of vanity and an immensity of ambition, could +fail to be delighted at the magnificent presents with which her rich old +lover had that day loaded her. + +She spread them upon the counterpane of her bed, and when she was tired +of admiring them, she covered herself with her treasures, hung the +flashing necklace about her neck, and clasped her little wrists in the +massive bracelets, stuck a pin here and a brooch there, and covered her +fingers with sparkling jewels; and though she had no looking-glass +larger than a playing-card in which to reflect her splendor, she yet +could judge in her own mind very satisfactorily of the effect. Then, +after she had floated about her room, and courtesied, and waved her +hands to her heart's content, she again strewed the bed with these +delightful, intoxicating jewels, which flashed actual fascination upon +her gaze. + +At that moment her gratitude effervesced, and she almost felt that, +provided she were never to behold his face again, she could--_not love_, +but _like_ Monsieur Le Prun very well; she half relented, she almost +forgave him; she would have received with good-will, with thanks, and +praises, anything and everything he pleased to give her, except his +company. + +Meanwhile the old Visconte, somewhat civilized and modernized by recent +restorations, was walking slowly to and fro in the little bowling-green, +side by side with Blassemare. + +"Yes," he said, "with confidence I give my child into his hands. It is a +great trust, Blassemare; but he is gifted with those qualities, which, +more than wealth, conduce to married happiness. I confide in him a great +trust, but I feel I risk no sacrifice." + +A comic smile, which he could not suppress, illuminated the dark +features of Blassemare, and he looked away as if studying the landscape +until it subsided. + +"He is the most disinterested and generous of men," resumed the old +gentleman. + +"_Ma foi_, so he is," rejoined his companion; "but Mademoiselle de +Charrebourg happened to be precisely the person he needed; birth, +beauty, simplicity--a rare alliance. You underrate the merits of +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg. He makes no such presents to the Sisters of +Charity." + +"Pardon me, sir, I know her merits well; she is indeed a dutiful and +dear child." + +And the Visconte's eyes filled with moisture, for his heart was softened +by her prosperity, involving, as it did, his own. + +"And will make one of the handsomest as she will, no doubt, one of the +most loving wives in France," said Blassemare, gravely. + +"And he will make, or I am no prophet, an admirable husband," resumed +the Visconte; "he has so much good feeling and so much----" + +"So much money," suggested Blassemare, who was charmed at the Visconte's +little hypocrisy; "ay, by my faith, that he has; and as to that little +bit of scandal, those mysterious reports, you know," he added, with a +malicious simplicity. + +"Yes, I know," said the Visconte, shortly. + +"All sheer fiction, my dear Visconte," continued Blassemare, with a +shrug and a smile of disclaimer. + +"Of course, of course," said the Visconte, peremptorily. + +"It was talked about, you know," persisted his malicious companion, +"about twenty years ago, but it is quite discredited now--scouted. You +can't think how excellently our good friend the Fermier-General is +established in society. But I need not tell you, for of course you +satisfied yourself; the alliance on which I felicitate Le Prun proves +it." + +The Visconte made a sort of wincing smile and a bow. He saw that +Blassemare was making a little scene out of his insincerities for his +own private entertainment. But there is a sort of conventional hypocrisy +which had become habitual to them both. It was like a pair of blacklegs +cheating one another for practice with their eyes open. So Blassemare +presented his snuff-box, and the Visconte, with equal _bonhomie_, took +a pinch, and the game was kept up pleasantly between them. + +Meanwhile Lucille, in her chamber, the window of which opened upon the +bowling-green, caught a word or two of the conversation we have just +sketched. What she heard was just sufficient to awaken the undefined but +anxious train of ideas which had become connected with the image of +Monsieur Le Prun. Something seemed all at once to sadden and quench the +fire that blazed in her diamonds; they were disenchanted; her heart no +longer danced in their light. With a heavy sigh she turned to the drawer +where the charmed vial lay; she took it out; she weighed it in her hand. + +"After all," she said, "it _is_ but a toy. Why should it trouble me? +What harm _can_ be in it?" + +She placed it among the golden store that lay spread upon her coverlet. +But it would not assimilate with those ornaments; on the contrary, it +looked only more quaint and queer, like a suspicious stranger among +them. She hurriedly took it away, more dissatisfied, somehow, than ever. +She inwardly felt that there was danger in it, but what could it be? +what its purpose, significance, or power? Conjecture failed her. There +it lay, harmless and pretty for the present, but pregnant with unknown +mischief, like a painted egg, stolen from a serpent's nest, which time +and temperature are sure to hatch at last. + +The strangest circumstance about it was, that she could not make up her +mind to part with or destroy it. It exercised over her the fascination +of a guilty companionship. She hated but could not give it up. And yet, +after all, what a trifle to fret the spirits even of a girl! + +It is wonderful how rapidly impressions of pain or fear, if they be not +renewed, lose their influence upon the conduct and even upon the +spirits. The scene in the glen, the image of the unprepossessing and +mysterious pythoness, and the substance and manner of the sinister +warning she communicated, were indeed fixed in her memory ineffaceably. +But every day that saw her marriage approach in security and peace, and +her preparations proceed without molestation, served to dissipate her +fears and to obliterate the force of that hated scene. + +It was, therefore, only now and then that the odd and menacing +occurrence recurred to her memory with a depressing and startling +effect. At such moments, it might be of weakness, the boding words, +"Don't marry him; if you do you shall see me again," smote upon her +heart like the voice of a specter, and she felt that chill, succeeded by +vague and gloomy anxiety, which superstition ascribes to the passing +presence of a spirit from the grave. + +"I don't think you are happy, dear Lucille, or may be you are offended +with me," said Julie St. Pierre, turning her soft blue eyes full upon +her handsome companion, and taking her hand timidly between her own. + +They were sitting together on a wild bank, shaded by a screen of +brushwood, in the park. Lucille had been silent, abstracted, and, as it +seemed, almost sullen during their walk, and poor little timid Julie, +who cherished for her girlish friend that sort of devotion with which +gentler and perhaps better natures are so often inspired by firmer +wills, and more fiery tempers, was grieved and perplexed. + +"Tell me, Lucille, are you angry with me?" + +"_I_ angry! no, indeed; and angry with you, my dear, _dear_ little +friend! I could not be, dear Julie, even were I to try." + +And so they kissed heartily again and again. + +"Then," said Julie, sitting down by her, and taking her hand more firmly +in hers, and looking with such a loving interest as nothing could resist +in her face, "you are unhappy. Why don't you tell me what it is that +grieves you? I dare say I could give you very wise counsel, and, at all +events, console you. At the convent the pensioners used all to come to +me when they were in trouble, and, I assure you, I always gave them good +advice." + +"But I am not unhappy." + +"Really?" + +"No, indeed." + +"Well, shall I tell you? I thought you were unhappy because you are +going to be married to my uncle." + +"Folly, folly, my dear little prude. Your uncle is a very good man, and +a very grand match. I ought to be delighted at a prospect so brilliant." + +Even while Lucille spoke, she felt a powerful impulse to tell her little +companion _all_--her fondness for Dubois, her aversion for Monsieur Le +Prun, the scene with the strange woman, and her own forebodings; but +such a confession would have been difficult to reconcile with her fixed +resolution to let the affair take its course, and at all hazards marry +the man whom, it was vain to disguise it from herself, she disliked, +distrusted, and feared. + +"I was going to give you comfort by my own story. I never told you +before that _I_, too, am affianced." + +"Affianced! and to whom?" + +"To the Marquis de Secqville." + +"Hey! Why that is the very gentleman of whom Monsieur de Blassemare told +us such wicked stories the other day." + +"Did he?" she said, with a sigh. "Well, I often feared he was a +prodigal; but heaven, I trust, will reclaim him." + +"But you do not love him?" + +"No. I never saw him but once." + +"And are you happy?" + +"Yes, quite happy now; but, dear Lucille, I was very miserable once. You +must know that shortly after we were betrothed, when I was placed in the +convent at Rouen, there was a nice girl there, of whom I soon grew very +fond. Her brother, Henri, used to come almost every day to see her. He +was about three years older than I, and so brave and beautiful. I did +not know that I loved him until his sister went away, and his visits, of +course, ceased; and when I could not see him any more, I thought my +heart would break." + +"Poor little Julie!" + +"I was afraid of being observed when I wept, but I used to cry to myself +all night long, and wish to die, as my mother used to fear long ago I +would do before I came to be as old as I am now; and I could not even +hear of him, for my friend, his sister, had married, and was living near +Caen, and so we were quite separated." + +"You were, _indeed_, very miserable, my poor little friend." + +"Yes; but at last, after a whole year, she was passing through Rouen, +and so she came to the convent to see me. Oh, when I saw her my heart +fluttered so that I thought I should have choked. I don't know why it +was, but I was afraid to ask for him; but at last, finding she would not +speak of him at all, which I thought was ill-natured, though indeed it +was not, I _did_ succeed, and asked her how he was; then all at once she +began to cry, for he was dead; and knowing _that_, I forgot +everything--I lost sight of everything--they said I fainted. And when I +awoke again there was a good many of the sisters and some of the +pensioners round me, and my friend still weeping; and the superioress +was there, too, but I did not heed them, but only said I would not +believe he was dead. Then I was very ill for more than a month, and my +uncle came to see me; but I don't think he knew what had made me so; and +as soon as I grew better the superioress was very angry with me, and +told me it was very wicked, which it may have been, but indeed I could +not help it; and she gave me in charge to sister Eugenie to bring me to +a sense of my sinfulness, seeing that I ought not to have loved any one +but him to whom I was betrothed." + +"Alas! poor Julie, I suppose she was a harsh preceptress also." + +"No, indeed; on the contrary, she was very kind and gentle. She was so +young--only twenty-three--dear sister Eugenie!--and so pretty, though +she was very pale, and oh, so thin; and when we were both alone in her +room she used to let me tell her all my story, and she used to draw her +hand over her pretty face, and cry so bitterly in return, and kiss me, +and shake me by the hands, that I often thought she must once have loved +some one also herself, and was weeping because she could never see him +again; so I grew to love her very much; but I did not know all that time +that sister Eugenie was dying. The day I took leave of her she seemed as +if she was going to tell me something about herself, and I think now if +I had pressed her she would. I am very sorry I did not, for it would +have been pleasant to me as long as I live to have given the dear sister +any comfort, and shown how truly I loved her. But it was not so, and +only four months after we parted she died; but I hope we may meet, where +I am sure she is gone, in heaven, and then she will know how much I +loved her, and how good, and gentle, and kind, I always thought her." + +Poor little Julie shed tears at these words. + +"Now I do not love the Marquis," she continued, "nor I am sure does he +love me. It will be but a match of convenience. I suppose he will +continue to follow his amusements and I will live quietly at home; so +after all it will make but little change to me, and I will still be as I +am now, the widow of poor Henri." + +"You are so tranquil, dear Julie, because he is dead. Happy is it for +you that he is in his grave. Come, let us return." + +They began to walk toward the cottage. + +"And how would you spend your days, Julie, had you the choice of your +own way of life?" + +"I would take the vail. I would like to be a nun, and to die early, like +sister Eugenie." + +Lucille looked at her with undisguised astonishment. + +"Take the vail!" she exclaimed, "so young, so pretty. _Parbleu_, I would +rather work in the fields or beg my bread on the high-roads. Take the +vail--no, no, no. Marguerite told me I had a great-aunt who took the +vail, and three years after died mad in a convent in Paris. Ah, it is a +sad life, Julie, it is a sad life!" + +It was the wish of the Fermier-General that his nuptials should be +celebrated with as much privacy as possible. The reader, therefore, will +lose nothing by our dismissing the ceremony as rapidly as may be. Let it +suffice to say, that it _did_ take place, and to describe the +arrangements with which it was immediately succeeded. + +Though Monsieur Le Prun had become the purchaser of the Charrebourg +estate, he did not choose to live upon it. About eight leagues from +Paris he possessed a residence better suited to his tastes and plans. It +was said to have once belonged to a scion of royalty, who had contrived +it with a view to realizing upon earth a sort of Mahomedan paradise. +Nothing indeed could have been better devised for luxury as well as +seclusion. From some Romish legend attaching to its site, it had +acquired the name of the Chateau des Anges, a title which unhappily did +not harmonize with the traditions more directly connected with the +building itself. + +It was a very spacious structure, some of its apartments were even +magnificent, and the entire fabric bore overpowering evidences, alike in +its costly materials and finish, and in the details of its design, of +the prodigal and voluptuous magnificence to which it owed its existence. + +It was environed by lordly forests, circle within circle, which were +pierced by long straight walks diverging from common centers, and almost +losing themselves in the shadowy distance. Studded, too, with a series +of interminable fishponds, encompassed by hedges of beech, yew, and +evergreens of enormous height and impenetrable density, under whose +emerald shadows water-fowl of all sorts, from the princely swan down to +the humble water-hen, were sailing and gliding this way and that, like +rival argosies upon the seas. + +The view of the chateau itself, when at last, through those dense and +extensive cinctures of sylvan scenery, you had penetrated to its site, +was, from almost every point, picturesque and even beautiful. + +Successive terraces of almost regal extent, from above whose marble +balustrades and rows of urns the tufted green of rare and rich plants, +in a long, gorgeous wreath of foliage, was peeping, ran, tier above +tier, conducting the eye, among statues and graceful shrubs, to the +gables and chimneys of the quaint but vast chateau itself. The forecourt +upon which the great avenue debouched was large enough for the stately +muster of a royal levee; and at intervals, upon the balustrade which +surrounded it, were planted a long file of stone statues, each +originally holding a lamp, which, however, the altered habits of the +place had long since dismounted. + +If the place had been specially contrived, as it was said to have been, +for privacy, it could not have been better planned. It was literally +buried in an umbrageous labyrinth of tufted forest. Even the great +avenue commanded no view of the chateau, but abutted upon a fountain, +backed by a towering screen of foliage, where the approach divided, and +led by a double road to the court we have described. In fact, except +from the domain itself, the very chimneys of the chateau were invisible +for a circuit of miles around, the nearest point from which a glance of +its roof could be caught being the heights situated a full league away. + +If the truth must be told, then, Monsieur Le Prun was conscious of some +disparity in point of years between himself and his beautiful wife; and +although he affected the most joyous confidence upon the subject, he was +nevertheless as ill at ease as most old fellows under similar +circumstances. It soon became, therefore, perfectly plain, that the +palace to which the wealthy bridegroom had transported his beautiful +wife was, in truth, but one of those enchanted castles in which enamored +genii in fairy legends are described as guarding their captive +princesses--a gorgeous and luxurious prison, to which there was no +access, from which no escape, and where amidst all the treasures and +delights of a sensuous paradise, the captive beauty languished and +saddened. + +END OF PART I. + + +[From the Examiner.] + +TO CHARLES DICKENS. + +BY WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. + + Call we for harp or song? + Accordant numbers, measured out, belong + Alone, we hear, to bard. + Let him this badge, for ages worn, discard; + Richer and nobler now + Than when the close-trimm'd laurel mark'd his brow, + And from one fount his thirst + Was slaked, and from none other proudly burst + Neighing, the winged steed. + Gloriously fresh were those young days indeed! + Clear, if confined, the view: + The feet of giants swept that early dew; + More graceful came behind, + And golden tresses waved upon the wind. + + Pity and Love were seen + In earnest converse on the humble green; + Grief too was there, but Grief + Sat down with them, nor struggled from relief. + Strong Pity was, strong he, + But little love was bravest of the three. + At what the sad one said + Often he smiled, though Pity shook her head. + Descending from their clouds, + The Muses mingled with admiring crowds: + Each had her ear inclined, + Each caught and spoke the language of mankind + From choral thraldom free... + Dickens! didst thou teach _them_, or they teach _thee_? + +_September, 1850._ + + +[From "Light and Darkness," by Catharine Crowe, Author of "The Night +Side of Nature," &c. &c.] + +THE TWO MISS SMITHS. + +In a certain town in the West of England, which shall be nameless, there +dwelt two maiden ladies of the name of Smith; each possessing a small +independence, each residing, with a single maid-servant, in a small +house, the drawing-room floor of which was let, whenever lodgers could +be found; each hovering somewhere about the age of fifty, and each +hating the other with a restless and implacable enmity. The origin of +this aversion was the similarity of their names; each was Miss C. Smith, +the one being called Cecilia, the other Charlotte--a circumstance which +gave rise to such innumerable mistakes and misunderstandings, as were +sufficient to maintain these ladies in a constant state of irritability +and warfare. Letters, messages, invitations, parcels, bills, were daily +missent, and opened by the wrong person; thus exposing the private +affairs of one to the other; and as their aversion had long ago +extinguished everything like delicacy on either side, any information so +acquired was used without scruple to their mutual annoyance. Presents, +too, of fruit, vegetables, or other delicacies from the neighboring +gentry, not unfrequently found their way to the wrong house; and if +unaccompanied by a letter, which took away all excuse for mistake, they +were appropriated without remorse, even when the appropriating party +felt confident in her heart that the article was not intended for her; +and this not from greediness or rapacity, but from the absolute delight +they took in vexing each other. + +It must be admitted, also, that this well-known enmity was occasionally +played upon by the frolic-loving part of the community, both high and +low; so that over and above the genuine mistakes, which were of +themselves quite enough to keep the poor ladies in hot water, every now +and then some little hoax was got up and practiced upon them, such as +fictitious love-letters, anonymous communications, and so forth. It +might have been imagined, as they were not answerable for their names, +and as they were mutual sufferers by the similarity--one having as much +right to complain of this freak of fortune as the other, that they might +have entered into a compact of forbearance, which would have been +equally advantageous to either party; but their naturally acrimonious +dispositions prevented this, and each continued as angry with the other +as she could have been if she had a sole and indefeasible right to the +appellation of _C. Smith_, and her rival had usurped it in a pure spirit +of annoyance and opposition. To be quite just, however, we must observe +that Miss Cecilia was much the worse of the two; by judicious management +Miss Charlotte might have been tamed, but the malice of Miss Cecilia was +altogether inexorable. + +By the passing of the Reform Bill, the little town wherein dwelt these +belligerent powers received a very considerable accession of importance; +it was elevated into a borough, and had a whole live member to itself, +which, with infinite pride and gratification, it sent to parliament, +after having extracted from him all manner of pledges, and loaded him +with all manner of instructions as to how he should conduct himself +under every conceivable circumstance; not to mention a variety of bills +for the improvement of the roads and markets, the erection of a +town-hall, and the reform of the systems of watching, paving, lighting, +&c., the important and consequential little town of B----. + +A short time previous to the first election--an event which was +anticipated by the inhabitants with the most vivid interest--one of the +candidates, a country gentleman who resided some twenty miles off, took +a lodging in the town, and came there with his wife and family, in +order, by a little courtesy and a few entertainments, to win the hearts +of the electors and their friends; and his first move was to send out +invitations for a tea and card party, which, in due time, when the +preparations were completed, was to be followed by a ball. There was but +one milliner and dressmaker of any consideration in the town of B----, +and it may be imagined that on so splendid an occasion her services were +in great request--so much so, that in the matter of head-dresses, she +not only found that it would be impossible, in so short a period, to +fulfill the commands of her customers, but also that she had neither the +material nor the skill to give them satisfaction. It was, therefore, +settled that she should send off an order to a house in Exeter, which +was the county town, for a cargo of caps, toquets, turbans, &c., fit for +all ages and faces--"such as were not disposed of to be returned;" and +the ladies consented to wait, with the best patience they could, for +this interesting consignment, which was to arrive, without fail, on the +Wednesday, Thursday being the day fixed for the party. But the last +coach arrived on Wednesday night without the expected boxes; however, +the coachman brought a message for Miss Gibbs, the milliner, assuring +her that they would be there the next morning without fail. + +Accordingly, when the first Exeter coach rattled through the little +street of B----, which was about half-past eleven, every head that was +interested in the freight was to be seen looking anxiously out for the +deal boxes; and, sure enough, there they were--three of them--large +enough to contain caps for the whole town. Then there was a rush up +stairs for their bonnets and shawls; and in a few minutes troops of +ladies, young and old, were seen hurrying toward the market-place, where +dwelt Miss Gibbs--the young in pursuit of artificial flowers, gold +bands, and such like adornments--the elderly in search of a more mature +order of decoration. + +Amongst the candidates for finery, nobody was more eager than the two +Miss Smiths; and they had reason to be so, not only because they had +neither of them anything at all fit to be worn at Mrs. Hanaway's party, +which was in a style much above the entertainments they were usually +invited to, but also because they both invariably wore turbans, and each +was afraid that the other might carry off the identical turban that +might be most desirable for herself. Urged by this feeling, so alert +were they, that they were each standing at their several windows when +the coach passed, with their bonnets and cloaks actually on--ready to +start for the plate!--determined to reach Miss Gibbs's in time to +witness the opening of the boxes. But "who shall control his fate?" Just +as Miss Cecilia was stepping off her threshold, she was accosted by a +very gentlemanly looking person, who, taking off his hat, with an air +really irresistible, begged to know if he had "the honor of seeing Miss +Smith"--a question which was of course answered in the affirmative. + +"I was not quite sure," said he, "whether I was right, for I had +forgotten the number; but I thought it was sixty," and he looked at the +figures on the door. + +"This _is_ sixty, sir," said Miss Cecilia; adding to herself, "I wonder +if it was sixteen he was sent to?" for at number sixteen lived Miss +Charlotte. + +"I was informed, madam," pursued the gentleman, "that I could be +accommodated with apartments here--that you had a first floor to let." + +"That is quite true, sir," replied Miss Cecilia, delighted to let her +rooms, which had been some time vacant, and doubly gratified when the +stranger added, "I come from Bath, and was recommended by a friend of +yours, indeed probably a relation, as she bears the same name--Miss +Joanna Smith." + +"I know Miss Joanna very well, sir," replied Miss Cecilia; "pray, walk +up stairs, and I'll show you the apartments directly. (For," thought +she, "I must not let him go out of the house till he has taken them, for +fear he should find out his mistake.) Very nice rooms, sir, you +see--everything clean and comfortable--a pretty view of the canal in +front--just between the baker's and the shoemaker's; you'll get a peep, +sir, if you step to this window. Then it's uncommonly lively; the Exeter +and Plymouth coaches, up and down, rattling through all day long, and +indeed all night too, for the matter of that. A beautiful little +bedroom, back, too, sir--Yes, as you observe, it certainly does look +over a brick-kiln; but there's no dust--not the least in the world--for +I never allow the windows to be opened: altogether, there can't be a +pleasanter situation than it is." + +The stranger, it must be owned, seemed less sensible of all these +advantages than he ought to have been; however he engaged the +apartments: it was but for a short time, as he had come there about some +business connected with the election; and as Miss Joanna had so +particularly recommended him to the lodging, he did not like to +disoblige her. So the bargain was struck: the maid received orders to +provision the garrison with bread, butter, tea, sugar, &c., whilst the +gentleman returned to the inn to dispatch Boots with his portmanteau and +carpet-bag. + +"You were only just in time, sir," observed Miss Cecilia, as they +descended the stairs, "for I expected a gentleman to call at twelve +o'clock to-day, who, I am sure, would have taken the lodgings." + +"I should be sorry to stand in the way," responded the stranger, who +would not have been at all sorry for an opportunity of backing out of +the bargain. "Perhaps you had better let him have them--I can easily get +accommodated elsewhere." + +"Oh dear, no, sir; dear me! I wouldn't do such a thing for the world!" +exclaimed Miss Cecilia, who had only thrown out this little inuendo by +way of binding her lodger to his bargain, lest, on discovering his +mistake, he should think himself at liberty to annul the agreement. For +well she knew that it _was_ a mistake: Miss Joanna of Bath was Miss +Charlotte's first cousin, and, hating Miss Cecilia, as she was in duty +bound to do, would rather have sent her a dose of arsenic than a lodger, +any day. She had used every precaution to avoid the accident that had +happened, by writing on a card, "Miss Charlotte Smith, No. 16, High +street, B----, _opposite the linendrapers shop_," but the thoughtless +traveler, never dreaming of the danger in which he stood, lost the card, +and, trusting to his memory, fell into the snare. + +Miss Cecilia had been so engrossed by her anxiety to hook this fish +before her rival could have a chance of throwing out a bait for him, +that, for a time, she actually forgot Miss Gibbs and the turban; but now +that point was gained, and she felt sure of her man, her former care +revived with all its force, and she hurried along the street toward the +market-place, in a fever of apprehension lest she should be too late. +The matter certainly looked ill; for, as she arrived breathless at the +door, she saw groups of self-satisfied faces issuing from it, and, +amongst the rest, the obnoxious Miss Charlotte's physiognomy appeared, +looking more pleased than anybody. + +"Odious creature!" thought Miss Cecilia; "as if she supposed that any +turban in the world could make her look tolerable!" But Miss Charlotte +did suppose it; and moreover she had just secured the very identical +turban that of all the turbans that ever were made was most likely to +accomplish this desideratum--at least so she opined. + +Poor Miss Cecilia! Up stairs she rushed, bouncing into Miss Gibbs's +little room, now strewed with finery. "Well, Miss Gibbs, I hope you have +something that will suit me?" + +"Dear me, mem," responded Miss Gibbs, "what a pity you did not come a +little sooner. The only two turbans we had are just gone--Mrs. Gosling +took one, and Miss Charlotte Smith the other--two of the +beautifulest--here they are, indeed--you shall see them;" and she opened +the boxes in which they were deposited, and presented them to the +grieved eye of Miss Cecilia. + +She stood aghast! The turbans were very respectable turbans indeed; but +to her disappointed and eager desires they appeared worthy of Mahomet +the Prophet, or the grand Sultana, or any other body, mortal or +immortal, that has ever been reputed to wear turbans. And this +consummation of perfection she had lost! lost just by a neck! missed it +by an accident, that, however gratifying she had thought it at the time, +she now felt was but an inadequate compensation for her present +disappointment. But there was no remedy. Miss Gibbs had nothing fit to +make a turban of; besides, Miss Cecilia would have scorned to appear in +any turban that Miss Gibbs could have compiled, when her rival was to be +adorned with a construction of such superhuman excellence. No! the only +consolation she had was to scold Miss Gibbs for not having kept the +turbans till she had seen them, and for not having sent for a greater +number of turbans. To which objurgations Miss Gibbs could only answer: +"That she had been extremely sorry indeed, when she saw the ladies were +bent upon having the turbans, as she had ordered two entirely with a +view to Miss Cecilia's accommodation; and moreover that she was never +more surprised in her life than when Mrs. Gosling desired one of them +might be sent to her, because Mrs. Gosling never wore turbans; and if +Miss Gibbs had only foreseen that she would have pounced upon it in that +way, she, Miss Gibbs, would have taken care she should never have seen +it at all," &c., &c., &c.,--all of which the reader may believe, if he +or she choose. + +As for Miss Cecilia, she was implacable, and she flounced out of the +house, and through the streets, to her own door, in a temper of mind +that rendered it fortunate, as far as the peace of the town of B---- was +concerned, that no accident brought her in contact with Miss Charlotte +on the way. + +As soon as she got into her parlor she threw off her bonnet and shawl, +and plunging into her arm-chair, she tried to compose her mind +sufficiently to take a calm view of the dilemma, and determine on what +line of conduct to pursue--whether to send an excuse to Mrs. Hanaway, or +whether to go to the party in one of her old head-dresses. Either +alternative was insupportable. To lose the party, the game at loo, the +distinction of being seen in such good society--it was too provoking; +besides, very likely people would suppose she had not been invited; Miss +Charlotte, she had no doubt, would try to make them believe so. But +then, on the other hand, to wear one of her old turbans was so +mortifying--they were so very shabby, so unfashionable--on an occasion, +too, when everybody would be so well-dressed! Oh, it was +aggravating--vexatious in the extreme! She passed the day in +reflection--chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancies; recalling to +herself how well she looked in the turban--for she had tried it on; +figuring what would have been Miss Charlotte's mortification if she had +been the disappointed person--how triumphantly she, Miss Cecilia, would +have marched into the room with the turban on her head--how crestfallen +the other would have looked; and then she varied her occupation by +resuscitating all her old turbans, buried in antique band-boxes deep in +dust, and trying whether it were possible, out of their united +materials, to concoct one of the present fashionable shape and +dimensions. But the thing was impracticable: the new turban was composed +of crimson satin and gold lace, hers of pieces of muslin and gauze. + +When the mind is very much engrossed, whether the subject of +contemplation be pleasant or unpleasant, time flies with inconceivable +rapidity; and Miss Cecilia was roused from her meditations by hearing +the clock in the passage strike four, warning her that it was necessary +to come to some decision, as the hour fixed for the party, according to +the primitive customs of B----, was half-past seven, when the knell of +the clock was followed by a single knock at the door, and the next +moment her maid walked into the room with--what do you think?--the +identical crimson and gold turban in her hand! + +"What a beauty!" cried Susan, turning it round, that she might get a +complete view of it in all its phases. + +"Was there any message, Sue?" inquired Miss Cecilia, gasping with +agitation, for her heart was in her throat. + +"No, ma'am," replied Sue; "Miss Gibbs's girl just left it; she said it +should have come earlier, but she had so many places to go to." + +"And she's gone, is she, Susan?" + +"Yes, ma'am, she went directly--she said she hadn't got half through +yet." + +"Very well, Susan, you may go; and remember, I'm not at home if anybody +calls; and if any message comes here from Miss Gibbs, you'll say I'm +gone out, and you don't expect me home till very late." + +"Very well, ma'am." + +"And I say, Susan, if they send here to make any inquiries about that +turban, you'll say you know nothing about it, and send them away." + +"Very well, ma'am," said Susan, and down she dived to the regions below. + +Instead of four o'clock, how ardently did Miss Cecilia wish it was +seven; for the danger of the next three hours was imminent. Well she +understood how the turban had got there--it was a mistake of the +girl--but the chance was great that, before seven o'clock arrived, Miss +Charlotte would take fright at not receiving her head-dress, and would +send to Miss Gibbs to demand it, when the whole thing would be found +out. However no message came: at five o'clock, when the milk-boy rang, +Miss Cecilia thought she should have fainted: but that was the only +alarm. At six she began to dress, and at seven she stood before her +glass in full array, with the turban on her head. She thought she had +never looked so well; indeed, she was sure she had not. The magnitude of +the thing gave her an air, and indeed a feeling of dignity and +importance that she had never been sensible of before. The gold lace +looked brilliant even by the light of her single tallow candle; what +would it do in a well-illumined drawing-room! Then the color was +strikingly becoming, and suited her hair exactly--Miss Cecilia, we must +here observe, was quite gray; but she wore a frontlet of dark curls, and +a little black silk skull-cap, fitted close to her head, which kept all +neat and tight under the turban. + +She had not far to go; nevertheless, she thought it would be as well to +set off at once, for fear of accidents, even though she lingered on the +way to fill up the time, for every moment the danger augmented; so she +called to Susan to bring her cloak, and her calash, and her overalls, +and being well packed up by the admiring Sue, who declared the turban +was "without exception the beautifulest thing she ever saw," she +started; determined, however, not to take the direct way, but to make a +little circuit by a back street, lest, by ill luck, she should fall foul +of the enemy. + +"Susan," said she, pausing as she was stepping off the threshold, "if +anybody calls you'll say I have been gone to Mrs. Hanaway's some time; +and, Susan, just put a pin in this calash to keep it back, it falls over +my eyes so that I can't see." And Susan pinned a fold in the calash, and +away went the triumphant Miss Cecilia. She did not wish to be guilty of +the vulgarity of arriving first at the party; so she lingered about till +it wanted a quarter to eight, and then she knocked at Mrs. Hanaway's +door, which a smart footman immediately opened, and, with the alertness +for which many of his order are remarkable, proceeded to disengage the +lady from her external coverings--the cloak, the overalls, the calash; +and then, without giving her time to breathe, he rushed up the stairs, +calling out "Miss Cecilia Smith;" whilst the butler, who stood at the +drawing-room door, threw it open, reiterating, "Miss Cecilia Smith;" and +in she went. But, O reader, little do you think, and little did she +think, where the turban was that she imagined to be upon her head, and +under the supposed shadow of which she walked into the room with so much +dignity and complacence. It was below in the hall, lying on the floor, +fast in the calash, to which Susan, ill-starred wench! had pinned it; +and the footman, in his cruel haste, had dragged them both off together. + +With only some under-trappings on her cranium, and altogether +unconscious of her calamity, smiling and bowing, Miss Cecilia advanced +toward her host and hostess, who received her in the most gracious +manner, thinking, certainly, that her taste in a head-dress was +peculiar, and that she was about the most extraordinary figure they had +ever beheld, but supposing that such was the fashion she chose to +adopt--the less astonished or inclined to suspect the truth, from having +heard a good deal of the eccentricities of the two spinsters of B----. +But to the rest of the company, the appearance she made was +inexplicable; they had been accustomed to see her ill dressed, and oddly +dressed, but such a flight as this they were not prepared for. Some +whispered that she had gone mad; others suspected that it must be +accident--that somehow or other she had forgotten to put on her +head-dress; but even if it were so, the joke was an excellent one, and +nobody cared enough for her to sacrifice their amusement by setting her +right. So Miss Cecilia, blessed in her delusion, triumphant and happy, +took her place at the whist table, anxiously selecting a position which +gave her a full view of the door, in order that she might have the +indescribable satisfaction of seeing the expression of Miss Charlotte's +countenance when she entered the room--that is, if she came; the +probability was, that mortification would keep her away. + +But no such thing--Miss Charlotte had too much spirit to be beaten out +of the field in that manner. She had waited with patience for her +turban, because Miss Gibbs had told her, that, having many things to +send out, it might be late before she got it; but when half-past six +arrived, she became impatient, and dispatched her maid to fetch it. The +maid returned, with "Miss Gibbs's respects, and the girl was still out +with the things; she would be sure to call at Miss Charlotte's before +she came back." At half-past seven there was another message, to say +that the turban had not arrived; by this time the girl had done her +errands, and Miss Gibbs, on questioning her, discovered the truth. But +it was too late--the mischief was irreparable--Susan averring, with +truth, that her mistress had gone to Mrs. Hanaway's party some time, +with the turban on her head. + +We will not attempt to paint Miss Charlotte's feelings--that would be a +vain endeavor. Rage took possession of her soul; her attire was already +complete, all but the head-dress, for which she was waiting. She +selected the best turban she had, threw on her cloak and calash, and in +a condition of mind bordering upon frenzy, she rushed forth, determined, +be the consequences what they might, to claim her turban, and expose +Miss Cecilia's dishonorable conduct before the whole company. + +By the time she arrived at Mrs. Hanaway's door, owing to the delays that +had intervened, it was nearly half-past eight; the company had all +arrived; and whilst the butler and footmen were carrying up the +refreshments, one of the female servants of the establishment had come +into the hall, and was endeavoring to introduce some sort of order and +classification amongst the mass of external coverings that had been +hastily thrown off by the ladies; so, when Miss Charlotte knocked, she +opened the door and let her in, and proceeded to relieve her of her +wraps. + +"I suppose I'm very late," said Miss Charlotte, dropping into a chair to +seize a moment's rest, whilst the woman drew off her boots; for she was +out of breath with haste, and heated with fury. + +"I believe everybody's come, ma'am," said the woman. + +"I should have been here some time since," proceeded Miss Charlotte, +"but the most shameful trick has been played me about my--my--Why--I +declare--I really believe--" and she bent forward and picked up the +turban--the identical turban, which, disturbed by the maid-servant's +maneuvers, was lying upon the floor, still attached to the calash by +Sukey's unlucky pin. + +Was there ever such a triumph? Quick as lightning, the old turban was +off and the new one on, the maid with bursting sides assisting in the +operation; and then, with a light step and a proud heart, up walked Miss +Charlotte, and was ushered into the drawing-room. + +As the door opened, the eyes of the rivals met. Miss Cecilia's feelings +were those of disappointment and surprise. "Then she has got a turban +too! How could she have got it?"--and she was vexed that her triumph was +not so complete as she had expected. But Miss Charlotte was in +ecstasies. It may be supposed she was not slow to tell the story; it +soon flew round the room, and the whole party were thrown into +convulsions of laughter. Miss Cecilia alone was not in the secret; and +as she was successful at cards, and therefore in good humor, she added +to their mirth, by saying that she was glad to see everybody so merry, +and by assuring Mrs. Hanaway, when she took her leave, that she had +spent a delightful evening, and that her party was the gayest she had +ever seen in B----. + +"I am really ashamed," said Mrs. Hanaway, "at allowing the poor woman to +be the jest of my company; but I was afraid to tell her the cause of our +laughter, from the apprehension of what might have followed her +discovery of the truth." + +"And it must be admitted," said her husband, "that she well deserves the +mortification that awaits her when she discovers the truth." + +Poor Miss Cecilia _did_ discover the truth, and never was herself again. +She parted with her house, and went to live with a relation at Bristol; +but her spirit was broken; and, after going through all the stages of a +discontented old age, ill-temper, peevishness, and fatuity--she closed +her existence, as usual with persons of her class, unloved and +unlamented. + + +SIR NICHOLAS AT MARSTON MOOR. + +BY THE AUTHOR OF LILLIAN. + + I. + + To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas; the clarion's note is high; + To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas; the huge drum makes reply: + Ere this hath Lucas marchéd with his gallant cavaliers, + And the bray of Rupert's trumpets grows fainter on our ears; + To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas; white Guy is at the door; + And the vulture whets his beak o'er the field of Marston Moor. + Up rose the lady Alice from her brief and broken prayer; + And she brought a silken standard down the narrow turret-stair: + Oh, many were the tears those radiant eyes had shed, + As she worked the bright word "Glory" in the gay and glancing + thread; + And mournful was the smile that o'er those beauteous features ran, + As she said: "It is your lady's gift, unfurl it in the van." + "It shall flutter, noble wench, where the best and boldest ride; + Through the steel-clad files of Skippon, and the black dragoons of + Pride; + The recreant soul of Fairfax will feel a sicklier qualm, + And the rebel lips of Oliver give out a louder psalm, + When they see my lady's gew-gaw flaunt bravely on their wing, + And hear her loyal soldier's shout, For God and for the king!" + + + II. + + Tis noon; the ranks are broken along the royal line; + They fly, the braggarts of the court, the bullies of the Rhine: + Stout Langley's cheer is heard no more, and Astley's helm is down; + And Rupert sheathes his rapier with a curse and with a frown: + And cold Newcastle mutters, as he follows in the flight, + "The German boar had better far have supped in York to-night." + The knight is all alone, his steel cap cleft in twain, + His good buff jerkin crimsoned o'er with many a gory stain; + But still he waves the standard, and cries amid the rout, + "For church and king, fair gentlemen, spur on, and fight it out!"-- + And now he wards a roundhead's pike, and now he hums a stave, + And here he quotes a stage-play, and there he fells a knave. + Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas! thou hast no thought of fear, + Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas! but fearful odds are here. + The traitors ring thee round, and with every blow and thrust, + "Down, down," they cry, "with Belial, down with him to the dust!" + "I would," quoth grim old Oliver, "that Belial's trusty sword + This day were doing battle for the saints and for the Lord!" + + + III. + + The lady Alice sits with her maidens in her bower; + The gray-haired warden watches on the castle's highest tower.-- + "What news, what news, old Anthony?"--"The field is lost and won; + The ranks of war are melting as the mists beneath the sun; + And a wounded man speeds hither,--I am old and cannot see, + Or sure I am that sturdy step my master's step should be." + "I bring thee back the standard from as rude and red a fray + As e'er was proof of soldier's thews, or theme for minstrel's lay: + Bid Hubert fetch the silver bowl, and liquor quantum suff.; + I'll make a shift to drain it, ere I part with boot and buff; + Though Guy through many a gaping wound is breathing out his life, + And I come to thee a landless man, my fond and faithful wife. + Sweet, we will fill our money-bags, and freight a ship for France, + And mourn in merry Paris for this poor realm's mischance: + Or, if the worst betide me, why better ax or rope, + Than life with Lenthal for a King, and Peters for a Pope! + Alas, alas, my gallant Guy!--out on the crop-eared boor, + That sent me with my standard on foot from Marston Moor." + + +[From Fraser's Magazine.] + +LIFE AT A WATERING PLACE. + +ACCIDENTS WILL HAPPEN. + +"Hurrah, old fellow!" shouted Ashburner's host, on the seventh morning +of his visit; "here's a letter from Carl. I have been expecting it, and +he has been expecting us, some time. So prepare yourself to start +to-morrow." + +"He can't have been expecting _me_, you know," suggested the guest, who, +though remarkably domesticated for so short a time, hardly felt himself +yet entitled to be considered one of the family. + +"Oh, _us_ means Clara, and myself, and baby, and any friends we choose +to bring,--or, I should say, who will do us the honor to accompany us. +We are hospitable people and the more the merrier. I know how much +house-room Carl has; there is always a prophet's chamber, as the parsons +call it, for such occasions. You _must_ come; there's no two ways about +that. You will see two very fine women there,--_nice persons_, as you +would say: my sisters-in-law, Miss Vanderlyn, and Mrs. Carl Benson." + +"But at any rate, would it not be better to write first, and apprise him +of the additional visitor?" + +"We should be there a week before our letter. _Ecoutez!_ There is no +post-office near us here, and my note would have to go to the city by a +special messenger. Then the offices along the Hudson are perfectly +antediluvian and barbarous, and mere mockery and delusion. Observe, I +speak of the small local posts; on the main routes letters travel fast +enough. You may send to Albany in nine hours; to Carl's place, which is +about two-thirds of the distance to Albany, it would take more than half +as many days,--if, indeed, it arrived at all. I remember once +propounding this problem in the _Blunder and Bluster:--'If a letter sent +from New York to Hastings, distance 22 miles, never gets there, how long +will it take one to go from New York to Red Hook, distance 110 miles?'_ +We are shockingly behind you in our postal arrangements; _there_ I give +up the country. 'No, you musn't write, but come yourself,' as Penelope +said to Ulysses." + +Ashburner made no further opposition, and they were off the next morning +accordingly. Before four a cart had started with the baggage, and +directions to take up Ashburner's trunks and man-servant on the way. +Soon after the coachman and groom departed with the saddle-horses, +trotters, and wagon; for Benson, meditating some months' absence, took +with him the whole of his stud, except the black colt, who was strongly +principled against going on the water, and had nearly succeeded in +breaking his master's neck on one occasion, when Harry insisted on his +embarking. The long-tailed bays were left harnessed to the +_Rockaway_,--a sort of light omnibus open at the sides, very like a +_char-ŕ-banc_, except that the seats run crosswise, and capable of +accommodating from six to nine persons: that morning it held six, +including the maid and nurse. Benson took the reins at a quarter-past +five, and as the steamboat dock was situated at the very southern +extremity of the city, and they had three miles of terrible pavement to +traverse, besides nearly twelve of road, he arrived there just seven +minutes before seven; at which hour, to the second, the good boat +Swallow was to take wing. In a twinkling the horses were unharnessed and +embarked; the carriage instantly followed them; and Harry, after +assuring himself that all his property, animate and inanimate, was +safely shipped, had still time to purchase, for his own and his friend's +edification, the _Jacobin_, the _Blunder and Bluster_, the +_Inexpressible_, and other popular papers, which an infinity of dirty +boys were crying at the top of their not very harmonious voices. + +"Our people do business pretty fast," said he, in a somewhat triumphant +tone. "How this would astonish them on the Continent! See there!" as a +family, still later than his own, arrived with a small mountain of +trunks, all of which made their way on board as if they had wings. "When +I traveled in Germany two years ago with Mrs. B. and her sister, we had +eleven packages, and it used to take half-an-hour at every place to +weigh and ticket them beforehand, not withstanding which one or two +would get lost every now and then. In my own country I have traveled in +all directions with large parties, never have been detained five minutes +for baggage, and never lost anything except once--an umbrella. Now we +are going." + +The mate cried, "All ashore!" the newsboys and apple-venders +disappeared; the planks were drawn in; the long, spidery walking-beam +began to play; and the Swallow had started with her five hundred +passengers. + +"Let us stroll around the boat: I want to show you how we get up these +things here." + +The ladies' cabin on deck and the two general cabins below were +magnificently furnished with the most expensive material, and in the +last Parisian style, and this display and luxury were the more +remarkable as the fare was but twelve shillings for a hundred and sixty +miles. Ashburner admitted that the furniture was very elegant, but +thought it out of place, and altogether too fine for the purpose. + +"So you would say, probably, that the profuse and varied dinner we shall +have is thrown away on the majority of the passengers, who bolt it in +half-an-hour. But there are some who habitually appreciate the dinner +and the furniture: it does them good, and it does the others no +harm,--nay, it does _them_ good, too. The wild man from the West, who +has but recently learned to walk on his hind legs, is dazzled with these +sofas and mirrors, and respects them more than he would more ordinary +furniture. At any rate, it's a fault on right side. The furniture of an +English hotel is enough to give a traveler a fit of the blues, such an +extreme state of fustiness it is sure to be in. Did it ever strike you, +by the way, how behindhand your countrymen are in the matter of hotels? +When a traveller passes from England into Belgium (putting France out of +the question), it is like going from Purgatory into Paradise." + +"I don't think I ever stayed at a London hotel." + +"Of course not; when your governor was out of town, and you not with +him, you had your club. This is exactly what all travelers in England +complain of. Everything for the exclusive use of the natives is +good--except the water, and of that you don't use much in the way of a +beverage; everything particularly tending to the comfort of strangers +and sojourners--as the hotels, for instance, is bad, dear, and +uncomfortable. I don't think you like to have foreigners among you, for +your arrangements are calculated to drive them out of the country as +fast as possible!" + +"Perhaps we don't, as a general principle," said Ashburner, smiling. + +"Well, I won't say that it is not the wisest policy. We have suffered +much by being too liberal to foreigners. But then you must not be +surprised at what they say about you. However, it is not worth while to +lose the view for our discussion. Come up-stairs and take a good look at +the river of rivers." + +Ashburner felt no disposition to deny the beauty and grandeur of the +Hudson. At first, the shore was lined with beetling ramparts of +trap-rock. After many miles of this, the clear water spread out into a +great lake, with apparently no egress. But on turning a promontory, the +river stretched away nearly as wide as before, under wooded cliffs not +dissimilar to those of the Rhine. Then came the picturesque Catskill +mountains; and near these Harry was to stop, but Ashburner did not stop +with him. At West Point the boat had taken up, among other passengers, +two young officers of his acquaintance, then quartered in Canada. They +were going to take the tour of the lakes, including, of course, Niagara, +and offered Ashburner, if he would accompany them on this excursion +first, to show him the lions of Canada afterward. On consulting with +Benson, he found that the trip would not occupy more than a month or +five weeks, and that after that time the watering-place season would be +at its height. + +"And it will be an excuse for my staying with Carl till August," Harry +continued. "The women are half crazy to be at Oldport already. I would +rather stay at Ravenswood. We shall expect you there at the end of July. +But," and here, for the first time since their acquaintance, Ashburner +perceived a slight embarrassment in his manner, "don't bring your +friends." + +"Oh, dear, no!" said Ashburner, not comprehending what could have put +such a thing into the other's head, or what was coming next. + +"I don't mean to Ravenswood, but to Oldport; that is, if you can help +their coming. To tell you the truth, your university men, and literary +men generally, are popular enough here, but your army is in very bad +odor. The young fellows who come down among us from Canada behave +shockingly. They don't act like gentlemen or Christians." + +Ashburner hastened to assure him that Captain Blank and Lieutenant Dash +were both gentlemen and Christians, in the ordinary acceptation of the +terms, and had never been known to misconduct themselves in any way. + +"Doubtless, inasmuch as they are your friends, but the general principle +remains the same. So many of your young officers have misconducted +themselves that the _primâ facie_ evidence is always against one of +them, and he stands a chance of being coolly treated." + +Ashburner wanted to know what the young officers had done. + +"Everything they could do to go counter to the habits and prejudices of +the people among whom they were, and to show their contempt of American +society; to act, in short, as if they were among uncivilized people. For +instance, it is a custom at these watering-place hotels to dress for the +_table-d'hôte_. Now, I do not think it altogether reasonable that a man +should be expected to make his evening toilet by three in the afternoon, +and, indeed, I do not strictly conform to the rule myself. But these men +came in with flannel shirts and dirty shoes, and altogether in a state +unfit for ladies' company. Perhaps, however, we were too fastidious in +this. But what do you say to a youngster's seating himself upon a piano +in the public parlor, while a lady is playing on it?" + +Ashburner allowed that it was rather unceremonious. + +"By various similar acts, trivial, perhaps, individually, but forming a +very disagreeable aggregate, these young men made themselves so +unpopular that one season the ladies, by common consent, refused to +dance with any of them. But there is worse behind. These gentlemen, so +stupid in a drawing-room, are sharp enough in borrowing money, and +altogether oblivious of repaying it." + +Ashburner remembered the affair of Ensign Lawless, and made up his mind +to undergo another repetition of it. + +"I don't speak of my individual case, the thing has happened fifty +times. I could tell of a dozen friends who have been victimized in this +way during the last three years. In fact, I believe that your _jeunes +militaires_ have formed a league to avenge the Mississippi bondholders, +and recover their lost money under the form of these nominal loans. You +may think it poetic justice, but we New Yorkers have no fancy to pay the +Mississippians' debts in this way." + +It would be foreign to our present purpose to accompany Ashburner in his +Northwestern and Canadian tour. Suffice it to say, that he returned by +the first of August, very much pleased, having seen many things well +worth seeing, and experienced no particular annoyance, except the one +predicted by Benson, that he sometimes _had to take care of his +servant_. Neither shall we say much of his visit to Ravenswood, where, +indeed, he only spent a few hours, arriving there in the morning and +leaving it in the afternoon of the same day, and had merely time to +partake of a capital lunch, and to remark that his entertainer had a +beautiful place and a handsome wife, and was something like his younger +brother, but more resembling an Englishman than any American he had yet +seen. + +The party to Oldport was increased by the addition of Miss Vanderlyn, a +tall, stylish girl, more striking than her sister, but less delicately +beautiful. Though past twenty, she had been out only one season, having +been kept back three years by various accidents. But though new to +society, she had nothing of the book-muslin timidity about her; nor was +she at all abashed by the presence of the titled foreigner. On the +contrary, she addressed him with perfect ease of manner, in French, +professing, as an apology for conversing in that language, a fear that +he might not be able to understand her English,--_"Parceque chez vous, +on dit que nous autres Americaines, ne parlons pas l'Anglais comme il +faut."_ + +As we are not writing a handbook or geographical account of the Northern +States, it will not be necessary to mention where the fashionable +watering-place of Oldport Springs is situated--not even what State it is +in--suffice it to say, that from Carl Benson's place thither was a day's +journey, performed partly by steamboat, partly by rail, and the last +forty miles by stage-coach, or, as the Americans say, "for shortness," +by stage. The water portion of their journey was soon over, nor did +Ashburner much regret it, for he had been over this part of the route +before on his way to Canada, and the river is not remarkably beautiful +above the Catskill range. + +On taking the cars, Benson seized the opportunity to enlighten his +friend with a quantity of railroad statistics and gossip, such as, that +the American trains averaged eighteen miles an hour, including +stoppages,--about two miles short of the steamboat average; that they +cost about one-fifth of an English road, or a dollar for a pound, which +accounted for their deficiency in some respects; that there were more +than three thousand miles of rail in the country; that there was no +division of first, second, and third class, but that some lines had +ladies cars--that is to say, cars for the gentlemen with ladies and the +ladies without gentlemen--and some had separate cars for the ladies and +gentlemen of color; that there had been some attempts to get up +smoking-cars after the German fashion, but the public mind was not yet +fully prepared for it; that one of the southern lines had tried the +experiment of introducing a _restaurant_ and other conveniences, with +tolerable success; and other facts of more or less interest. Ashburner +for his part, on examining his ticket, found upon the back of it a list +of all the stations on the route, with their times and distances--a very +convenient arrangement; and he was also much amused at the odd names of +some of the stations--Nineveh, Pompey, Africa, Cologne, and others +equally incongruous. + +"Don't be afraid of laughing," said Benson, who guessed what he was +smiling at. "Whenever I am detained at a country tavern, if there duly +happens to be a good-sized map of the United States there, I have enough +to amuse me in studying the different styles of names in the different +sections of the Union--different in style, but alike in impropriety. In +our State, as you know, the fashion is for classical and oriental names. +In New England there is a goodly amount of old English appellations, but +often sadly misapplied; for instance, an inland town will be called +Falmouth, or Oldport, like the place we are going to. The aboriginal +names, often very harmonious, had been generally displaced, except in +Maine, where they are particularly long, and jaw-breaking, such as +_Winnipiscoggir_ and _Chargogagog_. Still we have some very pretty +Indian names left in New York; _Ontario_, for instance, and _Oneida_, +and _Niagara_, which you who have been there know is + + Pronounced Niágara, + To rhyme with _staggerer_, + And not Niagára, + To rhyme with _starer_." + +"What does _Niagara_ mean?" + +"_Broken water_, I believe; but one gets so many different meanings for +these names, from those who profess to know more or less about the +native dialects, that you can never be certain. For instance, a great +many will tell you, on Chateaubriand's authority, that _Mississippi_ +means _Father of the waters_. Some years ago one of our Indian scholars +stated that this was an error; that the literal meaning of Mississippi +was _old-big-strong_--not quite so poetic an appellation. I asked Albert +Gallatin about it at the time--he was considered our best man on such +subjects--and he told me that the word, or words, for the name is made +up of two, signified _the entire river_. This is a fair specimen of the +answers you get. I never had the same explanation of an Indian name +given me by two men who pretended to understand the Indian languages." + +"What rule does a gentleman adopt in naming his country-seat when he +acquires a new one, or is there any rule?" + +"There are two natural and proper expedients, one to take the nearest +aboriginal name that is pretty and practicable, the other to adopt the +name from some natural feature. Of this latter we have two very neat +examples in the residences of our two greatest statesmen, Clay and +Webster, which are called _Ashland_ and _Marshfield_--appellations +exactly descriptive of the places. But very often mere fancy names are +adopted, and frequently in the worst possible taste, by people too who +have great taste in other respects. I wanted my brother to call his +place Carlsruhe--that would have been literally appropriate, though +sounding oddly at first. But as it belonged originally to his +father-in-law, it seemed but fair that his wife should have the naming +of it, and she was _so_ fond of the Bride of Lammermoor! Well, I hope +Carl will set up a few crows some day, just to give a little color to +the name. But, after all, what's in a name? We are to stop at +Constantinople; if they give us a good supper and bed there (and they +will unless the hotel is much altered for the worse within two years), +they may call the town Beelzebub for me." + +But Benson reckoned without his host. They were fated to pass the night, +not at Constantinople, but at the rising village of Hardscrabble, +consisting of a large hotel and a small blacksmith's shop. + +The _contretemps_ happened in this wise. The weather was very hot--it +always is from the middle of June to the middle of September--but this +day had been particularly sultry, and toward evening oppressed nature +found relief in a thunder-storm, and such a storm! Ashburner, though +anything but a nervous man, was not without some anxiety, and the ladies +were in a sad fright; particularly Mrs. Benson, who threatened +hysterics, and required a large expenditure of Cologne and caresses to +bring her round. At last the train came to a full stop at Hardscrabble, +about thirty-six miles on the wrong side of Constantinople. Even before +the usual three minutes' halt was over our travelers suspected some +accident; their suspicions were confirmed when the three minutes +extended to ten, and ultimately the conductor announced that just beyond +this station half a mile of the road had been literally washed away, so +that further progress was impossible. Fortunately by this time the rain +had so far abated that the passengers were able to pass from the shelter +of the cars (there was no covered way at the station) to that of the +spacious hotel _stoop_ without being very much wetted. Benson +recollected that there was a canal at no great distance, which, though +comparatively disused since the establishment of the railroad, still had +some boats on it, and he thought it probable that they might finish +their journey in this way--not a very comfortable or expeditious one, +but better than standing still. It appeared however on inquiry that the +canal was also put _hors de combat_ by the weather, and nothing was to +be done that way. Only two courses remained, either to go back to +Clinton, or to remain for the night where they were. + +"This hotel ought to be able to accommodate us all," remarked a +fellow-passenger near them. + +He might well say so. The portico under which they stood (built of the +purest white pine, and modeled after that of a Grecian temple with eight +columns) fronted at least eighty feet. The house was several stories +high, and if the front were anything more than a mere shell, must +contain rooms for two hundred persons. How the building came into its +present situation was a mystery to Ashburner; it looked as if it had +been transported bodily from some large town, and set down alone in the +wilderness. The probability is, that some speculators, judging from +certain signs that a town was likely to arise there soon, had built the +hotel so as to be all ready for it. + +There was no need to question the landlord: he had already been +diligently assuring every one that he could accommodate all the +passengers, who indeed did not exceed a hundred in number. + +Logicians tell us, that a great deal of the trouble and misunderstanding +which exists in this naughty world, arises from men not defining their +terms in the outset. The landlord of Hardscrabble had evidently some +peculiar ideas of his own as to the meaning of the term _accommodate_. +The real state of the case was, that he had any quantity of rooms, and a +tolerably liberal supply of bedsteads, but his stock of bedding was by +no means in proportion; and he was, therefore, compelled to multiply it +by process of division, giving the hair mattress to one, the feather bed +to another, the straw bed to a third; and so with the pillows and +bolsters as far as they would go. This was rather a long process, even +with American activity, especially as some of the hands employed were +temporarily called off to attend to the supper table. + +The meal, which was prepared and eaten with great promptitude, was a +mixture of tea and supper. Very good milk, pretty good tea, and pretty +bad coffee, represented the drinkables; and for solids, there was a +plentiful provision of excellent bread and butter, new cheese, dried +beef in very thin slices, or rather _chips_, gingerbread, dough-nuts, +and other varieties of home-made cake, sundry preserves, and some +pickles. The waiters were young women--some of them very pretty and +lady-like. The Bensons kept up a conversation with each other and +Ashburner in French, which he suspected to be a customary practice of +"our set" when in public, as indeed it was, and one which tended not a +little to make them unpopular. A well-dressed man opposite looked so +fiercely at them that the Englishman thought he might have partially +comprehended their discourse and taken offense at it, till he was in a +measure reassured by seeing him eat poundcake and cheese together,--a +singularity of taste about which he could not help making a remark to +Benson. + +"Oh, that's nothing," said Harry. "Did you never, when you were on the +lakes, see them eat ham and molasses? It is said to be a western +practice: I never was there; but I'll tell you what I _have_ seen. A man +with cake, cheese, smoked-beef, and preserves, all on his plate +together, and paying attention to them all indiscriminately. He was not +an American either, but a Creole Frenchman of New Orleans, who had +traveled enough to know better." + +Soon after supper most of the company seemed inclined bedward; but there +were no signs of beds for some time. Benson's party, who were more +amused than fatigued by their evening's experience, spread the carpet of +resignation, and lit the cigar of philosophy. All the passengers did not +take it so quietly. One tall, melancholy-faced man, who looked as if he +required twice the ordinary amount of sleep, was especially anxious to +know "where they were going to put him." + +"Don't be afraid, sir," said the landlord, as he shot across the room on +some errand; "we'll tell you before you go to bed." With which safe +prediction the discontented one was fain to content himself. + +At length, about ten or half-past, the rooms began to be in readiness, +and their occupants to be marched off to them in squads of six or eight +at a time,--the long corridors and tall staircases of the hotel +requiring considerable pioneering and guidance. Benson's party came +among the last. Having examined the room assigned to the ladies, Harry +reported it to contain one bed and half a washstand; from which he and +Ashburner had some misgivings as to their own accommodation, but were +not exactly prepared for what followed, when a small boy with a tallow +candle and face escorted them up three flights of stairs into a room +containing two small beds and a large spittoon, and not another single +article of furniture. + +"I say, boy!" quoth Benson, in much dudgeon, turning to their +chamberlain, "suppose we should want to wash in the morning, what are we +to do?" + +"I don't know, sir," answered the boy; and depositing the candle on the +floor, disappeared in the darkness. + +"By Jove!" ejaculated the fastidious youth, "there isn't as much as a +hook in the wall to hang one's coat on. It's lucky we brought up our +carpet-bags with us, else we should have to look out a clean spot on the +floor for our clothes." + +Ashburner was not very much disconcerted. He had traveled in so many +countries, notwithstanding his youth, that he could pass his nights +anyhow. In fact, he had never been at a loss for sleep in his life, +except on one occasion, when, in Galway, a sofa was assigned to him at +one side of a small parlor, on the other side of which three Irish +gentlemen were making a night of it. + +So they said their prayers, and went to bed, like good boys. But their +slumbers were not unbroken. Ashburner dreamed that he was again in +Venice, and that the musquitoes of that delightful city, of whose +venomousness and assiduity he retained shuddering recollections, were +making an onslaught upon him in great numbers; while Benson awoke toward +morning with a great outcry; in apology for which he solemnly assured +his friend, that two seconds before he was in South Africa, where a lion +of remarkable size and ferocity had caught him by the leg. And on rising +they discovered some spots of blood on the bed-clothes, showing that +their visions had not been altogether without foundation in reality. + +The Hardscrabble hotel, grand in its general outlines, had overlooked +the trifling details of wash-stands and chamber crockery. Such of these +articles as it _did_ possess, were very properly devoted to the use of +the ladies; and accordingly Ashburner and Benson, and forty-five more, +performed their matutinal ablutions over a tin basin in the bar-room, +where Harry astonished the natives by the production of his own +particular towel and pocket comb. The weather had cleared up +beautifully, the railroad was repaired, and the train ready to start as +soon as breakfast was over. After this meal, as miscellaneous as their +last night's supper, while the passengers were discharging their +reckoning, Ashburner noticed that his friend was unusually fussy and +consequential, asked several questions, and made several remarks in a +loud tone, and altogether seemed desirous of attracting attention. When +it came to his turn to pay, he told out the amount, not in the ordinary +dirty bills, but in hard, ringing half-dollars, which had the effect of +drawing still further notice upon him. + +"Five dollars and a quarter," said Benson, in a measured and audible +tone; "and, Landlord, here's a quarter extra." + +The landlord looked up in surprise; so did the two or three men standing +nearest Harry. + +"It's to buy beef with, to feed 'em. Feed 'em well now, don't forget!" + +"Feed 'em! feed who?" and the host looked as if he thought his customer +crazy. + +"Feed _who_? Why look here!" and bending over the counter, Harry uttered +a portentous monosyllable, in a pretended whisper, but really as audible +to the bystanders as a stage aside. Three or four of those nearest +exploded. + +"Yes, feed 'em _well_ before you put anybody into your beds again, or +you'll have to answer for the death of a fellow-Christian some day, +that's all. Good morning!" And taking his wife under his arm, Benson +stalked off to the cars with a patronizing farewell nod, amid a +sympathetic roar, leaving the host irresolute whether to throw a +decanter after him, or to join in the general laugh. + + * * * * * + +Hook and one of his friends happened to come to a bridge. "Do you know +who built this bridge?" said he to Hook. "No, but if you go over you'll +be tolled." + + +[From the December number of Graham's Magazine.] + +TO A CELEBRATED SINGER. + +BY R.H. STODDARD. + + Oft have I dreamed of music rare and fine, + The wedded melody of lute and voice, + Divinest strains that made my soul rejoice, + And woke its inner harmonies divine. + And where Sicilia smooths the ruffled seas, + And Tempe hallows all its purple vales, + Thrice have I heard the noble nightingales, + All night entranced beneath the gloomy trees; + But music, nightingales, and all that Thought + Conceives of song is naught + To thy rich voice, which echoes in my brain, + And fills my longing heart with a melodious pain! + + A thousand lamps were lit--I saw them not-- + Nor all the thousands round me like a sea, + Life, Death and Time, and all things were forgot; + I only thought of thee! + Meanwhile the music rose sublime and strong, + But sunk beneath thy voice which rose alone, + Above its crumbled fragments to thy throne, + Above the clouds of Song. + Henceforth let Music seal her lips, and be + The silent Ministrant of Poesy; + For not the delicate reed that Pan did play + To partial Midas at the match of old, + Nor yet Apollo's lyre, with chords of gold, + That more than won the crown he lost that day; + Nor even the Orphean lute, that half set free-- + Oh why not all?--the lost Eurydice-- + Were fit to join with thee; + Much less our instruments of meaner sound, + That track thee slowly o'er enchanted ground, + Unfit to lift the train thy music leaves, + Or glean around its sheaves! + + I strive to disentangle in my mind + Thy many-knotted threads of softest song, + Whose memory haunts me like a voiceless wind, + Whose silence does it wrong. + No single tone thereof, no perfect sound + Lingers, but dim remembrance of the whole; + A sound which was a Soul. + The Soul of sound diffused an atmosphere around + So soft, so sweet, so mellow, rich and deep! + So like a heavenly soul's ambrosial breath, + It would not wake but only deepen Sleep + Into diviner Death! + Softer and sweeter than the jealous flute, + Whose soft, sweet voice grew harsh before its own, + It stole in mockery its every tone, + And left it lone and mute; + It flowed like liquid pearl through golden cells, + It jangled like a string of golden bells, + It trembled like a wind in golden strings, + It dropped and rolled away in golden rings; + Then it divided and became a shout, + That Echo chased about, + However wild and fleet, + Until it trod upon its heels with flying feet! + At last it sunk and sunk from deep to deep, + Below the thinnest word, + And sunk till naught was heard, + But charméd Silence sighing in its sleep! + + Powerless and mute beneath thy mighty spell, + My heart was lost within itself and thee, + As when a pearl is melted in its shell, + And sunken in the sea! + I sunk, and sunk beneath thy song, but still + I thirsted after more, the more I sank; + A flower that drooped with all the dew it drank, + But still upheld its cup for Heaven to fill; + My inmost soul was drunk with melody, + Which thou didst pour around, + To crown the feast of sound, + And lift to every lip, but chief to me, + Whose spirit uncontrolled, + Drained all the fiery wine and clutched its cup of gold! + + Would I could only hear thee once again, + But once again, and pine into the air, + And fade away with all this hopeless pain, + This hope divine, and this divine despair! + If we were only Voices, if our minds + Were only voices, what a life were ours! + My soul would woo thee in the vernal winds, + And thine would answer me in summer showers, + At morn and even, when the east and west + Were bathed in floods of purple poured from Heaven, + We would delay the Morn upon its nest, + And fold the wings of Even! + All day we'd fly with azure wings unfurled, + And gird a belt of Song about the world; + All night we'd teach the winds of night a tune, + While charméd oceans slept beneath a yellow moon! + And when aweary grown of earthly sport, + We'd wind our devious flight from star to star, + Till we beheld the palaces afar, + Where Music holds her court. + Entered and beckoned up the aisles of sound, + Where starry melodies are marshaled round, + We'd kneel before her throne with eager dread, + And when she kissed us melt in trances deep, + While angels bore us to her bridal bed, + And sung our souls asleep! + + O Queen of Song! as peerless as thou art, + As worthy as thou art to wear thy crown, + Thou hast a deeper claim to thy renown, + And a diviner music in thy heart; + Simplicity and goodness walk with thee, + Beneath the wings of watchful Seraphim: + And Love is wed to whitest Chastity, + And Pity sings its hymn. + Nor is thy goodness passive in its end, + But ever active as the sun and rain-- + Unselfish, lavish of its golden gain-- + Not want alone, but a whole nation's--Friend! + This is thy glory, this thy noblest fame; + And when thy glory fades, and fame departs, + This will perpetuate a deathless name, + Where names are deathless--deep in loving hearts! + + +[From Miss McIntosh's "Christmas Gift."] + +THE WOLF-CHASE. + +BY C. WHITEHEAD. + +During the winter of 1844, being engaged in the northern part of Maine, +I had much leisure to devote to the wild sports of a new country. To +none of these was I more passionately addicted than to skating. The deep +and sequestered lakes of this State, frozen by the intense cold of a +northern winter, present a wide field to the lovers of this pastime. +Often would I bind on my skates, and glide away up the glittering river, +and wind each mazy streamlet that flowed beneath its fetters on toward +the parent ocean, forgetting all the while time and distance in the +luxurious sense of the gliding motion--thinking of nothing in the easy +flight, but rather dreaming, as I looked through the transparent ice at +the long weeds and cresses that nodded in the current beneath, and +seemed wrestling with the waves to let them go; or I would follow on the +track of some fox or otter, and run my skate along the mark he had left +with his dragging tail until the trail would enter the woods. Sometimes +these excursions were made by moonlight, and it was on one of these +occasions that I had a rencounter, which even now, with kind faces +around me, I cannot recall without a nervous looking-over-my-shoulder +feeling. + +I had left my friend's house one evening just before dusk, with the +intention of skating a short distance up the noble Kennebec, which +glided directly before the door. The night was beautifully clear. A +peerless moon rode through an occasional fleecy cloud, and stars +twinkled from the sky and from every frost-covered tree in millions. +Your mind would wonder at the light that came glinting from ice, and +snow-wreath, and incrusted branches, as the eye followed for miles the +broad gleam of the Kennebec, that like a jeweled zone swept between the +mighty forests on its banks. And yet all was still. The cold seemed to +have frozen tree, and air, and water, and every living thing that +moved. Even the ringing of my skates on the ice echoed back from the +Moccasin Hill with a startling clearness, and the crackle of the ice as +I passed over it in my course seemed to follow the tide of the river +with lightning speed. + +I had gone up the river nearly two miles when, coming to a little stream +which empties into the larger, I turned in to explore its course. Fir +and hemlock of a century's growth met overhead, and formed an archway +radiant with frost-work. All was dark within, but I was young and +fearless, and as I peered into an unbroken forest that reared itself on +the borders of the stream, I laughed with very joyousness: my wild hurra +rang through the silent woods, and I stood listening to the echo that +reverberated again and again, until all was hushed. I thought how often +the Indian hunter had concealed himself behind these very trees--how +often his arrow had pierced the deer by this very stream, and his wild +halloo had here rung for his victory. And then, turning from fancy to +reality, I watched a couple of white owls, that sat in their hooded +state, with ruffled pantalets and long ear-tabs, debating in silent +conclave the affairs of their frozen realm, and wondering if they, "for +all their feathers, were a-cold," when suddenly a sound arose--it seemed +to me to come from beneath the ice; it sounded low and tremulous at +first, until it ended in one wild yell. I was appalled. Never before had +such a noise met my ears. I thought it more than mortal--so fierce, and +amid such an unbroken solitude, it seemed as if a fiend had blown a +blast from an infernal trumpet. Presently I heard the twigs on shore +snap, as if from the tread of some animal, and the blood rushed back to +my forehead with a bound that made my skin burn, and I felt relieved +that I had to contend with things earthly, and not of spiritual +nature--my energies returned, and I looked around me for some means of +escape. The moon shone through the opening at the mouth of the creek by +which I had entered the forest, and considering this the best means of +escape, I darted toward it like an arrow. 'Twas hardly a hundred yards +distant, and the swallow could scarcely excel my desperate flight; yet, +as I turned my head to the shore, I could see two dark objects dashing +through the underbrush at a pace nearly double in speed to my own. By +this great speed, and the short yells which they occasionally gave, I +knew at once that these were the much dreaded gray wolf. + +I had never met with these animals, but from the description given of +them I had but little pleasure in making their acquaintance. Their +untamable fierceness, and the untiring strength which seems part of +their nature, render them objects of dread to every benighted traveler. + + "With their long gallop, which can tire + The deer-hound's hate, the hunter's fire," + +they pursue their prey--never straying from the track of their +victim--and as the wearied hunter thinks he has at last outstripped +them, he finds that they but waited for the evening to seize their prey, +and falls a prize to the tireless animals. + +The bushes that skirted the shore flew past with the velocity of +lightning as I dashed on in my flight to pass the narrow opening. The +outlet was nearly gained; one second more and I would be comparatively +safe, when my pursuers appeared on the bank directly above me, which +here rose to the height of ten feet. There was no time for thought, so I +bent my head and dashed madly forward. The wolves sprang, but +miscalculating my speed, sprang behind, while their intended prey glided +out upon the river. + +Nature turned me toward home. The light flakes of snow spun from the +iron of my skates, and I was some distance from my pursuers, when their +fierce howl told me I was still their fugitive. I did not look back, I +did not feel afraid, or sorry, or glad; one thought of home, of the +bright faces awaiting my return, of their tears if they never should see +me, and then every energy of body and mind was exerted for escape. I was +perfectly at home on the ice. Many were the days that I spent on my good +skates, never thinking that at one time they would be my only means of +safety. Every half minute an alternate yelp from my fierce attendants +made me but too certain that they were in close pursuit. Nearer and +nearer they came; I heard their feet pattering on the ice nearer still, +until I could feel their breath and hear their snuffing scent. Every +nerve and muscle in my frame was stretched to the utmost tension. + +The trees along the shore seemed to dance in the uncertain light, and my +brain turned with my own breathless speed, yet still they seemed to hiss +forth their breath with a sound truly horrible, when an involuntary +motion on my part turned me out of my course. The wolves close behind, +unable to stop, and as unable to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and +fell, still going on far ahead; their tongues were lolling out, their +white tusks glaring from their bloody mouths, their dark, shaggy breasts +were fleeced with foam, and as they passed me their eyes glared, and +they howled with fury. The thought flashed on my mind, that by this +means I could avoid them, viz., by turning aside whenever they came too +near; for they, by the formation of their feet, are unable to run on ice +except on a straight line. + +I immediately acted upon this plan. The wolves, having regained their +feet, sprang directly toward me. The race was renewed for twenty yards +up the stream; they were already close on my back, when I glided round +and dashed directly past my pursuers. A fierce yell greeted my +evolution, and the wolves, slipping upon their haunches, sailed onward, +presenting a perfect picture of helplessness and baffled rage. Thus I +gained nearly a hundred yards at each turning. This was repeated two or +three times, every moment the animals getting more excited and baffled. + +At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my fierce antagonists came +so near, that they threw the white foam over my dress as they sprang to +seize me, and their teeth clashed together like the spring of a +fox-trap. Had my skates failed for one instant, had I tripped on a +stick, or caught my foot in a fissure in the ice, the story I am now +telling would never have been told. I thought all the chances over; I +knew where they would first take hold of me if I fell; I thought how +long it would be before I died, and when there would be a search for the +body that would already have its tomb; for oh! how fast man's mind +traces out all the dead colors of death's picture, only those who have +been near the grim original can tell. + +But soon I came opposite the house, and my hounds--I knew their deep +voices--roused by the noise, bayed furiously from the kennels. I heard +their chains rattle; how I wished they would break them, and then I +would have protectors that would be peers to the fiercest denizens of +the forest. The wolves, taking the hint conveyed by the dogs, stopped in +their mad career, and after a moment's consideration, turned and fled. I +watched them until their dusky forms disappeared over a neighboring +hill. Then, taking off my skates, I wended my way to the house, with +feelings which may be better imagined than described. + +But even yet, I never see a broad sheet of ice in the moonshine, without +thinking of that snuffling breath and those fearful things that followed +me so closely down the frozen Kennebec. + + +[From Recollections and Anecdotes of the Bard of Glamorgan.] + +STORY OF A POET. + +During one of his perambulations in Cardiganshire, the Bard found +himself, on a dreary winter evening, at too great a distance from the +abode of any friend, for him to reach it at a reasonable hour: he was +also more than commonly weary, and therefore turned into a roadside +public house to take up his night's lodgings. He had been there only a +short time, standing before the cheerful fire, when a poor peddler +entered with a pack on his back, and evidently suffering from cold and +fatigue. He addressed the landlord in humble tone, begging he might +lodge there, but frankly avowing he had no money. Trade, he said, had of +late been unfavorable to him--no one bought his goods, and he was making +the best of his way to a more populous district. There were, however, +articles of value in his pack, much more than sufficient to pay for his +entertainment, and he tendered any part of them, in payment, or in +pledge for the boon of shelter and refreshment. The landlord, however, +was one of those sordid beings who regard money as the standard of worth +in their fellow-men, and the want of it as a warrant for insult; he, +therefore, sternly told the poor wayfarer there was no harbor for him +under that roof, unless he had coin to pay for it. Again and again, the +weary man, with pallid looks and feeble voice, entreated the heartless +wretch, and was as often repulsed in a style of bulldog surliness, till +at length he was roughly ordered to leave the house. The bard was not an +unmoved witness of this revolting scene; and his heart had been sending +forth its current, in rapid and yet more rapid pulsations to his now +glowing extremities, as he listened and looked on. He had only one +solitary shilling in his pocket, which he had destined to purchase his +own accommodations for that wintry night; but its destination was now +changed. Here was a needy man requiring it more than himself; and +according to his generous views of the social compact, it became his +duty to sacrifice his minor necessities to the greater ones of his +fellow-creature. Snatching the shilling from its lurking place, he +placed it in the hand of the peddler, telling him _that_ would pay for +his lodging, and lodging he should have, in spite of the savage who had +refused it. Then darting a withering look at the publican, he exclaimed, +"Villain! do you call yourself a man? You, who would turn out a poor +exhausted traveler from your house on a night like this, under any +circumstances! But he has offered you ample payment for his quarters and +you refused him. Did you mean to follow him and rob him--perhaps murder +him? You have the heart of a murderer; you are a disgrace to humanity, +and I will not stay under your roof another minute; but turn out this +poor traveler at your peril--you dare not refuse the money he can now +offer you." Having thus vented his indignant feeling with his usual +heartiness, Iolo seized his staff and walked out into the inclement +night, penniless indeed, and supperless too, but with a rich perception +of the truth uttered by Him who "had not where to lay his head," though +omnipotent as well as universal in his beneficence--"It is more blessed +to give than to receive." A walk of many miles lay between him and his +friend's house, to which he now directed his steps, and by the time he +entered early on the following morning his powers had nearly sunk under +cold and exhaustion. A fever was the sequel, keeping him stationary for +several weeks. + + +[From Dickens's Household Words.] + +HIRAM POWERS'S GREEK SLAVE. + + They say Ideal Beauty cannot enter + The house of anguish. On the threshold stands + This alien Image with the shackled hands, + Called the Greek Slave: as if the artist meant her, + (The passionless perfection which he lent her, + Shadowed, not darkened, where the sill expands,) + To, so, confront man's crimes in different lands, + With man's ideal sense. Pierce to the centre, + Art's fiery finger! and break up ere long + The serfdom of this world. Appeal, fair stone, + From God's pure heights of beauty, against man's wrong! + Catch up, in thy divine face, not alone + East griefs, but west, and strike and shame the strong, + By thunders of white silence, overthrown. + + +[From Papers for the People.] + +THE BLACK POCKET-BOOK. + +"What do you pay for peeping?" said a baker's boy with a tray on his +shoulder to a young man in a drab-colored greatcoat, and with a cockade +in his hat, who, on a cold December's night was standing with his face +close to the parlor window of a mean house, in a suburb of one of our +largest seaport towns in the south of England. + +Tracy Walkingham, which was the name of the peeper, might have answered +that he paid _dear enough_; for in proportion as he indulged himself +with these surreptitious glances, he found his heart stealing away from +him, till he literally had not a corner of it left that he could fairly +call his own. + +Tracy was a soldier; but being in the service of one of his officers, +named D'Arcy, was relieved from wearing his uniform. At sixteen years of +age he had run away from a harsh schoolmaster, and enlisted in an +infantry regiment; and about three weeks previous to the period at which +our story opens, being sent on an early errand to his master's +laundress, his attention had been arrested by a young girl, who, coming +hastily out of an apothecary's shop with a phial in her hand, was +rushing across the street, unmindful of the London coach and its four +horses, which were close upon her, and by which she would assuredly have +been knocked down, had not Tracy seized her by the arm and snatched her +from the danger. + +"You'll be killed if you don't look sharper," said he carelessly; but as +he spoke, she turned her face toward him. "I hope my roughness has not +hurt you?" he continued in a very different tone: "I'm afraid I gripped +your arm too hard?" + +"I'm very much obliged to you," she said; "you did not hurt me at all. +Thank you," she added, looking back to him as she opened the door of the +opposite house with a key which she held in her hand. + +The door closed, and she was gone ere Tracy could find words to detain +her; but if ever there was a case of love at first sight, this was one. +Short as had been the interview, she carried his heart with her. For +some minutes he stood staring at the house, too much surprised and +absorbed in his own feelings to be aware that, as is always the case if +a man stops to look at anything in the street, he was beginning to +collect a little knot of people about him, who all stared in the same +direction too, and were asking each other what was the matter. Warned by +this discovery, the young soldier proceeded on his way; but so engrossed +and absent was he, that he had strode nearly a quarter of a mile beyond +the laundress' cottage before he discovered his error. On his return, he +contrived to walk twice past the house; but he saw nothing of the girl. +He had a mind to go into the apothecary's and make some inquiry about +her; but that consciousness which so often arrests such inquiries +arrested his, and he went home, knowing no more than his eyes and ears +had told him--namely, that this young damsel had the loveliest face and +the sweetest voice that fortune had yet made him acquainted with, and, +moreover, that the possessor of these charms was apparently a person in +a condition of life not superior to his own. Her dress and the house in +which she lived both denoted humble circumstances, if not absolute +poverty, although he felt that her countenance and speech indicated a +degree of refinement somewhat inconsistent with this last conjecture. +She might be a reduced gentlewoman. Tracy hoped not, for if so, poor as +she was, she would look down upon him; she might, on the contrary, be +one of those natural aristocrats, born Graces, that nature sometimes +pleases herself with sending into the world; as in her humorous moments +she not unfrequently does the reverse, bestowing on a princess the +figure and port of a market-woman. Whichever it was, the desire +uppermost in his mind was to see her again; and accordingly, after his +master was dressed, and gone to dinner, he directed his steps to the +same quarter. It was now evening, and he had an opportunity of more +conveniently surveying the house and its neighborhood without exciting +observation himself. For this purpose he crossed over to the +apothecary's door, and looked around him. It was a mean street, +evidently inhabited by poor people, chiefly small retail dealers; almost +every house in it being used as a shop, as appeared from the lights and +the merchandise in the windows, except the one inhabited by the unknown +beauty. They were all low buildings of only two stories; and that +particular house was dark from top to bottom, with the exception of a +faint stripe of light which gleamed from one of the lower windows, of +which there were only two, apparently from a rent or seam in the +shutter, which was closed within. On crossing over to take a nearer +survey, Tracy perceived that just above a green curtain which guarded +the lower half of the window from the intrusions of curiosity, the +shutters were divided into upper and lower, and that there was a +sufficient separation between them to enable a person who was tall +enough to place his eye on a level with the opening, to see into the +room. Few people, however, were tall enough to do this, had they thought +it worth their while to try; but Tracy, who was not far from six feet +high, found he could accomplish the feat quite easily. So, after looking +round to make sure nobody was watching him, he ventured on a peep; and +there indeed he saw the object of all this interest sitting on one side +of a table, whilst a man, apparently old enough to be her father, sat on +the other. He was reading, and she was working, with the rich curls of +her dark-brown hair tucked carelessly behind her small ears, disclosing +the whole of her young and lovely face, which was turned toward the +window. The features of the man he could not see, but his head was +bald, and his figure lank; and Tracy fancied there was something in his +attitude that indicated ill health. Sometimes she looked up and spoke to +her companion, but when she did so, it was always with a serious, +anxious expression of countenance, which seemed to imply that her +communications were on no very cheerful subject. The room was lighted by +a single tallow candle, and its whole aspect denoted poverty and +privation, while the young girl's quick and eager fingers led the +spectator to conclude she was working for her bread. + +It must not be supposed that all these discoveries were the result of +one enterprise. Tracy could only venture on a peep now and then when +nobody was nigh; and many a time he had his walk for nothing. Sometimes, +too, his sense of propriety revolted, and he forebore from a +consciousness that it was not a delicate proceeding thus to spy into the +interior of this poor family at moments when they thought no human eye +was upon them: but his impulse was too powerful to be always thus +resisted, and fortifying himself with the consideration that his purpose +was not evil, he generally rewarded one instance of self-denial by two +or three of self-indulgence. And yet the scene that met his view was so +little varied, that it might have been supposed to afford but a poor +compensation for so much perseverance. The actors and their occupation +continued always the same; and the only novelty offered was, that Tracy +sometimes caught a glimpse of the man's features, which, though they +betrayed evidence of sickness and suffering, bore a strong resemblance +to those of the girl. + +All this, however, to make the most of it, was but scanty fare for a +lover; nor was Tracy at all disposed to content himself with such cold +comfort. He tried what walking through the street by day would do, but +the door was always closed, and the tall green curtain presented an +effectual obstacle to those casual glances on which alone he could +venture by sunlight. Once only he had the good fortune again to meet +this "bright particular star" out of doors, and that was one morning +about eight o'clock, when he had been again sent on an early embassy to +the laundress. She appeared to have been out executing her small +marketings, for she was hastening home with a basket on her arm. Tracy +had formed a hundred different plans for addressing her--one, in short, +suited to every possible contingency--whenever the fortunate opportunity +should present itself; but, as is usual in similar cases, now that it +did come, she flashed upon him so suddenly, that in his surprise and +agitation he missed the occasion altogether. The fact was that she +stepped out of a shop just as he was passing it; and her attention being +directed to some small change which she held in her hand, and which she +appeared to be anxiously counting, she never even saw him, and had +reentered her own door before he could make up his mind what to do. He +learned, however, by this circumstance, that the best hope of success +lay in his going to Thomas Street at eight o'clock; but alas! this was +the very hour that his services could not be dispensed with at home; and +although he made several desperate efforts, he did not succeed in +hitting the lucky moment again. + +Of course he did not neglect inquiry; but the result of his +perquisitions afforded little encouragement to his hopes of obtaining +the young girl's acquaintance. All that was known of the family was, +that they had lately taken the house, that their name was Lane, that +they lived quite alone, and were supposed to be very poor. Where they +came from, and what their condition in life might be, nobody knew or +seemed desirous to know, since they lived so quietly, that they had +hitherto awakened no curiosity in the neighborhood. The Scotsman at the +provision shop out of which she had been seen to come, pronounced her a +_wise-like girl_; and the apothecary's lad said that she was uncommon +_comely and genteel-like_, adding that her father was in very bad +health. This was the whole amount of information he could obtain, but to +the correctness of it, as regarded the bad health and the poverty, his +own eyes bore witness. + +Nearly three weeks had elapsed since Tracy's first meeting with the +girl, when one evening he thought he perceived symptoms of more than +ordinary trouble in this humble ménage. Just as he placed his eye to the +window, he saw the daughter entering the room with an old blanket, which +she wrapped round her father, whilst she threw her arms about his neck, +and tenderly caressed him; at the same time he remarked that there was +no fire in the grate, and that she frequently applied her apron to her +eyes. As these symptoms denoted an unusual extremity of distress, Tracy +felt the strongest desire to administer some relief to the sufferers; +but by what stratagem to accomplish his purpose it was not easy to +discover. He thought of making the apothecary or the grocer his agent, +requesting them not to name who had employed them; but he shrank from +the attention and curiosity such a proceeding would awaken, and the evil +interpretations that might be put upon it. Then he thought of the ribald +jests and jeers to which he might subject the object of his admiration, +and he resolved to employ no intervention, but to find some means or +other of conveying his bounty himself; and having with this view +inclosed a sovereign in half a sheet of paper, he set out upon his +nightly expedition. + +He was rather later than usual, and the neighboring church clock struck +nine just as he turned into Thomas Street; he was almost afraid that the +light would be extinguished, and the father and daughter retired to +their chambers, as had been the case on some previous evenings; but it +was not so: the faint gleam showed that they were still there, and +after waiting some minutes for a clear coast, Tracy approached the +window--but the scene within was strangely changed. + +The father was alone--at least except himself there was no living being +in the room--but there lay a corpse on the floor; at the table stood the +man with a large black notebook in his hand, out of which he was taking +what appeared to the spectator, so far as he could discern, to be bank +notes. To see this was the work of an instant; to conclude that a crime +had been committed was as sudden! and under the impulse of fear and +horror that seized him, Tracy turned to fly, but in his haste and +confusion, less cautious than usual, he struck the window with his +elbow. The sound must have been heard within; and he could not resist +the temptation of flinging an instantaneous glance into the room to +observe what effect it had produced. It was exactly such as might have +been expected; like one interrupted in a crime, the man stood +transfixed, his pale face glaring at the window, and his hands, from +which the notes had dropped suspended in the attitude in which they had +been surprised; with an involuntary exclamation of grief and terror, +Tracy turned again and fled. But he had scarcely gone two hundred yards +when he met the girl walking calmly along the street with her basket on +her arm. She did not observe him, but he recognized her; and urged by +love and curiosity, he could not forbear turning back, and following her +to the door. On reaching it, she, as usual, put her key into the lock; +but it did not open as usual; it was evidently fastened on the inside. +She lifted the knocker, and let it fall once, just loud enough to be +heard within; there was a little delay, and then the door was opened--no +more, however, than was sufficient to allow her to pass in--and +immediately closed. Tracy felt an eager desire to pursue this strange +drama further, and was standing still, hesitating whether to venture a +glance into the room, when the door was again opened, and the girl +rushed out, leaving it unclosed, and ran across the street into the +apothecary's shop. + +"She is fetching a doctor to the murdered man," thought Tracy. And so it +appeared, for a minute had scarcely elapsed, when she returned, +accompanied by the apothecary and his assistant; they all three entered +the house; and upon the impulse of the moment, without pausing to +reflect on the impropriety of the intrusion, the young soldier entered +with them. + +The girl, who walked first with a hasty step, preceded them into that +room on the right of the door which, but a few minutes before, Tracy had +been surveying through the window. The sensations with which he now +entered it formed a singular contrast to his anticipations, and +furnished a striking instance of what we have all occasion to remark as +we pass through life--namely, that the thing we have most earnestly +desired, frequently when it does come, arrives in a guise so different +to our hopes, and so distasteful to the sentiments or affections which +have given birth to the wish, that what we looked forward to as the +summit of bliss, proves, when we reach it, no more than a barren peak +strewn with dust and ashes. Fortunate, indeed, may we esteem ourselves +if we find nothing worse to greet us. How often had Tracy fancied that +if he could only obtain entrance into that room he should be happy! As +long as he was excluded from it, it was _his_ summit, for he could see +no further, and looked no further, sought no further: it seemed to him +that, once there, all that he desired must inevitably follow. Now he +_was_ there, but under what different circumstances to those he had +counted on! with what different feelings to those his imagination had +painted! + +"What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Adams the apothecary, as he approached +the body, which still lay on the floor. + +"I hope it's only a fit!" exclaimed the girl, taking the candle off the +table, and holding it in such a manner as to enable the apothecary to +examine the features. + +"He's dead, I fancy," said the latter, applying his fingers to the +wrist. "Unloose his neckcloth, Robert, and raise the head." + +This was said to the assistant, who, having done as he was told, and no +sign of life appearing, Mr. Adams felt for his lancet, and prepared to +bleed the patient. The lancet, however, had been left in the pocket of +another coat, and Robert being sent over to fetch it, Tracy stepped +forward and took his place at the head of the corpse; the consequence of +which was, that, when the boy returned, Mr. Adams bade him go back and +mind the shop, as they could do very well without him; and thus Tracy's +intrusion was, as it were, legitimized, and all awkwardness removed from +it. Not, however, that he had been sensible of any: he was too much +absorbed with the interest of the scene to be disturbed by such minor +considerations. Neither did anybody else appear discomposed or surprised +at his presence: the apothecary did not know but he had a right to be +there; the boy, who remembered the inquiries Tracy had made with regard +to the girl, concluded they had since formed an acquaintance; the girl +herself was apparently too much absorbed in the distressing event that +had occurred to have any thoughts to spare on minor interests; and as +for the man, he appeared to be scarcely conscious of what was going on +around him. Pale as death, and with all the symptoms of extreme sickness +and debility, he sat bending somewhat forward in an old arm-chair, with +his eyes fixed on the spot where the body lay; but there was "no +speculation" in those eyes, and it was evident that what he seemed to be +looking at he did not see. To every thoughtful mind the corporeal +investiture from which an immortal spirit has lately fled must present a +strange and painful interest; but Tracy felt now a more absorbing +interest in the mystery of the living than the dead; and as strange +questionings arose in his mind with regard to the pale occupant of the +old arm-chair as concerning the corpse that was stretched upon the +ground. Who was this stranger, and how came he there lying dead on the +floor of that poor house? And where was the pocket-book and the notes? +Not on the table, not in the room, so far as he could discern. They must +have been placed out of sight; and the question occurred to him, was +_she_ a party to the concealment? But both his heart and his judgment +answered _no_. Not only her pure and innocent countenance, but her whole +demeanor acquitted her of crime. It was evident that her attention was +entirely engrossed by the surgeon's efforts to recall life to the +inanimate body; there was no _arričre pensée_, no painful consciousness +plucking at her sleeve; her mind was anxious, but not more so than the +ostensible cause justified, and there was no expression of mystery or +fear about her. How different to the father, who seemed terror-struck! +No anxiety for the recovery of the stranger, no grief for his death, +appeared in him; and it occurred to Tracy that he looked more like one +condemned and waiting for execution than the interested spectator of +another's misfortune. + +No blood flowed, and the apothecary having pronounced the stranger dead, +proposed, with the aid of Tracy, to remove him to a bed; and as there +was none below, they had to carry him up stairs, the girl preceding them +with a light, and leading the way into a room where a small tent +bedstead without curtains, two straw-bottomed chairs, with a rickety +table, and cracked looking-glass, formed nearly all the furniture; but +some articles of female attire lying about, betrayed to whom the +apartment belonged, and lent it an interest for Tracy. + +Whilst making these arrangements for the dead but few words were spoken. +The girl looked pale and serious, but said little; the young man would +have liked to ask a hundred questions, but did not feel himself entitled +to ask one; and the apothecary, who seemed a quiet, taciturn person, +only observed that the stranger appeared to have died of disease of the +heart, and inquired whether he was a relation of the family. + +"No," replied the girl; "he's no relation of ours--his name is +Aldridge." + +"Not Ephraim Aldridge?" said the apothecary. + +"Yes; Mr. Ephraim Aldridge," returned she: "my father was one of his +clerks formerly." + +"You had better send to his house immediately," said Mr. Adams. "I +forget whether he has any family?" + +"None but his nephew, Mr. Jonas," returned the girl. "I'll go there +directly, and tell him." + +"Your father seems in bad health?" observed Mr. Adams, as he quitted the +room, and proceeded to descend the stairs. + +"Yes; he has been ill a long time," she replied, with a sad countenance; +"and nobody seems to know what's the matter with him." + +"Have you had any advice for him," inquired the apothecary. + +"Oh, yes, a great deal, when first he was ill; but nobody did him any +good." + +By this time they had reached the bottom of the stairs; and Mr. Adams, +who now led the van, instead of going out of the street door, turned +into the parlor again. + +"Well, sir," said he, addressing Lane, "this poor gentleman is dead. I +should have called in somebody else had I earlier known who he was; but +it would have been useless, life must have been extinct half an hour +before I was summoned. Why did you not send for me sooner?" + +"I was out," replied the girl, answering the question that had been +addressed to her father. "Mr. Aldridge had sent me away for something, +and when I returned I found him on the floor, and my father almost +fainting. It was a dreadful shock for him, being so ill." + +"How did it happen?" inquired Mr. Adams, again addressing Lane. + +A convulsion passed over the sick man's face, and his lip quivered as he +answered in a low sepulchral tone. "He was sitting on that chair, +talking about--about his nephews, when he suddenly stopped speaking, and +fell forward. I started up, and placed my hands against his breast to +save him, and then he fell backward upon the floor." + +"Heart, no doubt. Probably a disease of long standing," said Mr. Adams. +"But it has given you a shock: you had better take something, and go to +bed." + +"What should he take?" inquired the daughter. + +"I'll send over a draught," replied the apothecary, moving toward the +door; "and you won't neglect to give notice of what has happened--it +must be done to-night." + +"It is late for you to go out," observed Tracy, speaking almost for the +first time since he entered the house. "Couldn't I carry the message for +you?" + +"Yes: if you will, I shall be much obliged," said she; "for I do not +like to leave my father again to-night. The house is No. 4, West +Street." + +Death is a great leveler, and strong emotions banish formalities. The +offer was as frankly accepted as made; and his inquiry whether he could +be further useful being answered by "No, thank you--not to-night," the +young man took his leave and proceeded on his mission to West Street in +a state of mind difficult to describe--pleased and alarmed, happy and +distressed. He had not only accomplished his object by making the +acquaintance of Mary Lane, but the near view he had had of her, both as +regarded her person and behavior, confirmed his admiration and +gratified his affection; but, as he might have told the boy who +interrupted him, he had paid dear for peeping. He had seen what he would +have given the world not to have seen; and whilst he eagerly desired to +prosecute his suit to this young woman, and make her his wife, he shrank +with horror from the idea of having a thief and assassin for his +father-in-law. + +Engrossed with these reflections he reached West Street before he was +aware of being half-way there, and rang the bell of No. 4. It was now +past eleven o'clock, but he had scarcely touched the wire, before he +heard a foot in the passage, and the door opened. The person who +presented himself had no light, neither was there any in the hall, and +Tracy could not distinguish to whom he spoke when he said, "is this the +house of Mr. Ephraim Aldridge?" + +"It is: what do you want?" answered a man's voice, at the same time that +he drew back, and made a movement toward closing the door. + +"I have been requested to call here to say that Mr. Aldridge is"--And +here the recollection that the intelligence he bore would probably be +deeply afflicting to the nephew he had heard mentioned as the deceased +man's only relation, and to whom he was now possibly speaking, arrested +the words in his throat, and after a slight hesitation he added--"is +taken ill." + +"Ill!" said the person who held the door in his hand, which he now +opened wider. "Where? What's the matter with him? Is he very ill? Is it +any thing serious?" + +The tone in which these questions were put relieved Tracy from any +apprehension of inflicting pain, and he rejoined at once, "I'm afraid he +is dead." + +"Dead!" reiterated the other, throwing the door wide. "Step in if you +please. Dead! how should that be? He was very well this afternoon. Where +is he?" And so saying, he closed the street door, and led the young +soldier into a small parlor, where a lamp with a shade over it, and +several old ledgers, were lying on the table. + +"He's at Mr. Lane's in Thomas Street," replied Tracy. + +"But are you sure he's dead?" inquired the gentleman, who was indeed no +other than Mr. Jonas Aldridge himself. "How did he die? Who says he's +dead?" + +"I don't know how he died. The apothecary seemed to think it was disease +of the heart," replied Tracy; "but he is certainly dead." + +At this crisis of the conversation a new thought seemed to strike the +mind of Jonas, who, exhibiting no symptoms of affliction, had hitherto +appeared only curious and surprised. "My uncle Ephraim dead!" said he. +"No, no, I can't believe it. It is impossible--it cannot be! My dear +uncle! My only friend! Dead! Impossible!--you must be mistaken." + +"You had better go and see yourself," replied Tracy, who did not feel at +all disposed to sympathize with this sudden effusion of sentiment. "I +happened to be by, by mere chance, and know nothing more than I heard +the apothecary say." And with these words he turned toward the door. + +"You are an officer's servant, I see?" rejoined Jonas. + +"I live with Captain D'Arcy of the 32d," answered Tracy; and wishing Mr. +Jonas a good-evening, he walked away with a very unfavorable impression +of that gentleman's character. + +The door was no sooner closed on Tracy than Mr. Jonas Aldridge returned +into the parlor, and lighted a candle which stood on a side-table, by +the aid of which he ascended to the second floor, and entered a +back-room wherein stood a heavy four-post bed, the curtains of which +were closely drawn together. The apartment, which also contained an +old-fashioned mahogany set of drawers, and a large arm-chair, was well +carpeted, and wore an aspect of considerable comfort. The shutters were +closed, and a moreen curtain was let down to keep out the draught from +the window. + +Mr. Jonas had mounted the stairs three at a time; but no sooner did he +enter the room, and his eye fall upon the bed, then he suddenly paused, +and stepping on the points of his toes toward it, he gently drew back +one of the side curtains, and looked in. It was turned down, and ready +for the expected master, but it was tenantless: he who should have lain +there lay elsewhere that night. Mr. Jonas folded in his lips, and nodded +his head with an expression that seemed to say _all's right_. And then +having drawn the bolt across the door, he took two keys out of his +waistcoat pocket; with one he opened a cupboard in the wainscot, and +with the other a large tin-box which stood therein, into which he thrust +his hand, and brought out a packet of papers, which not proving to be +the thing he sought, he made another dive; but this second attempt +turned out equally unsuccessful with the first; whereupon he fetched the +candle from the table, and held it over the box, in hopes of espying +what he wished. But his countenance clouded, and an oath escaped him, on +discovering it was not there. + +"He has taken it with him!" said he. And having replaced the papers he +had disturbed, and closed the box, he hastily descended the stairs. In +the hall hung his greatcoat and hat. These he put on, tying a comforter +round his throat to defend him from the chill night-air; and then +leaving the candle burning in the passage, he put the key of the +house-door in his pocket, and went out. + +Dead men wait patiently; but the haste with which Mr. Jonas Aldrich +strode over the ground seemed rather like one in chase of a fugitive; +and yet, fast as he went, the time seemed long to him till he reached +Thomas Street. + +"Is my uncle here!" said he to Mary, who immediately answered to his +knock. + +"Yes, sir," replied she. + +"And what's the matter? I hope it is nothing serious?" added he. + +"He's dead, sir, the doctor says," returned she. + +"Then you had a doctor?" + +"Oh yes, sir; I fetched Mr. Adams over the way immediately; but he said +he was dead the moment he saw him. Will you please to walk up stairs, +and see him yourself?" + +"Impossible! It cannot be that my uncle is dead!" exclaimed Mr. Jonas, +who yet suspected some _ruse_. "You should have had the best advice--you +should have called in Dr. Sykes. Let him be sent for immediately!" he +added, speaking at the top of his voice, as he entered the little room +above: "no means must be neglected to recover him. Depend on it, it is +only a fit." + +But the first glance satisfied him that all these ingenious precautions +were quite unnecessary. There lay Mr. Ephraim Aldridge dead +unmistakably; and while Mary was inquiring where the celebrated Dr. +Sykes lived, in order that she might immediately go in search of him, +Mr. Jonas was thinking on what pretense he might get her out of the room +without sending for anybody at all. + +Designing people often give themselves an enormous deal of useless +trouble; and after searching his brain in vain for an expedient to get +rid of the girl, Mr. Jonas suddenly recollected that the simplest was +the best. There was no necessity, in short, for saying anything more +than that he wished to be alone; and this he did say, at the same time +drawing his handkerchief from his pocket, and applying it to his eyes, a +little pantomime that was intended to aid the gentle Mary in putting a +kind construction on the wish. She accordingly quitted the room, and +descended to the parlor; whereupon Mr. Jonas, finding himself alone, +lost no time in addressing himself to his purpose, which was to search +the pockets of the deceased, wherein he found a purse containing gold +and silver, various keys, and several other articles, but not the +article he sought; and as he gradually convinced himself that his search +was vain, his brow became overcast, angry ejaculations escaped his lips, +and after taking a cursory survey of the room, he snatched up the +candle, and hastily descended the stairs. + +"When did my uncle come here? What did he come about?" he inquired +abruptly as he entered the parlor where Mary, weary and sad, was resting +her head upon the table. + +"He came this evening, sir; but I don't know what he came about. He said +he wanted to have some conversation with my father, and I went into the +kitchen to leave them alone." + +"Then you were not in the room when the accident happened?" + +"What accident, sir?" + +"I mean, when he died." + +"No, sir; I had gone out to buy something for supper." + +"What made you go out so late for that purpose?" + +"My father called me in, sir, and Mr. Aldridge gave me some money." + +"Then nobody was present but your father?" + +"No, sir." + +"And where is he now?" + +"My father is very ill, sir; and it gave him such a shock, that he was +obliged to go to bed." + +"Had my uncle nothing with him but what I have found in his pockets?" + +"Nothing that I know of, sir." + +"No papers?" + +"No, sir." + +"Go and ask your father if he saw any papers." + +"I'm sure he didn't, sir, or else they would be here." + +"Well, I'll thank you to go and ask him, however." + +Whereupon Mary quitted the room; and stepping up stairs, she opened, and +then presently shut again, the door of her own bedroom. "It is no use +disturbing my poor father," said she to herself; "I'm sure he knows +nothing about any papers; and if I wake him, he will not get to sleep +again all night. If he saw them, he'll say so in the morning." + +"My father knows nothing of the papers, sir," said she, reentering the +room; "and if they're not in the pocket, I'm sure Mr. Aldridge never +brought them here." + +"Perhaps he did not, after all," thought Jonas; "he has maybe removed it +out of the tin-box, and put it into the bureau." A suggestion which made +him desire to get home again as fast as he had left it. So, promising to +send the undertakers in the morning to remove the body, Mr. Jonas took +his leave, and hastened back to West Street, where he immediately set +about ransacking every drawer, cupboard, and press, some of which he +could only open with the keys he had just extracted from the dead man's +pocket. But the morning's dawn found him unsuccessful: it appeared +almost certain that the important paper was not in the house; and weary, +haggard, and angry, he stretched himself on his bed till the hour +admitted of further proceedings. And we will avail ourselves of this +interval to explain more particularly the relative position of the +parties concerned in our story. + +Ephraim Aldridge, a younger member of a large and poor family, had been +early in life apprenticed to a hosier; and being one of the most steady, +cautious, saving boys that ever found his bread amongst gloves and +stockings, had early grown into great favor with his master, who, as +soon as he was out of his apprenticeship, elevated him to the post of +book-keeper; and in this situation, as he had a liberal salary, and was +too prudent to marry, he contrived to save such a sum of money as, +together with his good character, enabled him to obtain the reversion of +the business when his master retired from it. The prudence which had +raised him adhered to him still; his business flourished, and he grew +rich; but the more money he got, the fonder he became of it; and the +more he had, the less he spent; while the cautious steadiness of the boy +shrank into a dry reserve as he grew older, till he became an austere, +silent, inaccessible man, for whom the world in general entertained a +certain degree of respect, but whom nobody liked, with the exception +perhaps of one person, and that was Maurice Lane, who had formerly been +his fellow-apprentice, and was now his shopman. And yet a more marked +contrast of character could scarcely exist than between these two young +men; but, somehow or other, everybody liked Lane; even the frigid heart +of Ephraim could not defend itself from the charm of the boy's beautiful +countenance and open disposition; and when he placed his former comrade +in a situation of responsibility, it was not because he thought him the +best or the steadiest servant he could possibly find, but because he +wished to have one person about him that he liked, and that liked him. +But no sooner did Lane find himself with a salary which would have +maintained himself comfortably, than he fell in love with a beautiful +girl whom he saw trimming caps and bonnets in an opposite shop-window, +and straightway married her. Then came a family, and with it a train of +calamities which kept them always steeped in distress, till the wife, +worn out with hard work and anxiety, died; the children that survived +were then dispersed about the world to earn their bread, and Lane found +himself alone with his youngest daughter Mary. Had he retained his +health, he might now have done better; but a severe rheumatic fever, +after reducing him to the brink of the grave, had left him in such +infirm health, that he was no longer able to maintain his situation; so +he resigned it, and retired to an obscure lodging, with a few pounds in +his pocket, and the affection and industry of his daughter for his only +dependence. + +During all this succession of calamities, Mr. Aldrich had looked on with +a severe eye. Had it been anybody but Lane, he would have dismissed him +as soon as he married; as it was, he allowed him to retain his place, +and to take the consequences of his folly. He had carved his own +destiny, and must accept it; it was not for want of knowing better, for +Ephraim had warned him over and over again of the folly of poor men +falling in love and marrying. Entertaining this view of the case, he +justified his natural parsimony with the reflection, that by encouraging +such imprudence he should be doing an injury to other young men. He made +use of Lane as a beacon, and left him in his distress, lest assistance +should destroy his usefulness. The old house in Thomas Street, however, +which belonged to him, happening to fall vacant, he so far relented as +to send word to his old clerk that he might inhabit it if he pleased. + +Some few years, however, before these latter circumstances, Mr. +Aldridge, who had determined against matrimony, had nevertheless been +seized with that desire so prevalent in the old especially, to have an +heir of his own name and blood for his property. He had but two +relations that he remembered, a brother and a sister. The latter, when +Ephraim was a boy, had married a handsome sergeant of a marching +regiment, and gone away with it; and her family never saw her afterward, +though for some years she had kept up an occasional correspondence with +her parents, by which they learned that she was happy and prosperous; +that her husband had been promoted to an ensigncy for his good conduct; +that she had one child; and finally, that they were about to embark for +the West Indies. + +His brother, with whom he had always maintained some degree of +intercourse, had early settled in London as a harness-maker, and was +tolerably well off; on which account Ephraim respected him, and now that +he wanted an heir, it was in this quarter he resolved to look for one. +So he went to London, inspected the family, and finally selected young +Jonas, who everybody said was a facsimile of himself in person and +character. He was certainly a cautious, careful, steady boy who was +guilty of no indiscretions, and looked very sharp after his halfpence. +Ephraim, who thought he had hit upon the exact desideratum, carried him +to the country, put him to school, and became exceedingly proud and fond +of him. His character, indeed, as regarded his relations with the boy, +seemed to have undergone a complete change, and the tenderness he had +all through life denied to everybody else, he now in his decline +lavished to an injudicious excess on this child of his adoption. When he +retired from business he took Jonas home; and as the lad had some talent +for portrait-painting, he believed him destined to be a great artist, +and forbore to give him a profession. Thus they lived together +harmoniously enough for some time, till the factitious virtues of the +boy ripened into the real vices of the man; and Ephraim discovered that +the cautious, economical, discreet child was, at five-and-twenty, an +odious specimen of avarice, selfishness, and cunning; and what made the +matter worse was, that the uncle and nephew somehow appeared to have +insensibly changed places--the latter being the governor, and the former +the governed; and that while Mr. Jonas professed the warmest affection +for the old man, and exhibited the tenderest anxiety for his health, he +contrived to make him a prisoner in his own house, and destroy all the +comfort of his existence--and everybody knows how hard it is to break +free from a domestic despotism of this description, which, like the +arms of a gigantic cuttle-fish, has wound itself inextricably around its +victim. + +To leave Jonas, or to make Jonas leave him, was equally difficult; but +at length the declining state of his health, together with his +ever-augmenting hatred of his chosen heir, rendering the case more +urgent, he determined to make a vigorous effort for freedom; and now it +first occurred to him that his old friend Maurice Lane might help him to +attain his object. In the mean time, while waiting for an opportunity to +get possession of the will by which he had appointed Jonas heir to all +his fortune, he privately drew up another, in favor of his sister's +eldest son or his descendants, on condition of their taking the name of +Aldridge; and this he secured in a tin-box, of which he kept the key +always about him, the box itself being deposited in a cupboard in his +own chamber. In spite of all these precautions, however, Jonas +penetrated the secret, and by means of false keys, obtained a sight of +the document which was to cut him out of all he had been accustomed to +consider his own; but it was at least some comfort to observe that the +will was neither signed nor witnessed, and therefore at present +perfectly invalid. This being the case, he thought it advisable to +replace the papers, and content himself with narrowly watching his +uncle's future proceedings, since stronger measures at so critical a +juncture might possibly provoke the old man to more decisive ones of his +own. + +In a remote quarter of the town resided two young men, commonly called +Jock and Joe Wantage, who had formerly served Mr. Aldridge as errand +boys, but who had since managed to set up in a humble way of business +for themselves; and having at length contrived one evening to elude the +vigilance of his nephew, he stepped into a coach, and without entering +into any explanation of his reasons, he, in the presence of those +persons, produced and signed his will, which they witnessed, desiring +them at the same time never to mention the circumstance to anybody, +unless called upon to do so. After making them a little present of +money, for adversity had now somewhat softened his heart, he proceeded +to the house of his old clerk. + +It was by this time getting late, and the father and daughter were +sitting in their almost fireless room, anxious and sad, for, as Tracy +had conjectured, they were reduced to the last extremity of distress, +when they were startled at a double knock at the door. It was long since +those old walls had reverberated to such a sound. + +"Who can that be?" exclaimed Lane, looking suddenly up from his book, +which was a tattered volume of Shakspeare, the only one he possessed. "I +heard a coach stop." + +"It can be nobody here," returned Mary: "it must be a mistake." + +However, she rose and opened the door, at which by this time stood Mr. +Aldridge, whose features it was too dark to distinguish. + +"Bring a light here!" said he. "No; stay; I'll send you out the money," +he added to the coachman, and with that he stepped forward to the little +parlor. But the scene that there presented itself struck heavily upon +his heart, and perhaps upon his conscience, for instead of advancing, he +stood still in the doorway. Here was poverty indeed! He and Lane had +begun life together, but what a contrast in their ultimate fortunes! The +one with much more money than he knew what to do with; the other without +a shilling to purchase a bushel of coals to warm his shivering limbs; +and yet the rich man was probably the more miserable of the two! + +"Mr. Aldridge!" exclaimed Lane, rising from his seat in amazement. + +"Take this, and pay the man his fare," said the visitor to Mary, handing +her some silver. "And have you no coals?" + +"No, sir." + +"Then buy some directly, and make up the fire. Get plenty; here's the +money to pay for them;" and as the coals were to be had next door, there +was soon a cheerful fire in the grate. Lane drew his chair close to the +fender, and spread his thin fingers to the welcome blaze. + +"I did not know you were so badly off as this," Mr. Aldridge remarked. + +"We have nothing but what Mary earns, and needlework is poorly paid," +returned Lane; "and often not to be had. I hope Mr. Jonas is well?" + +Mr. Aldridge did not answer, but sat silently looking into the fire. The +corners of his mouth were drawn down, his lip quivered, and the tears +rose to his eyes as he thought of all he had lavished on that ungrateful +nephew, that serpent he had nourished in his bosom, while the only +friend he ever had was starving. + +"Mary's an excellent girl," pursued the father, "and has more sense than +years. She nursed me through all my illness night and day; and though +she has had a hard life of it, she's as patient as a lamb, poor thing! I +sometimes wish I was dead, and out of her way, for then she might do +better for herself." + +Mr. Aldridge retained his attitude and his silence, but a tear or two +escaped from their channels, and flowed down the wan and hollow cheek: +he did not dare to speak, lest the convulsion within his breast should +burst forth into sobs and outward demonstrations, from which his close +and reserved nature shrunk. Lane made two or three attempts at +conversation, and then, finding them ineffectual, sank into silence +himself. + +If the poor clerk could have penetrated the thoughts of his visitor +during that interval, he would have read there pity for the sufferings +of his old friend, remorse for having treated him with harshness under +the name of justice, and the best resolutions to make him amends for the +future. + +"Justice!" thought he; "how can man, who sees only the surface of +things, ever hope to be just?" + +"You have no food either, I suppose?" said he abruptly breaking the +silence. + +"There's part of a loaf in the house, I believe," returned Lane. + +"Call the girl, and bid her fetch some food! Plenty and the best! Do you +hear, Mary?" he added as she appeared at the door. "Here's money." + +"I have enough left from what you gave me for the coals," said Mary, +withholding her hand. + +"Take it!--take it!" said Mr. Aldridge, who was now for the first time +in his life beginning to comprehend that the real value of money depends +wholly on the way in which it is used, and that that which purchases +happiness neither for its possessor nor anybody else is not wealth, but +dross. "Take it, and buy whatever you want. When did _he_ ever withhold +his hand when I offered him money?" thought he as his mind recurred to +his adopted nephew. + +Mary accordingly departed, and having supplied the table with +provisions, was sent out again to purchase a warm shawl and some other +articles for herself, which it was too evident she was much in need of. +It was not till after she had departed that Mr. Aldridge entered into +the subject that sat heavy on his soul. He now first communicated to +Lane that which the reserve of his nature had hitherto induced him to +conceal from everybody--namely, the disappointment he had experienced in +the character of his adopted son, the ill-treatment he had received from +him, and the mixture of fear, hatred, and disgust with which the conduct +of Jonas had inspired him. + +"He has contrived, under the pretense of taking care of my health, to +make me a prisoner in my own house. I haven't a friend nor an +acquaintance; he has bought over the servants to his interest, and his +confidential associate is Holland, _my_ solicitor, who drew up the will +I made in that rascal's favor, and has it in his possession. Jonas is to +marry his daughter too; but I have something in my pocket that will +break off that match. I should never sleep in my grave if he inherited +my money! The fact is," continued he, after a pause, "I never mean to go +back to the fellow. I won't trust myself in his keeping; for I see he +has scarcely patience to wait till nature removes me out of the way. +I'll tell you what, Lane," continued he, his hollow cheek flushing with +excited feelings, "I'll come and live with you, and Mary shall be my +nurse." + +Lane, who sat listening to all this in a state of bewilderment, +half-doubting whether his old master had not been seized with a sudden +fit of insanity, here cast a glance round the miserable whitewashed +walls begrimed with smoke and dirt. "Not here--not here!" added Mr. +Aldridge, interpreting the look aright; we'll take a house in the +country, and Mary shall manage everything for us, whilst we sit +together, with our knees to the fire, and talk over old times. Thank +God, my money is my own still! and with country air and good nursing I +should not wonder if I recover my health; for I can safely say I have +never known what it is to enjoy a happy hour these five years--never +since I found out that fellow's real character--and that is enough to +kill any man! Look here," said he, drawing from his pocket a large black +leathern note-case. "Here is a good round sum in Bank of England notes, +which I have kept concealed until I could get clear of Mr. Jonas; for +though he cannot touch the principal, thank God! he got a power of +attorney from me some time ago, entitling him to receive my dividends; +but now I'm out of his clutches, I'll put a drag on his wheel, he may +rely on it. With this we can remove into the country and take lodgings, +while we look out for a place to suit us permanently. We'll have a cow +in a paddock close to the house; the new milk and the smell of the hay +will make us young again. Many an hour, as I have lain in my wearisome +bed lately, I have thought of you and our Sunday afternoons in the +country when we were boys. In the eagerness of money-getting, these +things had passed away from my memory; but they return to me now as the +only pleasant recollection of my life." + +"And yet I never thought you enjoyed them much at the time," observed +Lane, who was gradually getting more at ease with the rich man that had +once been his equal, but between whom and himself all equality had +ceased as the one grew richer and the other poorer. + +"Perhaps I did not," returned Ephraim. "I was too eager to get on in the +world to take much pleasure in anything that did not help to fill my +pockets. Money--money, was all I thought of! and when I got it, what did +it bring me? Jonas--and a precious bargain he has turned out! But I'll +be even with him yet." Here there was a sob and a convulsion of the +breast, as the wounded heart swelled with its bitter sense of injury. "I +have not told you half yet," continued he; "but I'll be even with him, +little as he thinks it." + +As a pause now ensued, Lane felt it was his turn to say something, and +he began with, "I am surprised at Mr. Jonas;" for so cleverly had the +nephew managed, that the alienation of the uncle was unsuspected by +everybody, and Lane could hardly bring himself to comment freely on this +once-cherished nephew. "I could not have believed, after all you've done +for him, that he would turn out ungrateful. Perhaps," continued he; but +here the words were arrested on his lips by a sudden movement on the +part of Mr. Aldridge, which caused Lane, who had been staring vacantly +into the fire, to turn his eyes toward his visitor, whom, to his +surprise, he saw falling gradually forward. He stretched out his hand to +arrest the fall; but his feeble arm only gave another direction to the +body, which sank on its face to the ground. Lane, who naturally thought +Mr. Aldridge had fainted from excess of emotion, fetched water, and +endeavored to raise him from the floor; but he slipped heavily from his +grasp; and the recollection that years ago, he had heard from the +apothecary who attended Ephraim that the latter had disease of the +heart, and would some day die suddenly, filled him with terror and +dismay. He saw that the prophecy was fulfilled; his own weak nerves and +enfeebled frame gave way under the shock, and dropping into the nearest +chair, he was for some moments almost as insensible as his friend. + +When he revived, and was able to recall his scattered senses, the first +thing that met his eye was the open pocket-book and the notes that lay +on the table. But a moment before, how full of promise was that book to +him! Now, where were his hopes? Alas, like his fortunes, in the dust! +Never was a man less greedy of money than Lane; but he knew what it was +to want bread, to want clothes, to want fire. He felt sure Jonas would +never give him a sixpence to keep him from starving; and there was his +poor Mary, so overworked, fading her fair young cheeks with toil. That +money was to have made three persons comfortable: he to whom it belonged +was gone, and could never need it; and he had paid quite enough before +he departed to satisfy Lane, that could he lift up his voice from the +grave to say who would have the contents of that book, it would not be +Jonas. Where, then, could be the harm of helping himself to that which +had been partly intended for him? Where too, could be the danger? +Assuredly Jonas, the only person who had a right to inquire into Mr. +Aldridge's affairs, knew nothing of this sum; and then the pocket-book +might be burned, and so annihilate all trace. There blazed the fire so +invitingly. Besides, Jonas would be so rich, and could so well afford to +spare it. As these arguments hastily suggested themselves, Lane, +trembling with emotion, arose from his seat, seized the book, and +grasped a handful of the notes, when to his horror, at that moment he +heard a tap at the window. Shaking like a leaf, his wan cheeks whiter +than before, and his very breath suspended, he stood waiting for what +was to follow; but nothing ensued--all was silent again. It was probably +an accident: some one passing had touched the glass; but still an +undefined fear made him totter to the street door, and draw the bolt. +Then he returned into the room: there were the notes yet tempting him. +But this interruption had answered him. He longed for them as much as +before, but did not dare to satisfy his desire, lest he should hear that +warning tap again. Yet if left there till Mary returned, they were lost +to him forever; and he and she would be starving again, all the more +wretched for this transitory gleam of hope that had relieved for a +moment the darkness of their despair. But time pressed: every moment he +expected to hear her at the door; and as unwilling to relinquish the +prize as afraid to seize it, he took refuge in an expedient that avoided +either extreme--he closed the book, and flung it beneath the table, over +which there was spread an old green cloth, casting a sufficiently dark +shadow around to render the object invisible, unless to a person +stooping to search for it. Thus, if inquired for and sought, it would be +found, and the natural conclusion be drawn that it had fallen there; if +not, he would have time for deliberation, and circumstances should +decide him what to do. + +There were but two beds in this poor house: in one slept Lane, on the +other was stretched the dead guest. Mary, therefore, on this eventful +night had none to go to. So she made up the fire, threw her new shawl +over her head, and arranged herself to pass the hours till morning in +the rickety old chair in which her father usually sat. The scenes in +which she had been assisting formed a sad episode in her sad life; and +although she knew too little of Mr. Aldridge to feel any particular +interest in him, she had gathered enough from her father, and from the +snatches of conversation she had heard, to be aware that this visit was +to have been the dawn of better fortunes, and that the old man's sudden +decease was probably a much heavier misfortune to themselves than to +him. A girl more tenderly nurtured and accustomed to prosperity would +have most likely given vent to her disappointment in tears; but tears +are an idle luxury, in which the poor rarely indulge: they have no time +for them. They must use their eyes for their work; and when night comes, +their weary bodies constrain the mind to rest. Mary had had a fatiguing +evening--it was late before she found herself alone; and tired and +exhausted, unhappy as she felt, it was not long ere she was in a sound +sleep. + +It appeared to her that she must have slept several hours, when she +awoke with the consciousness that there was somebody stirring in the +room. She felt sure that a person had passed close to where she was +sitting; she heard the low breathing and the cautious foot, which +sounded as if the intruder was without shoes. The small grate not +holding much coal, the fire was already out, and the room perfectly +dark, so that Mary had only her ear to guide her: she could see nothing. +A strange feeling crept over her when she remembered their guest: but +no--he was forever motionless; there could be no doubt of that. It could +not surely be her father. His getting out of bed and coming down stairs +in the middle of the night was to the last degree improbable. What could +he come for? Besides, if he had done so, he would naturally have spoken +to her. Then came the sudden recollection that she had not fastened the +back-door, which opened upon a yard as accessible to their neighbors as +to themselves--neighbors not always of the best character either; and +the cold shiver of fear crept over her. Now she felt how fortunate it +was that the room _was_ dark. How fortunate, too, that she had not +spoken or stirred; for the intruder withdrew as silently as he came. +Mary strained her ears to listen which way he went; but the shoeless +feet gave no echo. It was some time before the poor girl's beating heart +was stilled; and then suddenly recollecting that this mysterious +visitor, whoever he was, might have gone to fetch a light and return, +she started up, and turned the key in the door. During that night Mary +had no more sleep. When the morning broke, she arose and looked around +to see if any traces of her midnight visitor remained, but there were +none. A sudden alarm now arose in her breast for her father's safety, +and she hastily ascended the stairs to his chamber; but he appeared to +be asleep, and she did not disturb him. Then she opened the door of her +own room, and peeped in--all was still there, and just as it had been +left on the preceding evening; and now, as is usual on such occasions, +when the terrors of the night had passed away, and the broad daylight +looked out upon the world, she began to doubt whether the whole affair +had not been a dream betwixt sleeping and waking, the result of the +agitating events of the preceding evening. + +After lighting the fire, and filling the kettle, Mary next set about +arranging the room; and in so doing, she discovered a bit of folded +paper under the table, which, on examination, proved to be a five-pound +note. Of course this belonged to Mr. Aldridge, and must have fallen +there by accident; so she put it aside for Jonas, and then ascended to +her father's room again. He was now awake, but said he felt very unwell, +and begged for some tea, a luxury they now possessed, through the +liberality of their deceased guest. + +"Did anything disturb you in the night, father?" inquired Mary. + +"No," replied Lane, "I slept all night." He did not look as if he had, +though; and Mary, seeing he was irritable and nervous, and did not wish +to be questioned, made no allusion to what had disturbed herself. + +"If Mr. Jonas Aldridge comes here, say I am too ill to see him," added +he, as she quitted the room. + +About eleven o'clock the undertakers came to remove the body; and +presently afterward Tracy arrived. + +"I came to say that I delivered your message last night to Mr. Jonas +Aldridge," said he, when she opened the door; "and he promised to come +here directly." + +"He did come," returned Mary. "Will you please to walk in? I'm sorry my +father is not down stairs. He's very poorly to-day." + +"I do not wonder at that," answered Tracy, as his thoughts recurred to +the black pocket-book. + +"Mr. Jonas seemed very anxious about some papers he thought his uncle +had about him; but I have found nothing but this five-pound note, which +perhaps you would leave at Mr. Aldridge's for me?" + +"I will, with pleasure," answered Tracy, remembering that this +commission would afford him an excuse for another visit; and he took his +leave a great deal more in love than ever. + +"Humph!" said Mr. Jonas, taking the note that Tracy brought him; "and +she has found no papers?" + +"No, sir, none. Miss Lane says that unless they were in his pocket, Mr. +Aldridge could not have had any papers with him." + +"It's very extraordinary," said Mr. Jonas, answering his own +reflections. + +"Will you give me a receipt for the note, sir?" asked Tracy. My name +is"---- + +"It's all right. I'm going there directly myself, and I'll say you +delivered it," answered Jonas, hastily interrupting him, and taking his +hat off a peg in the passage. "I'm in a hurry just now;" whereupon Tracy +departed without insisting farther. + +While poor Ephraim slept peaceably in his coffin above, Mr. Jonas, +perplexed by all manner of doubts in regard to the missing will, sat +below in the parlor, in a fever of restless anxiety. Every heel that +resounded on the pavement made his heart sink till it had passed the +door, while a ring or a knock shook his whole frame to the center; and +though he longed to see Mr. Holland, his uncle's solicitor, whom he knew +to be quite in his interest, he had not courage either to go to him or +to send for him, for fear of hastening the catastrophe he dreaded. + +Time crept on; the day of the funeral came and passed; the will was +read; and Mr. Jonas took possession as sole heir and executor, and no +interruption occurred. Smoothly and favorably, however, as the stream of +events appeared to flow, the long-expectant heir was not the less +miserable. + +But when three months had elapsed he began to breathe more freely, and +to hope that the alarm had been a false one. The property was indeed his +own--he was a rich man, and now for the first time he felt in sufficient +spirits to look into his affairs and review his possessions. A +considerable share of these consisted in houses, which his uncle had +seized opportunities of purchasing on advantageous terms; and as the +value of some had increased, whilst that of others was diminishing for +want of repair, he employed a surveyor to examine and pronounce on their +condition. + +"Among the rest," said he, "there is a small house in Thomas Street, No. +7. My uncle allowed an old clerk of his to inhabit it, rent free; but he +must turn out. I gave them notice three months ago; but they've not +taken it. Root them up, will you? and get the house cleaned down and +whitewashed for some other tenant." + +Having put these matters in train, Mr. Jonas resolved, while his own +residence was set in order, to make a journey to London, and enjoy the +gratification of presenting himself to his family in the character of a +rich man; and so fascinating did he find the pleasures of wealth and +independence, that nearly four months had elapsed since his departure +before he summoned Mr. Reynolds to give an account of his proceedings. + +"So," said he, after they had run through the most important items--"so +you have found a tenant for the house in Thomas Street? Had you much +trouble in getting rid of the Lanes?" + +"They're in it still," answered Mr. Reynolds. "The man that has taken it +has married Lane's daughter." + +"What is he?" inquired Jonas. + +"An officer's servant--a soldier in the regiment that is quartered in +the citadel." + +"Oh, I've seen the man--a good-looking young fellow. But how is he to +pay the rent?" + +"He says he has saved money, and he has set her up in a shop. However, I +have taken care to secure the first quarter; there's the receipt for +it." + +"That is all right," said Mr. Jonas, who was in a very complacent humor, +for fortune seemed quite on his side at present. "How," said he, +suddenly changing color as he glanced his eye over the slip of paper; +"how! Tracy Walkingham!" + +"Yes; an odd name enough for a private soldier, isn't it?" + +"Tracy Walkingham!" he repeated. "Why how came he to know the Lanes? +Where does he come from?" + +"I know nothing of him, except that he is in the barracks. But I can +inquire, and find out his history and genealogy if you wish it," replied +Mr. Reynolds. + +"Oh, no, no," said Jonas; "leave him alone. If I want to find out +anything about him, I'll do it myself. Indeed it is nothing connected +with himself, but the name struck me as being that of a person who owed +my uncle some money; however, it cannot be him of course. And to return +to matters of more consequence, I want to know what you've done with the +tenements in Water Lane?" And having thus adroitly turned the +conversation, the subject of the tenant with the odd name was referred +to no more; but although it is true, that "out of the fullness of the +heart the mouth speaketh," it is also frequently true, that that which +most occupies the mind is the farthest from the lips, and this was +eminently the case on the present occasion; for during the ensuing half +hour that Mr. Jonas appeared to be listening with composure to the +surveyor's reports and suggestions, the name of Tracy Walkingham was +burning itself into his brain in characters of fire. + +"Tracy Walkingham!" exclaimed he, as soon as Mr. Reynolds was gone, and +he had turned the key in the lock to exclude interruptions; "here, and +married to Lane's daughter! There's something in this more than meets +the eye! The Lanes have got that will as sure as my name's Jonas +Aldridge, and have been waiting to produce it till they had him fast +noosed. But why do they withhold it now? Waiting till they hear of my +return, I suppose." And as this conviction gained strength, he paced the +room in a paroxysm of anguish. And there he was, so helpless, too! What +could he do but wait till the blow came? He would have liked to turn +them out of his house, but they had taken it for a year; and besides, +what good would that do but to give them a greater triumph, and perhaps +expedite the catastrophe? Sometimes he thought of consulting his friend +Holland; but his pride shrank from the avowal that his uncle had +disinherited him, and that the property he and everybody else had long +considered so securely his, now in all probability justly belonged to +another. Then he formed all sorts of impracticable schemes for getting +the paper into his possession, or Tracy out of the way. Never was there +a more miserable man; the sight of those two words, _Tracy Walkingham_, +had blasted his sight, and changed the hue of everything he looked upon. +Our readers will have little difficulty in guessing the reason: the +young soldier, Mary's handsome husband, was the heir named in the +missing will--the son of that sister of Ephraim who had married a +sergeant, and had subsequently gone to the West Indies. + +Tracy Walkingham, the father, was not exactly in his right position as a +private in the 9th regiment, for he was the offspring of a very +respectable family; but some early extravagance and dissipation, +together with a passion for a military life, which was denied +gratification, had induced him to enlist. Good conduct and a tolerable +education soon procured him the favorable notice of his superiors, took +him out of the ranks, and finally procured him a commission. When both +he and his wife died in Jamaica, their only son was sent home to the +father's friends; but the boy met with but a cold reception; and after +some years passed, far from happily, he, as we have said, ran away from +school; and his early associations being all military, seized the first +opportunity of enlisting, as his father had done before him. But of the +history of his parents he knew nothing whatever, except that his father +had risen from the ranks; and he had as little suspicion of his +connection with Ephraim Aldridge as Mary had. Neither did the name of +Tracy Walkingham suggest any reminiscences to Lane, who had either +forgotten, or more probably had never heard it, Mr. Aldridge's sister +having married prior to the acquaintance of the two lads. But Jonas had +been enlightened by the will; and although the regiment now quartered at +P---- was not the one therein mentioned, the name was too remarkable not +to imply a probability, which his own terror naturally converted into a +certainty. + +In the mean time, while the rich and conscious usurper was nightly lying +on a bed of thorns, and daily eating the broad of bitterness, the poor +and unconscious heir was in the enjoyment of a larger share of happiness +than usually falls to the lot of mortals. The more intimately he became +acquainted with Mary's character, the more reason he found to +congratulate himself on his choice; and even Lane he had learned to +love; while all the painful suspicions connected with Mr. Aldridge's +death and the pocket-book had been entirely dissipated by the evident +poverty of the family; since, after the expenditure of the little ready +money Mr. Aldridge had given them, they had relapsed into their previous +state of distress, having clearly no secret resources wherewith to avert +it. Mary's shop was now beginning to get custom too, and she was by slow +degrees augmenting her small stock, when the first interruption to their +felicity occurred. This was the impending removal of the regiment, +which, under present circumstances, was an almost inevitable sentence of +separation; for even could they have resolved to make the sacrifice, and +quit the home on which they had expended all their little funds, it was +impossible for Mary to abandon her father, ever feeble, and declining in +health. The money Tracy had saved toward purchasing his discharge was +not only all gone, but, though doing very well, they were not yet quite +clear of the debt incurred for their furniture. There was therefore no +alternative but to submit to the separation, hard as it was; and all the +harder, that they could not tell how long it might take to amass the +needful sum to purchase Tracy's liberty. Lane, too, was very much +affected, and very unwilling to part with his son-in-law. + +"What," said he, "only twenty pounds?" And when he saw his daughter's +tears, he would exclaim, "Oh, Mary! and to think that twenty pounds +would do it!" And more than once he said, "Tracy should not go; he was +determined he should not leave them;" and bade Mary dry her tears, for +he would prevent it. But nevertheless the route came; and early one +morning the regiment marched through Thomas Street, the band playing the +tune of "The girl I left behind me;" while poor Mary, choking with sobs, +peeped through the half-open shutter, to which the young husband's eyes +were directed as long as the house was in sight. That was a sad day, and +very sad were many that followed. Neither was there any blessed Penny +Post then, to ease the sick hearts and deferred hopes of the poor; and +few and rare were the tidings that reached the loving wife--soon to +become a mother. The only pleasure Mary had now was in the amassing +money. How eager she was for it! How she counted over and over her daily +gains! How she economized! What self-denial she practiced! Oh for twenty +pounds to set her husband free, and bring him to her arms again! So +passed two years, circumstances always improving, but still this object +so near her heart was far from being attained, when there arrived a +letter from Tracy, informing her that the regiment was ordered abroad, +and that, as he could not procure a furlough, there was no possibility +of their meeting unless she could go to him. What was to be done? If she +went, all her little savings would be absorbed in the journey, and the +hope of purchasing her husband's discharge indefinitely postponed. +Besides, who was to take care of her father, and the lodger, and the +shop? The former would perhaps die from neglect, she should lose her +lodger, and the shop would go to destruction for want of the needful +attention. But could she forbear? Her husband might never return--they +might never meet again--then how she should reproach herself! Moreover, +Tracy had not seen the child: that was decisive. At all risks she must +go; and this being resolved, she determined to shut up her shop, and +engage a girl to attend to her father and her lodger. These arrangements +made, she started on her long journey with her baby in her arms. + +At the period of which we are treating, a humble traveler was not only +subject to great inconveniences, but besides the actual sum disbursed, +he paid a heavy per-centage from delay on every mile of his journey. +Howbeit, "Time and the hour run through the roughest day," and poor Mary +reached her destination at last; and in the joy of meeting with her +husband, forgot all her difficulties and anxieties, till the necessity +for parting recalled her to the sad reality that awaited them. If she +stayed too long away from her shop, she feared her customers would +forsake her altogether; and then how was the next rent-day to be +provided for? So, with many a sigh and many a tear, the young couple +bade each other farewell, and Mary recommenced her tedious journey. If +tedious before, when such a bright star of hope lighted her on her way, +how much more so now! While poor Tracy felt so wretched and depressed, +that many a time vague thoughts of deserting glanced through his mind, +and he was only withheld from it by the certainty that if they shot +him--and deserters, when taken, were shot in those days--it would break +his poor little wife's heart. Soon after Mary's departure, however, it +happened that his master, Major D'Arcy, met with a severe accident while +hunting; and as Tracy was his favorite servant, and very much attached +to him, his time and thoughts were so much occupied with attendance on +the invalid, that he was necessarily in some degree diverted from his +own troubles. + +In the mean time Mary arrived at home, where she found her affairs in no +worse condition than might be expected. Her father was in health much as +she had left him, and her lodger still in the house, though both weary +of her substitute; and the latter--that is, the lodger--threatening to +quit if the mistress did not make haste back. All was right now +again--except Mary's heart--and things resumed their former train; the +only event she expected being a letter to inform her of her husband's +departure, which he had promised to post on the day of his embarkation. + +Three months elapsed, however, before the postman stopped at her door +with the dreaded letter. How her heart sank when she saw him enter the +shop! + +"A letter for you, Mrs. Walkingham--one-and-two-pence, if you please." +Mary opened her till, and handed him the money. + +"Poor thing!" thought the man, observing how her hand shook, and how +pale she turned; "expects bad news, I suppose!" + +Mary dropped the letter into the money-drawer, for there was a customer +in the shop waiting to be served--and then came in another. When the +second was gone, she took it out and looked at it, turned it about, and +examined it, and kissed it, and then put it away again. She felt that +she dared not open it till night, when all her business was over, and +her shop closed, and she might pour out her tears without interruption. +She could scarcely tell whether she most longed or feared to open it; +and when at length the quiet hour came, and her father was in bed, and +her baby asleep in its cradle beside her, and she sat down to read it, +she looked at it, and pressed it to her bosom, and kissed it again and +again, before she broke the seal; and then when she had done so, the +paper shook in her hand, and her eyes were obscured with tears, and the +light seemed so dim that she could not at first decipher anything but +"My darling Mary!" It was easy to read that, for he always called her +_his darling Mary_--but what came next? "Joy! joy! dry your dear tears, +for I know how fast they are falling, and be happy! I am not going +abroad with the regiment, and I shall soon be a free man. Major D'Arcy +has met with a sad accident, and cannot go to a foreign station; and as +he wishes me not to leave him, he is going to purchase my discharge," +&c. &c. + +Many a night had Mary lain awake from grief, but this night she could +not sleep for joy. It was such a surprise, such an unlooked-for piece of +good fortune. It might indeed be some time before she could see her +husband, but he was free, and sooner or later they should be together. +Everybody who came to the shop the next day wondered what had come over +Mrs. Walkingham. She was not like the same woman. + +It was about eight months after the arrival of the above welcome +intelligence, on a bright winter's morning, Mary as usual up betimes, +her shop all in order, her child washed and dressed, and herself as neat +and clean "as a new pin," as her neighbor, Mrs. Crump the laundress, +used to say of her--her heart as usual full of Tracy, and more than +commonly full of anxiety about him, for the usual period for his writing +was some time passed. She was beginning to be uneasy at his prolonged +silence, and to fear that he was ill. + +"No letter for me, Mr. Ewart?" she said, as she stood on the step with +her child in her arms, watching for the postman. + +"None to-day, Mrs. Walkingham; better luck next time!" answered the +functionary, as he trotted past. Mary, disappointed was turning in, +resolving that night to write and upbraid her husband for causing her so +much uneasiness, when she heard the horn that announced the approach of +the London coach, and she stopped to see it pass; for there were +pleasant memories connected with that coach: it was the occasion of her +first acquaintance with Tracy--so had the driver sounded his horn, which +she, absorbed in her troubles, had not heard; so had he cracked his +whip; so had the wheels rattled over the stones; and so had the idle +children in the street run hooting and hallooing after it; but not so +had it dashed up to her door and stopped. It cannot be!--yes, it +is--Tracy himself, in a drab great-coat and crape round his hat, jumping +down from behind! The guard throws him a large portmanteau, and a paper +parcel containing a new gown for Mary and a frock for the boy; and in a +moment more they are in the little back parlor in each other's arms. +Major D'Arcy was dead, and Tracy had returned to his wife to part no +more--so we will shut the door, and leave them to their happiness, while +we take a peep at Mr. Jonas Aldridge. + +We left him writhing under the painful discovery that the rightful heir +of the property he was enjoying, at least so far as his uncle's +intentions were concerned, was not only in existence, but was actually +the husband of Lane's daughter; and although he sometimes hoped the +fatal paper had been destroyed, since he could in no other way account +for its non-production, still the galling apprehension that it might +some day find its way to light was ever a thorn in his pillow; and the +natural consequence of this irritating annoyance was, that while he +hated both Tracy and his wife, he kept a vigilant eye on their +proceedings, and had a restless curiosity about all that concerned them. +He would have been not only glad to eject them from the house they +occupied, and even to drive them out of the town altogether, but he had +a vague fear of openly meddling with them; so that the departure of the +regiment, and its being subsequently ordered abroad, afforded him the +highest satisfaction; in proportion to which was his vexation at Tracy's +release, and ultimate return as a free man, all which particulars he +extracted from Mr. Reynolds as regularly as the payment of the quarter's +rent. + +"And what does he mean to do now?" inquired Jonas. + +"To settle here, I fancy," returned Mr. Reynolds. "They seem to be doing +very well in the little shop; and I believe they have some thoughts of +extending their business." + +This was extremely unpleasant intelligence, and the more so, that it was +not easy to discover any means of defeating these arrangements; for as +Mr. Jonas justly observed, as he soliloquized on the subject, "In this +cursed country there is no getting rid of such a fellow!" + +In the town of which we speak there are along the shore several houses +of public resort of a very low description, chiefly frequented by +soldiers and sailors; and in war-times it was not at all an uncommon +thing for the hosts of these dens to be secretly connected with the +pressgangs and recruiting companies, both of whom, at a period when men +were so much needed for the public service, pursued their object after a +somewhat unscrupulous fashion. Among the most notorious of these houses +was one called the Britannia, kept by a man of the name of Gurney, who +was reported to have furnished, by fair means or foul, a good many +recruits to his Majesty's army and navy. Now it occurred to Mr. Jonas +Aldridge that Gurney might be useful to him in his present strait; nor +did he find any unwillingness on the part of that worthy person to serve +his purposes. + +"A troublesome sort of fellow this Walkingham is," said Mr. Jonas; "and +I wouldn't mind giving twenty pounds if you could get him to enlist +again." + +The twenty pounds was quite argument enough to satisfy Gurney of the +propriety of so doing; but success in the undertaking proved much less +easy than desirable. Tracy, who spent his evenings quietly at home with +his wife, never drank, and never frequented the houses on the quay, +disappointed all the schemes laid for entrapping him; and Mr. Jonas had +nearly given up the expectation of accomplishing his purpose, when a +circumstance occurred that awakened new hopes. The house next to that +inhabited by the young couple took fire in the night when everybody was +asleep; the party-walls being thin, the flames soon extended to the +adjoining ones; and the following morning saw poor Tracy and his wife +and child homeless, and almost destitute, their best exertions having +enabled them to save little more than their own lives and that of Mary's +father, who was now bedridden. But for his infirm condition they might +have saved more of their property; but not only was there much time +necessarily consumed in removing him, but when Tracy rushed into his +room, intending to carry him away in his arms, Lane would not allow him +to lift him from his bed till he had first unlocked a large trunk with a +key which was attached to a string hung round the sick man's neck. + +"Never mind--never mind trying to save anything but your life! You'll be +burnt, sir; indeed you will; there's not a moment to lose," cried Tracy +eagerly. + +But Lane would listen to nothing: the box must be opened, and one +precious object secured. "Thrust your hand down to the bottom--the +corner next the window--and you'll find a parcel in brown paper." + +"I have it, sir--I have it!" cried Tracy; and lifting the invalid from +his bed with the strong arm of vigorous youth, he threw him on his back, +and bore him safely into the street. + +"The parcel!" said Lane; "where is it?" + +Tracy flung it to him, and rushed back into the house. But too late: the +flames drove him forth immediately; and finding he could do nothing +there, he proceeded to seek a shelter for his houseless family. + +It was with no little satisfaction that Mr. Jonas Aldridge heard of this +accident. These obnoxious individuals were dislodged now without any +intervention of his, and the link was broken that so unpleasantly seemed +to connect them with himself. Moreover, they were to all appearance +ruined, and consequently helpless and defenseless. Now was the time to +root them out of the town if possible, and prevent them making another +settlement in it; and now was the time that Gurney might be useful; for +Tracy, being no longer a householder, was liable to be pressed, if he +could not be induced to reenlist. + +In the mean while, all unconscious of the irritation and anxiety they +were innocently inflicting on the wealthy Mr. Jonas Aldridge, Tracy and +his wife were struggling hard to keep their heads above water in this +sudden wreck of all their hopes and comforts. It is so hard to rise +again after such a plunge; for the destruction of the poor is their +poverty; and _having_ nothing, they could undertake nothing, begin +nothing. The only thing open seemed for Tracy to seek service, and for +Mary to resume her needlework; but situations and custom are not found +in a day, and they were all huddled together in a room, and wanting +bread. The shock of the fire and the removal had seriously affected Lane +too, and it was evident that his sorrows and sufferings were fast +drawing to a close. He was aware of it himself, and one day when Mary +was out he called Tracy to his bedside, and asked him if Mr. Adams did +not think he was dying. + +"You have been very ill before, and recovered," said Tracy, unwilling to +shock him with the sentence that the apothecary had pronounced against +him. + +"I see," said Lane; "my time is come; and I am not unwilling to go, for +I am a sore burthen to you and Mary, now you're in trouble. I know +you're very kind," he added, seeing Tracy about to protest; "but it's +high time I was under ground. God knows--God knows I have had a sore +struggle, and it's not over yet! To see you so poor, in want of +everything, and to know that I could help you. I sometimes think there +could be no great harm in it either. The Lord have mercy upon me! What +am I saying?" + +"You had better not talk any more, but try to sleep till Mary comes in," +said Tracy, concluding his mind was beginning to wander. + +"No, no," said Lane; "that won't do: I must say it now. You remember +that parcel we saved from the fire?" + +"Yes I do," answered Tracy, looking about. "Where is it? I've never seen +it since." + +"It's here!" said Lane, drawing it from under his pillow. "Look there," +he added: "_not to be opened till after my death_. You observe?" + +"Certainly, sir." + +"_Not to be opened till after my death._ But as soon as I am gone, take +it to Mr. Jonas Aldridge: it belongs to him. There is a letter inside +explaining everything; and I have asked him to be good to you and Mary +for the sake of--for the sake of the hard, hard struggle I have had in +poverty and sickness, when I saw her young cheek fading with want and +work; and now again, when you are all suffering, and little Tracy too, +with his thin pale face that used to be so round and rosy: but it will +soon be over, thank God! You will be sure to deliver it into his own +hands?" + +"I give you my word I will, sir." + +"Take it away then, and let me see it no more; but hide it from Mary, +and tell her nothing about it." + +"I will not, sir. And now you must try to rest." + +"I feel more at peace now," said Lane; "and perhaps I may. Thank God the +worst struggle is over--dying is easy." + +Mr. Adams was right in his prediction. In less than a week from the +period of that solemn behest poor Lane was in his grave; and his last +word, with a significant glance at Tracy, was--_remember_! + +Mary had loved her father tenderly--indeed there was a great deal in him +to love; and he was doubly endeared to her by the trials they had gone +through together, and the cares and anxieties she had lavished on him. +But there was no bitterness in the tears she shed: she had never failed +him in their hours of trial; she had been a dutiful and affectionate +daughter, and he had expired peacefully in the arms of herself and her +kind and beloved husband. It was on the evening of the day which had +seen the remains of poor Maurice Lane deposited in the churchyard of St. +Jude that Tracy, having placed the parcel in his bosom, and buttoned his +coat over it, said to his wife--"Mary, I have occasion to go out on a +little business; keep up your spirits till I return; I will not be away +more than an hour;" and leaning over her chair he kissed her cheek, and +left the room. As he stepped from his own door into the street, he +observed two men leaning against the rails of the adjoining house, and +he heard one say to the other, "Yes, by jingo!" "At last!" returned the +other; whereupon they moved on, pursuing the same way he went himself, +but keeping at some distance behind. + +Tracy could not quite say that he owed no man anything, for the fire had +incapacitated them from paying some small accounts which they would +otherwise have been able to discharge, and he even owed a month's rent; +but this, considering the circumstances of the case, he did not expect +would be claimed. Indeed Mr. Reynolds, who was quite ignorant of Mr. +Jonas' enmity, had hinted as much. He had therefore no apprehension of +being pursued for debt, nor, till he recollected that there was a very +active pressgang in the town, did it occur to him that the movements of +these men could be connected with himself. It is true that, as a +discharged soldier, he was not strictly liable, but he was aware that +immunities of this sort were not always available at the moment of need; +and that, as these persons did not adhere very strictly to the terms of +their warrant, once in their clutches, it was no easy matter to get out +of them: so he quickened his pace, and kept his eyes and ears on the +alert. + +His way lay along the shore, and shortly before he reached the +Britannia, the two men suddenly advanced, and placed themselves one on +each side of him. But for the suspicion we have named, Tracy would have +either not observed their movements, or, if he had, would have stopped +and inquired what they wanted. As it was, he thought it much wiser to +escape the seizure at first, should such be their intention, than trust +to the justice of his cause afterward; so, without giving them time to +lay hands upon him, he took to his heels and ran, whereupon they sounded +a whistle, and as he reached Joe Gurney's door, he found his flight +impeded by that worthy himself, who came out of it, and tried to trip +him up. But Tracy was active, and making a leap, he eluded the +stratagem. The man, however, seized him, which gave time to the two +others to come up; and there commenced a desperate struggle of three to +one, in which, in spite of his strength and ability, Tracy would +certainly have been worsted but for a very unexpected reinforcement +which joined him from some of the neighboring houses, to whose +inhabitants Gurney's proceedings had become to the last degree odious; +more especially in the women, among whom there was scarcely one who had +not the cause of a brother, a son, or a lover to avenge. Armed with +pokers, brooms, or whatever they could lay their hands on, these Amazons +issued from their doors, and fell foul of Gurney, whom they singled from +the rest as their own peculiar prey. In the confusion Tracy contrived to +make his escape; and without his hat, and his clothes almost torn off +his back, he rushed in upon the astonished Mary in less than half an +hour after he had left her. + +His story was soon told, and there was nothing sufficiently uncommon in +such an incident in those days to excite much surprise, except as +regarded the circumstance of the men lying in wait for him. Tracy was +not ignorant that malice and jealousy had occasionally furnished victims +to the press system; but they had no enemy they knew of, nor was there +any one, as far as they were aware, that had an interest in getting him +out of the way. It was, however, an unpleasant and alarming occurrence, +and he resolved on consulting a lawyer, in order to ascertain how he +might protect himself from any repetition of the annoyance. + +With this determination, the discussion between the husband and wife +concluded for that night; but the former had a private source of +uneasiness, which on the whole distressed him much more than the seizure +itself, and which he could not have the relief of communicating to +Mary--this was the loss of the parcel so sacredly committed to his care +by his deceased father-in-law, and which he was on his way to deliver +into the hands of Mr. Jonas Aldridge when he met with the interruption. +It had either fallen or been torn from his bosom in the struggle, and +considering the neighborhood and the sort of people that surrounded him, +he could scarcely indulge the most remote hope of ever seeing it again. +To what the papers contained Lane had furnished him no clew; but whether +it was anything of intrinsic worth, or merely some article to which +circumstances or association lent an arbitrary value, the impossibility +of complying with the last and earnest request of Mary's father formed +far the most painful feature in the accident of the evening; and while +the wife lay awake, conjuring up images of she knew not what dangers and +perils that threatened her husband, Tracy passed an equally sleepless +night in vague conjectures as to what had become of the parcel, and in +forming visionary schemes for its recovery. + +In the morning he even determined to face Gurney in his den; for it was +only at night that he felt himself in any danger from the nefarious +proceedings of himself and his associates. But his inquiries brought him +no satisfaction. The people who resided in the neighborhood of Gurney's +house, many of whom had engaged in the broil, declared they knew nothing +of the parcel; "but," said they, "if any of Gurney's people have it, you +need never hope to see it again." Tracy thought so too; however, he paid +a visit to their den of iniquity, and declared his determination to have +them summoned before the magistrates, to answer for his illegal seizure; +but as all who were present denied any knowledge of the affair, and as +he could not have sworn to the two ruffians who tracked him, he +satisfied himself with this threat without proceeding further in the +business. + +Having been equally unsuccessful at the police-office, he determined +after waiting a few days in the hope of discovering some clew by which +he might recover the parcel, to communicate the circumstance to Mr. +Jonas Aldridge. He therefore took an early opportunity of presenting +himself in West Street. + +"Here's a man wishes to see you, sir," said the servant. + +"Who is it? What does he want?" inquired Mr. Jonas, who, recumbent in +his arm-chair, and his glass of port beside him, was leisurely perusing +his newspaper after dinner. "Where is he?" + +"He's in the passage, sir." + +"Take care he's not a thief come to look after the greatcoats and hats." + +"He looks very respectable, sir." + +"Wants me to subscribe to something, I suppose. Go and ask him what's +his business." + +"He says he can't tell his business except to you, sir, because it's +something very partickler," said the maid, returning into the room. "He +says he's been one of your tenants; his name's Walkingham." + +"Walkingham!" reiterated Mr. Jonas, dropping the newspaper, and starting +erect out of his recumbent attitude. "Wants me! Business! What business +can he possibly have with me? Say I'm engaged, and can't see him. No, +stay! Yes; say I'm engaged and can't see him." + +"He wishes to know what time it will be convenient for you to see him, +sir, as it's about something very partickler indeed," said the girl, +again making her appearance. + +Mr. Jonas reflected a minute or two; he feared this visit portended him +no good. He had often wondered that Tracy had not claimed relationship +with him, for he felt no doubt of his being his cousin; probably he was +now come to do it; or had he somehow got hold of that fatal will? One or +the other surely was the subject of his errand; and if I refuse to see +him, he will go and tell his story to somebody else. "Let him come in. +Stay! Take the lamp off the table, and put it at the other end of the +room." + +This done, Mr. Jonas having reseated himself in his arm-chair in such a +position that he could conceal his features from his unwelcome visitor, +bade the woman send him in. + +"I beg your pardon for intruding, sir," said Tracy, "but I thought it my +duty to come to you," speaking in such a modest tone of voice, that Mr. +Jonas began to feel somewhat reassured, and ventured to ask with a +careless air, "What was his business?" + +"You have perhaps heard, sir, that Mr. Lane is dead?" + +"I believe I did," said Mr. Jonas. + +"Well, sir, shortly before his death he called me to his bedside and +gave me a parcel, which he desired me to deliver to you as soon as he +was laid in his grave." + +"To me?" said Mr. Jonas, by way of filling up the pause, and concealing +his agitation, for he immediately jumped to the conclusion that the will +was really forthcoming now. + +"Yes, sir, into your own hand; and accordingly the day he was buried I +set out in the evening to bring it to you; but the pressgang got hold of +me, and in the scuffle I lost it out of my bosom, where I had put it +for safety, and though I have made every inquiry, I can hear nothing of +it." + +"What was it? What did the parcel contain?" inquired Mr. Jonas, eagerly. + +"I don't know, I am sure, sir," answered Tracy. "It was sealed up in +thick brown paper; but, from the anxiety Mr. Lane expressed about its +delivery, I am afraid it was something of value. He said he should never +rest in his grave if you did not get it." + +Mr. Jonas now seeing there was no immediate danger, found courage to ask +a variety of questions with a view to further discoveries; but as Tracy +had no clew to guide him with regard to the contents of the parcel +except his own suspicions, which he did not feel himself called upon to +communicate, he declared himself unable to give any information. All he +could say was, that "he thought the parcel felt as if there was a book +in it." + +"A book!" said Mr. Jonas. "What sized book?" + +"Not a large book, sir, but rather thick; it might be a pocket-book." + +"Very odd!" said Mr. Jonas, who was really puzzled; for if the book +contained the will, surely it was not to him that Lane would have +committed it. However, as nothing more could be elicited on the subject, +he dismissed Tracy, bidding him neglect nothing to recover the parcel, +and inexpressibly vexed that his own stratagem to get rid of this +"discomfortable cousin," had prevented his receiving the important +bequest. + +Whilst Tracy returned home, satisfied that he had fulfilled his duty as +far as he was able, Mr. Jonas having well considered the matter, +resolved on obtaining an interview with Joe Gurney himself; "for," +thought he, "if the parcel contained neither money, nor anything that +could be turned into money, he may possibly be able to get it for me." + +"Well, sir, I remembers the night very well," said Joe. "They'd ha' been +watching for that 'ere young chap, off and on, for near a fortnight, +when they got him, as luck would have it, close to my door; but he +raised such a noise that the neighbors came out, and he got away." + +"But did you hear anything of the parcel?" inquired Mr. Jonas. + +"Well, sir, I'm not sure whether I did or no," answered Gurney; "but I +think it was Tom Purcell as picked it up." + +"Then you saw it?" said Mr. Jonas. "What did it contain? Where is it?" + +"Well, I'm sure, sir, that is more than I can say," returned Gurney, who +always spared himself the pain of telling more truth than he could +avoid; "but Tom went away the next day to Lunnun." + +"And did he take the parcel with him? Was there no address on it?" + +"No, sir, not on the outside at least--there was something wrote, but it +wasn't addressed to nobody." + +Although Mr. Jonas was perfectly aware that Gurney knew more than he +chose to tell, not wishing to quarrel with him, he was obliged to +relinquish the interrogative system, and content himself with a promise +that he would endeavor to discover the whereabout of Tom Purcell, and do +all he could to recover the lost article; and to a certain extent Gurney +intended to fulfill the engagement. The fact of the matter was, that the +parcel had been found by Tom Purcell, but not so exclusively as that he +could secure the benefit of its contents to himself. They had been +divided amongst those who put in their claim, the treasure consisting of +a black pocket-book, containing Ł95 in bank-notes, and Lane's letter, +sealed, and addressed to Mr. Jonas Aldridge. The profits being +distributed, the pocket-book and letter were added to the share of the +finder, and these, it was possible, might be recovered; and with that +view Gurney dispatched a missive to their possessor. But persons who +follow the profession of Tom Purcell have rarely any fixed address, and +a considerable time elapsed ere an answer was received; and when it did +come, it led to no result. The paper he had burnt, and the pocket-book +he had thrown into a ditch. He described the spot, and it was searched, +but nothing of the sort was found. Here, therefore, ended the matter to +all appearance, especially as Mr. Jonas succeeded in extracting from +Gurney that there was nothing in the book but that letter and some +money. + +In the mean while, however, the pocket-book had strangely enough found +its way back to Thomas Street. A poor woman that carried fish about the +town for sale, and with whom Mary not unfrequently dealt, brought it to +her one day, damp, tattered, and discolored, and inquired if it did not +belong to her husband. + +"Not that I know of," said Mary. + +"Because," said the woman, "he came to our house one morning last winter +asking for a parcel. Now, I know this pocket-book--at least I think it's +the same--had been picked up by some of Gurney's folks the night afore, +though it wasn't for me that lives next door to him to interfere in his +matters. Hows'ever, my son's a hedger and ditcher, and when he came home +last night he brought it: he says he found it in a field near by the +Potteries." + +"I do not think it is Tracy's," said Mary; "but if you will leave it, +I'll ask him." And the article being in too dilapidated a condition to +have any value, the woman told her she was welcome to it, and went away. + +The consequence of this little event was, that when Tracy returned, Mary +became a participator in the secret which had hitherto been withheld +from her. + +"I see it all," said she. "No doubt Mr. Aldridge gave it to my father to +take care of the night he came here; and when he died, my poor father, +knowing we were to have shared with him had he lived, felt tempted to +keep it; but he was too honest to do so; and in all our distresses he +never touched what was not his own; but this explains many things I +could not understand." And as the tears rose to her eyes at the +recollection of the struggle she had witnessed, without comprehending +it, betwixt want and integrity, she fell into a reverie, which prevented +her observing that her child, a boy of four years old, had taken +possession of the pocket-book, and, seated on the floor, was pulling it +to pieces. + +"I tell you what, Mary," said Tracy, returning into the shop, which he +had left for a few minutes, "I'll take the book as it is to Mr. Jonas +Aldridge. I'm sorry the money's lost; but we are not to blame for that, +and I suppose he has plenty. Put it into a bit of clean paper, will you, +and I'll set off at once." + +"Oh, Tracy, Tracy," cried Mary, addressing her little boy, "what _are_ +you doing with that book? Give it me, you naughty child! See, he has +almost torn it in half!" Not a very difficult feat, for the leather was +so rotten with damp that it scarcely held together. + +"Look here, Tracy: here's a paper in it," said Mary, as she took it from +the child, and from the end of a secret pocket, which was unript, she +drew a folded sheet of long writing-paper. + +"Dear me! look here!" said she, as she unfolded and cast her eye over +it. "'In the name of God, amen! I, Ephraim Aldridge, residing at No. 4, +West Street, being of sound mind, memory, and understanding'----Why, +Tracy, it's a will, I declare! Only think, How odd! isn't it? 'Of sound +mind, memory, and understanding, do make and publish this my last will +and testament'"---- + +"I'll tell you what, Mary," said Tracy, attempting to take the paper +from her, "I don't think we've any right to read it: give it me." + +"Stay," said Mary; "stay. Oh, Tracy, do but listen to this: 'I +give, devise, and bequeath all property, of what nature or kind +soever, real, freehold, or personal, of which I shall die seized or +possessed'----Think what a deal Mr. Jonas must have!" + +"Mary, I'm surprised at you." + +"'Of which I shall die seized or possessed, to my nephew'"---- + +"It's merely the draft of a will. Give it me, and let me go." + +"'To my nephew, Tracy Walkingham, son of the late Tracy Walkingham, +formerly a private, and subsequently a commissioned officer in his +majesty's 96th Regiment of foot, and of my sister, Eleanor Aldridge, his +wife.' Tracy, what can it mean? Can you be Mr. Ephraim Aldridge's +nephew?" + +"It's very strange," said Tracy. "I never heard my mother's maiden name; +for both she and my father died in the West Indies when I was a child; +but certainly, as I have often told you, my father was a private in the +96th Regiment, and afterward got a commission." + +It would be useless to dwell on the surprise of the young couple, or to +detail the measures that were taken to ascertain and prove, beyond a +cavil, that Tracy was the right heir. There were relations yet alive +who, when they heard that he was likely to turn out a rich man, were +willing enough to identify him, and it was not till the solicitor he had +employed was perfectly satisfied on this head that Mr. Jonas was waited +on, with the astounding intelligence that a will had been discovered, +made subsequent to the one by which he inherited. At the same time a +letter was handed to him, which, sealed and addressed in Ephraim's hand, +had been found in the same secret receptacle of the book as the larger +paper. + +The contents of that letter none ever knew but Jonas himself. It seemed +to have been a voice of reproach from the grave for the ill return he +had made to the perhaps injudicious but well-meant generosity and +indulgence of the old man. The lawyer related that when he opened it he +turned deadly pale, and placing his hands before his face, sank into a +chair quite overcome: let us hope his heart was touched. + +However that may be, he had no reason to complain of the treatment he +received from the hands of his successors, who temperate in prosperity, +as they had been patient in adversity, in consideration of the +relationship and of the expectations in which he had been nurtured, made +Jonas a present of a thousand pounds for the purpose of establishing him +in any way of life he might select; while, carefully preserved in a +leathern case, the old black pocket-book, to which they owed so much, is +still extant in the family of Tracy Walkingham. + + +[Abridged from "Light and Darkness," just published.] + +THE LAST VAMPIRE. + +BY MRS. CROWE. + +In the fifteenth century lycanthropy prevailed extensively amongst the +Vaudois, and many persons suffered death for it; but as no similar case +seems to have been heard of for a long while, lycanthropy and ghoulism +were set down amongst the superstitions of the East, and the follies and +fables of the dark ages. A circumstance however has just come to light +in France that throws a strange and unexpected light upon this curious +subject. The account we are going to give is drawn from a report of the +investigation before a council of war, held on the 10th of the present +month (July, 1849), Colonel Manselon, president. It is remarked that the +court was extremely crowded, and that many ladies were present. + +The facts of this mysterious affair, as they came to light in the +examinations, are as follows: For some months past the cemeteries in and +around Paris have been the scenes of a frightful profanation, the +authors of which had succeeded in eluding all the vigilance that was +exerted to detect them. At one time the guardians or keepers of these +places of burial were themselves suspected; at others the odium was +thrown on the surviving relations of the dead. + +The cemetery of Pčre la Chaise was the first field of these horrible +operations. It appears that for a considerable time the guardians had +observed a mysterious figure flitting about by night amongst the tombs, +on whom they never could lay their hands. As they approached, he +disappeared like a phantom; and even the dogs that were let loose, and +urged to seize him, stopped short, and ceased to bark, as if they were +transfixed by a charm. When morning broke, the ravages of this strange +visitant were but too visible--graves had been opened, coffins forced, +and the remains of the dead, frightfully torn and mutilated, lay +scattered upon the earth. Could the surgeons be the guilty parties? No. +A member of the profession being brought to the spot declared that no +scientific knife had been there; but certain parts of the human body +might be required for anatomical studies, and the gravediggers might +have violated the tombs to obtain money by the sale of them. The watch +was doubled, but to no purpose. A young soldier was one night seized in +a tomb, but he declared he had gone there to meet his sweetheart, and +had fallen asleep; and as he evinced no trepidation they let him go. + +At length these profanations ceased in Pčre la Chaise, but it was not +long before they were renewed in another quarter. A suburban cemetery +was the new theater of operations. A little girl aged seven years, and +much loved by her parents, died. With their own hands they laid her in +her coffin, attired in the frock she delighted to wear on _fęte_ days, +and with her favorite playthings beside her; and accompanied by numerous +relatives and friends they saw her laid in the earth. On the following +morning it was discovered that the grave had been violated, the body +torn from the coffin, frightfully mutilated, and the heart extracted. +There was no robbery. The sensation in the neighborhood was tremendous; +and in the general terror and perplexity suspicion fell on the +broken-hearted father, whose innocence however was easily proved. Every +means was taken to discover the criminal; but the only result of the +increased surveillance was that the scene of profanation was removed to +the cemetery of Mont Parnasse, where the exhumations were carried to +such an extent that the authorities were at their wits' end. + +Considering, by the way, that all these cemeteries are surrounded by +walls, and have iron gates, which are kept closed, it certainly seems +very strange that any ghoul or vampire of solid flesh and blood should +have been able to pursue his vocation so long undiscovered. However, so +it was; and it was not till they bethought themselves of laying a snare +for this mysterious visitor that he was detected. Having remarked a spot +where the wall, though nine feet high, appeared to have been frequently +scaled, an old officer contrived a sort of infernal machine, with a wire +attached to it, which he so arranged that it should explode if any one +attempted to enter the cemetery at that point. This done, and a watch +being set, they thought themselves now secure of their purpose. +Accordingly, at midnight an explosion roused the guardians, who +perceived a man already in the cemetery; but before they could seize him +he had leaped the wall with an agility that confounded them; and +although they fired their pieces after him, he succeeded in making his +escape. But his footsteps were marked with blood that had flowed from +his wounds, and several scraps of military attire were picked up on the +spot. Nevertheless, they seem to have been still uncertain where to seek +the offender, till one of the gravediggers of Mont Parnasse, whilst +preparing the last resting-place of two criminals about to be executed, +chanced to overhear some sappers of the 74th regiment remarking that one +of their sergeants had returned on the preceding night cruelly wounded, +nobody knew how, and had been conveyed to Val de Grace, which is a +military hospital. A little inquiry now soon cleared up the mystery; and +it was ascertained that Sergeant Bertrand was the author of all these +profanations, and of many others of the same description previous to his +arrival in Paris. + +Supported on crutches, wrapped in a gray cloak, pale and feeble, +Bertrand was now brought forward for examination; nor was there anything +in the countenance or appearance of this young man indicative of the +fearful monomania of which he is the victim; for the whole tenor of his +confession proves that in no other light is his horrible propensity to +be considered. In the first place, he freely acknowledged himself the +author of these violations of the dead both in Paris and elsewhere. + +"What object did you propose to yourself in committing these acts?" + +"I cannot tell," replied Bertrand: "it was a horrible impulse. I was +driven to it against my own will; nothing could stop or deter me. I +cannot describe or understand myself what my sensations were in tearing +and rending these bodies." + +President.--"And what did you do after one of these visits to a +cemetery?" + +Bertrand.--"I withdrew, trembling convulsively, feeling a great desire +for repose. I fell asleep, no matter where, and slept for several hours; +but during this sleep I heard everything that passed around me! I have +sometimes exhumed from ten to fifteen bodies in a night. I dug them up +with my hands, which were often torn and bleeding with the labor I +underwent; but I minded nothing, so that I could get at them. The +guardians fired at me one night and wounded me, but that did not prevent +my returning the next. This desire seized me generally about once a +fortnight." + +Strange to say, the perpetrator of all these terrors was "gentle and +kind to the living, and especially beloved in his regiment for his +frankness and gayety." + + + + +[From Blackwood's Magazine.] + +MY NOVEL: OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE. + +BY PISISTRATUS CAXTON. + +_Continued from Page 582._ + + +BOOK II.--INITIAL CHAPTER:--INFORMING THE READER HOW THIS WORK CAME TO +HAVE INITIAL CHAPTERS. + +"There can't be a doubt," said my father, "that to each of the main +divisions of your work--whether you call them Books or Parts--you should +prefix an Initial or Introductory Chapter." + +_Pisistratus._--"Can't be a doubt, sir! Why so?" + +_Mr. Caxton._--"Fielding lays it down as an indispensable rule, which he +supports by his example; and Fielding was an artistical writer, and knew +what he was about." + +_Pisistratus._--"Do you remember any of his reasons, sir?" + +_Mr. Caxton._--"Why, indeed, Fielding says very justly that he is not +bound to assign any reason; but he does assign a good many, here and +there--to find which, I refer you to _Tom Jones_. I will only observe, +that one of his reasons, which is unanswerable, runs to the effect that +thus, in every Part or Book, the reader has the advantage of beginning +at the fourth or fifth page instead of the first--'a matter by no means +of trivial consequence,' saith Fielding, 'to persons who read books with +no other view than to say they have read them--a more general motive to +reading than is commonly imagined; and from which not only law books and +good books, but the pages of Homer and Virgil, of Swift and Cervantes, +have been often turned over.' There," cried my father triumphantly, "I +will lay a shilling to twopence that I have quoted the very words." + +_Mrs. Caxton._--"Dear me, that only means skipping: I don't see any +great advantage in writing a chapter, merely for people to skip it." + +_Pisistratus._--"Neither do I!" + +_Mr. Caxton_, dogmatically.--"It is the repose in the picture--Fielding +calls it 'contrast'--(still more dogmatically) I say there can't be a +doubt about it. Besides, (added my father after a pause,) besides, this +usage gives you opportunities to explain what has gone before, or to +prepare for what's coming; or, since Fielding contends with great truth, +that some learning is necessary for this kind of historical composition, +it allows you, naturally and easily, the introduction of light and +pleasant ornaments of that nature. At each flight in the terrace, you +may give the eye the relief of an urn or a statue. Moreover, when so +inclined, you create proper pausing places for reflection; and complete, +by a separate yet harmonious ethical department, the design of a work, +which is but a mere Mother Goose's tale if it does not embrace a general +view of the thoughts and actions of mankind." + +_Pisistratus._--"But then, in these initial chapters, the author thrusts +himself forward; and just when you want to get on with the _dramatis +personć_, you find yourself face to face with the poet himself." + +_Mr. Caxton._--"Pooh! you can contrive to prevent that! Imitate the +chorus of the Greek stage, who fill up the intervals between the action +by saying what the author would otherwise say in his own person." + +_Pisistratus_, slily.--"That's a good idea, sir--and I have a chorus, +and a chorćgus too, already in my eye." + +_Mr. Caxton_, unsuspectingly.--"Aha! you are not so dull a fellow as you +would make yourself out to be; and, even if an author did thrust himself +forward, what objection is there to that?--I don't say a good poem, but +a poem. It is a mere affectation to suppose that a book can come into +the world without an author. Every child has a father, one father at +least, as the great Condé says very well in his poem." + +_Pisistratus._--"The great Condé a poet!--I never heard that before." + +_Mr. Caxton._--"I don't say he was a poet, but he sent a poem to Madame +de Montansier. Envious critics think that he must have paid somebody +else to write it; but there is no reason why a great Captain should not +write a poem. I wonder, Roland, if the Duke ever tried his hand at +'Stanzas to Mary,' or 'Lines to a sleeping babe.'" + +_Captain Roland._--"Austin, I'm ashamed of you. Of course the Duke could +write poetry if he pleased--something, I dare say, in the way of the +great Condé--that is something warlike and heroic, I'll be bound. Let's +hear!" + +_Mr. Caxton_, reciting-- + + "Telle est du Ciel la loi sévčre + Qu'il faut qu'un enfant ait un pčre; + On dit męme quelque fois + Tel enfant en a jusqu'ŕ trois." + +_Captain Roland_, greatly disgusted.--"Condé write such stuff!--I don't +believe it." + +_Pisistratus._--"I do, and accept the quotation--you and Roland shall be +joint fathers to my child as well as myself." + + "Tel enfant en a jusqu'ŕ trois." + +_Mr. Caxton_, solemnly.--"I refuse the proffered paternity; but so far +as administering a little wholesome castigation, now and then, have no +objection to join in the discharge of a father's duty." + +_Pisistratus._--"Agreed; have you anything to say against the infant +hitherto?" + +_Mr. Caxton._--"He is in long clothes at present; let us wait till he +can walk." + +_Blanche._--"But pray whom do you mean for a hero?--and is Miss Jemima +your heroine?" + +_Captain Roland._--"There is some mystery about the--" + +_Pisistratus_, hastily.--"Hush, Uncle; no letting the cat out of the bag +yet. Listen, all of you! I left Frank Hazeldean on his way to the +Casino." + + +CHAPTER II. + +"It is a sweet pretty place," thought Frank, as he opened the gate which +led across the fields to the Casino, that smiled down upon him with its +plaster pilasters. "I wonder, though, that my father, who is so +particular in general, suffers the carriage road to be so full of holes +and weeds. Mounseer does not receive many visits, I take it." + +But when Frank got into the ground immediately before the house, he saw +no cause of complaint as to want of order and repair. Nothing could be +kept more neatly. Frank was ashamed of the dint made by the pony's hoofs +in the smooth gravel; he dismounted, tied the animal to the wicket, and +went on foot toward the glass door in front. + +He rang the bell once, twice, but nobody came, for the old +woman-servant, who was hard of hearing, was far away in the yard, +searching for any eggs which the hen might have scandalously hidden from +culinary purposes; and Jackeymo was fishing for the sticklebacks and +minnows, which were, when caught, to assist the eggs, when found, in +keeping together the bodies and souls of himself and his master. The old +woman was on board wages,--lucky old woman! Frank rang a third time, and +with the impetuosity of his age. A face peeped from the Belvidere on the +terrace. "Diavolo!" said Dr. Riccabocca to himself. "Young cocks crow +hard on their own dunghill; it must be a cock of a high race to crow so +loud at another's." + +Therewith he shambled out of the summer-house, and appeared suddenly +before Frank, in a very wizard-like dressing-robe of black serge, a red +cap on his head, and a cloud of smoke coming rapidly from his lips, as a +final consolatory whiff, before he removed the pipe from them. Frank had +indeed seen the Doctor before, but never in so scholastic a costume, and +he was a little startled by the apparition at his elbow, as he turned +round. + +"Signorino--young gentleman," said the Italian, taking off his cap with +his usual urbanity, "pardon the negligence of my people--I am too happy +to receive your commands in person." + +"Dr. Rickeybockey?" stammered Frank, much confused by this polite +address, and the low yet stately bow with which it was accompanied, +"I--I have a note from the Hall. Mamma--that is, my mother,--and aunt +Jemima beg their best compliments, and hope you will come, sir." + +The Doctor took the note with another bow, and, opening the glass door, +invited Frank in. + +The young gentleman, with a school-boy's usual bluntness, was about to +say that he was in a hurry, and had rather not; but Dr. Riccabocca's +grand manner awed him, while a glimpse of the hall excited his +curiosity--so he silently obeyed the invitation. + +The hall, which was of an octagon shape, had been originally paneled off +into compartments, and in these the Italian had painted landscapes, rich +with the warm sunny light of his native climate. Frank was no judge of +the art displayed; but he was greatly struck with the scenes depicted: +they were all views of some lake, real or imaginary--in all, dark-blue +shining waters reflected dark-blue placid skies. In one, a flight of +steps descended to the lake, and a gay group was seen feasting on the +margin; in another, sunset threw its rose-hues over a vast villa or +palace, backed by Alpine hills, and flanked by long arcades of vines, +while pleasure-boats skimmed over the waves below. In short, throughout +all the eight compartments, the scene, though it differed in details, +preserved the same general character, as if illustrating some favorite +locality. The Italian did not, however, evince any desire to do the +honors to his own art, but, preceding Frank across the hall, opened the +door of his usual sitting-room, and requested him to enter. Frank did +so, rather reluctantly, and seated himself with unwonted bashfulness on +the edge of a chair. But here new specimens of the Doctor's handicraft +soon riveted attention. The room had been originally papered; but +Riccabocca had stretched canvas over the walls, and painted thereon +sundry satirical devices, each separated from the other by scroll-works +of fantastic arabesques. Here a Cupid was trundling a wheel-barrow full +of hearts which he appeared to be selling to an ugly old fellow, with a +money-bag in his hand--probably Plutus. There Diogenes might be seen +walking through a market-place, with his lantern in his hand, in search +of an honest man, whilst the children jeered at him, and the curs +snapped at his heels. In another place, a lion was seen half dressed in +a fox's hide, while a wolf in a sheep's mask was conversing very +amicably with a young lamb. Here again might be seen the geese +stretching out their necks from the Roman Capitol in full cackle, while +the stout invaders were beheld in the distance, running off as hard as +they could. In short, in all these quaint entablatures some pithy +sarcasm was symbolically conveyed; only over the mantlepiece was the +design graver and more touching. It was the figure of a man in a +pilgrim's garb, chained to the earth by small but innumerable ligaments, +while a phantom likeness of himself, his shadow, was seen hastening down +what seemed an interminable vista; and underneath were written the +pathetic words of Horace-- + + "Patrić quis exul + Se quoque fugit?" + +--"What exile from his country can fly himself as well?" The furniture +of the room was extremely simple, and somewhat scanty; yet it was +arranged so as to impart an air of taste and elegance to the room. Even +a few plaster busts and statues, though bought but of some humble +itinerant, had their classical effect, glistening from out stands of +flowers that were grouped around them, or backed by graceful +screen-works formed from twisted osiers, which, by the simple +contrivance of trays at the bottom, filled with earth, served for living +parasitical plants, with gay flowers contrasting thick ivy leaves, and +gave to the whole room the aspect of a bower. + +"May I ask your permission?" said the Italian, with his finger on the +seal of the letter. + +"Oh yes," said Frank with _naďveté_. + +Riccabocca broke the seal, and a slight smile stole over his +countenance. Then he turned a little aside from Frank, shaded his face +with his hand, and seemed to muse. "Mrs. Hazeldean," said he at last, +"does me very great honor. I hardly recognize her handwriting, or I +should have been more impatient to open the letter." The dark eyes were +lifted over the spectacles, and went right into Frank's unprotected and +undiplomatic heart. The Doctor raised the note, and pointed to the +characters with his forefinger. + +"Cousin Jemima's hand," said Frank, as directly as if the question had +been put to him. + +The Italian smiled. "Mr. Hazeldean has company staying with him?" + +"No; that is, only Barney--the Captain. There's seldom much company +before the shooting season," added Frank with a slight sigh; "and then +you know the holidays are over. For my part, I think we ought to break +up a month later." + +The Doctor seemed reassured by the first sentence in Frank's reply, and +seating himself at the table, wrote his answer--not hastily, as we +English write, but with care and precision, like one accustomed to weigh +the nature of words--in that stiff Italian hand, which allows the writer +so much time to think while he forms his letters. He did not therefore +reply at once to Frank's remark about the holidays, but was silent till +he had concluded his note, read it three times over, sealed it by the +taper he slowly lighted, and then, giving it to Frank, he said-- + +"For your sake, young gentleman, I regret that your holidays are so +early; for mine, I must rejoice, since I accept the kind invitation you +have rendered doubly gratifying by bringing it yourself." + +"Deuce take the fellow and his fine speeches! One don't know which way +to look," thought English Frank. + +The Italian smiled again, as if this time he had read the boy's heart, +without need of those piercing black eyes, and said, less ceremoniously +than before, "You don't care much for compliments, young gentleman?" + +"No, I don't indeed," said Frank heartily. + +"So much the better for you, since your way in the world is made: it +would be so much the worse if you had to make it!" + +Frank looked puzzled: the thought was too deep for him--so he turned to +the pictures. + +"Those are very funny," said he: "they seem capitally done--who did +'em?" + +"Signorino Hazeldean, you are giving me what you refused yourself." + +"Eh?" said Frank inquiringly. + +"Compliments!" + +"Oh--I--no; but they are well done, aren't they, sir?" + +"Not particularly: you speak to the artist." + +"What! you painted them?" + +"Yes." + +"And the pictures in the hall?" + +"Those too." + +"Taken from nature--eh?" + +"Nature," said the Italian sententiously, perhaps evasively, "let +nothing be taken from her." + +"Oh!" said Frank, puzzled again. + +"Well, I must wish you good morning, sir; I am very glad you are +coming." + +"Without compliment?" + +"Without compliment." + +"_A rivedersi_--good-by for the present, my young signorino. This way," +observing Frank make a bolt toward the wrong door. + +"Can I offer you a glass of wine--it is pure, of our own making?" + +"No, thank you, indeed, sir," cried Frank, suddenly recollecting his +father's admonition. "Good-by--don't trouble yourself, sir; I know my +way now." + +But the bland Italian followed his guest to the wicket, where Frank had +left the pony. The young gentleman, afraid lest so courteous a host +should hold the stirrup for him, twitched off the bridle, and mounted in +haste, not even staying to ask if the Italian could put him in the way +to Rood Hall, of which way he was profoundly ignorant. The Italian's eye +followed the boy as he rode up the ascent in the lane, and the Doctor +sighed heavily. "The wiser we grow," said he to himself, "the more we +regret the age of our follies: it is better to gallop with a light heart +up the stony hill than sit in the summer-house and cry 'How true!' to +the stony truths of Machiavelli!" + +With that he turned back into the Belvidere; but he could not resume his +studies. He remained some minutes gazing on the prospect, till the +prospect reminded him of the fields which Jackeymo was bent on his +hiring, and the fields reminded him of Lenny Fairfield. He walked back +to the house, and in a few moments reemerged in his out-of-door trim, +with cloak and umbrella, relighted his pipe, and strolled toward +Hazeldean village. + +Meanwhile Frank, after cantering on for some distance, stopped at a +cottage, and there learned that there was a short cut across the fields +to Rood Hall, by which he could save nearly three miles. Frank however +missed the short cut, and came out into the highroad. A turnpike-keeper, +after first taking his toll, put him back again into the short cut, and +finally he got into some green lanes, where a dilapidated finger-post +directed him to Rood. Late at noon, having ridden fifteen miles in the +desire to reduce ten to seven, he came suddenly upon a wild and +primitive piece of ground, that seemed half chase, half common, with +slovenly tumble-down cottages of villainous aspect scattered about in +odd nooks and corners; idle dirty children were making mud-pies on the +road; slovenly-looking children were plaiting straw at the thresholds; a +large but forlorn and decayed church, that seemed to say that the +generation which saw it built was more pious than the generation which +now resorted to it, stood boldly and nakedly out by the road-side. + +"Is this the village of Rood?" asked Frank of a stout young man +breaking stones on the road--sad sign that no better labor could be +found for him! + +The man sullenly nodded, and continued his work. + +"And where's the Hall--Mr. Leslie's?" + +The man looked up in stolid surprise, and this time touched his hat. + +"Be you going there?" + +"Yes, if I can find out where it is." + +"I'll show your honor," said the boor alertly. + +Frank reined in the pony, and the man walked by his side. + +Frank was much of his father's son, despite the difference of age, and +that more fastidious change of manner which characterizes each +succeeding race in the progress of civilization. Despite all his Eton +finery, he was familiar with peasants, and had the quick eye of one +country-born as to country matters. + +"You don't seem very well off in this village, my man," said he +knowingly. + +"Noa; there be a deal of distress here in the winter time, and summer +too, for that matter; and the parish ben't much help to a single man." + +"But the farmers want work here as well as elsewhere, I suppose?" + +"Deed, and there ben't much farming work here--most o' the parish be all +wild ground loike." + +"The poor have a right of common, I suppose," said Frank, surveying a +large assortment of vagabond birds and quadrupeds. + +"Yes; neighbor Timmins keeps his geese on the common, and some has a +cow--and them be neighbor Jowlas's pigs. I don't know if there's a +right, loike; but the folks at the Hall does all they can to help us, +and that ben't much: they ben't as rich as some folks; but," added the +peasant proudly, "they be as good blood as any in the shire." + +"I'm glad to see you like them, at all events." + +"Oh yes, I likes them well eno'; mayhap you are at school with the young +gentleman?" + +"Yes," said Frank. + +"Ah! I heard the clergyman say as how Master Randal was a mighty clever +lad, and would get rich some day. I'se sure I wish he would, for a poor +squire makes a poor parish. There's the Hall, sir." + + +CHAPTER III. + +Frank looked right ahead, and saw a square house, that in spite of +modern sash-windows was evidently of remote antiquity--a high conical +roof; a stack of tall quaint chimney-pots of red baked clay (like those +at Sutton Place in Surrey) dominating over isolated vulgar +smoke-conductors of the ignoble fashion of present times; a dilapidated +groin-work, incasing within a Tudor arch a door of the comfortable date +of George III., and the peculiarly dingy and weather-stained appearance +of the small finely-finished bricks, of which the habitation was +built,--all showed the abode of former generations adapted with +tasteless irreverence to the habits of descendants unenlightened by +Pugin, or indifferent to the poetry of the past. The house had emerged +suddenly upon Frank out of the gloomy waste land, for it was placed in a +hollow, and sheltered from sight by a disorderly group of ragged, +dismal, valetudinarian fir-trees, until an abrupt turn of the road +cleared that screen, and left the desolate abode bare to the +discontented eye. Frank dismounted, the man held his pony, and after +smoothing his cravat, the smart Etonian sauntered up to the door, and +startled the solitude of the place with a loud peal from the modern +brass knocker--a knock which instantly brought forth an astonished +starling who had built under the eaves of the gable roof, and called up +a cloud of sparrows, tomtits, and yellow-hammers, who had been regaling +themselves amongst the litter of a slovenly farmyard that lay in full +sight to the right of the house, fenced off by a primitive, paintless +wooden rail. In process of time a sow, accompanied by a thriving and +inquisitive family, strolled up to the gate of the fence, and leaning +her nose on the lower bar of the gate, contemplated the visitor with +much curiosity and some suspicion. + +While Frank is still without, impatiently swingeing his white trowsers +with his whip, we will steal a hurried glance toward the respective +members of the family within. Mr. Leslie, the _pater familias_, is in a +little room called his "study," to which he regularly retires every +morning after breakfast, rarely reappearing till one o'clock, which is +his unfashionable hour for dinner. In what mysterious occupations Mr. +Leslie passes those hours no one ever formed a conjecture. At the +present moment he is seated before a little rickety bureau, one leg of +which (being shorter than the other) is propped up by sundry old letters +and scraps of newspapers; and the bureau is open, and reveals a great +number of pigeon-holes and divisions, filled with various odds and ends, +the collection of many years. In some of these compartments are bundles +of letters, very yellow, and tied in packets with faded tape; in +another, all by itself, is a fragment of plum-pudding stone, which Mr. +Leslie has picked up in his walks and considered a rare mineral. It is +neatly labeled, "Found in Hollow Lane, May 21st, 1824, by Maunder Slugge +Leslie, Esq." The next division holds several bits of iron in the shape +of nails, fragments of horse-shoes, &c., which Mr. Leslie had also met +with in his rambles, and according to a harmless popular superstition, +deemed it highly unlucky not to pick up, and once picked up, no less +unlucky to throw away. _Item_, in the adjoining pigeon-hole a goodly +collection of pebbles with holes in them, preserved for the same reason, +in company with a crooked sixpence; _item_, neatly arranged in fanciful +mosaics, several periwinkles, blackamoor's teeth, (I mean the shell so +called,) and other specimens of the conchiferous ingenuity of nature, +partly inherited from some ancestral spinster, partly amassed by Mr. +Leslie himself in a youthful excursion to the sea-side. There were the +farm-bailiff's accounts, several files of bills, an old stirrup, three +sets of knee and shoe-buckles which had belonged to Mr. Leslie's father, +a few seals tied together by a shoe-string, a shagreen toothpick case, a +tortoiseshell magnifying glass to read with, his eldest son's first +copy-books, his second son's ditto, his daughter's ditto, and a lock of +his wife's hair arranged in a true lover's knot, framed and glazed. +There were also a small mousetrap, a patent corkscrew, too good to be +used in common; fragments of a silver teaspoon, that had by natural +decay arrived at a dissolution of its parts; a small brown Holland bag, +containing half-pence of various dates, as far back as Queen Anne, +accompanied by two French _sous_ and a German _silber gros_; the which +miscellany Mr. Leslie magniloquently called "his coins," and had left in +his will as a family heirloom. There were many other curiosities of +congenial nature and equal value--"_quć nunc describere longum est_." +Mr. Leslie was engaged at this time in what is termed "putting things to +rights"--an occupation he performed with exemplary care once a week. +This was his day; and he had just counted his coins, and was slowly +tying them up again, when Frank's knock reached his ears. + +Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie paused, shook his head as if incredulously, +and was about to resume his occupation, when he was seized with a fit of +yawning which prevented the bag being tied for full two minutes. + +While such the employment of the study--let us turn to the recreations +in the drawing-room, or rather parlor. A drawing-room there was on the +first floor, with a charming look-out, not on the dreary fir-trees, but +on the romantic undulating forest-land; but the drawing-room had not +been used since the death of the last Mrs. Leslie. It was deemed too +good to sit in, except when there was company; there never being +company, it was never sat in. Indeed, now the paper was falling off the +walls with the damp, and the rats, mice, and moths--those "_edaces +rerum_"--had eaten, between them, most of the chair-bottoms and a +considerable part of the floor. Therefore the parlor was the sole +general sitting-room; and being breakfasted in, dined and supped in, +and, after supper, smoked in by Mr. Leslie to the accompaniment of rum +and water, it is impossible to deny that it had what is called "a +smell"--a comfortable wholesome family smell--speaking of numbers, +meals, and miscellaneous social habitation. There were two windows; one +looked full on the fir-trees; the other on the farmyard with the pigsty +closing the view. Near the fir-tree window sat Mrs. Leslie; before her +on a high stool, was a basket of the children's clothes that wanted +mending. A work-table of rosewood inlaid with brass, which had been a +wedding present, and was a costly thing originally but in that peculiar +taste which is vulgarly called "Brumagem," stood at hand: the brass had +started in several places, and occasionally made great havoc on the +childrens' fingers and Mrs. Leslie's gown; in fact, it was the liveliest +piece of furniture in the house, thanks to that petulant brass-work, and +could not have been more mischievous if it had been a monkey. Upon the +work-table lay a housewife and thimble, and scissors and skeins of +worsted and thread, and little scraps of linen and cloth for patches. +But Mrs. Leslie was not actually working--she was preparing to work; she +had been preparing to work for the last hour and a half. Upon her lap +she supported a novel, by a lady who wrote much for a former generation, +under the name of "Mrs. Bridget Blue Mantle." She had a small needle in +her left hand, and a very thick piece of thread in her right; +occasionally she applied the end of the said thread to her lips, and +then--her eyes fixed on the novel--made a blind vacillating attack at +the eye of the needle. But a camel would have gone through it with quite +as much ease. Nor did the novel alone engage Mrs. Leslie's attention, +for ever and anon she interrupted herself to scold the children; to +inquire "what o'clock it was;" to observe that "Sarah would never suit," +and to wonder why Mr. Leslie would not see that the work-table was +mended. Mrs. Leslie had been rather a pretty woman. In spite of a dress +at once slatternly and economical, she has still the air of a +lady--rather too much so, the hard duties of her situation considered. +She is proud of the antiquity of her family on both sides; her mother +was of the venerable stock of the Daudlers of Daudle Place, a race that +existed before the Conquest. Indeed, one has only to read our earliest +chronicles, and to glance over some of those long-winded moralizing +poems which delighted the thanes and ealdermen of old, in order to see +that the Daudles must have been a very influential family before William +the First turned the country topsy-turvy. While the mother's race was +thus indubitably Saxon, the father's had not only the name but the +peculiar idiosyncracy of the Normans, and went far to establish that +crotchet of the brilliant author of _Sybil, or the Two Nations_, as to +the continued distinction between the conquering and the conquered +populations. Mrs. Leslie's father boasted the name of Montfydget; +doubtless of the same kith and kin as those great barons Montfichet, who +once owned such broad lands and such turbulent castles. A high-nosed, +thin, nervous, excitable progeny, these same Montfydgets, as the most +troublesome Norman could pretend to be. This fusion of race was notable +to the most ordinary physiognomist in the _physique_ and in the _morale_ +of Mrs. Leslie. She had the speculative blue eye of the Saxon, and the +passionate high nose of the Norman; she had the musing donothingness of +the Daudlers, and the reckless have-at-everythingness of the +Montfydgets. At Mrs. Leslie's feet, a little girl with her hair about +her ears, (and beautiful hair it was too) was amusing herself with a +broken-nosed doll. At the far end of the room, before a high desk, sat +Frank's Eton schoolfellow, the eldest son. A minute or two before +Frank's alarum had disturbed the tranquillity of the household, he had +raised his eyes from the books on the desk, to glance at a very tattered +copy of the Greek Testament, in which his brother Oliver had found a +difficulty that he came to Randal to solve. As the young Etonian's face +was turned to the light, your first impression, on seeing it, would have +been melancholy but respectful interest--for the face had already lost +the joyous character of youth--there was a wrinkle between the brows; +and the lines that speak of fatigue were already visible under the eyes +and about the mouth; the complexion was sallow, the lips were pale. +Years of study had already sown, in the delicate organization, the seeds +of many an infirmity and many a pain; but if your look had rested longer +on that countenance, gradually your compassion might have given place to +some feeling uneasy and sinister, a feeling akin to fear. There was in +the whole expression so much of cold calm force, that it belied the +debility of the frame. You saw there the evidence of a mind that was +cultivated, and you felt that in that cultivation there was something +formidable. A notable contrast to this countenance, prematurely worn and +eminently intelligent, was the round healthy face of Oliver, with slow +blue eyes, fixed hard on the penetrating orbs of his brother, as if +trying with might and main to catch from them a gleam of that knowledge +with which they shone clear and frigid as a star. + +At Frank's knock, Oliver's slow blue eyes sparkled into animation, and +he sprang from his brother's side. The little girl flung back the hair +from her face, and stared at her mother with a look of wonder and +fright. + +The young student knit his brows, and then turned wearily back to his +books. + +"Dear me," cried Mrs. Leslie, "who can that possibly be? Oliver, come +from the window, sir, this instant, you will be seen! Juliet, run--ring +the bell--no, go to the stairs, and say, 'not at home.' Not at home on +any account," repeated Mrs. Leslie nervously, for the Montfydget blood +was now in full flow. + +In another minute or so, Frank's loud boyish voice was distinctly heard +at the outer door. + +Randal slightly started. + +"Frank Hazeldean's voice," said he; "I should like to see him, mother." + +"See him," repeated Mrs. Leslie in amaze, "see him!--and the room in +this state!" + +Randal might have replied that the room was in no worse state than +usual; but he said nothing. A slight flush came and went over his pale +face; and then he leaned his cheek on his hand, and compressed his lips +firmly. + +The outer door closed with a sullen inhospitable jar, and a slipshod +female servant entered with a card between her finger and thumb. + +"Who is that for?--give it to me, Jenny," cried Mrs. Leslie. + +But Jenny shook her head, laid the card on the desk beside Randal, and +vanished without saying a word. + +"Oh look, Randal, look up," cried Oliver, who had again rushed to the +window; "such a pretty gray pony!" + +Randal did look up; nay, he went deliberately to the window, and gazed a +moment on the high-mettled pony, and the well-dressed, high-spirited +rider. In that moment changes passed over Randal's countenance more +rapidly than clouds over the sky in a gusty day. Now envy and +discontent, with the curled lip and the gloomy scowl; now hope and proud +self-esteem, with the clearing brow, and the lofty smile; and then all +again became cold, firm, and close, as he walked back to his books, +seated himself resolutely, and said half aloud,--"Well, KNOWLEDGE IS +POWER!" + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Mrs. Leslie came up in fidget and in fuss; she leant over Randal's +shoulder and read the card. Written in pen and ink, with an attempt at +imitation of printed Roman character, there appeared first, '_Mr. Frank +Hazeldean_;' but just over these letters, and scribbled hastily and less +legibly in pencil, was-- + +'Dear Leslie,--sorry you are out--come and see us--_Do!_' + +"You will go, Randal?" said Mrs. Leslie after a pause. + +"I am not sure." + +"Yes, _you_ can go; _you_ have clothes like a gentleman; _you_ can go +anywhere, not like those children;" and Mrs. Leslie glanced almost +spitefully on poor Oliver's coarse threadbare jacket, and little +Juliet's torn frock. + +"What I have I owe at present to Mr. Egerton, and I should consult his +wishes; he is not on good terms with these Hazeldeans." Then glancing +toward his brother, who looked mortified, he added with a strange sort +of haughty kindness, "What I may have hereafter, Oliver, I shall owe to +myself; and then, if I rise, I will raise my family." + +"Dear Randal," said Mrs. Leslie, fondly kissing him on the forehead, +"what a good heart you have!" + +"No, mother; my books don't tell me that it is a good heart that gets on +in the world: it is a hard head," replied Randal with a rude and +scornful candor. "But I can read no more just now; come out, Oliver." + +So saying, he slid from his mother's hand and left the room. + +When Oliver joined him, Randal was already on the common; and, without +seeming to notice his brother, he continued to walk quickly and with +long strides in profound silence. At length he paused under the shade +of an old oak, that, too old to be of value save for firewood, had +escaped the axe. The tree stood on a knoll, and the spot commanded a +view of the decayed house--the old dilapidated church--the dismal, +dreary village. + +"Oliver," said Randal between his teeth, so that his voice had the sound +of a hiss, "it was under this tree that I first resolved to--" + +He paused. + +"What, Randal?" + +"Read hard; knowledge is power!" + +"But you are so fond of reading." + +"I!" cried Randal. "Do you think, when Woolsey and Thomas-ŕ-Becket +became priests, they were fond of telling their beads and pattering +Aves?--I fond of reading!" + +Oliver stared; the historical allusions were beyond his comprehension. + +"You know," continued Randal, "that we Leslies were not always the +beggarly poor gentlemen we are now. You know that there is a man who +lives in Grosvenor Square, and is very rich--very. His riches came to +him from a Leslie; that man is my patron, Oliver, and he is very good to +me." + +Randal's smile was withering as he spoke. "Come on," he said, after a +pause--"come on." Again the walk was quicker, and the brothers were +silent. + +They came at length to a little shallow brook, across which some large +stones had been placed at short intervals, so that the boys walked over +the ford dryshod. "Will you pull me down that bough, Oliver?" said +Randal abruptly, pointing to a tree. Oliver obeyed mechanically; and +Randal, stripping the leaves, and snapping off the twigs, left a fork at +the end; with this he began to remove the stepping stones. "What are you +about, Randal?" asked Oliver, wonderingly. + +"We are on the other side of the brook now; and we shall not come back +this way. We don't want the stepping-stones anymore!--away with them!" + + +CHAPTER V. + +The morning after this visit of Frank Hazeldean's to Rood Hall, the +Right Honorable Audley Egerton, member of parliament, privy councillor, +and minister of a high department in the state--just below the rank of +the cabinet--was seated in his library, awaiting the delivery of the +post, before he walked down to his office. In the meanwhile, he sipped +his tea, and glanced over the newspapers with that quick and half +disdainful eye with which your practical man in public life is wont to +regard the abuse or the eulogium of the Fourth Estate. + +There is very little likeness between Mr. Egerton and his half-brother; +none indeed, except that they are both of tall stature, and strong, +sinewy, English build. But even in this last they do not resemble each +other; for the Squire's athletic shape is already beginning to expand +into that portly embonpoint which seems the natural development of +contented men as they approach middle life. Audley, on the contrary, is +inclined to be spare; and his figure, though the muscles are as firm as +iron, has enough of the slender to satisfy metropolitan ideas of +elegance. His dress--his look--his _tout ensemble_, are those of the +London man. In the first, there is more attention to fashion than is +usual amongst the busy members of the House of Commons; but then Audley +Egerton had always been something more than a mere busy member of the +House of Commons. He had always been a person of mark in the best +society, and one secret of his success in life has been his high +reputation as 'a gentleman.' + +As he now bends over the journals, there is an air of distinction in the +turn of the well-shaped head, with the dark-brown hair--dark in spite of +a reddish tinge--cut close behind, and worn away a little toward the +crown, so as to give additional height to a commanding forehead. His +profile is very handsome, and of that kind of beauty which imposes on +men if it pleases women; and is therefore, unlike that of your mere +pretty fellows, a positive advantage in public life. It is a profile +with large features clearly cut, masculine, and somewhat severe. The +expression of his face is not open, like the Squire's; nor has it the +cold closeness which accompanies the intellectual character of young +Leslie's; but it is reserved and dignified, and significant of +self-control, as should be the physiognomy of a man accustomed to think +before he speaks. When you look at him, you are not surprised to learn +that he is not a florid orator nor a smart debater--he is a "weighty +speaker." He is fairly read, but without any great range either of +ornamental scholarship or constitutional lore. He has not much humor; +but he has that kind of wit which is essential to grave and serious +irony. He has not much imagination, nor remarkable subtilty in +reasoning; but if he does not dazzle, he does not _bore_: he is too much +the man of the world for that. He is considered to have sound sense and +accurate judgment. Withal, as he now lays aside the journals, and his +face relaxes its austerer lines, you will not be astonished to hear that +he is a man who is said to have been greatly beloved by women, and still +to exercise much influence in drawing-rooms and boudoirs. At least no +one was surprised when the great heiress Clementina Leslie, kinswoman +and ward to Lord Lansmere--a young lady who had refused three earls and +the heir-apparent to a dukedom--was declared by her dearest friends to +be dying of love for Audley Egerton. + +It had been the natural wish of the Lansmeres that this lady should +marry their son, Lord L'Estrange. But that young gentleman, whose +opinions on matrimony partook of the eccentricity of his general +character, could never be induced to propose, and had, according to the +_on-dits_ of town, been the principal party to make up the match between +Clementina and his friend Audley; for the match required making-up, +despite the predilections of the young heiress. Mr. Egerton had had +scruples of delicacy. He avowed, for the first time, that his fortune +was much less than had been generally supposed, and he did not like the +idea of owing all to a wife, however much he might esteem and admire +her. L'Estrange was with his regiment abroad during the existence of +these scruples; but by letters to his father, and to his cousin +Clementina, he contrived to open and conclude negotiations, while he +argued away Mr. Egerton's objections; and before the year in which +Audley was returned for Lansmere had expired, he received the hand of +the great heiress. The settlement of her fortune, which was chiefly in +the funds, had been unusually advantageous to the husband; for though +the capital was tied up so long as both survived--for the benefit of any +children they might have--yet, in the event of one of the parties dying +without issue by the marriage, the whole passed without limitation to +the survivor. In not only assenting to, but proposing this clause, Miss +Leslie, if she showed a generous trust in Mr. Egerton, inflicted no +positive wrong on her relations; for she had none sufficiently near to +her to warrant their claim to the succession. Her nearest kinsman, and +therefore her natural heir, was Harley L'Estrange; and if he was +contented, no one had a right to complain. The tie of blood between +herself and the Leslies of Rood Hall was, as we shall see presently, +extremely distant. + +It was not till after his marriage that Mr. Egerton took an active part +in the business of the House of Commons. He was then at the most +advantageous starting-point for the career of ambition. His words on the +state of the country took importance from his stake in it. His talents +found accessories in the opulence of Grosvenor Square, the dignity of a +princely establishment, the respectability of one firmly settled in +life, the reputation of a fortune in reality very large, and which was +magnified by popular report into the revenues of Croesus. Audley +Egerton succeeded in Parliament beyond the early expectations formed of +him. He took at first that station in the House which it requires tact +to establish, and great knowledge of the world to free from the charge +of impracticability and crotchet, but which, once established, is +peculiarly imposing from the rarity of its independence; that is to say, +the station of the moderate man, who belongs sufficiently to a party to +obtain its support, but is yet sufficiently disengaged from a party to +make his vote and word, on certain questions, matter of anxiety and +speculation. + +Professing Toryism, (the word Conservative, which would have suited him +better, was not then known,) he separated himself from the country +party, and always avowed great respect for the opinions of the large +towns. The epithet given to the views of Audley Egerton was +"enlightened." Never too much in advance of the passion of the day, yet +never behind its movement, he had that shrewd calculation of odds which +a consummate mastery of the world sometimes bestows upon +politicians--perceived the chances for and against a certain question +being carried within a certain time, and nicked the question between +wind and water. He was so good a barometer of that changeful weather +called Public Opinion that he might have had a hand in the _Times_ +newspaper. He soon quarreled, and purposely, with his Lansmere +constituents--nor had he ever revisited that borough, perhaps because it +was associated with unpleasant reminiscences in the shape of the +Squire's epistolary trimmer, and in that of his own effigies which his +agricultural constituents had burned in the corn-market. But the +speeches which produced such indignation at Lansmere, had delighted one +of the greatest of our commercial towns, which at the next general +election honored him with its representation. In those days, before the +Reform Bill, great commercial towns chose men of high mark for their +members; and a proud station it was for him who was delegated to speak +the voice of the princely merchants of England. + +Mrs. Egerton survived her marriage but a few years; she left no +children; two had been born, but died in their first infancy. The +property of the wife, therefore, passed without control or limit to the +husband. + +Whatever might have been the grief of the widower, he disdained to +betray it to the world. Indeed, Audley Egerton was a man who had early +taught himself to conceal emotion. He buried himself in the country, +none knew where, for some months: when he returned, there was a deep +wrinkle on his brow; but no change in his habits and avocation, except +that soon afterward he accepted office, and thus became busier than +ever. + +Mr. Egerton had always been lavish and magnificent in money matters. A +rich man in public life has many claims on his fortune, and no one +yielded to those claims with an air so regal as Audley Egerton. But +amongst his many liberal actions, there was none which seemed more +worthy of panegyric than the generous favor he extended to the son of +his wife's poor and distant kinsfolks, the Leslies of Rood Hall. + +Some four generations back, there had lived a certain Squire Leslie, a +man of large acres and active mind. He had cause to be displeased with +his elder son, and though he did not disinherit him, he left half his +property to a younger. + +The younger had capacity and spirit, which justified the paternal +provision. He increased his fortune; lifted himself into notice and +consideration by public services and a noble alliance. His descendants +followed his example, and took rank among the first commoners in +England, till the last male, dying, left his sole heiress and +representative in one daughter, Clementina, afterward married to Mr. +Egerton. + +Meanwhile the elder son of the forementioned Squire had muddled and +sotted away much of his share in the Leslie property; and, by low +habits and mean society, lowered in repute his representation of the +name. + +His successors imitated him, till nothing was left to Randal's father, +Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie, but the decayed house which was what the +Germans call the _stamm schloss_, or "stem hall" of the race, and the +wretched lands immediately around it. + +Still, though all intercourse between the two branches of the family had +ceased, the younger had always felt a respect for the elder, as the head +of the house. And it was supposed that, on her deathbed, Mrs. Egerton +had recommended her impoverished namesakes and kindred to the care of +her husband. For, when he returned to town after Mrs. Egerton's death, +Audley had sent to Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie the sum of Ł5000, which he +said his wife, leaving no written will, had orally bequeathed as a +legacy to that gentleman; and he requested permission to charge himself +with the education of the eldest son. + +Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie might have done great things for his little +property with those five thousand pounds, or even (kept in the three per +cents) the interest would have afforded a material addition to his +comforts. But a neighboring solicitor having caught scent of the legacy, +hunted it down into his own hands, on pretense of having found a capital +investment in a canal. And when the solicitor had got possession of the +five thousand pounds, he went off with them to America. + +Meanwhile Randal, placed by Mr. Egerton at an excellent preparatory +school, at first gave no signs of industry or talent; but just before he +left it, there came to the school, as classical tutor, an ambitious +young Oxford man; and his zeal, for he was a capital teacher, produced a +great effect generally on the pupils, and especially on Randal Leslie. +He talked to them much in private on the advantages of learning, and +shortly afterward he exhibited those advantages in his own person; for, +having edited a Greek play with much subtil scholarship, his college, +which some slight irregularities of his had displeased, recalled him to +its venerable bosom by the presentation of a fellowship. After this he +took orders, became a college tutor, distinguished himself yet more by a +treatise on the Greek accent, got a capital living, and was considered +on the highroad to a bishopric. This young man, then, communicated to +Randal the thirst for knowledge; and when the boy went afterward to +Eton, he applied with such earnestness and resolve that his fame soon +reached the ears of Audley; and that person, who had the sympathy for +talent, and yet more for purpose, which often characterizes ambitious +men, went to Eton to see him. From that time Audley evinced great and +almost fatherly interest in the brilliant Etonian; and Randal always +spent with him some days in each vacation. + +I have said that Egerton's conduct, with respect to this boy, was more +praiseworthy than most of those generous actions for which he was +renowned, since to this the world gave no applause. What a man does +within the range of his family connections, does not carry with it that +_éclat_ which invests a munificence exhibited on public occasions. +Either people care nothing about it, or tacitly suppose it to be but his +duty. It was true, too, as the Squire had observed, that Randal Leslie +was even less distantly related to the Hazeldeans than to Mrs. Egerton, +since Randal's grandfather had actually married a Miss Hazeldean, (the +highest worldly connection that branch of the family had formed since +the great split I have commemorated.) But Audley Egerton never appeared +aware of that fact. As he was not himself descended from the Hazeldeans, +he never troubled himself about their genealogy; and he took care to +impress it upon the Leslies that his generosity on their behalf was +solely to be ascribed to his respect for his wife's memory and kindred. +Still the Squire had felt as if his "distant brother" implied a rebuke +on his own neglect of these poor Leslies, by the liberality Audley +evinced toward them; and this had made him doubly sore when the name of +Randal Leslie was mentioned. But the fact really was, that the Leslies +of Rood had so shrunk out of all notice that the Squire had actually +forgotten their existence, until Randal became thus indebted to his +brother; and then he felt a pang of remorse that any one save himself, +the head of the Hazeldeans, should lend a helping hand to the grandson +of a Hazeldean. + +But having thus, somewhat too tediously, explained the position of +Audley Egerton, whether in the world or in the relation to his young +_protégé_, I may now permit him to receive and to read his letters. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +Mr. Egerton glanced over the pile of letters placed beside him, and +first he tore up some, scarcely read, and threw them into the +waste-basket. Public men have such odd out-of-the-way letters that their +waste-baskets are never empty: letters from amateur financiers proposing +new ways to pay off the National Debt; letters from America, (never +free!) asking for autographs; letters from fond mothers in country +villages, recommending some miracle of a son for a place in the king's +service; letters from freethinkers in reproof of bigotry; letters from +bigots in reproof of freethinking; letters signed Brutus Redivivus, +containing the agreeable information that the writer has a dagger for +tyrants, if the Danish claims are not forthwith adjusted; letters signed +Matilda or Caroline, stating that Caroline or Matilda has seen the +public man's portrait at the Exhibition, and that a heart sensible to +its attractions may be found at No. ---- Piccadilly; letters from +beggars, impostors, monomaniacs, speculators, jobbers--all food for the +waste-basket. + +From the correspondence thus winnowed, Mr. Egerton first selected those +on business, which he put methodically together in one division of his +pocket-book; and secondly, those of a private nature, which he as +carefully put into another. Of these last there were but three--one from +his steward, one from Harley L'Estrange, one from Randal Leslie. It was +his custom to answer his correspondence at his office; and to his +office, a few minutes afterward, he slowly took his way. Many a +passenger turned back to look again at the firm figure, which, despite +the hot summer day, was buttoned up to the throat; and the black +frock-coat thus worn, well became the erect air, and the deep full chest +of the handsome senator. When he entered Parliament Street, Audley +Egerton was joined by one of his colleagues, also on his way to the +cares of office. + +After a few observations on the last debate, this gentleman said-- + +"By the way, can you dine with me next Saturday, to meet Lansmere? He +comes up to town to vote for us on Monday." + +"I had asked some people to dine with me," answered Egerton, "but I will +put them off. I see Lord Lansmere too seldom, to miss any occasion to +meet a man whom I respect so much." + +"So seldom! True, he is very little in town; but why don't you go and +see him in the country? Good shooting--pleasant old-fashioned house." + +"My dear Westbourne, his house is '_nimium vicina Cremonć_,' close to a +borough in which I have been burned in effigy." + +"Ha--ha--yes--I remember you first came into Parliament for that snug +little place; but Lansmere himself never found fault with your votes, +did he?" + +"He behaved very handsomely, and said he had not presumed to consider me +his mouthpiece; and then, too, I am so intimate with L'Estrange." + +"Is that queer fellow ever coming back to England?" + +"He comes, generally every year, for a few days, just to see his father +and mother, and then goes back to the Continent." + +"I never meet him." + +"He comes in September or October, when you, of course, are not in town, +and it is in town that the Lansmeres meet him." + +"Why does he not go to them?" + +"A man in England but once a year, and for a few days, has so much to do +in London, I suppose." + +"Is he as amusing as ever?" + +Egerton nodded. + +"So distinguished as he might be!" continued Lord Westbourne. + +"So distinguished as he is!" said Egerton formally; "an officer selected +for praise, even in such fields as Quatre Bras and Waterloo; a scholar, +too, of the finest taste; and as an accomplished gentleman, matchless!" + +"I like to hear one man praise another so warmly in these ill-natured +days," answered Lord Westbourne. "But still, though L'Estrange is +doubtless all you say, don't you think he rather wastes his life--living +abroad?" + +"And trying to be happy, Westbourne? Are you sure it is not we who waste +our lives? But I can't stay to hear your answer. Here we are at the door +of my prison." + +"On Saturday, then?" + +"On Saturday. Good day." + +For the next hour, or more, Mr. Egerton was engaged on the affairs of +the state. He then snatched an interval of leisure, (while awaiting a +report, which he had instructed a clerk to make him,) in order to reply +to his letters. Those on public business were soon dispatched; and +throwing his replies aside, to be sealed by a subordinate hand, he drew +out the letters which he had put apart as private. + +He attended first to that of his steward: the steward's letter was long, +the reply was contained in three lines. Pitt himself was scarcely more +negligent of his private interests and concerns than Audley +Egerton--yet, withal, Audley Egerton was said by his enemies to be an +egotist. + +The next letter he wrote was to Randal, and that, though longer, was far +from prolix: it ran thus-- + +"Dear Mr. Leslie,--I appreciate your delicacy in consulting me, whether +you should accept Frank Hazeldean's invitation to call at the Hall. +Since you are asked, I can see no objection to it. I should be sorry if +you appeared to force yourself there; and for the rest, as a general +rule, I think a young man who has his own way to make in life had better +avoid all intimacy with those of his own age who have no kindred objects +nor congenial pursuits. + +"As soon as this visit is paid, I wish you to come to London. The report +I receive of your progress at Eton renders it unnecessary, in my +judgment, that you should return there. If your father has no objection, +I propose that you should go to Oxford at the ensuing term. Meanwhile, I +have engaged a gentleman who is a fellow of Baliol, to read with you; he +is of opinion, judging only by your high repute at Eton, that you may at +once obtain a scholarship in that college. If you do so, I shall look +upon your career in life as assured. + + Your affectionate friend, and sincere + well-wisher, A.E." + +The reader will remark that, in this letter, there is a certain tone of +formality. Mr. Egerton does not call his _protegé_ "Dear Randal," as +would seem natural, but coldly and stiffly, "Dear Mr. Leslie." He hints, +also, that the boy has his own way to make in life. Is this meant to +guard against too sanguine notions of inheritance, which his generosity +may have excited? + +The letter to Lord L'Estrange was of a very different kind from the +others. It was long, and full of such little scraps of news and gossip +as may interest friends in a foreign land; it was written gaily, and as +with a wish to cheer his friend; you could see that it was a reply to a +melancholy letter; and in the whole tone and spirit there was an +affection, even to tenderness, of which those who most liked Audley +Egerton would have scarcely supposed him capable. Yet, notwithstanding, +there was a kind of constraint in the letter, which perhaps only the +fine tact of a woman would detect. It had not that _abandon_, that +hearty self-outpouring, which you might expect would characterize the +letters of two such friends, who had been boys at school together, and +which did breathe indeed in all the abrupt rambling sentences of his +correspondent. But where was the evidence of the constraint? Egerton is +off-hand enough where his pen runs glibly through paragraphs that relate +to others; it is simply that he says nothing about himself--that he +avoids all reference to the inner world of sentiment and feeling. But +perhaps, after all, the man has no sentiment and feeling! How can you +expect that a steady personage in practical life, whose mornings are +spent in Downing Street, and whose nights are consumed in watching +government bills through committee, can write in the same style as an +idle dreamer amidst the pines of Ravenna or on the banks of Como. + +Audley had just finished this epistle, such as it was, when the +attendant in waiting announced the arrival of a deputation from a +provincial trading town, the members of which deputation he had +appointed to meet at two o'clock. There was no office in London at which +deputations were kept waiting less than at that over which Mr. Egerton +presided. + +The deputation entered--some score or so of middle-aged, +comfortable-looking persons, who nevertheless had their grievance--and +considered their own interests, and those of the country, menaced by a +certain clause in a bill brought in by Mr. Egerton. + +The Mayor of the town was the chief spokesman, and he spoke well--but in +a style to which the dignified official was not accustomed. It was a +slap-dash style--unceremonious, free, and easy--an American style. And, +indeed, there was something altogether in the appearance and bearing of +the Mayor which savored of residence in the Great Republic. He was a +very handsome man, but with a look sharp and domineering--the look of a +man who did not care a straw for president or monarch, and who enjoyed +the liberty to speak his mind, and "wallop his own nigger!" + +His fellow-burghers evidently regarded him with great respect; and Mr. +Egerton had penetration enough to perceive that Mr. Mayor must be a rich +man, as well as an eloquent one, to have overcome those impressions of +soreness or jealousy which his tone was calculated to create in the +self-love of his equals. + +Mr. Egerton was far too wise to be easily offended by mere manner; and, +though he stared somewhat haughtily when he found his observations +actually pooh-poohed, he was not above being convinced. There was much +sense and much justice in Mr. Mayor's arguments, and the statesman +civilly promised to take them into full consideration. + +He then bowed out the deputation; but scarcely had the door closed +before it opened again, and Mr. Mayor presented himself alone, saying +aloud to his companions in the passage, "I forgot something I had to say +to Mr. Egerton; wait below for me." + +"Well, Mr. Mayor," said Audley, pointing to a seat, "what else would you +suggest?" + +The Mayor looked round to see that the door was closed; and then, +drawing his chair close to Mr. Egerton's, laid his forefinger on that +gentleman's arm, and said, "I think I speak to a man of the world, sir." + +Mr. Egerton bowed, and made no reply by word, but he gently removed his +arm from the touch of the forefinger. + +_Mr. Mayor._--"You observe, sir, that I did not ask the members whom we +return to Parliament to accompany us. Do better without 'em. You know +they are both in Opposition--out-and-outers." + +_Mr. Egerton._--"It is a misfortune which the Government cannot +remember, when the question is whether the trade of the town itself is +to be served or injured." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"Well, I guess you speak handsome, sir. But you'd be glad +to have two members to support Ministers after the next election." + +_Mr. Egerton_, smilingly.--"Unquestionably, Mr. Mayor." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"And I can do it, Mr. Egerton. I may say I have the town +in my pocket; so I ought, I spend a great deal of money in it. Now, you +see, Mr. Egerton, I have passed a part of my life in a land of +liberty--the United States--and I come to the point when I speak to a +man of the world. I am a man of the world myself, sir. And if so be the +Government will do something for me, why, I'll do something for the +Government. Two votes for a free and independent town like ours--that's +something, isn't it?" + +_Mr. Egerton_, taken by surprise--"Really I--" + +_Mr. Mayor_, advancing his chair still nearer, and interrupting the +official.--"No nonsense, you see, on one side or the other. The fact is +that I have taken it into my head that I should like to be knighted. You +may well look surprised, Mr. Egerton--trumpery thing enough, I dare say; +still every man has his weakness and I should like to be Sir Richard. +Well, if you can get me made Sir Richard, you may just name your two +members for the next election--that is, if they belong to your own set, +enlightened men, up to the times. That's speaking fair and manful, isn't +it?" + +_Mr. Egerton_, drawing himself up.--"I am at a loss to guess why you +should select me, sir, for this very extraordinary proposition." + +_Mr. Mayor_, nodding good-humoredly.--"Why, you see, I don't go all +along with the Government; you're the best of the bunch. And maybe +you'd like to strengthen your own party. This is quite between you and +me, you understand; honor's a jewel!" + +_Mr. Egerton_, with great gravity.--"Sir, I am obliged by your good +opinion; but I agree with my colleagues in all the great questions +affecting the government of the country, and--" + +_Mr. Mayor_, interrupting him.--"Ah, of course you must say so; very +right. But I guess things would go differently if you were Prime +Minister. However, I have another reason for speaking to you about my +little job. You see you were member for Lansmere once, and I think you +came in but by two majority, eh?" + +_Mr. Egerton._--"I know nothing of the particulars of that election; I +was not present." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"No; but, luckily for you, two relatives of mine were, and +they voted for you. Two votes, and you came in by two! Since then, you +have got into very snug quarters here, and I think we have a claim on +you--" + +_Mr. Egerton._--"Sir, I acknowledge no such claim; I was and am a +stranger in Lansmere; and, if the electors did me the honor to return me +to Parliament, it was in compliment rather to--" + +_Mr. Mayor_, again interrupting the official.--"Rather to Lord Lansmere, +you were going to say; unconstitutional doctrine that, I fancy. Peer of +the realm. But, never mind, I know the world; and I'd ask Lord Lansmere +to do my affair for me, only I hear he is as proud as Lucifer." + +_Mr. Egerton_, in great disgust, and settling his papers before +him.--"Sir, it is not in my department to recommend to his Majesty +candidates for the honor of knighthood, and it is still less in my +department to make bargains for seats in Parliament." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"Oh, if that's the case, you'll excuse me; I don't know +much of the etiquette in these matters. But I thought that, if I put two +seats in your hands, for your own friends, you might contrive to take +the affair into your department, whatever it was. But since you say you +agree with your colleagues, perhaps it comes to the same thing. Now you +must not suppose I want to sell the town, and that I can change and chop +my politics for my own purpose. No such thing! I don't like the sitting +members; I'm all for progressing, but they go _too_ much ahead for me; +and, since the Government is disposed to move a little, why I'd as lief +support them as not. But, in common gratitude, you see, (added the +Mayor, coaxingly,) I ought to be knighted! I can keep up the dignity, +and do credit to his Majesty." + +_Mr. Egerton_, without looking up from his papers.--"I can only refer +you, sir, to the proper quarter." + +_Mr. Mayor_, impatiently.--"Proper quarter! Well, since there is so much +humbug in this old country of ours, that one must go through all the +forms and get at the job regularly, just tell me whom I ought to go to." + +_Mr. Egerton_, beginning to be amused as well as indignant.--"If you +want a knighthood, Mr. Mayor, you must ask the Prime Minister; if you +want to give the Government information relative to seats in Parliament, +you must introduce yourself to Mr. ----, the Secretary of the Treasury." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"And if I go to the last chap, what do you think he'll +say?" + +_Mr. Egerton_, the amusement preponderating over the indignation.--"He +will say, I suppose, that you must not put the thing in the light in +which you have put it to me; that the Government will be very proud to +have the confidence of yourself and your brother electors; and that a +gentleman like you, in the proud position of Mayor, may well hope to be +knighted on some fitting occasion. But that you must not talk about the +knighthood just at present, and must confine yourself to converting the +unfortunate political opinions of the town." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"Well, I guess that chap there would want to do me! Not +quite so green, Mr. Egerton. Perhaps I'd better go at once to the +fountain-head. How d'ye think the Premier would take it?" + +_Mr. Egerton_, the indignation preponderating over the +amusement.--"Probably just as I am about to do." + +Mr. Egerton rang the bell; the attendant appeared. + +"Show Mr. Mayor the way out," said the Minister. + +The Mayor turned round sharply, and his face was purple. He walked +straight to the door; but, suffering the attendant to precede him along +the corridor, he came back with rapid stride, and clinching his hands, +and with a voice thick with passion, cried, "Some day or other I will +make you smart for this, as sure as my name's Dick Avenel!" + +"Avenel!" repeated Egerton, recoiling, "Avenel!" + +But the Mayor was gone. + +Audley fell into a deep and musing reverie which seemed gloomy, and +lasted till the attendant announced that the horses were at the door. + +He then looked up, still abstractedly, and saw his letter to Harley +L'Estrange open on the table. He drew it toward him, and wrote, "A man +has just left me, who calls himself Aven--" in the middle of the name +his pen stopped. "No, no," muttered the writer, "what folly to reopen +the old wounds there," and he carefully erased the words. + +Audley Egerton did not ride in the park that day, as was his wont, but +dismissed his groom; and, turning his horse's head toward Westminster +Bridge, took his solitary way into the country. He rode at first slowly, +as if in thought; then fast, as if trying to escape from thought. He was +later than usual at the House that evening, and he looked pale and +fatigued. But he had to speak, and he spoke well. + +TO BE CONTINUED. + + +[From the Journal des Chasseurs.] + +WILD SPORTS IN ALGERIA. + +BY M. JULES GERARD. + +I knew of a large old lion in the Smauls country and betook myself in +that direction. On arriving I heard that he was in the Bonarif, near +Batnah. My tent was not yet pitched at the foot of the mountain, when I +learned that he was at the Fed Jong, where, on my arrival, I found he +had gained the Aures. After traveling one hundred leagues in ten days in +the trace of my brute without catching a glimpse of anything but his +footprints, I was gratified on the night of the 22d of August with the +sound of my lord's voice. I had established my tent in the valley of +Ousten. As there is only one path across this thickly covered valley, I +found it an easy task to discover his track and follow it to his lair. +At six o'clock in the evening I alighted upon a hillock commanding a +prospect of the country around. I was accompanied by a native of the +country and my spahi, one carrying my carbine, the other my old gun. As +I had anticipated, the lion roared under cover at dawn of day; but +instead of advancing toward me, he started off in a westerly direction +at such a pace that it was impossible for me to come up with him. I +retraced my steps at midnight and took up my quarters at the foot of a +tree upon the path which the lion had taken. The country about this spot +was cleared and cultivated. The moon being favorable, the approach of +anything could be descried in every direction. I installed myself and +waited. Weary after a ride of several hours over a very irregular +country, and not expecting any chance that night, I enjoined my spahi to +keep a good watch, and lay down. I was just about to fall asleep when I +felt a gentle pull at my burnous. On getting up I was able to make out +two lions, sitting one beside the other, about one hundred paces off, +and exactly on the path in which I had taken up my position. At first I +thought we had been perceived, and prepared to make the best of this +discovery. The moon shed a light upon the entire ground which the lions +would have to cross in order to reach the tree, close to which all +within a circumference of ten paces was completely dark, both on account +of the thickness of the tree and the shadow cast by the foliage. My +spahi, like me, was in range of the shadow, while the Arab lay snoring +ten paces off in the full light of the moon. There was no doubting the +fact--it was this man who attracted the attention of the lions. I +expressly forbade the spahi to wake up the Arab, as I was persuaded that +when the action was over he would be proud of having served as a bait +even without knowing it. I then prepared my arms and placed them against +the tree and got up, in order the better to observe the movements of the +enemy. They were not less than half an hour traversing a distance of one +hundred metres. Although the ground was open, I could only see them when +they raised their heads to make sure that the Arab was still there. They +took advantage of every stone and every tuft of grass to render +themselves almost invisible; at last the boldest of them came up +crouching on his belly to within ten paces of me and fifteen of the +Arab. His eye was fixed on the latter, and with such an expression that +I was afraid I had waited too long. The second, who had stayed a few +paces behind, came and placed himself on a level with and about four or +five paces from the first. I then saw for the first time that they were +full-grown lionesses. I took aim at the first, and she came rolling and +roaring down to the foot of the tree. The Arab was scarcely awakened +when a second ball stretched the animal dead upon the spot. The first +bullet went in at the muzzle and came out at the tail; the second had +gone through the heart. After making sure that my men were all right, I +looked out for the second lioness. She was standing up within fifteen +paces, looking at what was going on around her. I took my gun and +leveled it at her. She squatted down. When I fired she fell down +roaring, and disappeared in a field of maize on the edge of the road. On +approaching I found by her moaning that she was still alive, and did not +venture at night into the thick plantation which sheltered her. As soon +as it was day I went to the spot where she had fallen, and all I found +were bloodmarks showing her track in the direction of the wood. After +sending the dead lioness to the neighboring garrison, who celebrated its +arrival by a banquet, I returned to my post of the previous night. A +little after sunset the lion roared for the first time, but instead of +quitting his lair he remained there all night, roaring like a madman. +Convinced that the wounded lioness was there, I sent on the morning of +the 24th two Arabs to explore the cover. They returned without daring to +approach it. On the night of the 24th there was the same roaring and +complaining of the lion on the mountain and under cover. On the 25th, at +five in the evening, I had a young goat muzzled, and proceeded with it +to the mountain. The lair was exceedingly difficult of access. +Nevertheless I succeeded at last by crawling now on my hands and now on +my belly in reaching it. Having discovered certain indications of the +presence of the inhabitants of this locality, I had the goat unmuzzled +and tied to a tree. Then followed the most comical panic on the part of +the Arabs, who were carrying my arms. Seeing themselves in the middle of +the lion's lair, whom they could distinctly smell, and hearing the +horrified goat calling them with all its might, was a position perfectly +intolerable to them. After consulting together as to whether it were +better to climb up a tree or clamber on a rock, they asked my permission +to remain near the goat. This confidence pleased me and obtained them +the privilege of a place by my side. I had not been there a quarter of +an hour when the lioness appeared; she found herself suddenly beside the +goat, and looked about her with an air of astonishment. I fired, and she +fell without a struggle. The Arabs were already kissing my hands, and I +myself believed her dead, when she got up again as though nothing was +the matter and showed us all her teeth. One of the Arabs who had run +toward her was within six paces of her. On seeing her get up he clung to +the lower branches of the tree to which the goat was tied, and +disappeared like a squirrel. The lioness fell dead at the foot of the +tree, a second bullet piercing her heart. The first had passed out of +the nape of the neck without breaking the skull bone. + + +[From the Spectator.] + +RECENT DEATHS IN THE FAMILY OF ORLEANS. + +"One touch of nature makes the whole world kin:" there is not one among +the millions who read of the mortal sufferings endured by Queen Louise +of Belgium that will not sympathize with the sorrowing relatives around +her deathbed; especially with that aged lady who has seen so many +changes, survived so many friends, mourned so many dear ones. To the +world Queen Amélie is like a relative to whom we are endeared by report +without having seen her; and as we read of her journey to pay the last +sad offices to her daughter, we forget the "royal personage," in regard +for that excellent lady who has been made known to us by so many +sorrows. + +The Orleans family, in its triumphs and in its adversities, may be taken +as a living and most striking illustration of "principle,"--of principle +working to ends that are certain. Louis Philippe's character shone best +in his personal and family relation. He was a shifty expedientist in +politics: a great national crisis came to him as a fine opportunity to +the commercial man for pushing some particular kind of traffic. He +adopted the cant of the day, as mere traders adopt produce, ready made; +taking the correctness of the earlier stages for granted. He adopted +"the Monarchy surrounded by Republican institutions," as a Member of +Parliament takes the oaths, for form's sake: it was the form of +accepting the crown, its power and dignity; and he did what was +suggested as the proper thing to be done: but did he ever trouble +himself about the "Republican institutions?" He adopted the National +Guard, as a useful instrument to act by way of breastwork, under cover +of which his throne could repose secure, while the royal power could +shoot as it pleased _over_ that respectable body at the people: but did +he ever trouble himself with the purpose of a national guard?--No more +than a beadle troubles his head with the church theology or parochial +constitution. He never meddled with the stuff and vital working of +politics; and when the time came that required him to maintain his post +by having a hold on the nation of France, by acting with the forces then +at work, wholly incompetent to the unsought task, he let go, and was +drifted away by the flood of events. But still, though the most signal +instance of opportunity wasted and success converted to failure before +the eyes of Europe, he retained a considerable degree of respectability. +First, the vitality of the man was strong, and had been tested by many +vicissitudes; and the world sympathizes with that sort of leasehold +immortality. Further, his family clung around him: the respectable, +amiable paterfamilias, whose personal qualities had been somewhat +obscured by the splendors of the throne, now again appeared unvailed, +and that which was sterling in the man was once more known--again tried, +again sound. Louis Philippe failed as a king, he succeeded as a father. + +Queen Amélie placed her faith less on mundane prosperity than on +spiritual welfare; and she was so far imbued by faith as a living +principle that it actuated her in her conduct as a daily practice. With +the obedience of the true Catholic, she combined the spirit of active +Christianity. While some part of her family has been inspired mainly by +the paternal spirit, some took their spirit from the mother; and none, +it would appear, more decidedly than Queen Louise. The accounts from +Belgium liken her to our own Queen Adelaide, in whom was exhibited the +same spirit of piety and practical Christianity; and we see the result +in the kind of personal affection that she earned. Agree with these +estimable women in their doctrine or not, you cannot but respect the +firmness of their own faith or the spirit of self-sacrifice which +remained uncorrupted through all the trials of temptations, so rife, so +_devitalizing_ in the life of royalty. + +Death visits the palace and the cottage, and we expect his approach: we +understand his aspect, and know how he affects the heart of mortality. +Be they crowned or not, we understand what it is that mortal creatures +are enduring under the affliction; and we well know what it means when +parent and children, brothers and sisters, collect around the deathbed. + +King Leopold we have twice seen under the same trial, and again remember +how much he has rested of his life on the personal relation. We note +these things; we call to mind all that the family, illustrious not less +by its vicissitudes and its adversities than by its exaltation, has +endured; and while we sympathize with its sorrows, we feel how much it +must be sustained by those reliances which endure more firmly than +worldly fortune. But our regard does not stop with admiration; we notice +with satisfaction this example to the family and personal relation--this +proof that amid the splendors of royalty the firmest reliances and the +sweetest consolations are those which are equally open to the humblest. + + +[From "Leaves from the Journal of a Naturalist," in Fraser's Magazine.] + +PLEASANT STORY OF A SWALLOW. + +In September, 1800, the Rev. Walter Trevelyan wrote from Long-Wilton, +Northumberland, in a letter to the editor of Bewick's "British Birds," +the following narrative, which is so simply and beautifully written, and +gives so clear an account of the process of taming, that it would be +unjust to recite it in any words but his own for the edification of +those who may wish to make the experiment:--"About nine weeks ago +(writes the good clergyman), a swallow fell down one of our chimneys, +nearly fledged, and was able to fly in two or three days. The children +desired they might try to rear him, to which I agreed, fearing the old +ones would desert him; and as he was not the least shy they succeeded +without any difficulty, for he opened his mouth for flies as fast as +they could supply them, and was regularly fed to a whistle. In a few +days, perhaps a week, they used to take him into the fields with them, +and as each child found a fly and whistled, the little bird flew for his +prey from one to another; at other times he would fly round about them +in the air, but always descended at the first call, in spite of the +constant endeavors of the wild swallows to seduce him away; for which +purpose several of them at once would fly about him in all directions, +striving to drive him away when they saw him about to settle on one of +the children's hands, extended with the food. He would very often alight +on the children, uncalled, when they were walking several fields distant +from home." What a charming sketch of innocence and benevolence, +heightened by the anxiety of the pet's relations to win him away from +beings whom they must have looked upon as so many young ogres! The poor +flies, it is true, darken the picture a little; but to proceed with the +narrative:--"Our little inmate was never made a prisoner by being put +into a cage, but always ranged about the room at large wherever the +children were, and they never went out of doors without taking him with +them. Sometimes he would sit on their hands or heads and catch flies for +himself, which he soon did with great dexterity. At length, finding it +take up too much of their time to supply him with food enough to satisfy +his appetite (for I have no doubt he ate from seven hundred to a +thousand flies a day), they used to turn him out of the house, shutting +the window to prevent his returning for two or three hours together, in +hopes he would learn to cater for himself, which he soon did; but still +was no less tame, always answering their call, and coming in at the +window to them (of his own accord) frequently every day, and always +roosting in their room, which he has regularly done from the first till +within a week or ten days past. He constantly roosted on one of the +children's heads till their bed-time; nor was he disturbed by the child +moving about, or even walking, but would remain perfectly quiet with his +head under his wing, till he was put away for the night in some warm +corner, for he liked much warmth." The kind and considerate attempt to +alienate the attached bird from its little friends had its effect. "It +is now four days (writes worthy Mr. Trevelyan, in conclusion) since he +came in to roost in the house, and though he then did not show any +symptoms of shyness, yet he is evidently becoming less tame, as the +whistle will not now bring him to the hand; nor does he visit us as +formerly, but he always acknowledges it when within hearing by a chirp, +and by flying near. Nothing could exceed his tameness for about six +weeks; and I have no doubt it would have continued the same had we not +left him to himself as much as we could, fearing he would be so +perfectly domesticated that he would be left behind at the time of +migration, and of course be starved in the winter from cold and hunger." +And so ends this agreeable story: not, however, that it was "of course" +that the confiding bird would be starved if it remained, for the Rev. +W.F. Cornish, of Totness, kept two tame swallows, one for a year and a +half, and the other for two years, as he informed Mr. Yarrell. + + +[From Mure's Literature of Ancient Greece.] + +EXCLUSION OF LOVE FROM GREEK POETRY. + +One of the most prominent forms in which the native simplicity and +purity of the Hellenic bard displays itself is the entire exclusion of +sentimental or romantic love from his stock of poetical materials. This +is a characteristic which, while inherited in a greater or less degree +by the whole more flourishing age of Greek poetical literature, +possesses also the additional source of interest to the modern scholar, +of forming one of the most striking points of distinction between +ancient and modern literary taste. So great an apparent contempt, on the +part of so sensitive a race as the Hellenes, for an element of poetical +pathos which has obtained so boundless an influence on the comparatively +phlegmatic races of Western Europe, is a phenomenon which, although it +has not escaped the notice of modern critics, has scarcely met with the +attention which its importance demands. By some it has been explained as +a consequence of the low estimation in which the female sex was held in +Homer's age, as contrasted with the high honors conferred on it by the +courtesy of medieval chivalry; by others as a natural effect of the +restrictions placed on the free intercourse of the sexes among the +Greeks. Neither explanation is satisfactory. The latter of the two is +set aside by Homer's own descriptions, which abundantly prove that in +his time, at least, women could have been subjected to no such jealous +control as to interfere with the free course of amorous intrigue. Nor +even, had such been the case, would the cause have been adequate to the +effect. Experience seems rather to evince that the greater the +difficulties to be surmounted the higher the poetical capabilities of +such adventures. Erotic romance appears, in fact, to have been nowhere +more popular than in the East, where the jealous separation of the sexes +has, in all ages, been extreme. As little can it be said that Homer's +poems exhibit a state of society in which females were lightly esteemed. +The Trojan war itself originates in the susceptibility of an injured +husband: and all Greece takes up arms to avenge his wrong. The plot of +the Odyssey hinges mainly on the constant attachment of the hero to the +spouse of his youth; and the whole action tends to illustrate the high +degree of social and political influence consequent on the exemplary +performance of the duties of wife and mother. Nor surely do the +relations subsisting between Hector and Andromache, or Priam and Hecuba, +convey a mean impression of the respect paid to the female sex in the +heroic age. As little can the case be explained by a want of fit or +popular subjects of amorous adventure. Many of the favorite Greek +traditions are as well adapted to the plot of an epic poem or tragedy of +the sentimental order, as any that modern history can supply. Still less +can the exclusion be attributed to a want of sensibility, on the part of +the Greek nation, to the power of the tender passions. The influence of +those passions is at least as powerfully and brilliantly asserted in +their own proper sphere of poetical treatment, in the lyric odes, for +example, of Sappho or Mimnermus, as in any department of modern poetry. +Nor must it be supposed that even the nobler Epic or Tragic Muse was +insensible to the poetical value of the passion of love. But it was in +the connection of that passion with others of a sterner nature to which +it gives rise, jealousy, hatred, revenge, rather than in its own tender +sensibilities, that the Greek poets sought to concentrate the higher +interest of their public. Any excess of the amorous affections which +tended to enslave the judgment or reason was considered as a weakness, +not an honorable emotion; and hence was confined almost invariably to +women. The nobler sex are represented as comparatively indifferent, +often cruelly callous, to such influence; and, when subjected to it, are +usually held up as objects of contempt rather than admiration. As +examples may be cited the amours of Medea and Jason, of Phćdra and +Hippolytus, of Theseus and Ariadne, of Hercules and Omphale. The satire +on the amorous weakness of the most illustrious of Greek heroes embodied +in the last mentioned fable, with the glory acquired by Ulysses from his +resistance to the fascinations of Circe and Calypso, may be jointly +contrasted with the subjection by Tasso of Rinaldo and his comrades to +the thraldom of Armida, and with the pride and pleasure which the +Italian poet of chivalry appears to take in the sensual degradation of +his heroes. The distinction here drawn by the ancients is the more +obvious, that their warriors are least of all men described as +indifferent to the pleasures of female intercourse. They are merely +exempt from subjection to its unmanly seductions. Ulysses, as he sails +from coast to coast, or island to island, willingly partakes of the +favors which fair goddesses or enchantresses press on his acceptance. +But their influence is never permitted permanently to blunt the more +honorable affections of his bosom, or divert his attention from higher +objects of ambition. + + +[From the Spectator.] + +THE GATEWAY OF THE OCEANS. + +The forcing of the barrier which for three hundred years has defied and +imperiled the commerce of the world seems now an event at hand. One half +of the contract for the junction of the Atlantic and Pacific, obtained +from the State of Nicaragua last year by the promptitude of the +Americans, is to be held at the option of English capitalists; and an +understanding is at length announced, that if the contemplated +ship-canal can be constructed on conditions that shall leave no +uncertainty as to the profitableness of the enterprise, it is to be +carried forward with the influence of our highest mercantile firms. The +necessary surveys have been actually commenced; and as a temporary route +is at the same time being opened, an amount of information is likely +soon to be collected which will familiarize us with each point regarding +the capabilities of the entire region. It is understood, moreover, that +when the canal-surveys shall be completed, they are to be submitted to +the rigid scrutiny of Government engineers both in England and the +United States; so that before the public can be called upon to consider +the expediency of embarking in the undertaking, every doubt in +connection with it, as far as practical minds are concerned, will have +been removed. + +The immediate steps now in course of adoption may be explained in a few +words. At present the transit across the Isthmus of Panama occupies four +days, and its inconveniences and dangers are notorious. At Nicaragua, it +is represented, the transit may possibly be effected in one day, and +this by a continuous steam-route with the exception of fifteen miles by +mule or omnibus. The passage would be up the San Juan, across Lake +Nicaragua to the town of that name, and thence to the port of San Juan +del Sur on the Pacific. On arriving at this terminus, (which is +considerably south of the one contemplated for the permanent canal, +namely Realejo,) the passenger would find himself some six or seven +hundred miles nearer to California than if he had crossed at the Isthmus +of Panama; and as the rate of speed of the American steamers on this +service is upward of three hundred miles a day, his saving of three days +in crossing, coupled with the saving in sea distance, would be +equivalent to a total of fifteen hundred miles, measured in relation to +what is accomplished by these vessels. A lower charge for the transit, +and a comparatively healthy climate, are also additional inducements; +and under these circumstances, anticipations are entertained that the +great tide of traffic will be turned in the new direction. This tide, +according to the last accounts from Panama, was kept up at the rate of +70,000 persons a year; and it was expected to increase. + +The navigability of the San Juan, however, in its present state, remains +yet to be tested. The American company who have obtained the privilege +of the route have sent down two vessels of light draught, the Nicaragua +and the Director, for the purpose of forthwith placing the matter beyond +doubt. At the last date, the Director had safely crossed the bar at its +mouth, and was preparing to ascend; the Nicaragua had previously gone up +the Colorado, a branch river, where, it is said, through the +carelessness of her engineer, she had run aground upon a sand-bank, +though without sustaining any damage. The next accounts will possess +great interest. Whatever may be the real capabilities of the river, +accidents and delays must be anticipated in the first trial of a new +method of navigating it: even in our own river, the Thames, the first +steamer could scarcely have been expected to make a trip from London +Bridge to Richmond without some mishap. Should, therefore, the present +experiment show any clear indications of success, there will be +reasonable ground for congratulation; and it forms so important a +chapter in the history of enterprise, that all must regard it with good +wishes. + +If the results of this temporary transit should realize the expectations +it seems to warrant, there can be little doubt the completion of the +canal will soon be commenced with ardor. Supposing the surveys should +show a cost not exceeding the sum estimated in 1837 by Lieutenant Baily, +the prospect of the returns would, there is reason to believe, be much +larger than the public have at any time been accustomed to suppose. +There is also the fact that the increase of these returns can know no +limit so long as the commerce of the world shall increase; and indeed, +already the idea of the gains to accrue appears to have struck some +minds with such force as to lead them to question if the privileges +which have been granted are not of a kind so extraordinarily favorable +that they will sooner or later be repudiated by the State of Nicaragua. +No such danger however exists; as the company are guaranteed in the safe +possession of all their rights by the treaty of protection which has +been ratified between Great Britain and the United States. + +One most important sign in favor of the quick completion of the +ship-canal is now furnished in the circumstance that there are no rival +routes. At Panama, a cheap wooden railway is to be constructed, which +will prove serviceable for much of the passenger-traffic to Peru and +Chili; but the project for a canal at that point has been entirely given +up. The same is the case at Tehuantepec, where the difficulties are far +greater than at Panama. + +It is true, the question naturally arises, whether if an exploration +were made of other parts of Central America or New Grenada, some route +might not be discovered which might admit of the construction of a canal +even at a less cost than will be necessary at Nicaragua. But in a matter +which concerns the commerce of the whole world for ages, there are other +points to be considered besides mere cheapness; and those who have +studied the advantages of Nicaragua maintain that enough is known of the +whole country both north and south of that State, to establish the fact +that she possesses intrinsic capabilities essential to the perfectness +of the entire work, which are not to be found in any other quarter, and +for the absence of which no saving of any immediate sum would +compensate. In the first place, it is nearer to California by several +hundred miles than any other route that could be pointed out except +Tehuantepec, while at the same time it is so central as duly to combine +the interests both of the northern and southern countries of the +Pacific; in the next place, it contains two magnificent natural docks, +where all the vessels in the world might refresh and refit; thirdly, it +abounds in natural products of all kinds, and is besides comparatively +well-peopled; fourthly, it possesses a temperature which is relatively +mild, while it is also in most parts undoubtedly healthy; and finally, +it has a harbor on the Pacific, which, to use the words of Dunlop in his +book on Central America, is as good as any port in the known world, and +decidedly superior even to Portsmouth, Rio Janeiro, Port Jackson, +Talcujana, Callao, and Guayaquil. The proximity to California moreover +settles the question as to American cooperation; which, it may be +believed, would certainly not be afforded to any route farther south, +and without which it would be idle to contemplate the undertaking. + +At the same time, however, it must be admitted, that if any body of +persons would adopt the example now set by the American company, and +commence a survey of any new route at their own expense, they would be +entitled to every consideration, and to rank as benefactors of the +community, whatever might be the result of their endeavors. There are +none who can help forward the enterprise, either directly or indirectly, +upon whom it will not shed honor. That honor, too, will not be distant. +The progress of the work will unite for the first time in a direct +manner the two great nations upon whose mutual friendship the welfare of +the world depends; and its completion will cause a revolution in +commerce more extensive and beneficent than any that has yet occurred, +and which may still be so rapid as to be witnessed by many who even now +are old. + + +[From the Spectator.] + +THE MURDER MARKET. + +"The Doddinghurst murder," "the Frimley murder," "the Regent's Park +burglary," "the Birmingham burglary," "the Liverpool plate +robberies,"--the plots thicken to such a degree that society turns still +paler; and having last week asked for ideas on the subject of better +security for life and property, asks this week, still more urgently, for +_more_ security. We must then penetrate deeper into the causes. + +Yes, civilization is observable in nothing more than in the development +of criminality. Whether it is that _pennyalining_ discloses it more, or +that the instances really are more numerous, may be doubtful; but why, +in spite of modern improvements to illumine, order, and guard society, +does crime stalk abroad so signally unchecked?--_that_ is the question. + +We believe that the causes are various; and that to effect a thorough +amendment, we must deal with _all_ the causes, radically. Let us reckon +up some of them. One is, that the New Police, which at first acted as a +scarecrow, has grown familiar to the ruffianly or roguish: it has been +discovered that a Policeman is not ubiquitous, and if you know that he +is walking toward Berkhamstead you are certain that he is not going +toward Hemel Hempstead. In some counties the Policeman is the very +reverse of ubiquitous, being altogether non-inventus, by reason of +parsimony in the rate-payers. The disuse of arms and the general +unfamiliarity with them help to embolden the audacious. The increase of +wealth is a direct attraction: the more silver spoons and épergnes, the +more gold-handled knives and dish-covers electro-gilt, are to be found +in pantry, the more baits are there set for the wild animals of society; +and if there be no trap with the bait, then the human vermin merely run +off with it. But he will bite if you offer any let. With the general +luxury grows the burglarious love of luxury: as peers and cits grow more +curious in their appetites, so burglars and swell-mobsmen. The tasteful +cruet which tempts Lady Juliana, and is gallantly purchased by her +obliging husband Mr. Stubbs, has its claims also for Dick Stiles; and +the champagne which is so relished by the guests round Mr. Stubbs's +mahogany is pleasant tipple under a hedge. Another cause, most pregnant +with inconvenience to the public, is the practice in which we persist in +letting our known criminals go about at large, on constitutional +scruples against shutting the door till the steed be gone. We are bound +to treat a man as innocent until he be found guilty,--which means, that +we must not hang him or pillory him without proof before a jury: but an +innocent man may be suspected, and _ought_ to be suspected, if +appearances are against him. So much for the suspected criminal, whom we +will not take into custody until he has galloped off in our own saddle. +But even the convicted ruffian is to be set at large, under the system +of time sentences. Yes, "the liberty of the subject" demands the license +of the burglar. + +A sixth cause is the mere increase of the population hereditarily given +to crime,--a caste upon which we have made so little impression, either +by prison discipline, ragged schools, or any other process. In education +we rely upon book learning or theological scrap teaching, neither of +which influences will reach certain minds; for there are many, and not +the worst dispositions, that never can be brought under a very active +influence of a studious or spiritual kind. But we omit the right kind of +training, the physical and material, for that order of mind. + +Other causes are--the wide social separation in this country, by virtue +of which our servants are strangers in the house, alien if not hostile +to the family; the want of our present customs to give scope for such +temperaments as need excitement; the state of the Poor-law, which makes +the honest man desperate and relaxes the proper control over the +vagrant. + +The remedies for these causes must go deeper than bells for shutters or +snappish housedogs for the night: meanwhile, we must be content to read +of murders, and to use the best palliatives we can--even shutter-bells +and vigilant little dogs. + + +[From the Examiner.] + +STATUES. + +Statues are now rising in every quarter of our metropolis, and mallet +and chisel are the chief instruments in use. Whatever is conducive to +the promotion of the arts ought undoubtedly to be encouraged; but love +in this instance, quite as much as in any, ought neither to be +precipitate nor blind. A true lover of his country should be exempted +from the pain of blushes, when a foreigner inquires of him, "_Whom does +this statue represent? and for what merits was it raised?_" The +defenders of their country, not the dismemberers of it, should be first +in honor; the maintainers of the laws, not the subverters of them, +should follow next. I may be asked by the studious, the contemplative, +the pacific, whether I would assign a higher station to any public man +than to a Milton and a Newton. My answer is plainly and loudly, _Yes_. +But the higher station should be in the streets, in squares, in houses +of parliament: such are their places; our vestibules and our libraries +are best adorned by poets, philosophers, and philanthropists. There is a +feeling which street-walking and public-meeting men improperly call +_loyalty_; a feeling intemperate and intolerant, smelling of dinner and +wine and toasts, which raises their stomachs and their voices at the +sound of certain names reverberated by the newspaper press. As little do +they know about the proprietary of these names as pot-wallopers know +about the candidates at a borough election, and are just as vociferous +and violent. A few days ago, I received a most courteous invitation to +be named on a Committee for erecting a statue to Jenner. It was +impossible for me to decline it; and equally was it impossible to +abstain from the observations which I am now about to state. I +recommended that the statue should be placed before a public hospital, +expressing my sense of impropriety in confounding so great a benefactor +of mankind, in any street or square or avenue, with the Dismemberer of +America and his worthless sons. Nor would I willingly see him among the +worn-out steam-engines of parliamentary debates. The noblest +parliamentary men who had nothing to distribute, not being ministers, +are without statues. The illustrious Burke, the wisest, excepting Bacon, +who at any time sat within the people's House; Romilly, the sincerest +patriot; Huskisson, the most intelligent in commercial affairs, has +none. Peel is become popular, not by his incomparable merits, but by his +untimely death. Shall we never see the day when Oliver and William mount +the chargers of Charles and George; and when a royal swindler is +superseded by the purest and most exalted of our heroes, Blake? + +Walter Savage Landor. + + +[From the last Edinburgh Review.] + +RESPONSIBILITY OF STATESMEN. + +It is of the last moment that all who are, or are likely to be, called +to administer the affairs of a free state, should be deeply imbued with +the statesmanlike virtues of modesty and caution, and should act under a +profound sense of their personal responsibility. It is an awful thing to +undertake the government of a great country; and no man can be any way +worthy of that high calling who does not from his inmost soul feel it to +be so. When we reflect upon the fearful consequences, both to the lives, +the material interests, and the moral well-being of thousands, which may +ensue from a hasty word, an erroneous judgment, a temporary +carelessness, or a lapse of diligence; when we remember that every +action of a statesman is pregnant with results which may last for +generations after he is gathered to his fathers; that his decisions may, +and probably must, affect for good or ill the destinies of future times; +that peace or war, crime or virtue, prosperity or adversity, the honor +or dishonor of his country, the right or wrong, wise or unwise solution +of some of the mightiest problems in the progress of humanity, depend +upon the course he may pursue at those critical moments which to +ordinary men occur but rarely, but which crowd the daily life of a +statesman; the marvel is that men should be forthcoming bold enough to +venture on such a task. Now, among public men in England this sense of +responsibility is in general adequately felt. It affords an honorable +(and in most cases we believe a true) explanation of that singular +discrepancy between public men when in and when out of office--that +inconsistency between the promise and the performance,--between what the +leader of the opposition urges the minister to do, and what the same +leader, when minister himself, actually does,--which is so commonly +attributed to less reputable motives. The independent member may +speculate and criticise at his ease; may see, as he thinks, clearly, and +with an undoubting and imperious conviction, what course on this or that +question ought to be pursued; may feel so unboundedly confident in the +soundness of his views, that he cannot comprehend or pardon the +inability of ministers to see as he sees, and to act as he would wish; +but as soon as the overwhelming responsibilities of office are his own, +as soon as he finds no obstacle to the carrying out of his plans, except +such as may arise from the sense that he does so at the risk of his +country's welfare and his own reputation--he is seized with a strange +diffidence, a new-born modesty, a mistrust of his own judgment which he +never felt before; he re-examines, he hesitates, he delays; he brings to +bear upon the investigation all the new light which official knowledge +has revealed to him; and finds at last that he scruples to do himself +what he had not scrupled to insist upon before. So deep-rooted is this +sense of responsibility with our countrymen, that whatever parties a +crisis of popular feeling might carry into power, we should have +comparatively little dread of rash, and no dread of corrupt, conduct on +their part; we scarcely know the public man who, when his country's +destinies were committed to his charge, could for a moment dream of +acting otherwise than with scrupulous integrity, and to the best of his +utmost diligence and most cautious judgment,--at all events till the +dullness of daily custom had laid his self-vigilance asleep. We are +convinced that were Lord Stanhope and Mr. Disraeli to be borne into +office by some grotesque freak of fortune, even they would become +sobered as by magic, and would astonish all beholders, not by their +vagaries, but by their steadiness and discretion. Now, of this wholesome +sense of awful responsibility, we see no indications among public men in +France. Dumont says, in his "Recollections of Mirabeau," "I have +sometimes thought that if you were to stop a hundred men +indiscriminately in the streets of Paris and London, and propose to each +to undertake the government, ninety-nine of the Londoners would refuse, +and ninety-nine of the Parisians would accept." In fact, we find it is +only one or two of the more experienced _habitués_ of office who in +France ever seem to feel any hesitation. Ordinary deputies, military +men, journalists, men of science, accept, with a _naive_ and simple +courage, posts for which, except that courage, they possess no single +qualification. But this is not the worst; they never hesitate, at their +country's risk and cost, to carry out their own favorite schemes to an +experiment; in fact, they often seem to value office mainly for that +purpose, and to regard their country chiefly as the _corpus vile_ on +which the experiment is to be made. To make way for their theories, they +relentlessly sweep out of sight the whole past, and never appear to +contemplate either the possibility or the parricidal guilt of failure. + + +[From the New Monthly Magazine.] + +THE COW TREE OF SOUTH AMERICA. + +Mr. Higson met with two species of cow tree, which he states to be +abundant in the deep and humid woods of the provinces of Chocó and +Popayán. In an extract from his diary, dated Ysconde, May 7, 1822, he +gives an account of an excursion he made, about twelve miles up the +river, in company with the alcaide and two other gentlemen, in quest of +some of these milk trees, one species of which, known to the inhabitants +by the name of Popa, yields, during the ascent of the sap, a redundance +of a nutritive milky juice, obtained by incisions made into the thick +bark which clothes the trunk, and which he describes as of an ash color +externally, while the interior is of a clay red. Instinct, or some +natural power closely approaching to the reasoning principle, has taught +the jaguars, and other wild beasts of the forest, the value of this +milk, which they obtain by lacerating the bark with their claws and +catching the milk as it flows from the incisions. A similar instinct +prevails amongst the hogs that have become wild in the forests of +Jamaica, where a species of Rhus, the _Rhus Metopium_ of botanists, +grows, the bark of which, on being wounded, yields a resinous juice, +possessing many valuable medicinal properties, and among them that of +rapidly cicatrizing wounds. How this valuable property was first +discovered by the hogs, or by what peculiar interchange of ideas the +knowledge of it was communicated by the happy individual who made it to +his fellow hogs, is a problem which, in the absence of some porcine +historiographer, we have little prospect of solving. But, however this +may be, the fact is sufficiently notorious in Jamaica, where the wild +hogs, when wounded, seek out one of these trees, which, from the first +discoverers of its sanative properties, have been named "Hog Gum Trees," +and, abrading the bark with their teeth, rub the wounded part of their +bodies against it, so as to coat the wound with a covering of the gummy, +or rather gum-resinous fluid, that exudes from the bark. In like manner, +as Mr. Higson informs us, the jaguars, instructed in the nutritious +properties of the potable juice of the Popa, jump up against the stem, +and lacerating the bark with their claws greedily catch the liquid +nectar as it issues from the wound. By a strange perverseness of his +nature, man, in the pride of his heart and the intoxication of his +vanity, spurns this delicious beverage, which speedily fattens all who +feed on it, and contents himself with using it, when inspissated by the +sun, as a bird-lime to catch parrots; or converting it into a glue, +which withstands humidity, by boiling it with the gum of the mangle-tree +(_Sapium aucuparium?_), tempered with wood ashes. Mr. Higson states that +they caught plenty of the milk, which was of the consistence of cream, +of a bland and sweetish taste, and a somewhat aromatic flavor, and so +white as to communicate a tolerably permanent stain wherever it fell; it +mixed with spirit, as readily as cow's milk, and made, with the addition +of water, a very agreeable and refreshing beverage, of which they drank +several tutumos full. They cut down a tree, one of the tallest of the +forest, in order to procure specimens, and found the timber white, of a +fine grain, and well adapted for boards or shingles. They were about a +month too late to obtain the blossoms, which were said to be very showy, +but found abundance of fruit, disposed on short foot-stalks in the alć +of the leaves; these were scabrous, and about the size of a nutmeg. The +leaves he describes as having very short petioles, hearted at the base, +and of a coriaceous consistence, and covered with large semi-globular +glands. + +Besides the Popa, he speaks of another lactescent tree, called Sandé, +the milk of which, though more abundant, is thinner, bluish, like +skimmed milk, and not so palatable. + +This, inspissated in the sun, acquires the appearance of a black gum, +and is so highly valued for its medicinal properties, especially as a +topical application in inflammatory affections of the spleen, pleura, +and liver, that it fetches a dollar the ounce in the Valle del Cauca. +The leaves are described as resembling those of the _Chrysophyllum +cainito_, or broad-leaved star apple, springing from short petioles, ten +or twelve inches long, oblong, ovate, pointed, with alternate veins, and +ferruginous on the under surface. The locality of the Sandé he does not +point out, but says that a third kind of milk tree, the juice of which +is potable, grows in the same forests, where it is known by the name of +Lyria. This he regards as identical with the cow tree of Caracas, of +which Humboldt has given so graphic a description. + + +[From the Illustrated London News.] + +SONG OF THE SEASONS. + +BY CHARLES MACKAY. + + I heard the language of the trees, + In the noons of the early summer; + As the leaves were moved like rippling seas + By the wind--a constant comer. + It came and it went at its wanton will; + And evermore loved to dally, + With branch and flower, from the cope of the hill + To the warm depths of the valley. + The sunlight glow'd; the waters flow'd; + The birds their music chanted, + And the words of the trees on my senses fell-- + By a spirit of Beauty haunted:-- + Said each to each, in mystic speech:-- + "The skies our branches nourish;-- + The world is good,--the world is fair,-- + Let us _enjoy_ and flourish!" + + Again I heard the steadfast trees; + The wintry winds were blowing; + There seem'd a roar as of stormy seas, + And of ships to the depths down-going + And ever a moan through the woods were blown, + As the branches snapp'd asunder, + And the long boughs swung like the frantic arms + Of a crowd in affright and wonder. + Heavily rattled the driving hail! + And storm and flood combining, + Laid bare the roots of mighty oaks + Under the shingle twining. + Said tree to tree, "These tempests free + Our sap and strength shall nourish; + Though the world be hard, though the world be cold, + We can endure and flourish!" + + +[From Eliza Cook's Journal.] + +THE WANE OF THE YEAR. + +But autumn wanes, and with it fade the golden tints, and burning hues, +and the warm breezes; for winter, with chilling clasp and frosty breath, +hurries like a destroyer over the fields to bury their beauties in his +snow, and to blanch and wither up with his frozen breath, the remnants +of the blooming year. The harvests are gathered, the seeds are sown, the +meadow becomes once more green and velvet-like as in the days of spring: +the weeds and flowers run to seed, and stand laden with cups, and urns, +and bells, each containing the unborn germs of another summer's beauty, +and only waiting for the winter winds to scatter them, and the spring +sunshine to fall upon them, where they fall to break into bud and leaf +and flower, and to whisper to the passing wind that the soul of beauty +dies not. It is now upon the waning of the sunshine and the falling of +the leaf that the bleak winds rise angrily, and the gloom of the dying +year deepens in the woods and fields. We hear the plying of the constant +flail mingling with the clatter of the farm-yard; we are visited by fogs +and moving mists, and heavy rains that last for days together; upon the +hill the horn of the hunter is heard, and in the mountain solitudes the +eagle's scream; up among craggy rifts the red deer bound, and the +waterfall keeps up its peals of thunder; and although the autumn, having +ripened the fruits of summer, and gathered into the garnery the yellow +fruitage of the field, must hie away to sunbright shores and islands in +the glittering seas of fairy lands, she leaves the spirits of the +flowers to hover hither and thither amid the leafless bowers to bewail +in midnight dirges the loss of leaves and blossoms and the joyful tide +of song. It is one of these of whom the poet speaks; for he, having been +caught up by the divine ether into the regions of eternal beauty, has +seen, as mortals seldom see, the shadows of created things, and has +spoken with the angel spirits of the world:-- + + A spirit haunts the year's last hours, + Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers; + To himself he talks: + For at eventide, listening earnestly, + At his work you may hear him sob and sigh. + In the walks + Earthward he boweth the heavy stalks + Of the mouldering flowers, + Heavily hangs the broad sunflower + Over its grave i' the earth so chilly, + Heavily hangs the hollyhock, + Heavily hangs the tiger-lily. + + The air is damp, and hush'd and close, + As a sick man's room when he taketh repose + An hour before death; + My very heart faints, and my whole soul grieves, + At the rich moist smell of the rotting leaves, + And the breath + Of the fading edges of box beneath, + And the year's last rose. + Heavily hangs the broad sunflower + Over its grave i' the earth so chilly, + Heavily hangs the hollyhock, + Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.--_Tennyson._ + +The black clouds are even now gathering upon the fringes of the sky, and +the mellow season of the fruitage ends. Thus all the changes of the +earth pass round, each imprinting its semblance on the brow of man, and +writing its lessons on his soul; that like the green earth beneath his +feet, he may, through cold and heat, through storm and sun, be ever +blossoming with fragrant flowers, and yielding refreshing fruit from the +inexhaustible soil of a regenerated heart. + + +[From Slack's Ministry of the Beautiful, just published by A. Hart, +Philadelphia.] + +THE FOUNTAIN IN THE WOOD. + +A little way apart from a great city was a fountain in a wood. The water +gushed from a rock and ran in a little crystal stream to a mossy basin +below; the wildflowers nodded their heads to catch its tiny spray; tall +trees overarched it; and through the interspaces of their moving leaves +the sunlight came and danced with rainbow feet upon its sparkling +surface. + +There was a young girl who managed every day to escape a little while +from the turmoil of the city, and went like a pilgrim to the fountain in +the wood. The water was sparkling, the moss and fern looked very lovely +in the gentle moisture which the fountain cast upon them, and the trees +waved their branches and rustled their green leaves in happy concert +with the summer breeze. The girl loved the beauty of the scene and it +grew upon her. Every day the fountain had a fresh tale to tell, and the +whispering murmur of the leaves was ever new. By-and-by she came to know +something of the language in which the fountain, the ferns, the mosses, +and the trees held converse. She listened very patiently, full of wonder +and of love. She heard them often regret that man would not learn their +language, that they might tell him the beautiful things they had to say. +At last the maiden ventured to tell them that she knew their tongue, and +with what exquisite delight she heard them talk. The fountain flowed +faster, more sunbeams danced on its waters, the leaves sang a new song, +and the ferns and mosses grew greener before her eyes. They all told her +what joy thrilled through them at her words. Human beings had passed +them in abundance, they said, and as there was a tradition among the +flowers that men once spoke, they hoped one day to hear them do so +again. The maiden told them that all men spoke, at which they were +astonished, but said that making articulate noises was not speaking, +many such they had heard, but never till now real human speech; for +that, they said, could come alone from the mind and heart. It was the +voice of the body which men usually talked with, and that they did not +understand, but only the voice of the soul, which was rare to hear. Then +there was great joy through all the wood, and there went forth a report +that at length a maiden was found whose soul could speak, and who knew +the language of the flowers and the fountain. And the trees and the +stream said one to another, "Even so did our old prophets teach, and +now hath it been fulfilled." Then the maiden tried to tell her friends +in the city what she had heard at the fountain, but could explain very +little, for although they knew her words, they felt not her meaning. And +certain young men came and begged her to take them to the wood that they +might hear the voices. So she took one after another, but nothing came +of it, for to them the fountain and the trees were mute. Many thought +the maiden mad, and laughed at her belief, but they could not take the +sweet voices away from her. Now the maidens wished her to take them +also, and she did, but with little better success. A few thought they +heard something, but knew not what, and on their return to the city its +bustle obliterated the small remembrance they had carried away. At +length a young man begged the maiden to give him a trial, and she did +so. They went hand in hand to the fountain, and he heard the language, +although not so well as the maiden; but she helped him, and found that +when both heard the words together they were more beautiful than ever. +She let go his hand, and much of the beauty was gone; the fountain told +them to join hands and lips also, and they did it. Then arose sweeter +sounds than they had ever heard, and soft voices encompassed them +saying, "Henceforth be united; for the spirit of truth and beauty hath +made you one." + + +[From Dr. Marcy's Homeopathic Theory and Practice of Medicine.] + +WEARING THE BEARD. + +One great cause of the frequent occurrence of chronic bronchitis may be +found in the reprehensible fashion of shaving the beard. That this +ornament was given by the Creator for some useful purpose, there can be +no doubt, for in fashioning the human body, he gave nothing unbecoming a +perfect man, nothing useless, nothing superfluous. Hair being an +imperfect conductor of caloric, is admirably calculated to retain the +animal warmth of that part of the body which is so constantly and +necessarily exposed to the weather, and thus to protect this important +portion of the respiratory passage from the injurious effects of sudden +checks of perspiration. + +When one exercises for hours his vocal organs, with the unremitted +activity of a public declamation, the pores of the skin in the vicinity +of the throat and chest become relaxed, so that when he enters the open +air, the whole force of the atmosphere bears upon these parts, and he +sooner or later contracts a bronchitis; while, had he the flowing beard +with which his Maker has endowed him, uncut, to protect these important +parts, he would escape any degree of exposure unharmed. + +The fact that Jews and other people who wear the beard long, are but +rarely afflicted with bronchitis and analogous disorders, suggests a +powerful argument in support of these views. + + +[From "Ada Greville," by Peter Leicester.] + +A VIEW OF BOMBAY. + +They had soon reached the Apollo Bunder, where they were to land, and +where Ada's attention was promptly engaged by the bustle awaiting her +there; and where, from among numbers of carriages, and palanquins, and +carts in waiting--many of them of such extraordinary shapes--some moved +by horses, some by bullocks, and some by men, and all looking strange; +from their odd commixture, Mr. McGregor's phaeton promptly drew up, and +he placed the ladies in it, himself driving, and the two maids following +in a palanquin carriage. This latter amused Ada exceedingly; a +_vis-ŕ-vis_, in fact, very long, and very low, drawn by bullocks, whose +ungainly and uneven paces were very unlike any other motion to which, so +far, her experience had been subjected; but they went well enough, and +quickly too, and Ada soon forgot their eccentricities in her surprise at +the many strange things she saw by the way. The airy appearance of the +houses, full of windows and doors, and all cased round by verandahs; the +native mud bazaars, so rude and uncouth in their shapes, and daubed over +with all kinds of glaring colours; with the women sitting in the open +verandahs, their broad brooms in hand, whisking off from their +food-wares the flies, myriads of which seem to contend with them for +ownership; the native women in the streets carrying water, in their +graceful dress, their scanty little jackets and short garments +exhibiting to advantage their beautiful limbs and elegant motion, the +very poorest of them covered with jewels--the wonted mode, indeed, in +which they keep what little property they have--the women, too, working +with the men, and undertaking all kinds of labor; the black, naked +coolies running here and there to snatch at any little employment that +would bring them but an _anna_. Contrasting with these, and mixed up +pell mell with them, the smart young officers cantering about, the +carriages of every shape and grade, from the pompous hackery, with its +gaudy, umbrella-like top, and no less pompous occupant, in his turban +and jewels, his bullocks covered with bells making more noise than the +jumbling vehicle itself, down to the meager bullock cart, at hire, for +the merest trifle. Here and there, too, some other great native, on his +sumptuously caparisoned horse, with arched neck and long flowing tail +sweeping the ground, and feeling as important as his rider; and the +popish priests, in their long, black gowns, and long beards; and the +civilians, of almost every rank, in their light, white jackets; and the +umbrellas; and the universal tomtoms, incessantly going; and above all, +the numbers of palanquins, each with its eight bearers, running here, +there, and everywhere; everything, indeed, so unlike dear old England; +everything, even did not the burning sun of itself tell the fact, too +sensibly to be mistaken, reminding the stranger that she was in the +Indian land. + + +From "The Memorial:" + +[The most brilliant and altogether attractive gift-book of the season, +edited by Mrs. Hewitt, and published by Putnam.] + +FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD. + +BY RUFUS WILMOT GRISWOLD. + +From the beginning of our intellectual history women have done far more +than their share in both creation and construction. The worshipful Mrs. +Bradstreet, who two hundred years ago held her court of wit among the +classic groves of Harvard, was in her day--the day in which Spenser, +Shakspeare, and Milton sung--the finest poet of her sex whose verse was +in the English language; and there was little extravagance in the title +bestowed by her London admirers, when they printed her works as those +"of the Tenth Muse, recently sprung up in America." In the beginning of +the present century we had no bard to dispute the crown with Elizabeth +Townsend, whose "Ode to Liberty" commanded the applause of Southey and +Wordsworth in their best days; whose "Omnipresence of the Deity" is +declared by Dr. Cheever to be worthy of those great poets or of +Coleridge; and who still lives, beloved and reverenced, in venerable +years, the last of one of the most distinguished families of New +England. + +More recently, Maria Brooks, called in "The Doctor" _Maria del +Occidente_, burst upon the world with "Zophiel," that splendid piece of +imagination and passion which stands, the vindication of the subtlety, +power and comprehension of the genius of woman, justifying by +comparison, the skepticism of Lamb when he suggested, to the author of +"The Excursion," whether the sex had "ever produced any thing so great." +Of our living and more strictly contemporary female poets, we mention +with unhesitating pride Mrs. Sigourney, Mrs. Oakes Smith, Mrs. Hewett, +Mrs. Whitman, Mrs. Welby, Alice Carey, "Edith May," Miss Lynch, and Miss +Clarke, as poets of a genuine inspiration, displaying native powers and +capacities in art such as in all periods have been held sufficient to +insure to their possessors lasting fame, and to the nations which they +adorned, the most desirable glory. + +It is Longfellow who says, + + ----"What we admire in a woman, + Is her affection, not her intellect." + +The sentiment is unworthy a poet, the mind as well as the heart claims +sympathy, and there is no sympathy but in equality; we need in woman the +completion of our own natures; that her finer, clearer, and purer vision +should pierce for us the mysteries that are hidden from our own senses, +strengthened, but dulled, in the rude shocks of the out-door world, from +which she is screened, by her pursuits, to be the minister of God to us: +to win us by the beautiful to whatever in the present life or the +immortal is deserving a great ambition. We care little for any of the +mathematicians, metaphysicians, or politicians, who, as shamelessly as +Helen, quit their sphere. Intellect in woman, so directed, we do not +admire, and of affection such women are incapable. There is something +divine in woman, and she whose true vocation it is to write, has some +sort of inspiration, which relieves her from the processes and accidents +of knowledge, to display only wisdom in all the range of gentleness, and +all the forms of grace. The equality of the sexes is one of the absurd +questions which have arisen from a denial of the _distinctions_ of their +faculties and duties--of the masculine energy from the feminine +refinement. The ruder sort of women cannot comprehend that there is a +distinction, not of dignity, but of kind; and so, casting aside their +own eminence, for which they are too base, and seeking after ours, for +which they are too weak, they are hermaphroditish disturbers of the +peace of both. In the main our American women are free from this +reproach; they have known their mission, and have carried on the threads +of civility through the years, so strained that they have been +melodiously vocal with every breath of passion from the common heart. We +turn from the jar of senates, from politics, theologies, philosophies, +and all forms of intellectual trial and conflict, to that portion of our +literature which they have given us, coming like dews and flowers after +glaciers and rocks, the hush of music after the tragedy, silence and +rest after turmoil of action. The home where love is refined and +elevated by intellect, and woman, by her separate and never-superfluous +or clashing mental activity, sustains her part in the life-harmony, is +the vestibule of heaven to us; and there we hear the poetesses repeat +the songs to which they have listened, when wandering nearer than we may +go to the world in which humanity shall be perfect again, by the union +in all of all power and goodness and beauty. + +The finest intelligence that woman has in our time brought to the +ministry of the beautiful, is no longer with us. Frances Sargent Osgood +died in New-York, at fifteen minutes before three o'clock, in the +afternoon of Sunday, the twelfth of May, 1850. These words swept like a +surge of sadness wherever there was grace and gentleness, and sweet +affections. All that was in her life was womanly, "pure womanly," and so +is all in the undying words she left us. This is her distinction. + +Mrs. Osgood was of a family of poets. Mrs. Anna Maria Wells, whose +abilities are illustrated in a volume of "Poems and Juvenile Sketches" +published in 1830, is a daughter of her mother; Mrs. E.D. Harrington, +the author of various graceful compositions in verse and prose, is her +youngest sister; and Mr. A.A. Locke, a brilliant and elegant writer, for +many years connected with the public journals, was her brother. She was +a native of Boston, where her father, Mr. Joseph Locke, was a highly +accomplished merchant. Her earlier life, however, was passed principally +in Hingham, a village of peculiar beauty, well calculated to arouse the +dormant poetry of the soul; and here, even in childhood, she became +noted for her poetical powers. In their exercise she was rather aided +than discouraged by her parents, who were proud of her genius and +sympathized with all her aspirations. The unusual merit of some of her +first productions attracted the notice of Mrs. Child, who was then +editing a Juvenile Miscellany, and who foresaw the reputation which her +young contributor afterwards acquired. Employing the _nomme de plume_ of +"Florence," she made it widely familiar by her numerous contributions in +the Miscellany, as well as, subsequently, for other periodicals. + +In 1834, she became acquainted with Mr. S.S. Osgood, the painter--a man +of genius in his profession--whose life of various adventure is full of +romantic interest; and while, soon after, she was sitting for a +portrait, the artist told her his strange vicissitudes by sea and land; +how as a sailor-boy he had climbed the dizzy maintop in the storm; how, +in Europe he followed with his palette in the track of the flute-playing +Goldsmith: and among the + + Antres vast and deserts idle, + Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, + +of South America, had found in pictures of the crucifixion, and of the +Liberator Bolivar--the rude productions of his untaught +pencil--passports to the hearts of the peasant, the partizan, and the +robber. She listened, like the fair Venetian; they were married, and +soon after went to London, where Mr. Osgood had sometime before been a +pupil of the Royal Academy. + +During this residence in the Great Metropolis, which lasted four years, +Mr. Osgood was successful in his art--painting portraits of Lord +Lyndhurst, Thomas Campbell, Mrs. Norton, and many other distinguished +characters, which secured for him an enviable reputation--and Mrs. +Osgood made herself known by her contributions to the magazines, by a +miniature volume, entitled "The Casket of Fate," and by the collection +of her poems published by Edward Churton, in 1839, under the title of "A +Wreath of Wild Flowers from New England." She was now about twenty-seven +years of age, and this volume contained all her early compositions which +then met the approval of her judgment. Among them are many pieces of +grace and beauty, such as belong to joyous and hopeful girlhood, and +one, of a more ambitious character, under the name of "Elfrida"--a +dramatic poem, founded upon incidents in early English history--in which +there are signs of more strength and tenderness, and promise of greater +achievement, though it is without the unity and proportion necessary to +eminent success in this kind of writing. + +Among her attached friends here--a circle that included the Hon. Mrs. +Norton, Mrs. Hofland, the Rev. Hobart Caunter, Archdeacon Wrangham, the +late W. Cooke Taylor, LL.D., and many others known in the various +departments of literature--was the most successful dramatist of the age, +James Sheridan Knowles, who was so much pleased with "Elfrida," and so +confident that her abilities in this line, if duly cultivated, would +enable her to win distinction, that he urged upon her the composition of +a comedy, promising himself to superintend its production on the stage. +She accordingly wrote "The Happy Release, or The Triumphs of Love," a +play in three acts, which was accepted, and was to have been brought out +as soon as she could change slightly one of the scenes, to suit the +views of the manager as to effect, when intelligence of the death of her +father suddenly recalled her to the United States, and thoughts of +writing for the stage were abandoned for new interests and new pursuits. + +Mr. and Mrs. Osgood arrived in Boston early in 1840, and they soon after +came to New-York, where they afterward resided; though occasionally +absent, as the pursuit of his profession, or ill health, called Mr. +Osgood to other parts of the country. Mrs. Osgood was engaged in various +literary occupations. She edited, among other books, "The Poetry of +Flowers, and Flowers of Poetry," (New-York, 1841,) and "The Floral +Offering," (Philadelphia, 1847,) two richly embellished souvenirs; and +she was an industrious and very popular writer for the literary +magazines and other miscellanies. + +She was always of a fragile constitution, easily acted upon by whatever +affects health, and in her latter years, except in the more genial +seasons of the spring and autumn, was frequently an invalid. In the +winter of 1847-8, she suffered more than ever previously, but the next +winter she was better, and her husband, who was advised by his +physicians to discontinue, for a while, the practice of his profession, +availed himself of the opportunity to go in pursuit of health and riches +to the mines of the Pacific. He left New-York on the fifth of February, +1849, and was absent one year. Mrs. Osgood's health was variable during +the summer, which she passed chiefly at Saratoga Springs, in the company +of a family of intimate friends; and as the colder months came on, her +strength decayed, so that before the close of November, she was confined +to her apartments. She bore her sufferings with resignation, and her +natural hopefulness cheered her all the while, with remembrances that +she had before come out with the flowers and the embracing airs, and +dreams that she would again be in the world with nature. Two or three +weeks before her death, her husband carried her in his arms, like a +child, to a new home, and she was happier than she had been for months, +in the excitement of selecting its furniture, brought in specimens or +patterns to her bedside. "_We shall be so happy!_" was her salutation to +the few friends who were admitted to see her; but they saw, and her +physicians saw, that her life was ebbing fast, and that she would never +never again see the brooks and greens fields for which she pined, nor +even any of the apartments but the one she occupied of her own house. I +wrote the terrible truth to her, in studiously gentle words, reminding +her that in heaven there is richer and more delicious beauty, that there +is no discord in the sweet sounds there, no poison in the perfume of the +flowers there, and that they know not any sorrow who are with Our +Father. She read the brief note almost to the end silently, and then +turned upon her pillow like a child, and wept the last tears that were +in a fountain which had flowed for every grief but hers she ever knew. +"I cannot leave my beautiful home," she said, looking about upon the +souvenirs of many an affectionate recollection; "and my noble husband, +and Lily and May!" These last are her children. But the sentence was +confirmed by other friends, and she resigned herself to the will of God. +The next evening but one, a young girl went to amuse her, by making +paper flowers for her, and teaching her to make them: and she wrote to +her these verses--her dying song: + + You've woven roses round my way, + And gladdened all my being; + How much I thank you none can say + Save only the All-seeing.... + + _I'm going through the Eternal gates + Ere June's sweet roses blow; + Death's lovely angel leads me there-- + And it is sweet to go._ + +May 7th, 1850. + +At the end of five days, in the afternoon of Sunday, the twelfth of May, +as gently as one goes to sleep, she withdrew into a better world. + +On Tuesday, her remains were removed to Boston, to be interred in the +cemetery of Mount Auburn. It was a beautiful day, in the fulness of the +spring, mild and calm, and clouded to a solemn shadow. In the morning, +as the company of the dead and living started, the birds were singing +what seemed to her friends a sadder song than they were wont to sing; +and, as the cars flew fast on the long way, the trees bowed their +luxuriant foliage, and the flowers in the verdant fields were swung +slowly on their stems, filling the air with the gentlest fragrance; and +the streams, it was fancied, checked their turbulent speed to move in +sympathy, as from the heart of Nature tears might flow for a dead +worshipper. God was thanked that all the elements were ordered so, that +sweetest incense, and such natural music, and reverent aspect of the +silent world, should wait upon her, as so many hearts did, in this last +journey. She slept all the while, nor waked when, in the evening, in her +native city, a few familiar faces bent above her, with difficult looks +through tears, and scarcely audible words, to bid farewell to her. On +Wednesday she was buried, with some dear ones who had gone before +her--beside her mother and her daughter--in that City of Rest, more +sacred now than all before had made it, to those whose spirits are +attuned to Beauty or to Sorrow--those twin sisters, so rarely parted, +until the last has led the first to Heaven. + +The character of Mrs. Osgood, to those who were admitted to its more +minute observance, illustrated the finest and highest qualities of +intelligence and virtue. In her manners, there was an almost infantile +gaiety and vivacity, with the utmost simplicity and gentleness, and an +unfailing and indefectable grace, that seemed an especial gift of +nature, unattainable, and possessed only by her and the creatures of our +imaginations whom we call the angels. The delicacy of her organization +was such that she had always the quick sensibility of childhood. The +magnetism of life was round about her, and her astonishingly impressible +faculties were vital in every part, with a polarity toward beauty, all +the various and changing rays of which entered into her consciousness, +and were refracted in her conversation and action. Though, from the +generosity of her nature, exquisitely sensible to applause, she had none +of those immoralities of the intellect, which impair the nobleness of +impulse--no unworthy pride, or vanity, or selfishness--nor was her will +ever swayed from the line of truth, except as the action of the judgment +may sometimes have been irregular from the feverish play of feeling. Her +friendships were quickly formed, but limited by the number of genial +hearts brought within the sphere of her knowledge and sympathy. Probably +there was never a woman of whom it might be said more truly that to her +own sex she was an object almost of worship. She was looked upon for her +simplicity, purity, and childlike want of worldly tact or feeling, with +involuntary affection; listened to, for her freshness, grace, and +brilliancy, with admiration; and remembered, for her unselfishness, +quick sympathy, devotedness, capacity of suffering, and high +aspirations, with a sentiment approaching reverence. This regard which +she inspired in women was not only shown by the most constant and +delicate attentions in society, where she was always the most loved and +honored guest, but it is recorded in the letters and other writings of +many of her most eminent contemporaries, who saw in her an angel, haply +in exile, the sweetness and natural wisdom of whose life elevated her +far above all jealousies, and made her the pride and boast and glory of +womanhood. Many pages might be filled with their tributes, which seem +surely the most heartfelt that mortal ever gave to mortal, but the +limits of this sketch of her will suffer only a few and very brief +quotations from her correspondence. Unquestionably one of the most +brilliant literary women of our time is Miss Clarke, so well known as +"Grace Greenwood." She wrote of Mrs. Osgood with no more earnestness +than others wrote of her, yet in a letter to the "Home Journal," in +1846, she says: + + "And how are the critical Cćsars, one after another, 'giving in' to + the graces, and fascinations, and soft enchantments of this + Cleopatra of song. She charms _lions_ to sleep, with her silver + lute, and then throws around them the delicate net-work of her + exquisite fancy, and lo! when they wake, they are well content in + their silken prison. + + 'From the tips of her pen a melody flows, + Sweet as the nightingale sings to the rose.' + + "With her beautiful Italian soul--with her impulse, and wild + energy, and exuberant fancy, and glowing passionateness--and with + the wonderful facility with which, like an almond-tree casting off + its blossoms, she flings abroad her heart-tinted and love-perfumed + lays, she has, I must believe, more of the improvisatrice than has + yet been revealed by any of our gifted countrywomen now before the + people. Heaven bless her, and grant her ever, as now, to have + laurels on her brows, and to browse on her laurels! Were I the + President of these United States, I would immortalize my brief term + of office by the crowning of our Corinna, at the Capitol." + +And about the same period, having been introduced to her, she referred +to the event: + + "It seems like a 'pleasant vision of the night' that I have indeed + seen 'the idol of my early dreams,' that I have been within the + charmed circle of her real presence, sat by her very side, and + lovingly watched the shadow of each feeling that moved her soul, + glance o'er that radiant face!'" + +And writing to her: + + "Dear Mrs. Osgood, let me lay this sweet weight off my heart--look + down into my eyes--believe me--long, long before we met, I loved + you, with a strange, almost passionate love. You were my literary + idol: I repeated some of your poems so often, that their echo never + had time to die away; your earlier, bird-like warblings so chimed + in with the joyous beatings of my heart, that it seemed it could + not throb without them; and when you raised 'your lightning glance + to heaven,' and sang your loftiest song, the liquid notes fell upon + my soul like baptismal waters. With an 'intense and burning,' + almost unwomanly ambition, I have still joyed in _your_ success, + and gloried in your glory; and all because Love laid its reproving + finger on the lip of Envy. I cannot tell you how much this romantic + interest has deepened, + + Now I have looked upon thy face, + Have felt thy twining arms' embrace, + Thy very bosom's swell;-- + One moment leaned this brow of mine + On song's sweet source, and love's pure shrine, + And music's 'magic cell!" + +Another friend of hers, Miss Hunter, whose pleasing contributions to our +literature are well known, probably on account of some misapprehension, +had not visited her for several months, but hearing of her illness she +wrote: + + "Learning this, by chance, I have summoned courage once more to + address you--overcoming my fear of being intrusive, and offering as + my apology the simple assertion that it is my _heart_ prompts me. + Till to-day pride has checked me: but you are 'very ill,' and I can + no longer resist the impulse. With the assurance that I will never + again trouble you, that now I neither ask nor expect the slightest + response, suffer me thus to steal to your presence, to sit beside + your bed, and for the last time to speak of a love that has + followed you through months of separation, rejoicing when you have + rejoiced, and mourning when you have mourned. You know how, from + childhood, I have worshipped you, that since our first meeting you + have been my idol, the realization of my dreams; and do not suppose + that because I have failed to inspire you with a lasting interest, + I shall ever feel for you a less deep or less fervent devotion. The + blame or misfortune of our estrangement I have always regarded as + only mine. I know I have seemed indifferent when I panted for + expression. You have thought me unsympathizing when my every nerve + thrilled to your words. I have lived in comparative seclusion; I + have an unconquerable reserve, induced by such an experience; and + when I have been with you my soul has had no voice. + + "The time has been when I could not bear the thought of never + regaining your friendship in this world--when I would say 'The + years! oh, the years of this earth-life, that must pass so slowly!' + And when I saw any new poem of yours, I experienced the most sad + emotions,--every word I read was so like you, it seemed as if you + had passed through the room, speaking to others near me kindly, but + regarding me coldly, or not seeing me. But one day I read in a book + by Miss Bremer, 'It is a sad experience, who can describe its + bitterness! when we see the friend, on whom we have built for + eternity, grow cold, and become lost to us. But believe it not, + thou loving, sorrowing soul--believe it not! continue thyself only, + and the moment will come when thy friend will return to thee. Yes, + _there_, where all delusions cease, thy friend will find thee gain, + in a higher light,--will acknowledge thee and unite herself to thee + forever.' And I took this assurance to my heart.... We may meet in + heaven, if not here. I shall not go see you, though my heart is + wrung by this intelligence of your illness. So good-bye, darling! + May good angels who have power to bless you, linger around your + pillow with as much love as I shall feel for you forever. + + "March 6, 1850." + +I have been permitted to transcribe this letter, and among Mrs. Osgood's +papers that have been confided to me are very many such, evincing a +devotion from women that could have been won only by the most angelic +qualities of intellect and feeling. + +It was the custom in the last century, when there was among authors more +of the _esprit du corps_ than now, for poets to greet each other's +appearance in print with complimental verses, celebrating the qualities +for which the seeker after bays was most distinguished. Thus in 1729, we +find the _Omnium Opera_ of John Duke of Buckingham prefaced by +"testimonials of authors concerning His Grace and his writings;" and the +names of Garth, Roscommon, Dryden, and Prior, are among his endorsers. +There have been a few instances of the kind in this country, of which +the most noticeable is that of Cotton Mather, in whose _Magnalia_ there +is a curious display of erudition and poetical ingenuity, in gratulatory +odes. The literary journals of the last few years furnish many such +tributes to Mrs. Osgood, which are interesting to her friends for their +illustration of the personal regard in which she was held. I cannot +quote them here; they alone would fill a volume, as others might be +filled with the copies of verses privately addressed to her, all through +her life, from the period when, like a lovely vision, she first beamed +upon society, till that last season, in which the salutations in +assemblies she had frequented were followed by saddest inquiries for the +absent and dying poetess. They but repeat, with more or less felicity, +the graceful praise of Mrs. Hewitt, in a poem upon her portrait: + + She dwells amid the world's dark ways + Pure as in childhood's hours; + And all her thoughts are poetry, + And all her words are flowers. + +Or that of another, addressed to her: + + Thou wouldst be loved? then let thy heart + From its present pathway part not! + Being everything, which now thou art, + Be nothing which thou art not. + So with the world thy gentle ways, + Thy grace, thy more than beauty, + Shall be an endless theme of praise, + And love--a simple duty. + +Among men, generally, such gentleness and sweetness of temper, joined to +such grace and wit, could not fail of making her equally beloved and +admired. She was the keeper of secrets, the counsellor in difficulties, +the ever wise missionary and industrious toiler, for all her friends. +She would brave any privation to alleviate another's sufferings; she +never spoke ill of any one; and when others assailed, she was the most +prompt of all in generous argument. An eminent statesman having casually +met her in Philadelphia, afterward described her to a niece of his who +was visiting that city: + + "If you have opportunity do not fail to become acquainted with Mrs. + Osgood. I have never known such a woman. She continually surprised + me by the strength and subtlety of her understanding, in which I + looked for only sportiveness and delicacy. She is entirely a child + of nature and Mrs. ----, who introduced me to her, and who has + known her many years I believe, very intimately, declares that she + is an angel. Persuade her to Washington, and promise her everything + you and all of us can do for her pleasure here." + +For her natural gaiety, her want of a certain worldly tact, and other +reasons, the determinations she sometimes formed that she would be a +housekeeper, were regarded as fit occasions of jesting, and among the +letters sent to her when once she ventured upon the ambitious office, is +one by her early and always devoted friend, Governor ----, in which we +have glimpses of her domestic qualities: + + "It is not often that I waste fine paper in writing to people who + do not think me worth answering. I generally reserve my 'ornamental + hand' for those who return two letters for my one. But you are an + exception to all rules,--and when I heard that you were about to + commence _housekeeping_, I could not forbear sending a word of + congratulation and encouragement. I have long thought that your + eminently _practical_ turn of mind, my dear friend, would find + congenial employment in superintending an 'establishment.' What a + house you will keep! nothing out of place, from garret to + cellar--dinner always on the table at the regular hour--everything + like clock-work--and wo to the servant who attempts to steal + anything from your store-room! wo to the butcher who attempts to + impose upon you a bad joint, or the grocer who attempts to cheat + you in the weight of sugar! Such things never will do with you! + When I first heard of your project, I thought it must be Ellen or + May going to play housekeeping with their baby-things, but on a + moment's reflection I was convinced that you knew more about + managing for a family than either of them--certainly more than May, + and I think, upon the whole, more than even Ellen! Let Mr. Osgood + paint you with a bunch of keys in your belt, and do send me a + daguerreotype of yourself the day after you are installed." + +She was not indeed fitted for such cares, or for any routine, and ill +health and the desire of freedom prevented her again making such an +attempt until she finally entered "her own home" to die. + +There was a very intimate relation between Mrs. Osgood's personal and +her literary characteristics. She has frequently failed of justice, from +critics but superficially acquainted with her works, because they have +not been able to understand how a mind capable of the sparkling and +graceful trifles, illustrating an exhaustless fancy and a natural melody +of language, with which she amused society in moments of half capricious +gaiety or tenderness, could produce a class of compositions which demand +imagination and passion. In considering this subject, it should not be +forgotten that these attributes are here to be regarded as in their +feminine development. + +Mrs. Osgood was, perhaps, as deserving as any one of whom we read in +literary history, of the title of improvisatrice. Her beautiful songs, +displaying so truly the most delicate lights and shadows of woman's +heart, and surprising by their unity, completeness, and rhythmical +perfection, were written with almost the fluency of conversation. The +secret of this was in the wonderful sympathy between her emotions and +faculties, both of exquisite sensibility, and subject to the influences +of whatever has power upon the subtler and diviner qualities of human +nature. Her facility in invention, in the use of poetical language, and +in giving form to every airy dream or breath of passion, was +astonishing. It is most true of men, that no one has ever attained to +the highest reach of his capacities in any art--and least of all in +poetry--without labor--without the application of the "second thought," +after the frenzy of the divine afflatus is passed--in giving polish and +shapely grace. The imagination is the servant of the reason; the +creative faculties present their triumphs to the constructive--and the +seal to the attainable is set, by every one, in repose and meditation. +But this is scarcely a law of the feminine intelligence, which, when +really endowed with genius, is apt to move spontaneously, and at once, +with its greatest perfection. Certainly, Mrs. Osgood disclaimed the +wrestling of thought with expression. For the most part her poems cost +her as little effort or reflection, as the epigram or touching sentiment +that summoned laughter or tears to the group about her in the +drawing-room. + +She was indifferent to fame; she sung simply in conformity to a law of +her existence; and perhaps this want of interest was the cause not only +of the most striking faults in her compositions, but likewise of the +common ignorance of their variety and extent. Accustomed from childhood +to the use of the pen--resorting to it through a life continually +exposed to the excitements of gaiety and change, or the depressions of +affliction and care, she strewed along her way with a prodigality almost +unexampled the choicest flowers of feeling: left them unconsidered and +unclaimed in the repositories of friendship, or under fanciful names, +which she herself had forgotten, in newspapers and magazines,--in which +they were sure to be recognised by some one, and so the purpose of their +creation fulfilled. It was therefore very difficult to make any such +collection of her works as justly to display her powers and their +activity; and the more so, that those effusions of hers which were +likely to be most characteristic, and of the rarest excellence, were +least liable to exposure in printed forms, by the friends, widely +scattered in Europe and America, for whom they were written. But +notwithstanding these disadvantages, the works of Mrs. Osgood with which +we are acquainted, are more voluminous than those of Mrs. Hemans or Mrs. +Norton.[8] Besides the "Wreath of Wild Flowers from New England," which +appeared during her residence in London, a collection of her poems in +one volume was published in New York in 1846; and in 1849, Mr. Hart, of +Philadelphia, gave to the public, in a large octavo illustrated by our +best artists and equalling or surpassing in its tasteful and costly +style any work before issued from the press of this country, the most +complete and judiciously edited collection of them that has appeared. +This edition, however, contains less than half of her printed pieces +which she acknowledged; and among those which are omitted are a tragedy, +a comedy, a great number of piquant and ingenious _vers de societe_, and +several sacred pieces, which strike us as among the best writings of +their kind in our literature, which in this department, we may admit, is +more distinguishable for the profusion than for the quality of its +fruits. + + [8: Besides the books by her which have been referred to, she + published _The Language of Gems_, (London); _The Snow Drop_, + (Providence); _Puss in Boots_, (New York); _Cries of New York_, + (New York); _The Flower Alphabet_, (Boston); _The Rose: Sketches in + Verse_, (Providence); _A Letter About the Lions, addressed to Mabel + in the Country_, (New York). The following list of her prose tales, + sketches, and essays, is probably very incomplete: A Day in New + England; A Crumpled Rose Leaf; Florence Howard; Ida Gray; Florence + Errington; A Match for the Matchmaker; Mary Evelyn; Once More; + Athenais; The Wife; The Little Lost Shoe; The Magic Lute; Feeling + _vs._ Beauty; The Doom; The Flower and Gem; The Coquette; The Soul + Awakened; Glimpses of a Soul, (in three parts); Lizzie Lincoln; + Dora's Reward; Waste Paper; Newport Tableaux; Daguerreotype + Pictures; Carry Carlisle; Valentine's Day; The Lady's Shadow; + Truth; Virginia; The Waltz and the Wager; The Poet's Metamorphosis; + Pride and Penitence; Mabel; Pictures from a Painter's Life; + Georgiana Hazleton; A Sketch; Kate Melbourne; Life in New York; + Leonora L'Estrange; The Magic Mirror; The Blue Belle; and Letters + of Kate Carol, (a series of sketches of men, women and books;) + contributed for the most part to Mr. Labree's _Illustrated + Magazine_.] + +Mrs. Osgood's definition of poetry, that it is the rhythmical creation +of beauty, is as old as Sydney; and though on some grounds +objectionable, it is, perhaps, on the whole, as just as any that the +critics have given us. An intelligent examination, in the light of this +principle, of what she accomplished, will, it is believed, show that she +was, in the general, of the first rank of female poets; while in her +special domain, of the Poetry of the Affections, she had scarcely a +rival among women or men. As Pinckney said, + + Affections were as thoughts to her, the measure of her hours-- + Her feelings had the fragrancy and freshness of young flowers. + +Of love, she sung with tenderness and delicacy, a wonderful richness of +fancy, and rhythms that echo all the cadences of feeling. From the arch +mockery of the triumphant and careless conqueror, to the most passionate +prayer of the despairing, every variety and height and depth of hope and +fear and bliss and pain is sounded, in words that move us to a solitary +lute or a full orchestra of a thousand voices; and with an _abandon_, as +suggestive of genuineness as that which sometimes made the elder Kean +seem "every inch a king." It is not to be supposed that all these +caprices are illustrations of the experiences of the artist, in the case +of the poet any more than in that of the actor: by an effort of the +will, they pass with the liberties of genius into their selected realms, +assume their guises, and discourse their language. If ever there were + + --Depths of tenderness which showed when woke, + That _woman_ there as well as angel spoke, + +they are not to be looked for in the printed specimens of woman's +genius. Mrs. Osgood guarded herself against such criticism, by a +statement in her preface, that many of her songs and other verses were +written to appear in prose sketches and stories, and were expressions of +feeling suitable to the persons and incidents with which they were at +first connected. + +In this last edition, to which only reference will be made in these +paragraphs, her works are arranged under the divisions of _Miscellaneous +Poems_--embracing, with such as do not readily admit another +classification, her most ambitious and sustained compositions; _Sacred +Poems_--among which, "The Daughter of Herodias," the longest, is +remarkable for melodious versification and distinct painting: _Tales and +Ballads_--all distinguished for a happy play of fancy, and two or three +for the fruits of such creative energy as belongs to the first order of +poetical intelligences; _Floral Fancies_--which display a gaiety and +grace, an ingenuity of allegory, and elegant refinement of language, +that illustrate her fairy-like delicacy of mind and purity of feeling; +and _Songs_--of which we shall offer some particular observations in +their appropriate order. Scattered through the book we have a few poems +for children, so perfect in their way as to induce regret that she gave +so little attention to a kind of writing in which few are really +successful, and in which she is scarcely equalled. + +The volume opens with a brief voluntary, which is followed by a +beautiful and touching address to The Spirit of Poetry, displaying the +perfection of her powers, and her consciousness that they had been too +much neglected while ministering more than all things else to her +happiness. If ever from her heart she poured a passionate song, it was +this, and these concluding lines of it admit us to the sacredest +experiences of her life: + + Leave me not yet! Leave me not cold and lonely, + Thou star of promise o'er my clouded path! + Leave not the life that borrows from thee only + All of delight and beauty that it hath! + Thou that, when others knew not how to love me, + Nor cared to fathom half my yearning soul, + Didst wreathe thy flowers of light around, above me, + To woo and win me from my grief's control: + By all my dreams, the passionate and holy, + When thou hast sung love's lullaby to me, + By all the childlike worship, fond and lowly, + Which I have lavish'd upon thine and thee: + By all the lays my simple lute was learning + To echo from thy voice, stay with me still! + Once flown--alas! for thee there's no returning! + The charm will die o'er valley, wood and hill. + Tell me not Time, whose wing my brow has shaded, + Has wither'd Spring's sweet bloom within my heart; + Ah, no! the rose of love is yet unfaded, + Though hope and joy, its sister flowers, depart. + + Well do I know that I have wrong'd thine altar, + With the light offerings of an idler's mind, + And thus, with shame, my pleading prayer I falter, + Leave me not, spirit! deaf, and dumb, and blind! + Deaf to the mystic harmony of nature, + Blind to the beauty of her stars and flowers; + Leave me not, heavenly yet human teacher, + Lonely and lost in this cold world of ours; + Heaven knows I need thy music and thy beauty + Still to beguile me on my dreary way, + To lighten to my soul the cares of duty, + And bless with radiant dreams the darken'd day; + To charm my wild heart in the worldly revel, + Lest I, too, join the aimless, false and vain. + Let me not lower to the soulless level + Of those whom now I pity and disdain! + Leave me not yet!--Leave me not cold and pining, + Thou bird of Paradise, whose plumes of light, + Where'er they rested, left a glory shining-- + Fly not to heaven, or let me share thy flight! + +After this comes one of her most poetical compositions, "Ermengarde's +Awakening," in which, with even more than her usual felicity of diction, +she has invested with mortal passion a group from the Pantheon. It is +too long to be quoted here, but as an example of her manner upon a +similar subject, and in the same rhythm, we copy the poem of "Eurydice:" + + With heart that thrill'd to every earnest line, + I had been reading o'er that antique story, + Wherein the youth, half human, half divine, + Of all love-lore the Eidolon and glory, + Child of the Sun, with music's pleading spell, + In Pluto's palace swept, for love, his golden shell! + + And in the wild, sweet legend, dimly traced, + My own heart's history unfolded seem'd; + Ah! lost one! by thy lover-minstrel graced + With homage pure as ever woman dreamed, + Too fondly worshipp'd, since such fate befell, + Was it not sweet to die--because beloved too well! + + The scene is round me! Throned amid the gloom, + As a flower smiles on Etna's fatal breast, + Young Proserpine beside her lord doth bloom; + And near--of Orpheus' soul, oh, idol blest!-- + While low for thee he tunes his lyre of light, + I see _thy_ meek, fair form dawn through that lurid night! + + I see the glorious boy--his dark locks wreathing + Wildly the wan and spiritual brow; + His sweet, curved lip the soul of music breathing; + His blue Greek eyes, that speak Love's loyal vow; + I see him bend on _thee_ that eloquent glance, + The while those wondrous notes the realm of terror trance. + + I see his face with more than mortal beauty + Kindling, as, armed with that sweet lyre alone, + Pledged to a holy and heroic duty, + He stands serene before the awful throne, + And looks on Hades' horrors with clear eye, + Since thou, his own adored Eurydice, art nigh. + + Now soft and low a prelude sweet uprings, + As if a prison'd angel--pleading there + For life and love--were fetter'd 'neath the strings, + And poured his passionate soul upon the air! + Anon it clangs with wild, exulting swell, + Till the full pćan peals triumphantly through Hell. + + And thou, thy pale hands meekly lock'd before thee, + Thy sad eyes drinking _life_ from _his_ dear gaze, + Thy lips apart, thy hair a halo o'er thee + Trailing around thy throat its golden maze; + Thus, with all words in passionate silence dying, + Within thy _soul_ I hear Love's eager voice replying: + + "Play on, mine Orpheus! Lo! while these are gazing, + Charm'd into statues by the god-taught strain, + I, I alone--to thy dear face upraising + My tearful glance--the life of life regain! + For every tone that steals into my heart + Doth to its worn weak pulse a mighty power impart. + + "Play on, mine Orpheus! while thy music floats + Through the dread realm, divine with truth and grace, + See, dear one! how the chain of linked notes + Has fetter'd every spirit in its place! + Even Death, beside me, still and helpless lies, + And strives in vain to chill my frame with his cold eyes. + + "Still, my own Orpheus, sweep the golden lyre! + Ah! dost thou mark how gentle Proserpine, + With clasped hands and eyes whose azure fire + Gleams thro' quick tears, thrilled by thy lay, doth lean + Her graceful head upon her stern lord's breast, + Like an o'erwearied child, whom music lulls to rest! + + "Play, my proud minstrel! strike the chords again! + Lo, Victory crowns at last thy heavenly skill! + For Pluto turns relenting to the strain-- + He waves his hand--he speaks his awful will! + My glorious Greek, lead on! but ah, _still_ lend + Thy soul to thy sweet lyre, lest yet thou lose thy friend! + + "Think not of me! Think rather of the time, + When, moved by thy resistless melody + To the strange magic of a song sublime, + Thy argo grandly glided to the sea; + And in the majesty Minerva gave, + The graceful galley swept, with joy, the sounding wave. + + "Or see, in Fancy's dream, thy Thracian trees, + Their proud heads bent submissive to the sound, + Sway'd by a tuneful and enchanted breeze, + March to slow music o'er the astonished ground; + Grove after grove descending from the hills, + While round thee weave their dance, the glad harmonious rills. + + "Think not of me! Ha! by thy mighty sire, + My lord, my king, recall the dread behest! + Turn not, ah! turn not back those eyes of fire! + Oh! lost, forever lost! undone! unblest! + I faint, I die!--the serpent's fang once more + Is here!--nay, grieve not thus! Life, but _not Love_, is o'er!" + +This is a noble poem, with too many interjections, and occasional +redundancies of imagery and epithet, betraying the author's customary +haste: but with unquestionable signs of that genuineness which is the +best attraction of the literature of sentiment. The longest and more +sustained of Mrs. Osgood's compositions is one entitled "Fragments of an +Unfinished Story" in which she has exhibited such a skill in blank +verse--frequently regarded as the easiest, but really the most difficult +of any--as induces regret that she so seldom made use of it. We have +here a masterly contrast of character in the equally natural expressions +of feeling by the two principal persons, both of whom are women: the +haughty Ida, and the impulsive child of passion, Imogen. It displays in +eminent perfection, that dramatic faculty which Sheridan Knowles and the +late William Cooke Taylor recognised as the most striking in the +composition of her genius. She had long meditated, and in her mind had +perfectly arranged, a more extended poem than she has left to us, upon +Music. It was to be in this measure, except some lyrical interludes, and +she was so confident of succeeding in it, that she deemed all she had +written of comparatively little worth. "These," she said to me one day, +pointing to the proof-leaves of the new edition of her poems, "these are +my 'Miscellaneous Verses:' let us get them out of the way, and never +think of them again, as the public never will when they have MY POEM!" +And her friends who heard the splendid scheme of her imagination, did +not doubt that when it should be clothed with the rich tissues of her +fancy, it would be all she dreamed of, and vindicate all that they +themselves were fond of saying of her powers. It was while her life was +fading; and no one else can grasp the shining threads, or weave them +into song, such as she heard lips, touched with divinest fire, far along +in the ages, repeating with her name. This was not vanity, or a low +ambition. She lingered, with subdued and tearful joy, when all the +living and the present seemed to fail her, upon the pages of the elect +of genius, and was happiest when she thought some words of hers might +lift a sad soul from a sea of sorrow. + +It was perhaps the key-note of that unwritten poem, which she sounded in +these verses upon its subject, composed while the design most occupied +her attention: + + The Father spake! In grand reverberations + Through space roll'd on the mighty music-tide, + While to its low, majestic modulations, + The clouds of chaos slowly swept aside. + + The Father spake: a dream that had been lying + Hush'd, from eternity, in silence there, + Heard the pure melody, and low replying, + Grew to that music in the wondering air-- + + Grew to that music--slowly, grandly waking-- + Till, bathed in beauty, it became a world! + Led by his voice, its spheric pathway taking, + While glorious clouds their wings around it furl'd. + + Nor yet has ceased that sound, his love revealing, + Though, in response, a universe moves by; + Throughout eternity its echo pealing, + World after world awakes in glad reply. + + And wheresoever, in his grand creation, + Sweet music breathes--in wave, or bird, or soul-- + 'Tis but the faint and far reverberation + Of that great tune to which the planets roll. + +Mrs. Osgood produced something in almost every form of poetical +composition, but the necessary limits of this article permit but few +illustrations of the variety or perfectness of her capacities. The +examples given here, even if familiar, will possess a new interest now; +and no one will read them without a feeling of sadness that she who +wrote them died so young, just as the fairest flowers of her genius were +unfolding. One of the most exquisite pieces she had written in the last +few years, is entitled "Calumny," and we know not where to turn for +anything more delicately beautiful than the manner in which the subject +is treated. + + A whisper woke the air, + A soft, light tone, and low, + Yet barbed with shame and wo. + Ah! might it only perish there, + Nor farther go! + + But no! a quick and eager ear + Caught up the little, meaning sound; + Another voice has breathed it clear; + And so it wandered round + From ear to lip, and lip to ear, + Until it reached a gentle heart + That throbbed from all the world apart, + And that--it broke! + + It was the only _heart_ it found, + The only heart 't was meant to find, + When first its accents woke. + It reached that gentle heart at last, + And that--it broke! + + Low as it seemed to other ears, + It came a thunder-crash to _hers_-- + That fragile girl, so fair and gay. + 'Tis said a lovely humming bird, + That dreaming in a lily lay, + Was killed but by the gun's _report_ + Some idle boy had fired in sport-- + So exquisitely frail its frame, + The very _sound_ a death-blow came-- + And thus her heart, unused to shame, + Shrined in _its_ lily too, + (For who the maid that knew, + But owned the delicate, flower-like grace + Of her young form and face!)-- + Her light and happy heart, that beat + With love and hope so fast and sweet, + When first that cruel word it heard, + It fluttered like a frightened bird-- + Then shut its wings and sighed, + And, with a silent shudder, died! + +In some countries this would, perhaps, be the most frequently quoted of +the author's effusions; but here, the terse and forcible piece under the +title of "Laborare est Orare," will be admitted to all collections of +poetical specimens; and it deserves such popularity, for a combination +as rare as it is successful of common sense with the form and spirit of +poetry: + + Pause not to dream of the future before us; + Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us; + Hark, how Creation's deep musical chorus, + Unintermitting, goes up into heaven! + Never the ocean-wave falters in flowing; + Never the little seed stops in its growing; + More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing, + Till from its nourishing stem it is riven. + + "Labor is worship!"--the robin is singing; + "Labor is worship!"--the wild bee is ringing; + Listen! that eloquent whisper upspringing + Speaks to thy soul from out nature's great heart. + From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower; + From the rough sod blows the soft-breathing flower; + From the small insect, the rich coral bower; + Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part. + + Labor is life! 'Tis the still water faileth; + Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth; + Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth; + Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. + Labor is glory!--the flying cloud lightens; + Only the waving wing changes and brightens; + Idle hearts only the dark future frightens; + Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune! + + Labor is rest--from the sorrows that greet us; + Rest from all petty vexations that meet us, + Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us, + Rest from world-syrens that lure us to ill. + Work--and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow; + Work--thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow; + Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow; + Work with a stout heart and resolute will! + + Labor is health! Lo! the husbandman reaping, + How through his veins goes the life current leaping! + How his strong arm, in its stalwart pride sweeping, + True as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides. + Labor is wealth--in the sea the pearl groweth; + Rich the queen's robe from the frail cocoon floweth; + From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth; + Temple and statue the marble block hides. + + Droop not, tho' shame, sin, and anguish are round thee! + Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee; + Look to yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee; + Rest not content in they darkness--a clod! + Work--for some good, be it ever so slowly; + Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly; + Labor!--all labor is noble and holy; + Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God. + +In fine contrast with this is the description of a "Dancing Girl," +written in a longer poem, addressed to her sister soon after her arrival +in London, in the autumn of 1834. It is as graceful as the vision it +brings so magically before us: + + She comes--the spirit of the dance! + And but for those large, eloquent eyes, + Where passion speaks in every glance, + She'd seem a wanderer from the skies. + + So light that, gazing breathless there, + Lest the celestial dream should go, + You'd think the music in the air + Waved the fair vision to and fro! + + Or that the melody's sweet flow + Within the radiant creature play'd + And those soft wreathing arms of snow + And white sylph feet the music made. + + Now gliding slow with dreamy grace, + Her eyes beneath their lashes lost; + Now motionless, with lifted face, + And small hands on her bosom cross'd. + + And now with flashing eyes she springs, + Her whole bright figure raised in air, + As if her soul had spread its wings + And poised her one wild instant there! + + She spoke not; but, so richly fraught + With language are her glance and smile, + That, when the curtain fell, I thought + She had been talking all the while. + +In illustration of what we have said of Mrs. Osgood's delineations of +refined sentiment, we refer to the poems from pages one hundred and +eleven to one hundred and thirty-one, willing to rest upon them our +praises of her genius. It may be accidental, but they seem to have an +epic relation, and to constitute one continuous history, finished with +uncommon elegance and glowing with a beauty which has its inspiration in +a deeper profound than was ever penetrated by messengers of the brain. +The third of these glimpses of heart-life--all having the same air of +sad reality--exhibits, with a fidelity and a peculiar power which is +never attained in such descriptions by men, the struggle of a pure and +passionate nature with a hopeless affection: + + Had we but met in life's delicious spring, + When young romance made Eden of the world; + When bird-like Hope was ever on the wing, + (In _thy_ dear breast how soon had it been furled!) + + Had we but met when both our hearts were beating + With the wild joy, the guileless love of youth-- + Thou a proud boy, with frank and ardent greeting, + And I a timid girl, all trust and truth!-- + + Ere yet my pulse's light, elastic play + Had learn'd the weary weight of grief to know, + Ere from these eyes had passed the morning ray, + And from my cheek the early rose's glow;-- + + Had we but met in life's delicious spring, + Ere wrong and falsehood taught me doubt and fear, + Ere Hope came back with worn and wounded wing, + To die upon the heart it could not cheer; + + Ere I love's precious pearl had vainly lavish'd, + Pledging an idol deaf to my despair; + Ere one by one the buds and blooms were ravish'd + From life's rich garland by the clasp of Care. + + Ah! had we _then_ but met!--I dare not listen + To the wild whispers of my fancy now! + My full heart beats--my sad, droop'd lashes glisten-- + I hear the music of thy _boyhood's_ vow! + + I see thy dark eyes lustrous with love's meaning, + I feel thy dear hand softly clasp mine own-- + Thy noble form is fondly o'er me leaning-- + It is too much--but ah! the dream has flown. + + How had I pour'd this passionate heart's devotion + In voiceless rapture on thy manly breast! + How had I hush'd each sorrowful emotion, + Lull'd by thy love to sweet, untroubled rest. + + How had I knelt hour after hour beside thee, + When from thy lips the rare scholastic lore + Fell on the soul that all but deified thee, + While at each pause I, childlike, pray'd for more. + + How had I watch'd the shadow of each feeling, + That mov'd thy soul-glance o'er that radiant face, + "Taming my wild heart" to that dear revealing, + And glorifying in thy genius and thy grace! + + Then hadst thou loved me with a love abiding, + And I had now been less unworthy thee, + For I was generous, guileless, and confiding, + A frank enthusiast, buoyant, fresh, and free! + + But _now_--my loftiest aspirations perish'd, + My holiest hopes a jest for lips profane, + The tenderest yearnings of my soul uncherish'd, + A soul-worn slave in Custom's iron chain: + + Check'd by these ties that make my lightest sigh, + My faintest blush, at thought of thee, a crime-- + How must I still my heart, and school my eye, + And count in vain the slow dull steps of Time! + + Wilt thou come back? Ah! what avails to ask thee + Since honor, faith, forbid thee to return! + Yet to forgetfulness I dare not task thee, + Lest thou too soon that _easy lesson_ learn! + + Ah! come not back, love! even through Memory's ear + Thy tone's melodious murmur thrills my heart-- + Come not with that fond smile, so frank, so dear; + While yet we may, let us for ever part! + +The passages commencing, "Thank God, I glory in thy love;" "Ah, let our +love be still a folded flower;" "Believe me, 'tis no pang of jealous +pride;" "We part forever: silent be our parting;" are in the same +measure, and in perfect keeping, but evince a still deeper emotion and +greater pathos and power. We copy the closing cantatas, "To Sleep," and +"A Weed"--a prayer and a prophecy--in which the profoundest sorrow is +displayed with touching simplicity and unaffected earnestness. First, to +Death's gentle sister: + + Come to me, angel of the weary hearted; + Since they, my loved ones, breathed upon by thee, + Unto thy realms unreal have departed, + I, too, may rest--even I; ah! haste to me. + + I dare not bid thy darker, colder brother + With his more welcome offering, appear, + For these sweet lips, at morn, will murmur, "Mother," + And who shall soothe them if I be not near? + + Bring me no dream, dear Sleep, though visions glowing + With hues of heaven thy wand enchanted shows; + I ask no glorious boon of thy bestowing, + Save that most true, most beautiful--repose. + + I have no heart to rove in realms of Faery-- + To follow Fancy at her elfin call; + I am too wretched--too soul-worn and weary; + Give me but rest, for rest to me is all. + + Paint not the future to my fainting spirit, + Though it were starr'd with glory like the skies; + There is no gift that mortals may inherit + That could rekindle hope in these cold eyes. + + And for the Past--the fearful Past--ah! never + Be Memory's downcast gaze unveil'd by thee; + Would thou couldst bring oblivion forever + Of all that is, that has been, and will be! + +And more mournful still, the dream of the after days: + + When from our northern woods pale summer flying, + Breathes her last fragrant sigh--her low farewell-- + While her sad wild flowers' dewy eyes, in dying, + Plead for her stay, in every nook and dell. + + A heart that loved too tenderly and truly, + Will break at last; and in some dim, sweet shade, + They'll smooth the sod o'er her you prized unduly, + And leave her to the rest for which she pray'd. + + Ah! trustfully, not mournfully, they'll leave her, + Assured that deep repose is welcomed well; + The pure, glad breeze can whisper naught to grieve her; + The brook's low voice no wrongful tale can tell. + + They'll hide her where no false one's footsteps, stealing, + Can mar the chasten'd meekness of her sleep; + Only to Love and Grief her grave revealing, + And they will hush their chiding _then_--to weep! + + And some, (for though too oft she err'd, too blindly, + She was beloved--how fondly and how well!)-- + Some few, with faltering feet, will linger kindly, + And plant dear flowers within that silent dell. + + I know whose fragile hand will bring the bloom + Best loved by both--the violet's--to that bower; + And one will bid white lilies bless the gloom; + And one, perchance, will plant the passion flower; + + Then do _thou_ come, when all the rest have parted-- + Thou, who alone dost know her soul's deep gloom! + And wreathe above the lost, the broken-hearted, + Some idle _weed_, that _knew not how to bloom_. + +We pass from these painful but exquisitely beautiful displays of +sensitive feeling and romantic fancy, to pieces exhibiting Mrs. Osgood's +more habitual spirit of arch playfulness and graceful invention, +scattered through the volume, and constituting a class of compositions +in which she is scarcely approachable. The "Lover's List," is one of her +shorter ballads: + + "Come sit on this bank so shady, + Sweet Evelyn, sit with me! + And count me your loves, fair lady-- + How many may they be?" + + The maiden smiled on her lover, + And traced with her dimpled hand, + Of names a dozen and over + Down in the shining sand. + + "And now," said Evelyn, rising, + "Sir Knight! your own, if you please; + And if there be no disguising, + The list will outnumber these; + + "Then count me them truly, rover!" + And the noble knight obeyed; + And of names a dozen and over + He traced within the shade. + + Fair Evelyn pouted proudly; + She sighed "Will he never have done?" + And at last she murmur'd loudly, + "I thought he would write but _one_!" + + "Now read," said the gay youth, rising; + "The scroll--it is fair and free; + In truth, there is no disguising + That list is the world to me!" + + She read it with joy and wonder, + For the first was her own sweet name; + And again and again written under, + It was still--it was still the same! + + It began with--"My Evelyn fairest!" + It ended with--"Evelyn best!" + And epithets fondest and dearest + Were lavished between on the rest. + + There were tears in the eyes of the lady + As she swept with her delicate hand, + On the river-bank cool and shady, + The list she had traced in the sand. + + There were smiles on the lip of the maiden + As she turned to her knight once more, + And the heart was with joy o'erladen + That was heavy with doubt before! + +And for its lively movement and buoyant feeling--equally characteristic +of her genius--the following song, upon "Lady Jane," a favorite horse: + + Oh! saw ye e'er creature so queenly, so fine, + As this dainty, aerial darling of mine! + With a toss of her mane, that is glossy as jet, + With a dance and a prance, and a frolic curvet, + She is off! she is stepping superbly away! + Her dark, speaking eye full of pride and of play. + Oh! she spurns the dull earth with a graceful disdain, + My fearless, my peerless, my loved Lady Jane! + + Her silken ears lifted when danger is nigh, + How kindles the night in her resolute eye! + Now stately she paces, as if to the sound + Of a proud, martial melody playing around, + Now pauses at once, 'mid a light caracole, + To turn her mild glance on me beaming with soul; + Now fleet as a fairy, she speeds o'er the plain, + My darling, my treasure, my own Lady Jane! + + Give her rein! let her go! Like a shaft from a bow, + Like a bird on the wing, she is speeding, I trow-- + Light of heart, lithe of limb, with a spirit all fire, + Yet sway'd and subdued by my idlest desire-- + Though daring, yet docile, and sportive but true, + Her nature's the noblest that ever I knew. + How she flings back her head, in her dainty disdain! + My beauty, my graceful, my gay Lady Jane! + +It is among the one hundred and thirteen songs, of which this is one, +and which form the last division of her poems, that we have the greatest +varieties of rhythm, cadence, and expression; and it is here too that we +have, perhaps, the most clear and natural exhibitions of that class of +emotions which she conceives with such wonderful truth. The prevailing +characteristic of these pieces is a native and delicate raillery, +piquant by wit, and poetical by the freshest and gracefullest fancies; +but they are frequently marked by much tenderness of sentiment, and by +boldness and beauty of imagination. They are in some instances without +that singleness of purpose, that unity and completeness, which ought +invariably to distinguish this sort of compositions, but upon the whole +it must be considered that Mrs. Osgood was remarkably successful in the +song. The fulness of our extracts from other parts of the volume will +prevent that liberal illustration of her excellence in this which would +be as gratifying to the reader as to us; and we shall transcribe but a +few specimens, which, by various felicities of language, and a pleasing +delicacy of sentiment, will detain the admiration: + + Oh! would I were only a spirit of song, + I'd float forever around, above you: + If I were a spirit, it wouldn't be wrong, + It couldn't be wrong, to love you! + + I'd hide in the light of a moonbeam bright, + I'd sing Love's lullaby softly o'er you, + I'd bring rare visions of pure delight + From the land of dreams before you. + + Oh! if I were only a spirit of song, + I'd float forever around, above you, + For a musical spirit could never do wrong, + And it wouldn't be wrong to love you! + +The next, an exquisitely beautiful song, suggests its own music: + + She loves him yet! + I know by the blush that rises + Beneath the curls + That shadow her soul-lit cheek; + She loves him yet! + Through all Love's sweet disguises + In timid girls, + A blush will be sure to speak. + + But deeper signs + Than the radiant blush of beauty, + The maiden finds, + Whenever his name is heard; + Her young heart thrills, + Forgetting herself--her duty-- + Her dark eye fills, + And her pulse with hope is stirr'd. + + She loves him yet!-- + The flower the false one gave her, + When last he came, + Is still with her wild tears wet. + She'll ne'er forget, + Howe'er his faith may waver, + Through grief and shame, + Believe it--she loves him yet. + + His favorite songs + She will sing--she heeds no other; + With all her wrongs + Her life on his love is set. + Oh! doubt no more! + She never can wed another; + Till life be o'er, + She loves--she will love him yet! + +And this is not less remarkable for a happy adaptation of sentiment to +the sound: + + Low, my lute--breathe low!--She sleeps!-- + Eulalie! + While his watch her lover keeps, + Soft and dewy slumber steeps + Golden tress and fringed lid + With the blue heaven 'neath it hid-- + Eulalie! + Low my lute--breathe low!--She sleeps!-- + Eulalie! + Let thy music, light and low, + Through her pure dream come and go. + Lute on Love! with silver flow, + All my passion, all my wo, + Speak for me! + Ask her in her balmy rest + Whom her holy heart loves best! + Ask her if she thinks of me!-- + Eulalie! + Low, my lute!--breathe low!--She sleeps!-- + Eulalie! + Slumber while thy lover keeps + Fondest watch and ward for thee, + Eulalie! + +The following evinces a deeper feeling, and has a corresponding force +and dignity in its elegance:-- + + Yes, "lower to the level" + Of those who laud thee now! + Go, join the joyous revel, + And pledge the heartless vow! + Go, dim the soul-born beauty + That lights that lofty brow! + Fill, fill the bowl! let burning wine + Drown in thy soul Love's dream divine! + + Yet when the laugh is lightest, + When wildest goes the jest, + When gleams the goblet brightest, + And proudest heaves thy breast, + And thou art madly pledging + Each gay and jovial guest-- + A ghost shall glide amid the flowers-- + The shade of Love's departed hours! + + And thou shalt shrink in sadness + From all the splendor there, + And curse the revel's gladness, + And hate the banquet's glare; + And pine, 'mid Passion's madness + For true love's purer air, + And feel thou'dst give their wildest glee + For one unsullied sigh from me! + + Yet deem not this my prayer, love, + Ah! no, if I could keep + Thy alter'd heart from care, love, + And charm its griefs to sleep, + Mine only should despair, love, + I--I alone would weep! + I--I alone would mourn the flowers + That fade in Love's deserted bowers! + +Among her poems are many which admit us to the sacredest recesses of the +mother's heart: "To a Child Playing with a Watch," "To Little May +Vincent," "To Ellen, Learning to Walk," and many others, show the almost +wild tenderness with which she loved her two surviving daughters--one +thirteen, and the other eleven years of age now;--and a "Prayer in +Illness," in which she besought God to "take them first," and suffer her +to lie at their feet in death, lest, deprived of her love, they should +be subjected to all the sorrow she herself had known in the world, is +exquisitely beautiful and touching. Her parents, her brothers, her +sisters, her husband, her children, were the deities of her tranquil and +spiritual worship, and she turned to them in every vicissitude of +feeling, for hope and strength and repose. "Lilly" and "May," were +objects of a devotion too sacred for any idols beyond the threshold, and +we witness it not as something obtruded upon the outer world, but as a +display of beautified and dignified humanity which is among the +ministries appointed to be received for the elevation of our natures. +With these holy and beautiful songs is intertwined one, which under the +title of "Ashes of Roses," breathes the solemnest requiem that ever was +sung for a child, and in reading it we feel that in the subject was +removed into the Unknown a portion of the mother's heart and life. The +poems of Mrs. Osgood are not a laborious balancing of syllables, but a +spontaneous gushing of thoughts, fancies and feelings, which fall +naturally into harmonious measures; and so perfectly is the sense echoed +in the sound, that it seems as if many of her compositions might be +intelligibly written in the characters of music. It is a pervading +excellence of her works, whether in prose or verse, that they are +graceful beyond those of any other author who has written in this +country; and the delicacy of her taste was such that it would probably +be impossible to find in all of them a fancy, a thought, or a word +offensive to that fine instinct in its highest cultivation or subtlest +sensibility. It is one of her great merits that she attempted nothing +foreign to her own affluent but not various genius. + +There is a stilted ambition, common lately to literary women, which is +among the fatalest diseases to reputation. She was never betrayed into +it; she was always simple and natural, singing in no falsetto key, even +when she entered the temples of old mythologies. With an extraordinary +susceptibility of impressions, she had not only the finest and quickest +discernment of those peculiarities of character which give variety to +the surface of society, but of certain kinds and conditions of life she +perceived the slightest undulations and the deepest movements. She had +no need to travel beyond the legitimate sphere of woman's observation, +to seize upon the upturnings and overthrows which serve best for +rounding periods in the senate or in courts of criminal justice--trying +everything to see if poetry could be made of it. Nor did she ever demand +audience for rude or ignoble passion, or admit the moral shade beyond +the degree in which it must appear in all pictures of life. She lingered +with her keen insight and quick sensibilities among the associations, +influences, the fine sense, brave perseverance, earnest +affectionateness, and unfailing truth, which, when seen from the +romantic point of view, are suggestive of all the poetry which it is +within the province of woman to write. + +I have not chosen to dwell upon the faults in her works; such labor is +more fit for other hands, and other days; and so many who attempt +criticism seem to think the whole art lies in the detection of +blemishes, that one may sometimes be pardoned for lingering as fondly as +I have done, upon an author's finer qualities. It must be confessed, +that in her poems there is evinced a too unrestrained partiality for +particular forms of expression, and that--it could scarcely be otherwise +in a collection so composed--thoughts and fancies are occasionally +repeated. In some instances too, her verse is diffuse, but generally, +where this objection is made, it will be found that what seems most +careless and redundant is only delicate shading: she but turns her +diamonds to the various rays; she rings no changes till they are not +music; she addresses an eye more sensitive to beauty and a finer ear +than belong to her critics. The collection of her works is one of the +most charming volumes that woman has contributed to literature; of all +that we are acquainted with the most womanly; and destined, for that it +addresses with truest sympathy and most natural eloquence the commonest +and noblest affections, to be always among the most fondly cherished +Books of the Heart. + +Reluctantly I bring to a close these paragraphs--a hasty and imperfect +tribute, from my feelings and my judgment, to one whom many will +remember long as an impersonation of the rarest intellectual and moral +endowments, as one of the loveliest characters in literary or social +history. Hereafter, unless the office fall to some one worthier, I may +attempt from the records of our friendship, and my own and others' +recollections, to do such justice to her life and nature, that a larger +audience and other times shall feel how much of beauty with her spirit +left us. + +This requiem she wrote for another, little thinking that her friends +would so soon sing it with hearts saddened for her own departure. + + The hand that swept the sounding lyre + With more than mortal skill, + The lightning eye, the heart of fire, + The fervent lip are still: + No more in rapture or in wo, + With melody to thrill, + Ah! nevermore! + + Oh! bring the flowers she cherish'd so, + With eager child-like care: + For o'er her grave they'll love to grow, + And sigh their sorrow there; + Ah me! no more their balmy glow + May soothe her heart's despair, + No! nevermore! + + But angel hands shall bring her balm + For every grief she knew, + And Heaven's soft harps her soul shall calm + With music sweet and true; + And teach to her the holy charm + Of Israfel anew. + For evermore! + + Love's silver lyre she played so well, + Lies shattered on her tomb; + But still in air its music-spell + Floats on through light and gloom, + And in the hearts where soft they fell, + Her words of beauty bloom + For evermore! + + + + +Recent Deaths. + + +SAMUEL YOUNG. + +The Hon. Samuel Young, long one of the most eminent politicians of the +democratic party in the State of New-York, died of apoplexy, at his home +at Ballston Spa, on the night of the third of November. Col. Young was +born in Berkshire county, Massachusetts, in 1778. Soon after he +completed his legal studies he emigrated to Ballston Spa, in this State. +The following facts respecting his subsequent career are condensed from +the _Tribune_. + +"He was first chosen to the Legislature in 1814, and was reëlected next +year on a split ticket, which for a time clouded his prospects. In 1824, +he was again in the Assembly, was Speaker of the House in that memorable +year, and helped remove De Witt Clinton from the office of Canal +Commissioner. The Fall Election found him a candidate for Governor on +the 'Caucus' interest opposed to the 'People's' demand that the choice +of Presidential Electors be relinquished by the Legislature to the +Voters of the State. Col. Young professed to be personally a 'Peoples' +man, and in favor of Henry Clay for President; the 'Caucus' candidate +being Wm. H. Crawford. De Witt Clinton was the opposing candidate for +Governor, and was elected by 16,000 majority. Col. Young's political +fortunes never recovered from the blow thus inflicted. He had already +been chosen a Canal Commissioner by the Legislature, and he continued to +hold the office till the Political revolution of 1838-9, when he was +superseded by a Whig. He was afterwards twice a State Senator for four +years, and for three years Secretary of State. He carried into all the +stations he has filled signal ability and unquestioned rectitude. He was +a man of strong prejudices, violent temper and implacable resentments, +but a Patriot and a determined foe of time-serving, corruption, +prodigality, and debt. He was a warm friend of Educational Improvement, +and did the cause good service while Secretary of State. For the last +three years he has held no office, but lived in that peaceful retirement +to which his years and his services fairly entitled him. He leaves +behind him many who have attained more exalted positions on a smaller +capital of talent and aptitude for public service. We have passed +lightly over his vehement denunciations of the Internal Improvement +policy during the latter years of his public life. We attribute the +earnestness of his hostility to a temper soured by disappointment, and +especially to his great defeat in '24, at the hands of the illustrious +champion of the Canals. But, though his vision was jaundiced, his +purpose was honest. He thought he was struggling to save the State from +imminent bankruptcy and ruin." + + * * * * * + +Henry T. Robinson, for many years an active maker of political and other +caricatures, by which he made a fortune, here and in Washington, and of +nude and other indecent prints, by the seizure of a large quantity of +which, with other causes, he was impoverished, died at Newark, +New-Jersey, on the third of November. He was born on Bethnal Common in +England, in 1785, and about 1810 emigrated to this country, where he was +one of the first to practise lithography. + + * * * * * + +Joseph Hardy died a few weeks ago at Rathmines, aged ninety-three years. +When twenty years old he invented a machine for doubling and twisting +cotton yarn, for which the Dublin Society awarded him a premium of +twenty guineas. Four years after he invented a scribbling machine for +carding wool, to be worked by horse or water power, for which the same +society awarded him one hundred guineas. He next invented a machine for +measuring and sealing linen, and was in consequence appointed by the +linen board seals-master for all the linen markets in the county of +Derry, but the slightest benefit from this he never derived, as the +rebellion of '98 broke out about the time he had all his machines +completed, and political opponents having represented by memorials to +the board that by giving so much to one man, hundreds who then were +employed would be thrown out of work, the board changed the seal from +the spinning wheel to the harp and crown, thereby rendering his seals +useless, merely giving him 100_l._ by way of remuneration for his loss. +About the year 1810 he demonstrated by an apparatus attached to one of +the boats of the Grand Canal Company at Portobello the practicability of +propelling vessels on the water by paddle wheels; but having placed the +paddles on the bow of the boat, the action of the backwater on the boat +was so great as to prevent its movement at a higher speed than three +miles per hour. This appearing not to answer, without further experiment +he broke up the machinery, and allowed others to profit by the ideas he +gave on the subject, and to complete on the open sea what he had +attempted within the narrow limits of a canal. He also invented a +machine for sawing timber; but the result of all his inventions during a +long life was very considerable loss of time and property without the +slightest recompense from Government, or the country benefited by his +talents. + + * * * * * + +Major-General Slessor died at Sidmouth, Devonshire, on the 11th October, +aged seventy-three. He entered the army in 1794, and served in Ireland +during the rebellion, and subsequently against the French force +commanded by General Humbert, on which last occasion he was wounded. In +1806 he accompanied his regiment (the 35th) to Sicily, and the next year +he served in the second expedition to Egypt, and was wounded in the +retreat from Rosetta to Alexandria. He then served with Sir J. Oswald +against the Greek Islands, and was employed in the Mediterranean. He +also served in the Austrian army, under Count Nugent, and in the +Waterloo campaign. + + * * * * * + +Joseph Signay, Roman Catholic Archbishop of the Ecclesiastical Province +of Quebec, died on the 3d of October. He was born at Quebec November 8, +1778, appointed Coadjutor of Quebec and Bishop of Fussala the 15th of +December, 1826, and was consecrated under that title the 20th of May, +1827. He succeeded to the See of Quebec the 19th of February, 1833, and +was elevated to the dignity of Archbishop by His Holiness Pope Gregory +XVI., on the 12th of July, 1844, and received the "Pallium" during the +ensuing month. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Fouquier, one of the most celebrated physicians of Paris, who was +_le medecin_ of the ex-king Louis Philippe, and Professor of _clinique +interne_ at the Academy, died on the 1st of October. His loss is much +felt among the _savants_. + + * * * * * + +Lieut.-Colonel Cross, K.H., a distinguished Peninsular officer, died +near London on the 27th of October. He served in the Peninsular war from +1808 until its close in 1814, and was at the battle of Waterloo, where +he received a severe contusion. + + * * * * * + +Thomas Amyot, F.R.S., &c.--whose life, extended to the age of +seventy-six, was passed in close intercourse with the literary and +antiquarian circles of London, participating in their pursuits and +aiding their exertions--died on the 28th of September. He was an active +and respected member of almost every metropolitan association which had +for its object the advancement of literature. He was a constant and +valuable contributor to the _Archćologia_, the private secretary of Mr. +Windham, the editor of Windham's speeches, and for many years treasurer +to the Society of Antiquaries of London, and a director of the Camden +Society. He was a native of Norwich, and obtained the friendship and +patronage of Windham while actively engaged in canvassing in favor of an +opponent of that gentleman for the representation of Norwich in the +House of Commons. A Life of Windham was one of his long-promised and +long-looked-for contributions to the biographies of English statesmen; +but no such work has been published, and there is reason to believe that +very little, if indeed any portion of it, was ever completed for +publication. The journals of Mr. Windham were in the possession of Mr. +Amyot; and if we may judge of the whole by the account of Johnson's +conversation and last illness, printed by Croker in his edition of +Boswell, we may assert that whenever they may be published they will +constitute a work of real value in illustration of political events and +private character,--a model in respect of fullness and yet succinctness, +which future journalists may copy with advantage. Whatever Windham +preserved of Johnson's conversation well merited preservation. Mr. +Amyot's most valuable literary production is, his refutation of Mr. +Tytler's supposition that Richard the Second was alive and in Scotland +in the reign of Henry the Fourth. + + * * * * * + +Madame Branchu, so famous in the opera in the last century, is dead. The +first distinct idea which many have entertained respecting the _Grande +Opera_ of Paris may have been derived from a note in Moore's _Fudge +Family_ in which the "shrill screams of Madame Branchu" were mentioned. +She retired from the theater in 1826, after twenty-five years of _prima +donna_ship--having succeeded to the scepter and crown of Mdlle. Maillard +and Madame St. Huberty. She died at Passy, having almost entirely passed +out of the memory of the present opera-going generation. She must have +been a forcible and impassioned rather than an elegant or irreproachable +vocalist--and will be best remembered perhaps as the original _Julia_ in +"La Vestale" of Spontini. + + * * * * * + +Major-General Wingrove, of the Royal Marines, died on the 7th October, +aged seventy years. He entered the Royal Marines in 1793, served at the +surrender of the Cape of Good Hope in 1795, the battle of Trafalgar, the +taking of Genoa in 1814, was on board the Boyne when that ship singly +engaged three French ships of the line and three frigates, off Toulon, +in 1814, and on board the Hercules in a single action, off Cape Nichola +Mole. In 1841 he was promoted to the rank of a major-general. + + * * * * * + +The Duke of Palmella, long eminent in the affairs of Portugal, died at +Lisbon on the 12th of October. He was born on the 8th of May, 1781, and +had, consequently, completed his sixty ninth year. A very considerable +part of his life was dedicated to the diplomatic service of Portugal, +which he represented at the Congress of Vienna, in 1814; and he was one +of the General Committee of the eight powers who signed the Peace of +Paris. When the debate respecting the slave-trade took place in the +Congress, he warmly opposed the immediate abolition by Portugal, which +had been demanded by Lord Castlereagh. He was also one of the foreign +ministers who signed the declaration of the 13th of March, 1815, against +Napoleon; immediately after which he was nominated representative of +Portugal at the British Court. In 1816, however, he was recalled to fill +the office of Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in Brazil. In +February, 1818, he visited Paris, for the purpose of making some +arrangements relative to Monte Video, with the Spanish Ambassador, Count +Fernan Nunez. After the Portuguese Revolution, he retired for a time +from active life. He was next selected to attend at the coronation of +Queen Victoria; and his great wealth enabled him to vie, on that +occasion, with the representatives of the other courts of Europe. He was +several times called to preside over the councils of his Sovereign, but +only held office for a limited period. Though a member of the ancient +nobility, all his titles were honorably acquired by his own exertions, +and were the rewards of distinguished abilities and meritorious +services. No Portuguese statesman acquired greater celebrity abroad, and +no man acted a more consistent part in all the political vicissitudes of +the last thirty years, throughout which he was a most prominent +character. It is related of the Duke, when Count de Palmella, that +during the contest in Spain and Portugal, Napoleon one day hastily +addressed him with--"Well, are you Portuguese willing to become +Spanish?" "No," replied the Count, in a firm tone. Far from being +displeased with this frank and laconic reply, Napoleon said next day to +one of his officers, "The Count de Palmella gave me yesterday a noble +'No.'" + + * * * * * + +Carl Rottmann, the distinguished Bavarian artist and painter to the +King, died near the end of October. He had been sent by King Ludwig to +Italy and to Greece to depict the scenery and monuments of those +countries. His pictures of the Temple of Juno Lucina, Girgenti, the +theater of Taormina, &c., have never been excelled, and the king had +characterized them by illustrative poems. The Grecian monuments which +Rottmann sketched in 1835 and 1836 are destined for the new Pinakothek; +and the Battle-Field of Marathon is spoken of as a wonderful +composition. The frescoes of Herr Rottmann adorn the ceiling of the +upper story of the palace at Munich. + + * * * * * + +François de Villeneuve-Bargemont, Marquis de Trans, a member of the +French Academy of Inscriptions of Belles-Lettres, and author, amongst +other works, of the Histories of King Réné of Anjou, of St. Louis, and +of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, is named in the late Paris +obituaries. + + * * * * * + +The _Augsburg Gazette_ announces the death of the celebrated Bavarian +painter Ch. Schorn, Professor at the Academy of Fine Arts at Munich, on +the 7th October, aged forty-seven. + + * * * * * + +Richard M. Johnson, Ex-Vice-President of the United States, died at +Frankfort, Ky., on the morning of November 19, having for some time been +deprived of his reason. He was about seventy years of age. In 1807 he +was chosen a member of the House of Representatives, which post he held +twelve years. In 1813 he raised 1,000 men, to fight the British and +Indians in the North-west. In the campaign which followed he served +gallantly under Gen. Harrison as Colonel of his regiment. At the battle +of the Thames he distinguished himself by breaking the line of the +British infantry. The fame of killing Tecumseh, in this battle, has been +given to Colonel J., but the act has other claimants. In 1819 he was +transferred from the House of Representatives to the Senate, to serve +out an unexpired term. When that expired he was re-chosen, and thus +remained in the Senate till 1829. Then, another re-election being +impossible, he went back into the House, where he remained till 1839, +when he became Vice-President under Mr. Van Buren. In 1829 the Sunday +Mail agitation being brought before the House, he, as Chairman of the +Committee on Post-Offices and Post-Roads, presented a report against the +suspension of mails on Sunday. It was able, though its ability was much +exaggerated; it disposed of the subject, and Col. J. received what never +belonged to him, the credit of having written it. From 1837 to 1841 he +presided over the Senate. From that time he did not hold any office. + + * * * * * + +William Blacker, Esq., the distinguished agricultural writer and +economist, died on the 20th of October, at his residence in Armagh, in +the seventy-fifth year of his age. Engaged extensively, in early life, +in mercantile pursuits, he devoted himself at a maturer period to the +development of the agricultural and economic resources of Ireland. By +his popularly-written "Hints to Small Farmers," annual reports of +experimental results, essays, &c. he managed to spread, not only a +spirit of inquiry into matters of such vital importance to his country, +but to point out and urge into the best and most advantageous course of +action, the well-inclined and the energetic. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Bell Martin, the author of a very clever novel, lately reprinted by +the Harpers, entitled "Julia Howard" and originally published under the +name of Mrs. Martin Bell, died in this city on the 7th of November. Mrs. +Martin was the daughter of one of the wealthiest commoners of England. +She came to this country it is said entirely for purposes connected with +literature. She was the author of several other works, most of which +were written in French. + + * * * * * + +The _Patria_, of Corfu mentions the death by cholera of Signor Niccolo +Delviniotti Baptistide, a distinguished literary character, and author +of several very interesting works. + + * * * * * + +General du Chastel, one of the remains of the French Imperial Army, died +at Saumur, in October, in the seventy-eighth year of his age. + + * * * * * + +Among the other recent deaths in Europe, we notice that of Mr. Watkyns, +the son-in-law and biographer of Ebenezer Elliot; Dr. Medicus, Professor +of Botany at Munich, and a member of the Academy of Sciences in that +capital; M. Ferdinand Laloue, a dramatic author of some reputation in +Paris; and Dr. C.F. Becker, eminent for his philosophical works on +grammar and the structure of language. + +[Illustration] + + +NICHOLAS WISEMAN, D.D., LL.D., CARDINAL ARCHBISHOP OF WESTMINSTER. + +The topic of the month in Europe has been the public and formal +resumption of jurisdiction by the Pope in England, and the appointment +of the ablest and most illustrious person in the Catholic Church to be +Archbishop of Westminster. Dr. Wiseman is known and respected by all +Christian scholars for his abilities, and their devotion to the +vindication of our common faith. His admirable work on _The Connection +between Science and Revealed Religion_ is a text-book in Protestant as +well as in Roman Catholic seminaries. Cardinal Wiseman is now in his +forty-ninth year, having been born at Seville, on the second of August, +1802. He is descended from an Irish family, long settled in Spain. At an +early age he was carried to England, and sent for his education to St. +Cuthbert's Catholic College, near Durham. Thence he was removed to the +English College at Rome, where he distinguished himself by an +extraordinary attachment to learning. At eighteen he published in Latin +a work on the Oriental languages; and he bore off the gold medal at +every competition of the colleges of Rome. His merit recommended him to +his superiors; he obtained several honors, was ordained a priest, and +made a Doctor of Divinity. He was several years a Professor in the Roman +University, and then Rector of the English College, where he achieved +his earliest success. He went to England in 1835, and immediately became +a conspicuous teacher and writer on the side of the Catholics. In 1836 +he vindicated in a course of lectures the doctrines of the Catholic +Church, and gave so much satisfaction to his party that they presented +him with a gold medal, to express their esteem and gratitude. He +returned to Rome, and seems to have been instrumental in inducing Pope +Gregory XVI. to increase the vicars apostolic in England. The number was +doubled, and Dr. Wiseman went back as coadjutor to Bishop Walsh, of the +Midland district. He was appointed President of St. Mary's College, +Oscott, and contributed, by his teaching, his preaching, and his +writings, very much to promote the spread of Catholicism in England. He +was a contributor to the _Dublin Review_, and the author of some +controversial pamphlets. In 1847 he again repaired to Rome on the +affairs of the Catholics, and no doubt prepared the way for the present +change. His second visit to Rome led to further preferment. He was made +Pro-Vicar Apostolic of the London district; subsequently appointed +coadjutor to Dr. Walsh, and in 1849, on the death of Dr. Walsh, Vicar +Apostolic of the London district. Last August he went again to Rome, +"not expecting," as he says, "to return;" but "delighted to be +commissioned to come back" clothed in his new dignity. In a Consistory +held September 30, Nicholas Wiseman was elected to the dignity of +Cardinal, by the title of Saint Prudentiani, and appointed Archbishop of +Westminster. Under the Pope, he is the head of the Roman Catholic Church +in England, and a Prince of the Church of Rome. + +[Illustration] + + + + +Ladies' Fashions for December. + + +Fig. I. _Promenade Costume._--Robe of striped silk: the ground a richly +shaded brown, and the stripes of the same color, but of darker hue. The +skirt of the dress is quite plain, the corsage high, and the sleeves not +very wide at the ends, showing white under-sleeves of very moderate +size. Mantle of dark green satin. The upper part or body is shaped like +a pardessus, with a small basque at the back. Attached to this body is a +double skirt, both the upper and lower parts of which are set on in +slight fullness, and nearly meeting in front. The body of the mantle, as +well as the two skirts, is edged with quilling of satin ribbon of the +color of the cloak. Loose Chinese sleeves, edged with the same trimming. +Drawn bonnet of brown velvet; under trimming small red flowers; strings +of brown therry velvet ribbon. + +Fig. II.--Back view of dress of claret-colored broché silk; the pattern +large detached sprigs. Cloak of rich black satin. The upper part is a +deep cape, cut so as to fit closely to the figure, and pointed at the +back. By being fastened down at each side of the arms, this cape +presents the effect of sleeves. Round the back, and on that part which +falls over the arms, the cape is edged with a very broad and rich +fringe, composed of twisted silk chenille, and headed by passementerie. +The skirt of the cloak is cut bias way and nearly circular, so that it +hangs round the figure in easy fullness. The fronts are trimmed with +ornaments of passementerie in the form of large flowers. The bonnet is +of green therry velvet, trimmed with black lace, two rows of which are +laid across the front. Under trimming of pale pink roses. + + + + +[Transcriber's Notes: + +Page vi: Transcribed "Bronte" as "Brontë". As originally printed: +"Bronte and her Sisters". + +Transcribed "in" as "on". As originally printed: "Herr Kielhau, in +Geology". + +Pages vi & 142: Transcribed "Charles Rottman" as "Carl Rottmann". + +Page vii: Transcribed "this" as "his". As originally printed: "Swift, +Dean, and this Amours." + +Page 13: Supplied "from" in the following phrase (shown here in +brackets): "It caused Richard Steele to be expelled [from] the House of +Commons". + +Page 13: Transcribed "colleague's" as "colleagues". As originally +printed: "triumphed over his colleague's". + +Page 16: Transcribed "Smollet" as "Smollett". As originally printed: +"the best productions of Mendoza, Smollet, or Dickens" (presumably, +Tobias Smollett). + +Page 20: Transcribed "Uniersberg" as "Untersberg". As originally +printed: "Charlemagne in the Uniersberg at Salzburg". + +Pages 18-22: Alternate spellings of Leipzig/Leipzic have been left as +printed in the original publication. + +Page 24: A closing quotation is missing in the original publication for +material commencing: "we shall see him as he was, both adventurous and +patient.... + +Page 27: Transcribed "Cosmo" as "Cosimo". As originally printed: "but of +Cosmo de Medici, Lorenzo his great descendant". + +Page 28: Transcribed "Eoratii" as "Horatii". As originally printed: "The +Eoratii, one of the master pieces of David". + +Page 73: Transcribed "bonhommie" as "bonhomie". As originally printed: +"the Visconte, with equal _bonhommie_". + +Page 113: Transcribed "vacilliating" as "vacillating". As originally +printed: "made a blind vacilliating attack". + +Page 127: A closing quotation is missing in the original publication for +material commencing: "I have sometimes thought that if you were to stop +a hundred men.... + +Transcribed "habitučs" as "habitués". As originally printed: "the more +experienced _habitučs_ of office". + +Page 128: Transcribed "Chocň and Popayan" as "Chocó and Popayán". As +originally printed: "deep and humid woods of the provinces of Chocň and +Popayan". + +Transcribed "Caraccas" as "Caracas". As originally printed: "as +identical with the cow tree of Caraccas". + +Page 129: "garnery" in "gathered into the garnery" has been left as +printed in the original publication. Likely misspelling of "granary". + +Page 136: Transcribed "paen" as "pćan". As originally printed: "Till the +full paen". + +Page 139: Transcribed "singleness that of purpose" as "that singleness +of purpose". As originally printed: "They are in some instances without +singleness that of purpose". + +Transcribed "waiver" as "waver". As originally printed: "Howe'er his +faith may waiver". + +Page 142: Transcribed "Pinakotheka" as "Pinakothek". As originally +printed: "destined for the new Pinakotheka". + +Transcribed "François de Villenueve-Bargemont" as "François de +Villeneuve-Bargemont".] + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The International Monthly, Vol. II, +No. I, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, DEC 1, 1850 *** + +***** This file should be named 37872-8.txt or 37872-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/8/7/37872/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Gary Rees and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by Cornell University Digital Collections) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The International Monthly, Vol. II, No. I + December 1, 1850 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: October 28, 2011 [EBook #37872] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, DEC 1, 1850 *** + + + + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Gary Rees and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by Cornell University Digital Collections) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h3>THE</h3> + +<h1>INTERNATIONAL</h1> + +<h2>MONTHLY<br /><br /> + +MAGAZINE<br /><br /> + +Of Literature, Science, and Art.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h2>VOLUME II.</h2> + +<h3>DECEMBER TO MARCH, 1850-51.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>NEW-YORK:</h3> +<div class="center">STRINGER & TOWNSEND, 222 BROADWAY.<br /> +FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.<br /> +BY THE NUMBER, 25 <span class="smcap">Cts</span>.; THE VOLUME, $1; THE YEAR, $3.<br /><br /><br /></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">On</span> completing the second volume of the <span class="smcap">International Magazine</span>, the +publishers appeal to its pages with confidence for confirmation of all +the promises that have been made with regard to its character. They +believe the verdict of the American journals has been unanimous upon the +point that the <i>International</i> has been the best journal of literary +intelligence in the world, keeping its readers constantly advised of the +intellectual activity of Great Britain, Germany, France, the other +European nations, and our own country. As a journal of the fine arts, it +has been the aim of the editor to render it in all respects just, and as +particular as the space allotted to this department would allow. And its +reproductions of the best contemporary foreign literature bear the names +of Walter Savage Landor, Mazzini, Bulwer, Dickens, Thackeray, Barry +Cornwall, Alfred Tennyson, R.M. Milnes, Charles Mackay, Mrs. Browning, +Miss Mitford, Miss Martineau, Mrs. Hall, and others; its original +translations the names of several of the leading authors of the +Continent, and its anonymous selections the titles of the great Reviews, +Magazines, and Journals, as well as of many of the most important new +books in all departments of literature. But the <i>International</i> is not +merely a compilation; it has embraced in the two volumes already issued, +original papers, by Bishop Spencer of Jamaica, Henry Austen Layard, +LL.D., the most illustrious of living travellers and antiquaries, G.P.R. +James, Alfred B. Street, Bayard Taylor, A.O. Hall, R.H. Stoddard, +Richard B. Kimball, Parke Godwin, William C. Richards, John E. Warren, +Elizabeth Oakes Smith, Mary E. Hewitt, Alice Carey, and other authors of +eminence, whose compositions have entitled it to a place in the first +class of original literary periodicals. Besides the writers hitherto +engaged for the <i>International</i>, many of distinguished reputations are +pledged to contribute to its pages hereafter; and the publishers have +taken measures for securing at the earliest possible day the chief +productions of the European press, so that to American readers the +entire Magazine will be as new and fresh as if it were all composed +expressly for their pleasure.</p> + +<p>The style of illustration which has thus far been so much approved by +the readers of the <i>International</i>, will be continued, and among the +attractions of future numbers will be admirable portraits of Irving, +Cooper, Bryant, Halleck, Prescott, Ticknor, Francis, Hawthorne, Willis, +Kennedy, Mitchell, Mayo, Melville, Whipple, Taylor, Dewey, Stoddard, and +other authors, accompanied as frequently as may be with views of their +residences, and sketches of their literary and personal character.</p> + +<p>Indeed, every means possible will be used to render the <i>International +Magazine</i> to every description of persons the most valuable as well as +the most entertaining miscellany in the English language.<br /><br /></p> + +<h3>CONTENTS:<br /> +VOLUME II. DECEMBER TO MARCH, 1850-51.</h3> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">Adams, John, upon Riches,</td><td align="right">426</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Ambitious Brooklet, The.—<i>By A.O. Hall</i>,</td><td align="right">477</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Accidents will Happen.—<i>By C. Astor Bristed</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Anima Mundi.—<i>By R.M. Milnes</i>,</td><td align="right">393</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Astor Library, The. (Illustrated,)</td><td align="right">436</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Attempts to Discover the Northwest Passage, On the,</td><td align="right">166</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Audubon, John James.—<i>By Rufus W. Griswold</i>,</td><td align="right">469</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Age, Old.—<i>By Alfred B. Street</i>,</td><td align="right">474</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" align="justify"> +<i>Arts, The Fine.</i>—Munich and Schwanthaler's "Bavaria," +<a href="#Page_26">26</a>.—Art in Florence, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.—W.W. Story's Return from +Italy, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.—Les Beautes de la France, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.—History of Art +Exhibitions, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.—Enamel Painting at Berlin, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.—Portrait +of Sir Francis Drake, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.—The Vernets, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.—Leutze, +Powers, &c., <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.—Kaulbach, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.—Illustrations of Homer, +<a href="#Page_28">28</a>.—Old Pictures, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.—Michael Angelo, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.—Conversations +by the Academy of Design, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.—David's Napoleon +Crossing the Alps, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.—Gift from the Bavarian Artists to +the King, 190.—Charles Eastlake, 190.—New Picture by +Kaulbach, 190.—Russian Porcelain, 190.—Mr. Healey, +191.—Von Kestner on Art, 191.—Russian Music in Paris, +191.—The Goethe Inheritance, 191.—Art Unions; their +True Character Considered, 191.—Waagner's "Art in the +Future," 313.—Thorwaldsen, 313.—Heidel's "Illustrations +of Goethe," 313.—A New Art, 313.—Albert Durer's Illustrations +of the Prayer Book, 313.—Moritz Rugendus, +and his Sketches of American Scenery, 314.—An Art Union +in Vienna, 314.—New Picture by Kaulbach, 314.—Powers's +"America," 314.—Dr. Baun's Essay on the two +Chief Groups of the Friese of the Parthenon, 314.—Victor +Orsel's Paintings in the Church of Notre Dame de Lorelle, +314.—Ehninger's Illustrations of Irving, 314.—Wolff's +Paris, 314.—M. Leutze's "Washington Crossing +the Delaware," 460.—Discovery of a Picture by Michael +Angelo, 460.—The Munich Art Union, 460. +<i>Authors and Books.</i>—A Visit to Henry Heine, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.—Dr. +Zirckel's "Sketches from and concerning the United +States," <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.—Aerostation, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.—New Works by M. Guizot, +<a href="#Page_17">17</a>.—Works on the German Revolution, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.—Dr. +Zimmer's Universal History, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.—Schlosser, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.—MS. of +Le Bel Discovered, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.—M. Bastiat alive, and plagiarizing, +<a href="#Page_19">19</a>.—Cćsarism, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.—Songs of Carinthia, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.—Mr. +Bryant, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.—Dr. Laing, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.—French Reviewal of Mr. Elliot's +History of Liberty, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.—Dr. Bowring, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.—Henry +Rogers and Reviews, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.—Rabbi Schwartz on the Holy +Land, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.—Mr. John R. Thompson, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.—German Reviewal +of "Fashion," <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.—Ruskin's New Work, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.—Oehlenschlager's +Memoirs, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.—Planche on Lamartine, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.—Prosper +Mérimée, his Book on America, &c., <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.—Hawthorne, +<a href="#Page_22">22</a>.—Matthews, the American Traveller, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.—Professor +Adler's Translation of the Iphigenia in Taurus, +<a href="#Page_23">23</a>.—The Pekin Gazette, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.—New Book by the author +of "Shakespeare and his Friends," <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.—Vaulabelle's +French History, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.—Sir Edward Belcher, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.—Guizot an +Editor again, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.—Life of Southey, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.—Bulwer's <i>Ears</i>, +<a href="#Page_23">23</a>.—The Count de Castelnau on South America, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.—Diplomatic +and Literary Studies of Alexis de Saint Priest, +<a href="#Page_24">24</a>.—Mrs. Putnam's Review of Bowen, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.—Herr Thaer, +<a href="#Page_24">24</a>.—New Work announced in England, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.—"Sir Roger +de Coverley; by the Spectator," <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.—Memoir of Judge +Story, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.—Garland's Life of John Randolph, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.—Sir +Edgerton Brydges's edition of Milton's Poems, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.—The +Keepsake, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.—Gray's Poems, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.—Rev. Professor Weir, +<a href="#Page_25">25</a>.—Douglas Jerrold's Complete Works, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.—Memoirs +of the Poet Wordsworth, by his Nephew, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.—New German +books on Hungary, 173.—"Polish Population in +Galicia," 173.—Travels and Ethnological works of Professor +Reguly, 174.—Works on Ethnology, published by +the Austrian Government, 174.—Karl Gutzlow, 174.—Neandar's +Library, 174.—Karl Simrock's Popular Songs, +175.—Belgian Literature, 175.—Prof. Johnston's Work on +America, 175.—Literary and Scientific Works at Giessen, +175.—Beranger, 175.—The House of the "Wandering +Jew," 176.—The Count de Tocqueville upon Dr. Franklin, +&c., 176.—Audubon's Last Work, 176.—Book Fair at +Leipsic, 176.—Baroness von Beck, 177.—Berghaus's Magazine, +Albert Gallatin, &c., 177.—Auerback's Tales, 177.—Baron +Sternberg, 177.—"The New Faith Taught in +Art," 177.—Freiligrath, 177.—New Adventure and Discovery +in Africa, 178.—French Almanacs, 178.—The <i>Algemeine</i> +<i>Zeitung</i> on Literary Women, 178.—Cormenin +on War, 178.—Writers of "Young France," 179.—George +Sand's Last Works, 179.—New Books on the French Revolution, +Mirabeau, Massena, &c., 179.—Cousin, 179.—Tomb +of Godfrey of Bouillon, 179.—Maxims of Frederic +the Great, 179.—New Poems by Elizabeth Barrett +Browning, 180.—Rectorship of Glasgow University, +180.—Tennyson, 180.—Mayhew, D'Israeli, Leigh Hunt, +The Earl of Carlisle, &c., 180.—New Work by Joseph +Balmes, 180.—The late Mrs. Bell Martin, 181.—The <i>Athenćum</i> +on Mrs. Mowatt's Novels, 181.—New work by +Mrs. Southworth, 181.—Charles Mackay, sent to India, +182.—Pensions to Literary Men, 182.—German Translation +of Ticknor's History of Spanish Literature, 182.—David +Copperfield, 183.—D.D. Field and the English Lawyers, +183.—Louisiana Historical Collections, 183.—Elihu +Burritt's Absurdities, 184.—John Mills, 184.—Dr. Latham's +"Races of Men," 184.—"Homœopathic Review, +184.—Bohn's Publications, 184.—Professor Reed's Rhetoric, +185.—Mr. Bancroft's forthcoming History, 185.—Dr. +Schoolcraft, 185.—MS. of Dr. Johnson's Memoirs, +185.—Literary "Discoveries," 185.—M. Girardin, 185.—Vulgar +Lying of the last English Traveller in America, +186.—The Real Peace Congress, 186.—Milton, Burke, +Mazzini, Webster, 187.—Sir Francis Head, 187.—Dr. +Bloomfield, 187.—New Book by Mr. Cooper, 187.—Mr. +Judd's "Richard Edney," 187.—E.G. Squier, Hawthorne, +&c., 187.—The Author of "Olive," on the Sphere +of Woman, 188.—Flemish Poems, 188.—"Lives of the +Queens of Scotland," 188.—John S. Dwight, 188.—History +of the Greek Revolution, 188.—New Edition of the +Works of Goethe, 188.—W.G. Simms, Dr. Holmes, &c., +188.—The Songs of Pierre Dupont, 189.—Arago and +Prudhon, 189.—Charles Sumner, 189.—"The Manhattaner +in New Orleans," 189.—"Reveries of a Bachelor," +"Vala," &c., 189.—Of Personalities, 297.—Last Work +of Oersted, 298.—New Dramas, 299.—German Novels, +300.—Hungarian Literature, 301.—New German Book on +America, 301.—Ruckert's "Annals of German History," +301.—Zschokke's Private Letters, 301.—Works by Bender +and Burmeister, 301.—The Countess Hahn-Hahn, 302.—"Value +of Goethe as a Poet," 302.—Hagen's History of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span>Recent Times, 302.—Cotta's Illustrated Bible, 302.—Wallon's +History of Slavery, 302.—Translation of the Journal +of the U.S. Exploring Expedition into German, 302.—Richter's +Translation of Mrs. Barbauld, 302.—Bodenstet's +New Book on the East, 302.—Third Part of Humboldt's +"Cosmos," &c., 303.—Dr. Espe, 303.—The Works of +Neander, 303.—Works of Luther, 303.—<i>L'Universe Pittoresque</i>, +303.—M. Nisard, 303.—French Documentary +Publications, 303.—M. Ginoux, 303.—M. Veron, 304.—Eugene +Sue's New Books, 304.—George Sand in the Theatre, +304.—Alphonse Karr, 304.—Various new Publications +in Paris, 304.—The Catholic Church and Pius IX., +305.—Notices of Hayti, 305.—Work on Architecture, by +Gailhabaud, 305.—Italian Monthly Review, 305.—Discovery +of Letters by Pope, 305.—Lord Brougham, 305.—Alice +Carey, 305.—Mrs. Robinson ("Talvi"), 306.—New +Life of Hannah More, 306.—Professor Hackett on the +Alps, 306.—Mrs. Anita George, 307.—Life and Works of +Henry Wheaton, 308.—R.R. Madden, 308.—Rev. E.H. +Chapin on "Woman," 308.—Discovery of Historical Documents +of Quebec, 308.—Professor Andrews's Latin Lexicon, +309.—"Salander," by Mr. Shelton, 309.—Prof. Bush +on Pneumatology, 309.—Satire on the Rappers, by J.R. +Lowell, 309.—Henry C. Phillips on the Scenery of the +Central Regions of America, 310.—Sam. Adams no Defaulter, +310.—Mr. Willis, 310.—Life of Calvin, 310.—Notes +of a Howadje, 310.—Mr. Putnam's "World's Progress," +310.—Mr. Whittier, 310.—New Volume of Hildreth's +History of the United States, 311.—The Memorial of Mrs. +Osgood, 311.—Fortune Telling in Paris, 311.—Writings of +Hartley Coleridge, 311.—New Books forthcoming in +London, 312.—Mr. Cheever's "Island World of the Pacific," +312.—Works of Bishop Onderdonk, 312.—Moreau's +<i>Imitatio Christi</i>, 312.—New German Poems, 312.—Schröder +on the Jews, 312.—Arago on Ballooning, 312.—Books +prohibited at Naples, 312.—Notices of Mazzini, +313.—Charles Augustus Murray, 313.—New History of +Woman, 313.—Letters on Humboldt's Cosmos, 446.—German +Version of the "Vestiges of Creation," 447.—Hegel's +<i>Aesthetik</i>, 447.—New Work in France on the Origin +of the Human Race, 448.—Lelewel on the Geography +of the Middle Ages, 448.—More German Novels, 448.—"Man +in the Mirror of Nature," 449.—Herr Kielhau, on +Geology, 449.—Proposed Prize for a Defence of Absolutism, +449.—Werner's Christian Ethics, 449.—William +Meinhold, 449.—Prize History of the Jews, 449.—English +Version of Mrs. Robinson's Work on America, 449.—Poems +by Jeanne Marie, 449.—General Gordon's Memoirs, +449.—George Sand's New Drama, 449.—Other New +French Plays, 451.—M. Cobet's History of France, 451.—Rev. +G.R. Gleig, 451.—Ranke's Discovery of MSS. by +Richelieu, 451.—George Sand on Bad Spelling, 451.—Lola +Montes, 451.—Montalembert, 451.—Glossary of the +Middle Ages, 451.—A Coptic Grammar, 451.—The Italian +Revolution, 452.—Italian Archćological Society, 452.—Abaddie, +the French Traveller, 452.—The Vatican Library, +452.—New Ode by Piron, 452.—Posthumous Works of +Rossi, 452.—Bailey, the Author of "Festus," 453.—Clinton's +<i>Fasti</i>, 453.—Captain Cunningham, 453.—Dixon's +Life of Penn, 453.—Literary Women in England, 453.—Miss +Martineau's History of the Last Half Century, +453.—The Lexington Papers, 453.—Captain Medwin, +453.—John Clare, 454.—De Quincy's Writings, 454.—Bulwer's +Poems, 454.—Episodes of Insect Life, 454.—Dr. +Achilli, 454.—Samuel Bailey, 454.—Major Poussin, and +his Work on the United States, 454.—French Collections +in Political Economy, 455.—Joseph Gales, 456.—Rev. +Henry T. Cheever, 456.—Job R. Tyson on Colonial History, +456.—Henry James, 456.—Torrey and Neander, +457.—Works of John C. Calhoun, 457.—Historic Certainties +respecting Early America, 457.—Mr. Schoolcraft, +457.—Dr. Robert Knox, 458.—Mr. Boker's Plays, 458.—The +<i>Literary World</i> upon a supposed Letter of Washington, +458.—Dr. Ducachet's Dictionary of the Church, +458.—Edith May's Poems, 458.—The American Philosophical +Society, 458.—Professor Hows, 458.—Mr. Redfield's +Publications, 458.—Rev. William W. Lord's New +Poem, 450.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Battle of the Churches in England,</td><td align="right">327</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Ballad of Jessie Carol.—<i>By Alice Carey</i>,</td><td align="right">230</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Barry Cornwall's Last Song,</td><td align="right">392</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Bereaved Mother, To a.—<i>By Hermann</i>,</td><td align="right">476</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Biographies, Memoirs, &c.,</td><td align="right">425</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Black Pocket-Book, The,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Bombay, A View of.—<i>By Peter Leicester</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Boswell, The Killing of Sir Alexander,</td><td align="right">329</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Brontë and her Sisters, Sketches of Miss,</td><td align="right">315</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Burke, Edmund, His Residences and Grave.—<i>By Mrs. S.C. Hall</i>. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right">145</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Bunjaras, The,</td><td align="right">377</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Burlesques and Parodies,</td><td align="right">426</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Byron, Scott, and Carlyle, Goethe's Opinions of,</td><td align="right">461</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Camille Desmoulins,</td><td align="right">326</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Carey, Henry C.—<i>By Rufus W. Griswold</i>,</td><td align="right">402</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Castle in the Air, The.—<i>By R.H. Stoddard</i>,</td><td align="right">474</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Chatterton, Thomas. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right">289</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Classical Novels,</td><td align="right">161</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Count Monte-Leone. Book Second,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Count Monte-Leone. Book Third,</td><td align="right">216</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Count Monte-Leone. Book Third, concluded,</td><td align="right">349</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Count Monte-Leone. Book Fourth,</td><td align="right">495</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Cow-Tree of South America, The,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Correspondence, Original: A Letter from Paris,</td><td align="right">170</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Cyprus and the Life Led There,</td><td align="right">216</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Davis on the Half Century: Etherization,</td><td align="right">317</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Dacier, Madame,</td><td align="right">332</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Dante.—<i>By Walter Savage Landor</i>,</td><td align="right">421</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Death, Phenomena of,</td><td align="right">425</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" align="justify"> +<i>Deaths, Recent</i>.—Hon. Samuel Young, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.—Robinson, the +Caricaturist, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.—The Duke of Palmella, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.—Carl +Rottmann, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.—The Marquis de Trans, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.—Ch. Schorn, +<a href="#Page_142">142</a>.—Hon. Richard M. Johnson, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.—Wm. Blacker, +<a href="#Page_142">142</a>.—Mrs. Martin Bell, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.—Signor Baptistide, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.—Gen. +Chastel, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.—Dr. Medicus, and others, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.—Rev. +Dr. Dwight, 195.—Count Brandenburgh, 196.—Lord Nugent, +196.—M. Fragonard, 196.—M. Droz, 197.—Professor +Schorn, 197.—Gustave Schwab, 197.—Francis Xavier +Michael Tomie, 427.—Governors Bell and Plumer, 427.—Birch, +the Painter, 427.—Professor Sverdrup, W. Seguin, +Mrs. Ogilvy, 427.—W. Howison, 428.—H. Royer-Collard, +428.—Col. Williams, 428.—William Sturgeon, 428.—J.B. +Anthony, 428.—Mr. Osbaldiston, 428.—Professor Mau, +428.—Madame Junot, Mrs. Wallack, &c., 428.—Herman +Kriege, 429.—Madame Schmalz, 429.—George Spence, +429.—General Lumley, 429.—Robert Roscoe, 429.—Richie, +the Sculptor, 429.—Martin d'Auch, 429.—Rev. Walter +Colton, 568.—Major d'Avezac, 569.—M. Asser, 569.—M. +Lapie, 569.—Professor Link, 569.—General St. Martin, +570.—Frederick Bastiat, 570.—Benjamin W. Crowninshield, +571.—Professor Anstey, 571.—Donald McKenzie, +572.—Horace Everett, LL.D., 572.—James Harfield, +572.—Wm. Wilson, 572.—Professor James Wallace, +572.—Joshua Milne, 572.—General Bem, 573.—T.S. Davies, +F.R.S., 573.—H.C. Schumacher, 573.—W.H. Maxwell, +573.—Alexander McDonald, 573.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Dickens, To Charles.—<i>By Walter Savage Landor</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Drive Round our Neighborhood, in 1850, A.—<i>By Miss Milford</i>, </td><td align="right">270</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Duty.—<i>By Alfred B. Street</i>,</td><td align="right">332</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Duchess, A Peasant,</td><td align="right">169</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Edward Layton's Reward.—<i>By Mrs. S.C. Hall</i>,</td><td align="right">201</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Editorial Visit, An,</td><td align="right">421</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Egypt under the Pharaohs.—<i>By John Kinrick</i>,</td><td align="right">322<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Encouragement of Literature by Governments,</td><td align="right">160</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Exclusion of Love from the Greek Drama,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Fountain in the Wood, The,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">French Generals of To-Day,</td><td align="right">334</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Gateway of the Oceans,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Ghetto of Rome,</td><td align="right">393</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Gleanings from the Journals,</td><td align="right">285</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Grief of the Weeping Willow,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Haddock, Charles B., Charge d'Affaires to Portugal. (With a Portrait on steel.)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Hecker, Herr, described by Madame Blaze de Bury,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" align="justify"> +<i>Historical Review.</i>—The United States, 560.—Europe, +564.—Mexico, 565.—British America, 566.—The West +Indies, 566.—Central America, the Isthmus, 566.—South +America, 567.—Africa, 567.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Hunt, Leigh, upon G.P.R. James,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Ireland in the Last Age: Curran,</td><td align="right">519</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Journals of Louis Philippe,</td><td align="right">377</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Kellogg's, Mr., Exploration of Mt. Sinai,</td><td align="right">462</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Kimball, Richard B., the Author of "St. Leger." (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right">156</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Layard's Recent Gifts from Nimroud. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Layard, Austen Henry, LL.D. (With a Portrait,)</td><td align="right">433</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Lafayette, Talleyrand, Metternich, and Napoleon.—<i>Sketched by Lord Holland</i>,</td><td align="right">465</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Last Case of the Supernatural,</td><td align="right">481</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Lectures, Popular,</td><td align="right">319</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Life at a Watering Place.—<i>By C. Astor Bristed</i>,</td><td align="right">240</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Lionne at a Watering Place, The,</td><td align="right">533</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Lost Letter, The,</td><td align="right">522</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Mazzini on Italy,</td><td align="right">265</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Mackay, Charles, Last Poems by,</td><td align="right">348</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Marvel, Andrew. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right">438</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Mother's Last Song, The.—<i>By Barry Cornwall</i>,</td><td align="right">270</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" align="justify"><i>Music and the Drama</i>.—The Astor Place Opera, Parodi, +<a href="#Page_29">29</a>.—Mrs. Oake Smith's New Tragedy, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Mystic Vial, The, Part i.</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Mystic Vial, The, Part ii.</td><td align="right">249</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Mystic Vial, The, Part iii.</td><td align="right">378</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">My Novel, Or Varieties in English Life.—<i>By Sir Edward +Bulwer Lytton</i>, Book II. Chapters i. to vi.</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Book II. Chapters vii. to xii.</span></td><td align="right">273</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Book III. Chapters i. to xii.</span></td><td align="right">273</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Book III. Chapters xiii. to xxvii.</span></td><td align="right">273</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Murder Market, The,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">New Tales by Miss Martineau—The Old Governess,</td><td align="right">163</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Novelist's Appeal for the Canadas, A,</td><td align="right">443</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Old Times in New-York,</td><td align="right">320</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Osgood, The late Mrs.—<i>By Rufus W. Griswold</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Paris Fashions for December. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Paris Fashions for January. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right">286</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Paris Fashions for February. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right">431</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Paris Fashions for March. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right">567</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Peace Society, The First,</td><td align="right">321</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Penn, (William,) and Macaulay,</td><td align="right">336</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Pleasant Story of a Swallow,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Poet's Lot, The.—<i>By the author of "Festus,"</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Power's, Hiram, Greek Slave.—<i>By Elizabeth Barret Browning</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Poems by S.G. Goodrich, A Biographical Review. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right">153</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Public Libraries, Ancient and Modern,</td><td align="right">359</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Recent Deaths in the Family of Orleans,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Reminiscences of Paganini,</td><td align="right">167</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Responsibility of Statesmen,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rossini in the Kitchen,</td><td align="right">321</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Scandalous French Dances in American Parlors,</td><td align="right">333</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" align="justify"> +<i>Scientific Miscellany.</i>—Hydraulic Experiments in Paris, +430.—French Populations, 430.—African Exploring Expedition, +430.—The Hungarian Academy, 430.—Gas +from Water, &c., 430.—The French "Annuaire," 573.—Sittings +of the Academy of Sciences, 573.—New Scientific +Publications, 574.—Sir David Brewster, 574.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sir Nicholas at Marston Moor.—<i>By Winthrop M. Praed</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sliding Scale of Inconsolables. From the French,</td><td align="right">162</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Smiths, The Two Miss.—<i>By Mrs. Crowe</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Song of the Season.—<i>By Charles Mackay</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sounds from Home.—<i>By Alice G. Neal</i>,</td><td align="right">332</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Spencer, Aubrey George, LL.D., Bishop of Jamaica,</td><td align="right">157</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Spirit of the English Annuals for 1851,</td><td align="right">197</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Stanzas.—<i>By Alfred Tennyson</i>,</td><td align="right">273</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Statues.—<i>By Walter Savage Landor</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Story Without a Name, A.—<i>By G.P.R. James</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Chapters vi. to ix.</span></td><td align="right">205</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Chapters x. to xiii.</span></td><td align="right">337</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Chapters xiv. to xvii.</span></td><td align="right">482</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Story of Calais, A.—<i>By Richard B. Kimball</i>,</td><td align="right">231</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Story of a Poet,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Swift, Dean, and his Amours. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Temper of Women,</td><td align="right">437</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Theatrical Criticism in the Last Age,</td><td align="right">334</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">To a Celebrated Singer.—<i>By R.H. Stoddard</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">To one in Affliction.—<i>By G.R. Thompson</i>,</td><td align="right">541</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Troost, of Tennessee, The Late Dr.</td><td align="right">332</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Twickenham Ghost, The,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Valetudinarian, The Confirmed.—<i>By Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton</i>,</td><td align="right">203</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Vampire, The Last.—<i>By Mrs. Crowe</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Voltigeur.—<i>By W.H. Thackeray</i>,</td><td align="right">197</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Voisenen, The Abbé de, and his Times,</td><td align="right">511</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Wane of the Year, The,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Webster, LL.D., Horace, and the Free Academy. (Portrait.)</td><td align="right">444</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Wearing the Beard.—<i>Dr. Marcy</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Wiseman, Dr., Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Wild Sports in Algeria.—<i>By Jules Gerard</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Wolf Chase, The.—<i>By C. Whitehead</i>,</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 276px;"><br /><br /> +<img src="images/i_12f.jpg" alt="C.B. Haddock" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE</h1> + +<h2>of Literature, Art, and Science.</h2> + +<table width="100%" style="margin-left: 0; margin-right: 0;" summary=""> +<tr><td class="simh3" align="left">Vol. II.</td><td class="simh3" align="center">NEW YORK, DECEMBER 1, 1850.</td><td class="simh3" align="right">No. I.</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="center"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a><span class="simh3">OUR DIPLOMATIC SERVANTS.</span></div> +<div class="center">CHARLES B. HADDOCK,<br /> +CHARGE D'AFFAIRES FOR PORTUGAL.<br /></div> +<div class="c75">[With a Portrait, Engraved by J. Andrews.]</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>LD notions of diplomacy are obsolete. The plain, straightforward, and +masterly manner in which Daniel Webster and Lord Ashburton managed the +difficult affairs which a few years ago threatened war between this +country and England have taught mankind a useful lesson on this subject. +We perceive that the London <i>Times</i> has been engaged in a controversy +whether there should be diplomatists or no diplomatists, whether, in +fact, the profession should survive; arguing from this case conducted by +our illustrious Secretary and Lord Ashburton, that negotiation in +foreign countries is plain sailing for great men, and that common agents +would do the necessary business on ordinary occasions. We are not +prepared to accept the doctrine of the <i>Times</i>, though ready enough to +admit that it is to be preferred to the employment of such persons as +many whom we have sent abroad in the last twenty years—many who now in +various capacities represent the United States in foreign countries. +Upon this question however we do not propose now to enter. It is one +which may be deferred still a long time—until the means of +intercommunication shall be greater than steam and electricity have yet +made them, or until the evils of unworthy representation shall have +driven people to the possible dangers of an abandonment of the system +without such a reason. We design in this and future numbers of the +<i>International</i> simply to give a few brief personal sketches of the most +honorably distinguished of the diplomatic servants of the United States +now abroad, and we commence with the newly-appointed <i>Charge d'Affaires</i> +to Lisbon.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Charles Brickett Haddock</span> was born at Salisbury (now Franklin), New +Hampshire, on the 20th of June, 1796. His father, William Haddock, was a +native of Haverhill, Massachusetts. His paternal grandfather removed +from Boston to Haverhill, and married a sister of Dr. Charles Brickett, +an eminent physician of that town. The family, according to a tradition +among them, are descended from Admiral Sir Richard Haddocke, one of ten +sons and eleven daughters of Mr. Haddocke, of Lee, in England. Richard +Haddocke was an eminent officer in the Royal Navy. He was knighted +before 1678, and returned a member of Parliament the same year, and +again in 1685. He died in 1713, and was buried in the family vault at +Lee, where there is a gravestone, with brass plates on which are +engraved portraits of his father, his father's three wives, and thirteen +sons and eleven daughters.</p> + +<p>The mother of Dr. Haddock was Abigail Webster, a favorite sister of +Ezekiel and Daniel Webster, who, with Sarah, were the only children of +the Hon. Ebenezer Webster by his second wife, Abigail Eastman, who +survived her husband and all her daughters. Mrs. Haddock was a woman of +strong character, and greatly beloved in society. She died in December, +1805, at the age of twenty-seven, leaving two sons, Charles and William, +one about nine and the other seven years of age. Her last words to her +husband were, "I leave you two beautiful boys: my wish is that you +should educate them both." The injunction was not forgotten; both were +in due time placed at a preparatory school in Salisbury, both entered +Dartmouth College, and without an academic censure or reproof graduated +with distinction.</p> + +<p>The younger, having studied the profession of the law, married a +daughter of Mills Olcott, of Hanover, and after a few years, rich in +promise of professional eminence, died of consumption at Hanover, in +1835.</p> + +<p>The elder, Charles B. Haddock, was born in the house in which his +grandfather first lived, after he removed to the river, in Franklin; +though his childhood was chiefly spent at Elms Farms, in the mansion +built by his father, and now the favorite residence of his uncle, Daniel +Webster,—a spot hardly equaled for picturesque and tranquil beauty in +that part of New England. How much of his rural tastes and gentle +feelings the professor owes to the place of his nativity it is not for +us to determine. It is certain that a fitter scene to inspire the +sentiments for which he is distinguished, and which he delights to +refresh by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> frequent visits to these scenes, could not well be imagined. +Every hill and valley, every rock and eddy, seem to be familiar to him, +and to have a legend for his heart. His earliest distinct recollections, +he has often been heard to say, are the burial of a sister younger than +himself, his own baptism at the bedside of his dying mother, and the +death of his grandfather; and the first things that awakened a romantic +emotion were the flight of the night-hawk and the note of the +whippoorwill, both uncommonly numerous and noticeable there in summer +evenings.</p> + +<p>From 1807 he was in the academy during the summer months, and attended +the common school in winter, until 1811, when, in his sixteenth year, he +taught his own first winter school. It had been his fortune to have as +instructors persons destined to unusual eminence: Mr. Richard Fletcher, +now one of the justices of the Superior Court of Massachusetts; Justice +Willard, of Springfield; the Rev. Edward L. Parker, of Londonderry; and +Nathaniel H. Carter, the well-known poet and general writer. It was +under Mr. Carter that he first felt a genuine love of learning; and he +has always ascribed more of his literary tastes, to his insensible +influence, as he read to him Virgil and Cicero, than to any other living +teacher. His earliest Latin book was the Ćneid, over the first half of +which he had, summer after summer, fatigued and vexed himself, before +the idea occurred to him that it was an epic poem; and that idea came to +him at length not from his teachers, but from a question of his uncle, +Daniel Webster, about the descent of the hero into the infernal regions. +When a proper impression of its design was once formed, and some +familiarity with the language was acquired, Virgil was run through with +great rapidity: half a book in a day. So also with Cicero: an oration at +a lesson. There was no verbal accuracy acquired or attempted; but a +ready mastery of the current of discourse—a familiarity with the point +and spirit of the work. In August, 1812, he was admitted a freshman in +Dartmouth College. It was a small class, but remarkable from having +produced a large number of eminent men, among whom we may mention George +A. Simmons, a distinguished lawyer in northern New York, and one of the +profoundest philosophers in this country; Dr. Absalom Peters; President +Wheeler, of the University of Vermont; Governor Hubbard, of Maine; and +Professor Joseph Torrey, of the University of Vermont, since so +honorably known as the learned translator of Neander, and as being +without a superior among American scholars in a knowledge of the +profounder German literature. The late illustrious and venerated Dr. +James Marsh, the editor of Coleridge, and the only pupil of that great +metaphysician who was the peer of his master, was of the class below +his, and was an intimate companion in study.</p> + +<p>From the beginning of his college life it was his ambition to +distinguish himself. By the general consent of his classmates, and by +the appointment of the faculty, he held the first place at each public +exhibition through the four years in which he was a student, and at the +last commencement was complimented with having the order of the parts, +according to which the Latin salutatory had hitherto been first, so +changed that he might still have precedence and yet have the English +valedictory. During his junior year, his mind was first decidedly turned +toward religion, and with Wheeler, Torrey, Marsh, and some forty others, +he made a public profession. The two years after he left college were +spent at Andover, in the study of divinity. While here, with Torrey, +Wheeler, Marsh, and one or two more, he joined in a critical reading of +Virgil—an exercise of great value in enlarging a command of his own +language, as well as his knowledge of Latin. At the close of the second +year he was attacked with hemorrhage of the lungs, and advised to try a +southern climate for the winter. He sailed in October, 1818, for +Charleston, and spent the winter in that city and in Savannah, with +occasional visits into the surrounding country. The following summer he +traveled, chiefly on horseback, and in company with the Rev. Pliny Fisk, +from Charleston home. To this tour he ascribes his recovery. He soon +after took his master's degree, and was appointed the first Professor of +Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres in Dartmouth College. From that time a +change was obvious in the literary spirit of the instruction given at +the institution. The department to which he was called became very soon +the most attractive in the college, and some of the most distinguished +orators of our country are pleased to admit that they obtained their +first impressions of true eloquence and a correct style from the +youthful professor. He introduced readings in the Scriptures, and in +Shakspeare, Milton, and Young, with original criticisms by his pupils on +particular features of the principal works of genius, as the hell of +Virgil, Dante, and Milton; and the prominent characters of the best +tragedies, as the Jew of Cumberland and of Shakspeare; and +extemporaneous discussions of ćsthetical and political questions, as +upon the authenticity of Ossian, the authorship of Homer, the sincerity +of Cromwell, or the expediency of the execution of Charles. He also +exerted his influence in founding an association for familiar written +and oral discussions in literature, in which Dr. Edward Oliver, Dr. +James Marsh, Professor Fiske, Mr. Rufus Choate, Professor Chamberlain, +and others, acted a prominent part.</p> + +<p>He retained this chair until August, 1838, when he was appointed to that +of Intellectual Philosophy and Political Economy, which he now holds, +but, which, of course, will be occupied by another during his absence in +the public service—the faculty having declined on any account to accept +his resignation or to appoint a successor.</p> + +<p>Dr. Haddock has been invited to the profes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>sorship of rhetoric in +Hamilton College, and to the presidency of that institution, the +presidency and a professorship in the Auburn Theological Seminary, the +presidency of Bowdoin College, and, less formally, to that of several +other colleges in New England.</p> + +<p>In public affairs, he has for four successive years been a +representative in the New Hampshire Legislature, and in this period was +active in introducing the present common school system of the State, and +was the first commissioner of common schools, originating the course of +action in that important office which has since been pursued. He was one +of the fathers of the railroad system in New Hampshire, and his various +speeches had the effect to change the policy of the State on this +subject. He addressed the first convention called at Lebanon to consider +the practicability of a road across the State, and afterward a similar +convention at Montpelier. For two years he lectured every Sabbath +evening to the students and to the people of the village, on the +historical portions of the New Testament. For several years he held +weekly meetings for the interpretation of Scripture, in which the ladies +of the village met at his house. And for twenty years he has constantly +preached to vacant parishes in the vicinity. He has delivered +anniversary orations before the Phi Beta Kappa Societies of Dartmouth +and Yale, the Rhetorical Societies of Andover and Bangor, the Religious +Society of the University of Vermont, the New Hampshire Historical +Society, and the New England Society of New York; numerous lyceum +lectures, in Boston, Lowell, Salem, Portsmouth, Manchester, New Bedford, +and other places; and of the New Hampshire Education Society he was +twelve or fifteen years secretary, publishing annual reports. The +principal periodicals to which he has contributed are the <i>Biblical +Repository</i> and the <i>Bibliotheca Sacra</i>. A volume of his <i>Addresses and +Miscellaneous Writings</i> was published in 1846, and he has now a work on +rhetoric in preparation.</p> + +<p>He has been twice married—the last time to a sister of Mr. Kimball, the +author of "St. Leger," &c. He has three children living, and has buried +seven.</p> + +<p>In agriculture, gardening, and public improvements of all kinds, he has +taken a lively interest. The rural ornaments of the town in which he +lives owe much to him. He may be said to have introduced the fruit and +horticulture which are now becoming so abundant as luxuries, and so +remarkable as ornaments of the village.</p> + +<p>In 1843 he received the degree of D.D. from Bowdoin College. Of +Dartmouth College nearly half the graduates are his pupils. While +commissioner of common schools, he published a series of letters to +teachers and students which were more generally republished in the +various papers of the country than anything else of the kind ever before +written. Perhaps no one in this country has discussed so great a variety +of subjects. His essays upon the proper standard of education for the +pulpit, addresses on the utility of certain proposed lines of railway, +orations on the duties of the citizen to the state, lectures before +various medical societies, speeches in the New Hampshire House of +Representatives, letters written while commissioner of common schools, +contributions to periodicals, addresses before a great variety of +literary associations, writings on agriculture and gardening, yearly +reports on education, lectures on classical learning, rhetoric and +belles-lettres, and sermons, delivered weekly for more than twenty +years, illustrate a life of remarkable activity, and dedicated to the +best interests of mankind. Unmoved by the calls of ambition, which might +have tempted him to some one great and engrossing effort, his aim has +been the general good of the people.</p> + +<p>The following extract from the dedication, to his pupils, of his +<i>Addresses and Miscellaneous Writings</i>, evinces something of his +purpose:</p> + +<p>"It is now five-and-twenty years since I adopted the resolution never to +refuse to attempt anything consistent with my professional duties, in +the cause of learning, or religion, which I might be invited to do. This +resolution I have not at any time regretted, and perhaps I may say, I +have not essentially violated it. However this may be, I have never +suffered from want of something to do."</p> + +<p>Professor Haddock's style is remarkable for purity and correctness. His +sentences are all finished sentences, never subject to an injurious +verbal criticism, without a mistake of any kind, or a grammatical error.</p> + +<p>We have not written of Dr. Haddock as a politician; but he is a +thoroughly informed statesman, profoundly versed in public law, and +familiar with all the policy and aims of the American government. He is +of course a Whig. He has been educated, politically, in the school of +his illustrious uncle, and probably no man living is more thoroughly +acquainted with Mr. Webster's views, or more capable of their +application in affairs. It is therefore eminently suitable that he +should be on the list of our representatives abroad, while the foreign +department is under Mr. Webster's administration. The Whig party in New +Hampshire have not been insensible of Dr. Haddock's surpassing +abilities, of his sagacity, or his merits. Could they have done so, they +would have made him Governor, or a senator in Congress, on any of the +occasions in many years in which such officers have been chosen. +Considered without reference to party, we can think of no gentleman in +the country who would be likely to represent the United States more +worthily at foreign courts, or who by his capacities, suavity of manner, +or honorable nature, would make a more pleasing and desirable impression +upon the most highly cultivated society. Those who know him well will +assent to the justness of a classification which places him in the same +list of intellectual diplomats which embraces Bunsen, Guizot, and our +own Everett, Irving, Bancroft and Marsh.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +<img src="images/i_16f.jpg" alt="" title="" /><br /> +<span class="caption">No. I.—WINGED HUMAN-HEADED BULL.</span> +</div> + +<h3>DR. LAYARD'S RECENT GIFTS FROM NIMROUD.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> researches of no antiquary or traveler in modern times have excited +so profound an interest as those of <span class="smcap">Austen Henry Layard</span>, who has +summoned the kings and people of Nineveh through three thousand years to +give their testimony against the skeptics of our age in support of the +divine revelation. In a former number of <i>The International</i> we +presented an original and very interesting letter from Dr. Layard +himself, upon the nature and bearing of his discoveries. Since then he +has sent to London, where they have arrived in safety, several of the +most important sculptures described in his work republished here last +year by Mr. Putnam. Among them are the massive and imposing statues of a +human-headed bull and a human-headed lion, of which we have engravings +in some of the London journals. The <i>Illustrated London News</i> describes +these specimens of ancient art as follows:</p> + +<p>"No. I. is the Human-Headed and Eagle-Winged Bull. This animal would +seem to bear some analogy to the Egyptian sphynx, which represents the +head of the King upon the body of the lion, and is held by some to be +typical of the union of intellectual power with physical strength. The +sphynx of the Egyptians, however, is invariably sitting, whereas the +Nimroud figure is always represented standing. The apparent resemblance +being so great, it is at least worthy of consideration whether the head +on the winged animals of the Ninevites may not be that of the King, and +the intention identical with that of the sphynx; though we think it more +probable that there is no such connection, and that the intention of the +Ninevites was to typify their god under the common emblems of +intelligence, strength and swiftness, as signified by the additional +attributes of the bird. The specimen immediately before us is of gypsum, +and of colossal dimensions, the slab being ten feet square by two feet +in thickness. It was situated at the entrance of a chamber, being built +into the side of the door, so that one side and a front view only could +be seen by the spectator. Accordingly, the Ninevite sculptor, in order +to make both views perfect, has given the animal five legs. The four +seen in the side view show the animal in the act of walking; while, to +render the representation complete in the front view, he has repeated +the right fore leg again, but in the act of standing motionless. The +countenance is noble and benevolent in expression; the fea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>tures are of +true Persian type; he wears an egg-shaped cap, with three horns and a +cord round the base of it. The hair at the back of the head has seven +ranges of curls; and the beard, as in the portraits of the King, is +divided into three ranges of curls, with intervals of wavy hair. In the +ears, which are those of a bull, are pendent ear-rings. The whole of the +dewlap is covered with tiers of curls, and four rows are continued +beneath the ribs along the whole flank; on the back are six rows of +curls, and upon the haunch a square bunch, ranged successively, and down +the back of the thigh four rows. The hair at the end of the tail is +curled like the beard, with intervals of wavy hair. The hair at the knee +joints is likewise curled, terminating in the profile views of the limbs +in a single curl of the kind (if we may use the term) called <i>croche +cœur</i>. The elaborately sculptured wings extend over the back of the +animal to the very verge of the slab. All the flat surface of the slab +is covered with cuneiform inscription; there being twenty-two lines +between the fore legs, twenty-one lines in the middle, nineteen lines +between the hind legs, and forty-seven lines between the tail and the +edge of the slab. The whole of this slab is unbroken, with the exception +of the fore-feet, which arrived in a former importation, but which are +now restored to their proper place.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i_17f.jpg" alt="" title="" /><br /> +<span class="caption">No. II.—WINGED HUMAN-HEADED LION.</span> +</div> + +<p>"No. II. represents the Human-Headed and Winged Lion—nine feet long, +and the same in height; and in purpose and position the same as the +preceding, which, however, it does not quite equal in execution. In this +relievo we have the same head, with the egg-shaped three-horned +head-dress, exactly like that of the bull; but the ear is human, and not +that of a lion. The beard and hair of the head are even yet more +elaborately curled than the last; but the hair on the legs and sides of +the animal represents that shaggy appendage of the animal. Round the +loins is a succession of numerous cords, which are drawn into four +separate knots; at the extremities are fringes, forming as many distinct +tassels. At the end of the tail, the claw—on which we commented in a +former article—is distinctly visible. The strength of both animals is +admirably and characteristically conveyed. Upon the flat surface of this +slab, as in the last, is a cuneiform inscription; twenty lines being +between the fore legs, twenty-six in the middle, eighteen between the +hind legs, and seventy-one at the back."</p> + +<p>On the subject of Eastern languages, an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> understanding of which is +necessary to the just apprehension of these inscriptions, that most +acute antiquary, Major Rawlinson, remarks:</p> + +<p>"My own impression is that hundreds of the languages at one time current +through Asia are now utterly lost; and it is not, therefore, to be +expected that philologists or ethnologists will ever succeed in making +out a genealogical table of language, and in affiliating all the various +dialects. Coming to the Assyrian and Babylonian languages, we were first +made acquainted with them as translations of the Persian and Parthian +documents in the trilingual inscriptions of Persia; but lately we have +had an enormous amount of historical matter brought to light in tablets +of stone written in these languages alone. The languages in question I +certainly consider to be Semitic. I doubt whether we could trace at +present in any of the buildings or inscriptions of Assyria and Babylonia +the original primitive civilization of man—that civilization which took +place in the very earliest ages. I am of opinion that civilization first +showed itself in Egypt after the immigration of the early tribes from +Asia. I think that the human intellect first germinated on the Nile, and +that then there was, in a later age, a reflux of civilization from the +Nile back to Asia. I am quite satisfied that the system of writing in +use on the Tigris and Euphrates was taken from the Nile; but I admit +that it was carried to a much higher state of perfection in Assyria than +it had ever reached in Egypt. The earliest Assyrian inscriptions were +those lately discovered by Mr. Layard in the north-west <span class="smcap">Palace</span> at +<span class="smcap">Nimroud</span>, being much earlier than anything found at Babylon. Now, the +great question is the date of these inscriptions. Mr. Layard himself, +when he published his book on Nineveh, believed them to be 2500 years +before the Christian era; but others, and Dr. Hincks among the number, +brought them down to a much later date, supposing the historical tablets +to refer to the Assyrian kings mentioned in Scripture—(Shalmaneser, +Sennacherib, &c.). I do not agree with either one of these calculations +or the other. I am inclined to place the earliest inscriptions from +Nimroud between 1350 and 1200 before the Christian era; because, in the +first place, they had a limit to antiquity; for in the earliest +inscriptions there was a notice of the seaports of Phœnicia, of Tyre +and Sidon, of Byblus, Arcidus, &c.; and it was well known that these +cities were not founded more than 1500 years before the Christian era. +We have every prospect of a most important accession to our materials, +for every letter I get from the countries now being explored announces +fresh discoveries of the utmost importance. In Lower Chaldea, Mr. +Loftus, the geologist to the commission appointed to fix the boundaries +between Turkey and Persia, has visited many cities which no European had +ever reached before, and has everywhere found the most extraordinary +remains. At one place (Senkereh) he had come on a pavement, extending +from half an acre to an acre, entirely covered with writing, which was +engraved upon baked tiles, &c. At Wurka (or Ur of the Chaldees), whence +Abraham came out, he had found innumerable inscriptions; they were of no +great extent, but they were exceedingly interesting, giving many royal +names previously unknown. Wurka (Ur or Orchoe) seemed to be a holy city, +for the whole country, for miles upon miles, was nothing but a huge +necropolis. In none of the excavations of Assyria had coffins ever been +found, but in this city of Chaldea there were thousands upon thousands. +The story of Abraham's birth at Wurka did not originate with the Arabs, +as had sometimes been conjectured, but with the Jews; and the Orientals +had numberless fables about Abraham and Nimroud. Mr. Layard in +excavating beneath the great pyramid at Nimroud, had penetrated a mass +of masonry, within which he <i>had discovered the tomb and statue of</i> +<span class="smcap">Sardanapalus</span>, accompanied by full annals of the monarch's reign engraved +on the walls! He had also found tablets of all sorts, all of them being +historical; but the crowning discovery he had yet to describe. The +palace at Nineveh, or Koynupih, had evidently been destroyed by fire, +but one portion of the building seemed to have escaped its influence; +and Mr. Layard, in excavating in this part of the palace, had found a +large room filled with what appeared to be the archives of the empire, +ranged in successive tablets of terra cotta, the writings being as +perfect as when the tablets were first stamped. They were piled in huge +heaps from the floor to the ceiling. From the progress already made in +reading the inscriptions, I believe we shall be able pretty well to +understand the contents of these tablets; at all events, we shall +ascertain their general purport, and thus gain much valuable +information. A passage might be remembered in the book of Ezra where the +Jews, having been disturbed in building the Temple, prayed that search +might be made in the house of records for the edict of Cyrus permitting +them to return to Jerusalem. The chamber recently found there might be +presumed to be the house of records of the Assyrian kings, where copies +of the royal edicts were duly deposited. When these tablets have been +examined and deciphered, I believe that we shall have a better +acquaintance with the history, the religion, the philosophy, and the +jurisprudence of Assyria, 1500 years before the Christian era, than we +have of Greece or Rome during any period of their respective histories."</p> + +<p>Besides the gigantic figures of which we have copied engravings in the +preceding pages, Dr. Layard has sent to the British Museum a large +number of other sculptures, some of which are still more interesting for +the light they reflect upon ancient Assyrian history. For these, as for +the Grecian marbles and Egyptian antiquities, a special gallery is being +fitted up.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 383px;"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +<img src="images/i_19f.jpg" alt="" /><br /> +<span class="caption">JONATHAN SWIFT.</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>DEAN SWIFT'S CHARACTER AND HIS AMOURS.</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> name of Swift is one of the most familiar in English history. Of the +twenty octavo volumes in which his works are printed, only a part of one +volume is read; but this part of a volume is read by everybody, and +admired by everybody, though singularly enough not one in a thousand +ever thinks of its real import, or appreciates it for what are and what +were meant to be its highest excellences. As the author of "Gulliver's +Travels," Swift is a subject of general interest; and this interest is +deepened, but scarcely diffused, by the chain of enigmas which has +puzzled so many of his biographers.</p> + +<p>The most popular life of Dean Swift is Mr. Roscoe's, but since that was +written several works have appeared, either upon his whole history or in +elucidation of particular portions of it: one of which was a careful +investigation and discussion of his madness, published about two years +ago. In the last number of <i>The International</i> we mentioned the curious +novel of "Stella and Vanessa," in which a Frenchman has this year +essayed his defense against the common judgment in the matter of his +amours, and we copy in the following pages an article from the London +<i>Times</i>, which was suggested by this performance.</p> + +<p>M. De Wailly's "Stella and Vanessa" is unquestionably a very ingenious +and brilliant fiction—in every sense only a fiction—for its hypotheses +are all entirely erroneous. Even Mr. Roscoe, whose Memoir has been +called an elaborate apology, and who, as might have been expected from a +man of so amiable and charitable a character, labors to put the best +construction upon all Swift's actions,—even he shrinks from the +vindication of the Dean's conduct toward Miss Vanhomrigh and Mrs. +Johnson. In treating of the charges which are brought against Swift +while he was alive, or that have since been urged against his +reputation, the elegant historian calls to his aid every palliating +circumstance; and where no palliating circumstances are to be found, +seeks to enlist our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> benevolent feelings in behalf of a man deeply +unfortunate, persecuted by his enemies, neglected by his friends, and +haunted all his life by the presentiment of a fearful calamity, by which +at length in his extreme old age he was assaulted and overwhelmed. On +some points Mr. Roscoe must be said to have succeeded in this advocacy, +so honorable alike to him and to its subject; but the more serious +charges against Swift remain untouched, and probably will forever remain +so, by whatever ability, or eloquence, or generous partiality, combated. +To speak plainly, Swift was an irredeemably bad man, devoured by vanity +and selfishness, and so completely dead to every elevated and manly +feeling, that he was always ready to sacrifice those most devotedly +attached to him for the gratification of his unworthy passion for power +and notoriety.</p> + +<p>Swift's life, though dark and turbulent, was nevertheless romantic. He +concealed the repulsive odiousness of an unfeeling heart under manners +peculiarly fascinating, which conciliated not only the admiration and +attachment of more than one woman, but likewise the friendship of +several eminent men, who were too much dazzled by the splendor of his +conversation to detect the base qualities which existed in the +background. But these circumstances only enhance the interest of his +life. At every page there is some discussion which strongly interests +our feelings: some difficulty to be removed, some mystery to keep alive +curiosity. We neither know, strictly speaking, who Swift was, what were +the influences which raised him to the position he occupied, by what +intricate ties he was connected with Stella, or what was the nature of +that singular grief, which, in addition to the sources of sorrow to +which we have alluded, preyed on him continually, and at last +contributed largely to the overthrow of his reason. On this account it +is not possible to proceed with indifference through the circumstances +of his life, though very few careful examiners will be able to interpret +them in a lenient and charitable spirit.</p> + +<p>Mr. Roscoe appears to believe that everybody who regards unfavorably +Swift's genius and morals, must be actuated by envy or party spirit, but +very few of the later or earlier critics are of his opinion. In the +first place, most honorable men would rather remain unknown through +eternity than accept the Dean's reputation. As Savage Landor says, he +was "irreverential to the great and to God: an ill-tempered, sour, +supercilious man, who flattered some of the worst and maligned some of +the best men that ever lived." Whatever services he performed for the +party from which he apostatized, there is nothing in his more permanent +writings which can be of the slightest advantage to English toryism. +Indeed, in politics and in morals, he appears never to have had any +fixed principles. He served the party which he thought most likely to +make him a bishop, and deserted it when he discovered that it was losing +ground. He studied government not as a statesman but as a partisan, as a +hardy, active, and unscrupulous Swiss, who could and would do much dirty +work for a minister, if he saw reason to anticipate a liberal +compensation. He however always extravagantly exaggerated his own +powers, and so have his biographers, and so has the writer of the +following article from <i>The Times</i>, who seems to have accepted with too +little scrutiny the estimate he made of himself. The complacency with +which he frequently refers to his supposed influence over the ministers +is simply ludicrous. He entirely loses sight of both his own position +and theirs. Shrewd as he shows himself under other circumstances, he is +here as verdant as the greenest peasant from the forest. "I use the +ministers like dogs," he says in a letter to Stella, but in reality the +ministers made a dog of him, employing him to fetch and carry, and bark, +and growl, and show his sharp teeth to their enemies; and when the noise +he had made had served their purpose,—when he had frightened away many +of their assailants, and by the dirt and stench he had raised had +compelled even their friends to stand aloof, they cashiered him, as they +would a mastiff grown toothless and incapable of barking. With no more +dirty work for him to do, they sent him over to Dublin, to be rid of his +presence.</p> + +<p>When fairly settled down in a country which he had always hitherto +affected at least to detest, he began to feel perhaps some genuine +attachment for its people, and on many occasions he exerted himself +vigorously for their advantage; though it is possible that the real +impulse was a desire to vex and embarrass the administration, which had +so galled his self-conceit. Whatever the motive, however, he undoubtedly +worked industriously and with great effect, for the benefit of Ireland. +His style was calculated to be popular: it was simple, transparent, and +though copious, pointed and energetic. His pamphlets, in the midst of +their reasoning, sarcasm, and solemn banter, displayed an extent, a +variety and profundity of knowledge altogether unequaled in the case of +any other writer of that time. But the action of his extraordinary +powers was never guided by a spark of honorable principle. The giant was +as unscrupulous as the puniest and basest demagogue who coined and +scattered lies for our own last election. He would seem to be the model +whom half a dozen of our city editors were striving with weaker wing to +imitate. He never acknowledged any merit in his antagonists, he +scattered his libels right and left without mercy, threw out of sight +all the charities and even decencies of private life, and affirmed the +most monstrous propositions with so cool, calm and solemn an air, that +in nine cases out of ten they were sure to be believed.</p> + +<p>Without further observation we proceed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> with the interesting article of +<i>The Times</i>, occasioned by M. Leon de Wailly's curious and very clever +romance of "Stella and Vanessa."</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/i_21f.jpg" alt="" title="" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"VANESSA." (MISS VANHOMRIGH.)</span><br /><br /> +</div> + +<div class="c75">[From the London Times.]</div> + +<div class="center"><b>THE AMOURS OF DEAN SWIFT.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Greater</span> men than Dean Swift may have lived. A more remarkable man never +left his impress upon the age immortalized by his genius. To say that +English history supplies no narrative more singular and original than +the career of Jonathan Swift is to assert little. We doubt whether the +histories of the world can furnish, for example and instruction, for +wonder and pity, for admiration and scorn, for approval and +condemnation, a specimen of humanity at once so illustrious and so +small. Before the eyes of his contemporaries Swift stood a living +enigma. To posterity he must continue forever a distressing puzzle. One +hypothesis—and one alone—gathered from a close and candid perusal of +all that has been transmitted to us upon this interesting subject, helps +us to account for a whole life of anomaly, but not to clear up the +mystery in which it is shrouded. From the beginning to the end of his +days Jonathan Swift was more or less <span class="smcap">mad</span>.</p> + +<p>Intellectually and morally, physically and religiously, Dean Swift was a +mass of contradictions. His career yields ample materials both for the +biographer who would pronounce a panegyric over his tomb and for the +censor whose business it is to improve one generation at the expense of +another. Look at Swift with the light of intelligence shining on his +brow, and you note qualities that might become an angel. Survey him +under the dark cloud, and every feature is distorted into that of a +fiend. If we tell the reader what he was, in the same breath we shall +communicate all that he was not. His virtues were exaggerated into +vices, and his vices were not without the savour of virtue. The +originality of his writings is of a piece with the singularity of his +character. He copied no man who preceded him. He has not been +successfully imitated by any who have followed him. The compositions of +Swift reveal the brilliancy of sharpened wit, yet it is recorded of the +man that he was never known to laugh. His friendships were strong and +his antipathies vehement and unrelenting, yet he illustrated friendship +by roundly abusing his familiars and expressed hatred by bantering his +foes. He was economical and saving to a fault, yet he made sacrifices to +the indigent and poor sternly denied to himself. He could begrudge the +food and wine consumed by a guest, yet throughout his life refuse to +derive the smallest pecuniary advantage from his published works, and at +his death bequeath the whole of his fortune to a charitable institution. +From his youth Swift was a sufferer in body, yet his frame was vigorous, +capable of great endurance, and maintained its power and vitality from +the time of Charles II. until far on in the reign of the second George. +No man hated Ireland more than Swift, yet he was Ireland's first and +greatest patriot, bravely standing up for the rights of that kingdom +when his chivalry might have cost him his head. He was eager for reward, +yet he refused payment with disdain. Impatient of advancement, he +preferred to the highest honors the State could confer the obscurity and +ignominy of the political associates with whom he had affectionately +labored until they fell disgraced. None knew better than he the stinging +force of a successful lampoon, yet such missiles were hurled by hundreds +at his head without in any way disturbing his bodily tranquillity. +Sincerely religious, scrupulously attentive to the duties of his holy +office, vigorously defending the position and privileges of his order, +he positively played into the hands of infidelity by the steps he took, +both in his conduct and writings, to expose the cant and hypocrisy which +he detested as heartily as he admired and practiced unaffected piety. To +say that Swift lacked tenderness would be to forget many passages of his +unaccountable history that overflow with gentleness of spirit and mild +humanity; but to deny that he exhibited inexcusable brutality where the +softness of his nature ought to have been chiefly evoked—where the want +of tenderness, indeed, left him a naked and irreclaimable savage—is +equally impossible. If we decline to pursue the contradictory series +further, it is in pity to the reader, not for want of materials at +command. There is, in truth, no end to such materials.</p> + +<p>Swift was born in the year 1667. His father, who was steward to the +Society of the King's Inn, Dublin, died before his birth and left his +widow penniless. The child, named Jonathan after his father, was brought +up on charity. The obligation due to an uncle was one that Swift would +never forget, or remember without inexcusable indignation. Because he +had not been left to starve by his relatives, or because his uncle would +not do more than he could, Swift conceived an eternal dislike to all who +bore his name and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> haughty contempt for all who partook of his nature. +He struggled into active life and presented himself to his fellow-men in +the temper of a foe. At the age of fourteen he was admitted into Trinity +College, Dublin, and four years afterward as <i>a special grace</i>—for his +acquisitions apparently failed to earn the distinction—the degree of +Bachelor of Arts was conferred upon him. In 1688, the year in which the +war broke out in Ireland, Swift, in his twenty-first year, and without a +sixpence in his pocket, left college. Fortunately for him, the wife of +Sir William Temple was related to his mother, and upon her application +to that statesman the friendless youth was provided with a home. He took +up his abode with Sir William in England, and for the space of two years +labored hard at his own improvement and for the amusement of his patron. +How far Swift succeeded in winning the good opinion of Sir William may +be learnt from the fact that when King William honored Moor Park with +his presence he was permitted to take part in the interviews, and that +when Sir William was unable to visit the King his <i>protégé</i> was +commissioned to wait upon His Majesty, and to speak on the patron's +authority and behalf. The lad's future promised better things than his +beginning. He resolved to go into the church, since preferment stared +him in the face. In 1692 he proceeded to Oxford, where he obtained his +Master's degree, and in 1694, quarreling with Sir William Temple, who +coldly offered him a situation worth Ł100 a year, he quitted his patron +in disgust and went at once to Ireland to take holy orders. He was +ordained, and almost immediately afterward received the living of +Kilroot in the diocese of Connor, the value of the living being about +equal to that of the appointment offered by Sir William Temple.</p> + +<p>Swift, miserable in his exile, sighed for the advantages he had +abandoned. Sir William Temple, lonely without his clever and keen-witted +companion, pined for his return. The prebend of Kilroot was speedily +resigned in favor of a poor curate for whom Swift had taken great pains +to procure the presentation; and with Ł80 in his purse the independent +clergyman proceeded once more to Moor Park. Sir William welcomed him +with open arms. They resided together until 1699, when the great +statesman died, leaving to Swift, in testimony of his regard, the sum of +Ł100 and his literary remains. The remains were duly published and +humbly dedicated to the King. They might have been inscribed to His +Majesty's cook for any advantage that accrued to the editor. Swift was a +Whig, but his politics suffered severely by the neglect of His Majesty, +who derived no particular advantage from Sir William Temple's "remains."</p> + +<p>Weary with long and vain attendance upon Court, Swift finally accepted +at the hands of Lord Berkeley, one of the Lords Justices of Ireland, the +rectory of Agher and the vicarages of Laracor and Rathbeggan. In the +year 1700 he took possession of the living at Laracor, and his mode of +entering upon his duty was thoroughly characteristic of the man. He +walked down to Laracor, entered the curate's house, and announced +himself "as his master." In his usual style he affected brutality, and +having sufficiently alarmed his victims, gradually soothed and consoled +them by evidences of undoubted friendliness and good will. "This," says +Sir Walter Scott, "was the ruling trait of Swift's character to others; +his praise assumed the appearance and language of complaint; his +benefits were often prefaced by a prologue of a threatening nature." +"The ruling trait" of Swift's character was morbid eccentricity. Much +less eccentricity has saved many a murderer in our days from the +gallows. We approach a period of Swift's history when we must accept +this conclusion or revolt from the cold-blooded doings of a monster.</p> + +<p>During Swift's second residence with Sir William Temple he had become +acquainted with an inmate of Moor Park very different to the +accomplished man to whose intellectual pleasures he so largely +ministered. A young and lovely girl—half ward, half dependent in the +establishment—engaged the attention and commanded the untiring services +of the newly-made minister. Esther Johnson had need of education, and +Swift became her tutor. He entered upon his task with avidity, +condescended to the humblest instruction, and inspired his pupil with +unbounded gratitude and regard. Swift was not more insensible to the +simplicity and beauty of the lady than she to the kind offices of her +master; but Swift would not have been Swift had he, like other men, +returned everyday love with ordinary affection. Swift had felt tender +impressions in his own fashion before. Once in Leicestershire he was +accused by a friend of having formed an imprudent attachment, on which +occasion he returned for answer, that his "cold temper and unconfined +humor" would prevent all serious consequences, even if it were not true +that the conduct which his friend had mistaken for gallantry had been +merely the evidence "of an active and restless temper, incapable of +enduring idleness, and catching at such opportunities of amusement as +most readily occurred." Upon another occasion, and within four years of +the Leicestershire pastime, Swift made an absolute offer of his hand to +one Miss Waryng, vowing in his declaratory epistle that he would forego +every prospect of interest for the sake of his "Varina," and that "the +lady's love was far more fatal than her cruelty." After much and long +consideration Varina consented to the suit. That was enough for Swift. +He met the capitulation by charging his Varina with want of affection, +by stipulating for unheard-of sacrifices, and concluding with an +expression of his willingness to wed, "<i>though she had neither fortune</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +<i>nor beauty</i>," provided every article of his letter was ungrudgingly +agreed to. We may well tremble for Esther Johnson, with her young heart +given into such wild keeping.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 251px;"> +<img src="images/i_23f.jpg" alt="" title="" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"STELLA." (ESTHER JOHNSON.)</span> +</div> + +<p>As soon as Swift was established at Laracor it was arranged that Esther, +who possessed a small property in Ireland, should take up her abode near +to her old preceptor. She came, and scandal was silenced by a +stipulation insisted upon by Swift, that his lovely charge should have a +matron for a constant companion, and never see him except in the +presence of a third party. Esther was in her seventeenth year. The vicar +of Laracor was on his road to forty. What wonder that even in Laracor +the former should receive an offer of marriage, and that the latter, +wayward and inconsistent from first to last, should deny another the +happiness he had resolved never to enjoy himself? Esther found a lover +whom Swift repulsed, to the infinite joy of the devoted girl, whose fate +was already linked for good or evil to that of her teacher and friend.</p> + +<p>Obscurity and idleness were not for Swift. Love, that gradually consumed +the unoccupied girl, was not even this man's recreation. Impatient of +banishment, he went to London and mixed with the wits of the age. +Addison, Steele, and Arbuthnot became his friends, and he quickly proved +himself worthy of their intimacy by the publication in 1704 of his <i>Tale +of a Tub</i>. The success of the work, given to the world anonymously, was +decisive. Its singular merit obtained for its author everlasting renown, +and effectually prevented his rising to the highest dignity in the very +church which his book labored to exalt. None but an inspired madman +would have attempted to do honor to religion in a spirit which none but +the infidel could heartily approve.</p> + +<p>Politicians are not squeamish. The Whigs could see no fault in raillery +and wit that might serve temporal interests with greater advantage than +they had advanced interests ecclesiastical; and the friends of the +Revolution welcomed so rare an adherent to their principles. With an +affected ardor that subsequent events proved to be as premature as it +was hollow, Swift's pen was put in harness for his allies, and worked +vigorously enough until 1709, when, having assisted Steele in the +establishment of the <i>Tatler</i>, the vicar of Laracor returned to Ireland +and to the duties of a rural pastor. Not to remain, however! A change +suddenly came over the spirit of the nation. Sacheverell was about to +pull down by a single sermon all the popularity that Marlborough and his +friends had built up by their glorious campaigns. Swift had waited in +vain for promotion from the Whigs, and his suspicions were roused when +the Lord-Lieutenant unexpectedly began to caress him. Escaping the +damage which the marked attentions of the old Government might do him +with the new, Swift started for England in 1710, in order to survey the +turning of the political wheel with his own eyes, and to try his fortune +in the game. The progress of events was rapid. Swift reached London on +the 9th of September; on the 1st of October he had already written a +lampoon upon an ancient associate; and on the 4th he was presented to +Harley, the new Minister.</p> + +<p>The career of Swift from this moment, and so long as the government of +Harley lasted, was magnificent and mighty. Had he not been crotchety +from his very boyhood, his head would have been turned now. Swift +reigned; Swift was the Government; Swift was Queen, Lords, and Commons. +There was tremendous work to do, and Swift did it all. The Tories had +thrown out the Whigs and had brought in a Government in their place +quite as Whiggish to do Tory work. To moderate the wishes of the people, +if not to blind their eyes, was the preliminary and essential work of +the Ministry. They could not perform it themselves. Swift undertook the +task and accomplished it. He had intellect and courage enough for that, +and more. Moreover, he had vehement passions to gratify, and they might +all partake of the glory of his success; he was proud, and his pride +reveled in authority; he was ambitious, and his ambition could attain no +higher pitch than it found at the right hand of the Prime Minister; he +was revengeful, and revenge could wish no sweeter gratification than the +contortions of the great who had neglected genius and desert, when they +looked to them for advancement and obtained nothing but cold neglect. +Swift, single-handed, fought the Whigs. For<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> seven months he conducted a +periodical paper, in which he mercilessly assailed, as none but himself +could attack, all who were odious to the Government and distasteful to +himself. Not an individual was spared whose sufferings could add to the +tranquillity and permanence of the Government. Resistance was in vain; +it was attempted, but invariably with one effect—the first wound +grazed, the second killed.</p> + +<p>The public were in ecstasies. The laughers were all on the side of the +satirist, and how vast a portion of the community these are, needs not +be said. But it was not in the <i>Examiner</i> alone that Swift offered up +his victims at the shrine of universal mirth. He could write verses for +the rough heart of a nation to chuckle over and delight in. +Personalities to-day fly wide of the mark; then they went right home. +The habits, the foibles, the moral and physical imperfections of +humanity, were all fair game, provided the shaft were tipped with gall +as well as venom. Short poems, longer pamphlets—whatever could help the +Government and cover their foes with ridicule and scorn, Swift poured +upon the town with an industry and skill that set eulogy at defiance. +And because they did defy praise, Jonathan Swift never asked, and was +ever too grand to accept it.</p> + +<p>But he claimed much more. His disordered yet exquisite intellect +acknowledged no superiority. He asked no thanks for his labor, he +disdained pecuniary reward for his matchless and incalculable +services—he did not care for fame, but he imperiously demanded to be +treated by the greatest as an equal. Mr. Harley offered him money, and +he quarreled with the Minister for his boldness. "If we let these great +Ministers," he said, "pretend too much, <i>there will be no governing +them</i>." The same Minister desired to make Swift his chaplain. One +mistake was as great as the other. "My Lord Oxford, by a second hand, +proposed my being his chaplain, which I, by a second hand, refused. I +will be no man's chaplain alive." The assumption of the man was more +than regal. At a later period of his life he drew up a list of his +friends, ranking them respectively under the heads "Ungrateful," +"Grateful," "Indifferent," and "Doubtful." Pope appears among the +grateful. Queen Caroline among the ungrateful. The audacity of these +distinctions is very edifying. What autocrat is here for whose mere +countenance the whole world is to bow down and be "grateful!"</p> + +<p>It is due to Swift's imperiousness, however, to state that, once +acknowledged as an equal, he was prepared to make every sacrifice that +could be looked for in a friend. Concede his position, and for fortune +or disgrace he was equally prepared. Harley and Bolingbroke, quick to +discern the weakness, called their invulnerable ally by his Christian +name, but stopped short of conferring upon him any benefit whatever. The +neglect made no difference to the haughty scribe, who contented himself +with pulling down the barriers that had been impertinently set up to +separate him from rank and worldly greatness. But, if Swift shrank from +the treatment of a client, he performed no part so willingly as that of +a patron. He took literature under his wing and compelled the Government +to do it homage. He quarreled with Steele when he deserted the Whigs, +and pursued his former friend with unflinching sarcasm and banter, but +at his request Steele was maintained by the Government in an office of +which he was about to be deprived. Congreve was a Whig, but Swift +insisted that he should find honor at the hands of the Tories, and +Harley honored him accordingly. Swift introduced Gay to Lord +Bolingbroke, and secured that nobleman's weighty patronage for the poet. +Rowe was recommended for office, Pope for aid. The well-to-do, by +Swift's personal interest, found respect, the indigent, money for the +mitigation of their pains. At Court, at Swift's instigation, the Lord +Treasurer made the first advances to men of letters, and by the act made +tacit confession of the power which Swift so liberally exercised, for +the advantage of everybody but himself. But what worldly distinction, in +truth, could add to the importance of a personage who made it a point +for a Duke to pay him the first visit, and who, on one occasion, +publicly sent the Prime Minister into the House of Commons to call out +the First Secretary of State, whom Swift wished to inform that he would +not dine with him if he meant to dine late?</p> + +<p>A lampoon directed against the Queen's favorite, upon whose red hair +Swift had been facetious, prevented the satirist's advancement in +England. The see of Hereford fell vacant in 1712. Bolingbroke would now +have paid the debt due from his Government to Swift, but the Duchess of +Somerset, upon her knees, implored the Queen to withhold her consent +from the appointment, and Swift was pronounced by Her Majesty as "too +violent in party" for promotion. The most important man in the kingdom +found himself in a moment the most feeble. The fountain of so much honor +could not retain a drop of the precious waters for itself. Swift, it is +said, laid the foundations of fortune for upward of forty families who +rose to distinction by a word from his lips. What a satire upon power +was the satirist's own fate! He could not advance himself in England one +inch. Promotion in Ireland began and ended with his appointment to the +Deanery of St. Patrick, of which he took possession, much to his disgust +and vexation, in the summer of 1713.</p> + +<p>The summer, however, was not over before Swift was in England again. The +wheels of government had come to a dead lock, and of course none but he +could right them. The Ministry was at sixes and sevens. Its very +existence depended upon the good understanding of the chiefs, +Bolingbroke and Harley, and the wily ambition of the latter, jarring +against the vehement desires of the former, had pro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>duced jealousy, +suspicion, and now threatened immediate disorganization. A thousand +voices called the Dean to the scene of action, and he came full of the +importance of his mission. He plunged at once into the vexed sea of +political controversy, and whilst straining every effort to court his +friends, let no opportunity slip of galling their foes. His pen was as +damaging and industrious as ever. It set the town in a fever. It caused +Richard Steele to be expelled from the House of Commons, and it sent the +whole body of Scotch peers, headed by the Duke of Argyle, to the Queen, +with the prayer that a proclamation might be issued for the discovery of +their libeller. Swift was more successful in his assaults than in its +mediation. The Ministers were irreconcilable. Vexed at heart with +disappointment, the Dean, after his manner, suddenly quitted London, and +shut himself up in Berkshire. One attempt he made in his strict +seclusion to uphold the Government and save the country, and the +composition is a curiosity in its way. He published a proposition for +the exclusion of all Dissenters from power of every kind, for +disqualifying Whigs and Low Churchmen for every possible office, and for +compelling the presumptive heir to the throne to declare his abomination +of Whigs, and his perfect satisfaction with Her Majesty's present +advisers. Matters must have been near a crisis when this modest pamphlet +was put forth; and so they were. By his intrigues Bolingbroke had +triumphed over his colleagues, and Oxford was disgraced. The latter, +about to retire into obscurity, addressed a letter to Swift, entreating +him, if he were not tired of his former prosperous friend, "to throw +away so much time on one who loved him as to attend him upon his +melancholy journey." The same post brought him word that his own victory +was won. Bolingbroke triumphant besought his Jonathan, as he loved his +Queen, to stand by her Minister, and to aid him in his perilous +adventure. Nothing should be wanting to do justice to his loyalty. The +Duchess of Somerset would be reconciled, the Queen would be gracious, +the path of honor should lie broad, open, and unimpeded before him. +Bolingbroke and Harley were equally the friends of Swift. What could he +do in his extremity? What would a million men, taken at random from the +multitude, have done, had they been so situated, so tempted? Not that +upon which Swift in his chivalrous magnanimity, at once decided. He +abandoned the prosperous to follow and console the unfortunate. "I +meddle not with Lord Oxford's faults," is his noble language, "as he was +a Minister of State, but his personal kindness to me was excessive. He +distinguished and chose me above all men when he was great." Within a +few days of Swift's self-denying decision Queen Anne was a corpse, +Bolingbroke and Oxford both flying for their lives, and Swift himself +hiding his unprotected head in Ireland amidst a people who at once +feared and hated him.</p> + +<p>During Swift's visit to London in 1710 he had regularly transmitted to +Stella, by which name Esther Johnson is made known to posterity, an +account of his daily doings with the new Government. The journal +exhibits the view of the writer that his conduct invariably presents. It +is full of tenderness and confidence, and not without coarseness that +startles and shocks. It contains a detailed and minute account, not only +of all that passed between Swift and the Government, but of his +changeful feelings as they arose from day to day, and of his physical +infirmities, that are commonly whispered into the ear of a physician. If +Swift loved Stella in the ordinary acceptation of the term, he took +small pains in his diary to elevate the sentiments with which she +regarded her hero. The journal is not in harmony throughout. Toward the +close it lacks the tenderness and warmth, the minuteness and +confidential utterance, that are so visible at the beginning. We are +enabled to account for the difference. Swift had enlarged the circle of +his female acquaintance whilst fighting for his friends in London. He +had become a constant visitor, especially, at the house of a Mrs. +Vanhomrigh, who had two daughters, the eldest of whom was about twenty +years of age, and had the same Christian name as Stella. Esther +Vanhomrigh had great taste for reading, and Swift, who seems to have +delighted in such occupation, condescended, for the second time in his +life, to become a young lady's instructor. The great man's tuition had +always one effect upon his pupils. Before Miss Vanhomrigh had made much +progress in her studies she was over head and ears in love, and, to the +astonishment of her master, she one day declared the passionate and +undying character of her attachment. Swift met the confession with a +weapon far more potent when opposed to a political foe than when +directed against the weak heart of a doting woman. He had recourse to +raillery, but, finding his banter of no avail, endeavored to appease the +unhappy girl by "an offer of devoted and everlasting friendship, founded +on the basis of virtuous esteem." He might with equal success have +attempted to put out a conflagration with a bucket of cold water. There +was no help for the miserable man. He returned to his deanery at the +death of Queen Anne with two love affairs upon his hands, but with the +stern resolution of encouraging neither, and overcoming both.</p> + +<p>Before quitting England he wrote to Esther Vanhomrigh, or Vanessa, as he +styles her in his correspondence, intimating his intention to forget +everything in England and to write to her as seldom as possible. So far +the claims of Vanessa were disposed of. As soon as he reached his +deanery he secured lodgings for Stella and her companion, and reiterated +his determination to pursue his intercourse with the young lady upon the +prudent terms originally established. So far his mind was set at rest in +respect of Stella. But Swift had scarcely time to congratulate himself +upon his plans before Vanessa presented herself in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> Dublin, and made +known to the Dean her resolution to take up her abode permanently in +Ireland. Her mother was dead, so were her two brothers; she and her +sister were alone in the world, and they had a small property near +Dublin, to which it suited them to retire. Swift, alarmed by the +proceeding, remonstrated, threatened, denounced—all in vain. Vanessa +met his reproaches with complaints of cruelty and neglect, and warned +him of the consequences of leaving her without the solace of his +friendship and presence. Perplexed and distressed, the Dean had no other +resource than to leave events to their own development. He trusted that +time would mitigate and show the hopelessness of Vanessa's passion, and +in the meanwhile he sought, by occasional communication with her, to +prevent any catastrophe that might result from actual despair. But his +thoughts for Vanessa's safety were inimical to Stella's repose. She +pined and gradually sunk under the alteration that had taken place in +Swift's deportment toward her since his acquaintance with Vanessa. +Swift, really anxious for the safety of his ward, requested a friend to +ascertain the cause of her malady. It was not difficult to ascertain it. +His indifference and public scandal, which spoke freely of their +unaccountable connection, were alone to blame for her sufferings. It was +enough for Swift. He had passed the age at which he had resolved to +marry, but he was ready to wed Stella provided the marriage were kept +secret and she was content to live apart. Poor Stella was more than +content, but she overestimated her strength. The marriage took place, +and immediately afterward the husband withdrew himself in a fit of +madness, which threw him into gloom and misery for days. What the +motives may have been for the inexplicable stipulations of this wayward +man it is impossible to ascertain. That they were the motives of a +diseased, and at times utterly irresponsible, judgment, we think cannot +be questioned. Of love, as a tender passion, Swift had no conception. +His writings prove it. The coarseness that pervades his compositions has +nothing in common with the susceptibility that shrinks from disgusting +and loathsome images in which Swift reveled. In all his prose and +poetical addresses to his mistresses there is not one expression to +prove the weakness of his heart. He writes as a guardian—he writes as a +friend—he writes as a father, but not a syllable escapes him that can +be attributed to the pangs and delights of the lover.</p> + +<p>Married to Stella, Swift proved himself more eager than ever to give to +his intercourse with Vanessa the character of mere friendship. He went +so far as to endeavor to engage her affections for another man, but his +attempts were rejected with indignation and scorn. In the August of the +year 1717 Vanessa retired from Dublin to her house and property near +Cellbridge. Swift exhorted her to leave Ireland altogether, but she was +not to be persuaded. In 1720 it would appear that the Dean frequently +visited the recluse in her retirement, and upon such occasions Vanessa +would plant a laurel or two in honor of her guest, who passed his time +with the lady reading and writing verses in a rural bower built in a +sequestered part of her garden. Some of the verses composed by Vanessa +have been preserved. They breathe the fond ardor of the suffering maid, +and testify to the imperturbable coldness of the man. Of the innocence +of their intercourse there cannot be a doubt. In 1720 Vanessa lost her +last remaining relative—her sister died in her arms. Thrown back upon +herself by this bereavement, the intensity of her love for the Dean +became insupportable. Jealous and suspicious, and eager to put an end to +a terror that possessed her, she resolved to address herself to Stella, +and to ascertain from her own lips the exact nature of her relations +with her so-called guardian. The momentous question was asked in a +letter, to which Stella calmly replied by informing her interrogator +that she was the Dean's wife. Vanessa's letter was forwarded by Stella +to Swift himself, and it roused him to fury. He rode off at once to +Cellbridge, he entered the apartment in which Vanessa was seated, and +glared upon her like a tiger. The trembling creature asked her visitor +to sit down. He answered the invitation by flinging a packet on the +table, and riding instantly away. The packet was opened; it contained +nothing but Vanessa's letter to Stella. Her doom was pronounced. The +fond heart snapped. In a few weeks the hopeless, desolate Vanessa was in +her grave.</p> + +<p>Swift, agonized, rushed from the world. For two months subsequently to +the death of Vanessa his place of abode was unknown. But at the end of +that period he returned to Dublin calmer for the conflict he had +undergone. He devoted himself industriously again to affairs of State. +His pen had now a nobler office than to sustain unworthy men in +unmerited power. We can but indicate the course of his labors. Ireland, +the country not of his love, but of his birth and adoption, treated as a +conquered province, owed her rescue from absolute thraldom to Swift's +great and unconquerable exertions on her behalf. He resisted the English +Government with his single hand, and overcame them in the fight. His +popularity in Ireland was unparalleled even in that excited and +generous-hearted land. Rewards were offered to betray him, but a million +lives would have been sacrificed in his place before one would have +profited by the patriot's downfall. He was worshiped, and every hair of +his head was precious and sacred to the people who adored him.</p> + +<p>In 1726 Swift revisited England, for the first time since the death of +Queen Anne, and published, anonymously as usual, the famous satire of +<i>Gulliver's Travels</i>. Its immediate success heralded the universal fame +that masterly and singular work has since achieved. Swift mingled once +more with his literary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> friends, and lived almost entirely with Pope. +Yet courted on all sides he was doomed again to bitter sorrow. News +reached him that Stella was ill. Alarmed and full of self-reproaches, he +hastened home to be received by the people of Ireland in triumph, and to +meet—and he was grateful for the sight—the improved and welcoming +looks of the woman for whose dissolution he had been prepared. In March, +1727, Stella being sufficiently recovered, the Dean ventured once more +to England, but soon to be resummoned to the hapless couch of his +exhausted and most miserable wife. Afflicted in body and soul, Swift +suddenly quitted Pope, with whom he was residing at Twickenham, and +reaching his home, was doomed to find his Stella upon the verge of the +grave. Till the last moment he continued at her bedside, evincing the +tenderest consideration, and performing what consolatory tasks he might +in the sick chamber. Shortly before her death part of a conversation +between the melancholy pair was overheard. "Well, my dear," said the +Dean, "if you wish it, it shall be owned." Stella's reply was given in +fewer words. "<i>It is too late.</i>" "On the 28th of January," writes one of +the biographers of Swift, "Mrs. Johnson closed her weary pilgrimage, and +passed to that land where they neither marry nor are given in marriage," +the second victim of one and the same hopeless and consuming passion.</p> + +<p>Swift stood alone in the world, and for his punishment was doomed to +endure the crushing solitude for the space of seventeen years. The +interval was gloomy indeed. From his youth the Dean had been subject to +painful fits of giddiness and deafness. From 1736 these fits became more +frequent and severe. In 1740 he went raving mad, and frenzy ceased only +to leave him a more pitiable idiot. During the space of three years the +poor creature was unconscious of all that passed around him, and spoke +but twice. Upon the 19th of October, 1745, God mercifully removed the +terrible spectacle from the sight of man, and released the sufferer from +his misery, degradation, and shame.</p> + +<p>The volumes, whose title is found below,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> and which have given +occasion to these remarks, are a singular comment upon a singular +history. It is the work of a Frenchman who has ventured to deduce a +theory from the <i>data</i> we have submitted to the reader's notice. With +that theory we cannot agree: it may be reconcilable to the romance which +M. de Wailly has invented, but it is altogether opposed to veritable +records that cannot be impugned. M. de Wailly would have it that Swift's +marriage with Stella was a deliberate and rational sacrifice of love to +principle, and that Swift compensated his sacrificed love by granting +his principle no human indulgences; that his love for Vanessa, in fact, +was sincere and ardent, and that his duty to Stella alone prevented a +union with Vanessa. To prove his case M. de Wailly widely departs from +history, and makes his hypothesis of no value whatever, except to the +novel reader. As a romance, written by a Frenchman, <i>Stella and Vanessa</i> +is worthy of great commendation. It indicates a familiar knowledge of +English manners and character, and never betrays, except here and there +in the construction of the plot, the hand of a foreigner. It is quite +free from exaggeration, and inasmuch as it exhibits no glaring +anachronism or absurd caricature, is a literary curiosity. We accept it +as such, though bound to reject its higher claims. The mystery of +Swift's amours has yet to be cleared up. We explain his otherwise +unaccountable behavior by attributing his cruelty to prevailing +insanity. The career of Swift was brilliant, but not less wild than +dazzling. The sickly hue of a distempered brain gave a color to his acts +in all the relations of life. The storm was brewing from his childhood; +it burst forth terribly in his age, and only a moment before all was +wreck and devastation, the half-distracted man sat down and made a will, +by which he left the whole of his worldly possessions for the foundation +of a lunatic asylum.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Stella and Vanessa: A Romance from the French</i>. By Lady +Duff Gordon. In two vols. Bentley. 1850.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>AUTHORS AND BOOKS.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> find in the <i>Deutsche Zeitung aus Böhmen</i>, an account of a visit to +the great German satirist and poet <span class="smcap">Henry Heine</span>, who lives at Paris, +where, as is known, he has long been confined to his bed with a +lingering illness. We translate the following for the <i>International</i>:—</p> + +<p>"It is indeed a painful or rather a terrible condition in which Heine +now is and has been for the past year; though the paralysis has made no +progress, it has at least experienced no alleviation. He has now lain +near two years in bed, and during that time has not seen a tree nor a +speck of the blue sky. He cannot raise himself, and scarcely moves. His +left eye is blind, his right can just perceive objects, but cannot bear +the light of day. His nights are disturbed by fearful torments, and only +morphine can produce him the least repose. Hope of recovery has long +been given up, and he himself entertains no illusions on that subject. +He knows that his sufferings can end only with death. He speaks of this +with the utmost composure."</p> + +<p>The writer goes on to contradict, as calumnious, the report that Heine +had become religious, saying, that he bears his tortures without "the +assistance of saints of any color, and by the inward power of the free +man." He does not regard himself as a sinner, and has nothing to repent +of, since he has but rejoiced like a child, in everything +beautiful—chasing butterflies, finding flowers by the way-side, and +making a holiday of his whole life. He has, however, often called +himself religious, by way of contradiction, and from antipathy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> to a +certain clique who openly proclaim themselves atheists, and under that +sonorous title seek to exercise a certain terror on others.</p> + +<p>It seems that Heine has lost a great deal of property through various +speculators who have persuaded him to join in their schemes. The writer +says: "Heine's friends are enraged at many of these individuals, and +urge him to attack them publicly, and show them up in their true light. +He owes this satisfaction to himself and to us; at the same time it +would conciliate many who have not pardoned him the cavalier air with +which he has turned off the most respectable notabilities of literature +and patriotism, in order to amuse himself in the company of some +adventurer." By this love for out-of-the-way characters, the writer +thinks that Heine must have collected the materials for a humorous +novel, which could equal the best productions of Mendoza, Smollett, or +Dickens; his experiences in this line have cost him a great deal of +money. We translate the conclusion of the article:—</p> + +<p>"We shall be asked if Heine really continues to write? Yes; he writes, +he works, he dictates poems without cessation; perhaps he was never in +his whole life as active as now. Several hours a day he devotes to the +composition of his memoirs which are rapidly advancing under the hand of +his secretary. His mind still resembles, in its wonderful fullness and +vigor, those fantastic ball-nights of Paris, which, under the open sky, +unfold an endless life and variety. There rings the music, there rushes +the dance, and the loveliest and grotesquest forms flit hither and +thither. There are silent arbors for tears of happiness and sorrow, and +places for dancing, with light, full of loud bold laughter. Rockets +after rockets mount skyward, scattering millions of stars, and endless +extravagance of art, fire, poesy, passion, flames up, showing the world +now in green, now in purple light, till at last the clear silver stars +come out, and fill us with infinite delight, and the still consciousness +of life's beauty. Yes, Heine lives and writes incessantly. His body is +broken, but not his mind, which, on the sick bed rises to Promethean +power and courage. His arm is impotent; not so his satire, which still +in its velvet covering bears the fearful knife that has flayed alive so +many a Maryas. Yes, his frame is worn away, but not the grace in every +movement of his youthful spirit. Along with his memoirs, a complete +volume of poems has been written in these two years. They will not +appear till after the death of the poet; but I can say of them that they +unite in full perfection all the admirable gifts which have rendered his +former poems so brilliant. So struggles this extraordinary man against a +terrible destiny, with all the weapons of the soul, never despairing in +this vehement suffering, never descending to tears—bidding defiance to +the worst. As I stood before that sick bed, it seemed as if I saw the +sufferer of the Caucasus bound in iron chains, tortured by the vulture, +but still confronting fate unappalled, and there alone on the sea-shore +caressed by sea-nymphs. Yes, this is the sick-bed and the death-bed of a +great and free man; and to have come near him is not only a great +happiness but a great instruction."</p> + +<p>Heine has never been well known in this country. The only work by him we +have seen in English is his <i>Beitrage zur Deutschen +Literatur-Geschichte</i>, translated by Mr. G.W. Haven, and published in +Boston, in 1846. It is remarkably clever, and audacious, as the +productions of this German-Frenchman generally are. He is now +fifty-three years of age, having been born at Dusseldorff, in 1797. As +several wealthy bankers, and other persons of substance, in Paris, are +related to him, and he has a pension from the French Government, he is +not likely to suffer very much from the losses of property referred to +in the <i>Zeitung aus Böhmen</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Otto Zirckel</span> has just published at Berlin a volume called "Sketches +from and concerning the United States," which has some curious +peculiarities to the eyes of an American. It is intended as a guide for +Germans who wish either to emigrate to this country or to send their +money here for investment. It begins with a description of the voyage to +America and of the East, West and South of the Union; next it describes +the position of the farmer, physician, clergyman, teacher, jurist, +merchant, and editor, and the chance of the emigrant in each of these +professions. It is written with spirit and humor, and a good deal of +practical judgment and wisdom are concisely and clearly expressed. The +curious part is the advice given to speculators who wish to invest their +money here at a high rate of interest. The author seems to think America +a perfect Eldorado for money lenders, and his book cannot fail to +produce a considerable increase in the amount of German capital employed +in this country. The various state and national loans are described +correctly, showing that Dr. Zirckel might venture safely into the mazes +of Wall Street. The history of repudiation he has studied with care, and +the necessity of final resumption of payments even in Mississippi he +estimates with justice. He suggests as the safest means of managing +matters, that a number of wealthy families should combine their funds +and send over a special agent in whom they can confide, to manage the +same in shaving notes, speculating in land, lending on bond and +mortgage, and making money generally. Thus they can get a high return +and live comfortably in Europe on the toil of Americans, all of which +will be much more grateful to the capitalists than useful to this +country. Better for us to have no foreign capital at all than to have +the interest thereon carried away and consumed in Europe.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Emile Silvestre</span> has sent forth a new volume, <i>Un Philosophe sous les +Toits</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">The work on Aerostation</span>, by Mr. Green, recently published in +Philadelphia, has been much noticed in Europe, where—particularly in +France—the subject has attracted large attention, in consequence of the +death of Gale, (formerly a player at our Bowery Theater,) near Bordeaux, +and the recent wicked and ridiculous ascents with horses, ostriches, &c. +from the Hippodrome in Paris, and some experiments in ballooning at +Madrid. In an interesting paper in the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i>, for the +fifteenth of October, we have an account of numerous theories, +experiments, and accidents, constituting an entertaining <i>resumé</i> of the +whole matter. Few instances of intrepidity, danger, and escape, excite +livelier emotion than the crossing from England to France by Blanchard, +and Dr. Jeffries, an American, on the seventh of January, 1785. When, by +the loss of gas, the balloon descended rapidly over the channel, and +approached near the surface of the sea, after everything had been thrown +out, even to their clothes, Jeffries offered to leap into the sea, and +by thus lightening the balloon further, afford Blanchard a chance of +safety. "We must both be lost as the case is," said he; "if you think +your preservation is possible, I am ready to sacrifice my life." The +French military ascents are particularly described. Companies of +aeronauts were formed and trained, and Bonaparte took one of them with +him to Egypt, but the British captured all the apparatus for the +generation of gas. The First Consul caused ascents in picturesque +balloons to be made on occasions of public rejoicing for victories, in +order to strike the imaginations of the Egyptians, and an aerostatic +academy was established near Paris. The writer mentions that Lieutenant +Gale, like poor Sam Patch, so famous for a similar absurdity, and for a +similar and not less miserable end, had drank too much brandy for +self-possession in a dangerous predicament. He thinks that the problem +of the direction or government of balloons cannot possibly be solved +with the mechanical means which science now commands; and that, as they +may be usefully employed for the study of the great physical laws of the +globe, all experiments should be restricted to the object of advancing +science. He dwells on what might be accomplished toward ascertaining the +true laws of the decrease of temperature in the elevated regions of the +air, of the decrease of density of the atmosphere, of the decrease of +humidity according to atmospheric heights, and of the celerity of sound. +After all the experiments, and all that has been written upon the +subject, we are confident that the direction of a balloon is quite +impossible, except by a process which we have never yet seen suggested; +that is, by the rapid decomposition of the air in its way, so that a +tube extended in the direction in which it is desired to move, shall +open continually a vacuum into which the pressure of the common +atmosphere shall impel the carriage.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> <i>Journal des Debats</i> announces for publication two works from the +pen of Guizot. The hero of the first is General Monk. Its title is <i>The +Downfall of the Republic in England in 1660, and the Reestablishment of +the Monarchy: A Historic Study</i>. It may be regarded as new, though part +has been published before in the form of articles in the <i>Revue +Française</i>. These articles appeared in 1837. M. Guizot has carefully +revised them, and added a great deal of new matter. The work is also to +be enriched with a number of curious documents never before published, +such as a letter from Richard Cromwell to General Monk, and seventy +dispatches from M. de Bordeaux, then French Ambassador at London, to +Cardinal Mazarin. These dispatches have been found in the archives of +the Foreign Office at Paris. The work has a new preface, which the +<i>Debats</i> says will prove to be no less important in a political than a +historical point of view. The second book is that so well known in this +country upon Washington. We do not understand that anything new is added +to it. It was in the first place issued as the introduction of the +translation into French of Sparks's <i>Life of Washington</i>, which the +French journalist says is the most exact and complete work yet published +on the war of independence and the foundation of the United States. +"Monk and Washington," adds the <i>Debats</i>: "on the one side a republic +falling and a monarchy rising again into existence, on the other a +monarchy giving birth to a republic; and M. Guizot, formerly the prime +minister of our monarchy, now amid the perplexities of our own republic +the historian of these two great men and these two great events! Were +contrasts ever seen more striking, and more likely to excite a powerful +interest?"</p> + +<p>This is very well for the <i>Debats</i>. But the omissions by Mr. +Sparks—sometimes from carelessness, sometimes from ignorance, and +sometimes from an indisposition to revive memories of old feuds, or to +cover with disgrace names which should be dishonored; and his occasional +verbal alterations of Washington's letters prevent that general +satisfaction with which his edition of Washington would otherwise be +regarded. We are soon to have histories of the Revolution, from both +Sparks and Bancroft, in proper form. The best documentary history is +not, as the <i>Debats</i> fancies, this collection of Washington's letters, +but Mr. Force's "Archives,"—of which, with its usual want of sagacity +or regard for duty, Congress is publishing but one tenth of the edition +necessary, since every statesman in our own country, and every writer on +American history at home or abroad, needs a copy of it, and from its +extent and costliness it will never be reprinted.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The <span class="smcap">Rabbi Cahen</span> has published at Paris the Book of Job, which concludes +his learned version of the Hebrew Bible.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Works on the German Revolution and German Politics</span>.—An excellent book +on the Prussian revolution is now being published at Oldenburg. It is +from the pen of Adolf Stahr, a writer of remarkable force and clearness. +He belongs to the party most bitterly disappointed by the turn affairs +have taken in Germany. We mean the democratic monarchists, who labored +under the illusion that they might see Prussia converted into a sort of +republic with a hereditary chief, like Belgium. They desired a monarchy, +with a parliament elected by universal suffrage, and democratic +institutions of every kind. Stahr's book breathes all the bitterness of +their rage at the success of absolutism in snatching from them every +slightest vestige of hope. His book is published serially, four parts +having already been issued. As a record of facts it deserves the praise +of great industry and lucidity in collection and arrangement, while on +every page there glows in suppressed eloquence the indignation of a +generous and manly heart. Of course Stahr cannot be called a historian +in the usual sense of the term. He is rather a political pamphleteer, +maintaining at length the ideas and chastising the foes of his party.</p> + +<p>Another and a more permanently valuable work on this subject is the +<i>Revolutions-Chronik</i> (Revolutionary Chronicle) of Dr. Adolf Wolff, +published by Hempel of Berlin. This is a collection of authentic +documents, such as proclamations, placards, letters, legislative acts, +&c., connected with the revolution. They are not only arranged in due +order, but are combined with a clear and succinct narrative of the +events and circumstances to which they relate. We know of no man more +competent than Dr. Wolff to the successful execution of so important an +undertaking. Without being a partisan, his sympathies are decidedly on +the popular side, and the clearness of his judgment cannot be blinded by +any of the feints and stratagems in which the period abounded. He is now +engaged upon the revolution in Prussia, but intends to treat all the +manifestations of the time throughout Germany in the same thorough and +reliable manner. His work will be invaluable to future historians of +this eventful period; at the same time it reads like a romance, not only +from the nature of the events, but from the spirit and keenness of the +style.</p> + +<p>Two other striking contributions to the history of this stormy epoch +have been made by Bruno Bauer, the well known rationalist. Bauer treats +the political and religious parties of modern Germany with the same +scornful satire and destructive analysis which appear in his theological +writings. He delights in pitting one side against the other and making +them consume each other. His first book is called the <i>Bürgerliche +Revolution in Deutschland</i>, (the Burghers' Revolution in Germany); it +was published above a year ago, and attracted a great deal of attention +from the fact that it took neither side, but with a sort of +Mephistophelian superiority, showed that every party had been alike +weak, timid, hesitating, short-sighted, and useless. The New-Catholics +of Ronge's school were especially treated with unsparing severity. Bauer +has now just brought out his second book, which is particularly devoted +to the Frankfort Parliament. In this also the Hegelian Logic is applied +with the same result. The author proves that all that was done in that +body was worth nothing and produced nothing. There is not a particle of +sympathetic feeling in the whole book; but only cold and contemptuous +analysis. It has not made very much of an impression in Germany. Both +these works, and, indeed, the whole school of ultra-Hegelian skeptics +generally, are a singular reaction upon the usual warmth and +sentimentality of German character and literature. They are the very +opposite extreme, and so a very natural product of the times. For our +part we like them quite as well as the other side of the contrast.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Germany</span> is the richest of all countries in historical literature. +Nowhere have all the events of human experience been so variously, +profoundly, or industriously investigated. Ancient history especially +has been most exhaustively treated by the Germans. One of the best and +most comprehensive works in this category is that of <span class="smcap">Dr. Zimmer</span>, the +seventh edition of which, revised and enlarged, has just been published +at Leipzic. Dr. Zimmer does not proceed upon the hypotheses of Niebuhr +and others, but conceives that the writing of history and romance ought +to be essentially different. The whole work is in one volume of some 450 +pages, and of course greatly condensed. It discusses the history of +India, China, and Japan; the western Asiatic States, Assyria, Babylonia, +Syria, Phœnicia, India, down to the fall of Jerusalem; the other +parts of Asia; Egypt to the battle of Actium, with a dissertation on +Egyptian culture; Carthage; Greece to the fall of Corinth; Rome under +the emperors down to the year 476; and concludes with an account of the +literature of classical antiquity.</p> + +<p>As we have no manual of this sort in English, that is written up to the +latest results of scholarship, we hope to see some American undertaking +a version of Dr. Zimmer's book. There is considerable learning and +talent in the two octavos on the same subject by Dr. Hebbe, and +published last year by Dewitt & Davenport; but we strongly dislike some +of the doctrines of the work, which are <i>not</i> derived from a thorough +study.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> seventh volume of Professor <span class="smcap">Schlosser's</span> History of the Eighteenth +Century, and of the Nineteenth till the overthrow of the French Empire, +appeared, in translation, in London, on the first of November. Volume +eighth, completing the work, with a copious index, is preparing for +early publication.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Discovery of a lost MS. of Jean Le Bel</span> is mentioned in the Paris +papers, as having been made by M. Polain, keeper of the Archives at +Ličge, among the MSS. in the <i>Bibliothčque de Bourgogne</i>, at Brussels. +It is on the eve of publication, and will be comprised in an octavo +volume, in black letter. This work was supposed to be irretrievably +lost. It was found by M. Polain, transcribed and incorporated into a +prose <i>Chronicle de Ličge</i>, by Jean des Pres, dit <i>d'Ontremeuse</i>. It +comprises a period between 1325 and 1340, which are embraced in one +hundred and forty-six chapters of the first book of <i>Froissart</i>. It +therefore contains only the first part of Le Bel's Chronicle: +nevertheless it is a fragment of much importance. Froissart cannot be +considered as a contemporary historian of the events recorded in his +first book, but Le Bel was connected with the greater portion of them, +and was acquainted with them either from personal knowledge or through +those who had authentic sources of information.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Monsieur Bastiat</span>, the political economist, (who has shown more economy +in the matter of credit for the best ideas in his books, than in +anything else we know of,) is not dead, as in the last <i>International</i> +was stated. The <i>Courier and Enquirer</i> correspondent says:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I am glad to say that the report which reached Paris from Italy, +of the death of <span class="smcap">F. Bastiat</span>, a noted writer on political economy, is +unfounded. That gentleman is recovering his health, and it is now +believed will be able, at the opening of the session, to resume his +seat in the Assembly."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Since his return from Italy he has published at Paris a new edition of +his latest production, the <i>Harmonies Economiques</i>, in which he has +availed himself in so large a degree and in so discreditable a manner of +the ideas of Mr. Henry C. Carey, of New Jersey, who, since he first gave +to the public the essentials of M. Bastiat's performance, has himself, +in a volume, entitled <i>The Harmony of Interests</i>, published some three +or four months ago in Philadelphia, largely and forcibly illustrated his +just and admirable doctrines. In the <i>Harmonies Economiques</i> M. Bastiat +seeks to prove that the interests of classes and individuals in society, +as now constituted, are harmonious, and not antagonistic as certain +schools of thinkers maintain. Commercial freedom he avers, instead of +urging society toward a state of general misery, tends constantly to the +progressive increase of the general abundance and well being. In +sustaining this proposition M. Bastiat teaches the optimism of the +socialists, and holds that injustice is not a necessary thing in human +relations, that monopoly and pauperism are only temporary, and that +things must come right at last. The powers of nature, the soil, +vegetation, gravitation, heat, electricity, chemical forces, waters, +seas, in short the globe and all the endowments with which God has +enriched it, are the common property of the entire race of man, and in +proportion as society advances this common property is more equally +distributed and enjoyed. Capital assists men in their efforts to improve +this magnificent inheritance; competition is a powerful lever with which +they set in movement and render useful the gratuitous gifts of God; the +social instinct leads them to make a continual exchange of services; and +even now, though the powers of nature enter into these services, those +who receive them pay only for the labor of their fellows, not for +natural products; and the accumulation of capital constantly diminishes +the rate of interest and enables the laborer to derive a greater return +from his toil. M. Bastiat also gives a new definition of value, which he +says is <i>the relation of two services exchanged</i>. This is all, we +believe, that he <i>claims</i> to offer as perfectly new,—the main part of +his book appearing as a clearer exposition of the doctrine of Adam +Smith. It will be seen that the theory of the book is infinitely +superior to that of Ricardo or Malthus; it has borrowed truths from the +advanced thinkers of the age; but he would be a bold critic who should +affirm that it had not mingled far-reaching errors with them.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">M. Romieu's</span> book in defense of despotism, (lately published in France,) +sounds as if it had been written for the <i>North American Review</i>, but it +never could have been sent to its editor, or it would have been adopted +and published by him. It is entitled "The Era of the Cćsars," and its +argument is, that history, ancient and modern, and the situation of the +contemporary world, prove that force, the sword, or <i>Cćsarism</i>, has +ultimately decided, and will prevail, in the affairs of the nations. +Representative assemblies, Monsieur Romieu considers ridiculous, and +mischievous, and in the end fatal: such, at least, he contends, is the +experience of France; and as for the liberty of the press, it means a +form of tyranny which destroys all other liberty. At the beginning of +the century, M. de Fontanes said what (he thinks) multitudes of the +soundest minds would reecho, "I shall never deem myself free in a +country where freedom of the press exists." He would convert all +journals into mere chronicles, and have them strictly watched. Force, he +says, is the only principle, even in governments styled free. He +includes Switzerland and the United States. The condition and destinies +of France he handles with special hardihood. Cćsarism is here already +desired and inaugurated—not monarchy, which requires faith in it, nor +constitutional government, which is an expedient and an illusion, but a +supreme authority capable of maintaining itself, and <i>commanding</i> +respect and submission. Mr. Walsh reviews the work in one of his letters +to the <i>Journal of Commerce</i>; and judging from Mr. Walsh's +correspondence on the recent attempts to establish free institutions in +Europe, we might suspect him of a hearty sympathy with M. Romieu, whom +he describes as an erudite, conscientious personage, formerly a prefect +of a department, and a member of the Assembly.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> German poet, <span class="smcap">Anastasius Grün</span>, has just published, at Leipzic a +collection of the <i>popular songs of Carinthia</i>, translated from the +original. Carinthia, as, perhaps, all our readers are not aware, is one +of the southerly provinces of the Austrian empire, on the borders of +Turkey; and, during all the wars of Austria with the Moslems, had to +bear the brunt of the fighting. And even after peace was concluded the +Carinthians kept up a sort of minor war on their own account, being +constantly exposed to incursions from the other side of the frontier. +Thus for centuries their country was one extended fortification, and the +whole population in constant readiness to rush to arms when the signal +fires blazed upon the hills. Then every house was a fortress, and even +the churches were surrounded with palisades and ditches, behind which +the women and children sought refuge with their movables when the alarm +came too near. From this period of constant and savage warfare the +popular songs of the country date their origin. Curious to say, many of +their heroes are borrowed from the traditions and history of neighboring +lands. Thus the Servian champion Marko figures a good deal in this +poetry, while the figure which has more importance than all the others +is a foreign and almost fabulous being, called King Mathias; wherever +this mystic personage can be laid hold of and historically identified, +he appears to be Mathias Corvin, king of Hungary. The Carinthians +attribute to him not only all the exploits of a variety of notable +characters, but also the vices of some celebrated illustrations of +immorality. Nor is his career accomplished; according to the tradition +of the southern Slavonians, King Mathias is not yet dead, but sleeps in +a grotto in the interior of Hungary, waiting for the hour of waking, +like Frederick the Redbeard in the Kyffhäuser, Charlemagne in the +Untersberg at Salzburg, Holger the Dane near Kronburg, and King Arthur +in a mountain of his native country. There sits King Mathias with his +warriors, by a table under a linden tree. Another song makes him, like +Orpheus with Eurydice, go down to hell with his fiddle in his hand to +bring thence his departed bride. But he has no better luck than Orpheus; +on the way out she breaks the commanded silence by saying a word to her +companion, and so is lost forever. These songs are still sung by the +Carinthian soldiers at night, around their watch-fires. There are others +of more modern origin, but they are weak and colorless compared with +these relics of the old heroic time.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Bryant's</span> delightful "Letters of a Traveler," of which we have +heretofore spoken, has been issued by Mr. Putnam in a new and very +beautiful edition, enriched with many exquisite engravings, under the +title of "The Picturesque Souvenir." It is a work of permanent value, +and in the style of its publication is hardly surpassed by any of the +splendid volumes of the season.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Laing</span>, one of those restless English travelers who have printed +books about the United States, is now a prominent personage in +Australia, where he has been elected a member of the newly instituted +Legislature, for the city of Sidney. Upon the conclusion of the canvass +he made a speech, after which he was dragged home in his carriage by +some of the more energetic of his partisans, the horses having been +removed by them for that purpose. He is opposed to the Government.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The History of Liberty</span>, by Mr. Samuel Elliot, of Boston, is examined at +considerable length and in a very genial spirit, in the last number of +the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i>—a review, by the way, in which much more +attention appears to be paid to our literature than it receives in the +<i>North American</i>. The writer observes, in the beginning, that the two +initial volumes of Mr. Elliot's great work, now published, in which the +<i>Liberty of Rome</i> is treated, would be a superhuman performance, if +Niebuhr, Muller, Heeren, Grote, and Thirlwall, had not written, and +compares the work of our countryman with the poem on the same subject by +Thomson, the author of "The Seasons." He says:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Mr. Elliot's work breathes a lofty morality; a grave and masculine +reserve; a deep and constant fear of not having done the best. He +may be subject,—like other Americans more or less <i>ideologists</i> +and system-mongers,—to illusions; but he has the true remedy: his +<i>ideal</i> is well placed; he can sympathize fervently with all the +pursuits and employments of human activity; he cherishes a profound +respect for prudence, and moderation; for an enlarging survey and +indulgence of human necessities; for that generosity and virtue +which is tender above all of what has life, and seeks to conciliate +a complete transformation in the ideas of men. Until now, it would +have been difficult to find a thinker who, in judging the Romans, +would not have celebrated their inordinate patriotism, as their +chief glory. Their heroes were admired precisely for the ardor with +which they sacrificed everything—even their children or their +conscience—to the interests of country or party. Mr. Elliot, on +the contrary, discovers in this heroism only a lamentable +deficiency of true virtue and honor; of a sound moral sense and +equitable liberality. To our apprehension, a great reform—an +historical event—is to be recognized in this new moral +repugnance—this new tendency to deem the spirit of <i>party</i> an evil +and a danger. Formerly, nothing was conceived to be nobler than to +serve your party, without stint or reservation;—nothing more +disgraceful than to abandon it even when you could not entertain +the same opinions. The condemnation and reversal of this doctrine +would be a moral advancement more important for human futurity, +than many of the occurrences or the revolutions of the last sixty +years, that have made the most noise."</p></blockquote> + +<p>We believe Mr. Elliot's leisure is not to be seriously interrupted by +public employments, and trust, therefore, that he will proceed, with as +much rapidity as possible, with his grand survey of the advance of +Liberty, down even to our own day—which it is not unlikely will +conclude a very important era of his subject.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Bowring</span>, who is now, we believe, British Consul at Canton, was the +editor of the last and only complete edition of Jeremy Bentham's works; +he has been one of the most voluminous contributors to the Westminster +Review, and he is eminent as a linguist, though if we may judge by some +of his performances, not very justly so. He translated and edited +specimens of the poetry of several northern nations, and it has often +been charged as an illustration of his dishonesty, that he omitted a +stanza of the sublime hymn of Derzhaven, a Russian, to the Deity, +because it recognized the divinity of Christ, as it is held by +Trinitarians—the Doctor being a Unitarian. He is sharply satirized, and +treated frequently with extreme and probably quite undeserved contempt, +in the Diaries and Correspondence of the late Hugh Swinton Legaré.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Henry Rogers</span>, of Birmingham, has published in London two stout +volumes of his contributions to the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>. They are not the +best things that ever appeared under the old "buff and blue," though +they are neat and very readable. Hitherto Professor Rogers has not been +known in literature, except by an edition of the works of Burke. The +reviewals or essays in this collection are divided into biographical, +critical, theological, and political. The first volume consists +principally of a series of sketches of great minds,—in the style, +half-biographical, half-critical, of which so many admirable specimens +have adorned the literature of this age. Indeed, such <i>demonstrations</i> +in mental anatomy have been a favorite study in all ages. Among Mr. +Rogers's subjects, are Pascal, Luther, Leibnitz, and Plato, and he +promises sketches of Descartes, Malabranche, Hobbes, Berkeley, and +Locke. The first article, on Thomas Fuller, may look rather dry at +first; but the interest increases, we admire the quaintness of old +Fuller, and not less the fine, accurate, and complete picture given of +his life, character, and works. In this, as in the other biographical +articles, Mr. Rogers tells his story fluently. If he has not the wit of +Sydney Smith, nor the brilliance of Macaulay, he has not the prosiness +of Alison, nor the bitterness of Gifford. He is witty with Fuller, +sarcastic with Marvell, energetic with Luther, philosophical and precise +with Leibnitz, quietly satirical with Pascal, and reflective and +intellectual with Plato. "Dead as a last year's reviewal" is no longer +among the proverbs. Books are too numerous to be read, and people make +libraries of the quarterlies,—thanks to the facilities afforded by Mr. +Leonard Scott! And reviews, properly written,—evincing some knowledge +of the books which furnish their titles, are very delightful and useful +reading, frequently more so than the productions which suggest them, of +which they ought always to give an intelligible description. And this +condition is fulfilled almost always by the reviews published in London +and Edinburgh. Our <i>North American</i> sometimes gives us tolerably +faithful abstracts, and its readers would be glad if its writers would +confine themselves to such labors. But we read an article in it not long +ago, under the title of Mr. Carey's "Past and Present," which contained +no further allusion to this book, nor the slightest evidence that the +"reviewer" had ever seen it. On the other hand, the last number contains +a paper on the Homeric question, purporting to have been occasioned by +Mr. Grote's History of Greece, but deriving its learning, we understand, +altogether from Mr. Mure's History of Greek Literature, a work so +extensive that it is not likely to be reprinted, or largely imported.</p> + +<p>This custom which now obtains, of reprinting reviewals, we believe was +begun in this country, where Mr. Emerson brought out a collection of +Carlyle's Essays, Andrews Norton one of Macaulay's, Dr. Furness one of +Professor Wilson's, Mr. Edward Carey one of Lord Jeffrey's, &c. several +years before any such collections appeared in England.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Respecting the Holy Land</span>, no work of so much absolute value has appeared +since Dr. Robinson's, as the Historical and Geographical Sketch by Rabbi +Joseph Schwartz, in a large and thick octavo, with numerous +illustrations, lately published in Philadelphia by Mr. Hart. Rabbi +Schwartz resided in Palestine sixteen years, and he is the only Jew of +eminence who has written of the country from actual observation, since +the time of Benjamin of Tudela. The learned author wrote his work in +Hebrew, and it has been translated by Rabbi Isaac Leeser, one of the +ablest divines in Philadelphia. It is addressed particularly to Jewish +readers, to whom the translator remarks in his preface, "It is hoped +that it may contribute to extend the knowledge of Palestine, and rouse +many to study the rich treasures which our ancient literature affords, +and also to enkindle sympathy and kind acts for those of our brothers +who still cling to the soil of our ancestors and love the dust in which +many of our saints sleep in death, awaiting a glorious resurrection and +immortality."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. John R. Thompson</span>, the accomplished and much esteemed editor of the +<i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>, whose genuine and intelligent love of +literature is illustrated in every number of his excellent magazine, has +just published a wise and eloquent address on the present state of +education in Virginia, which was delivered before the literary societies +of Washington College, at Lexington. It discloses the causes of the +ignorance of reading and writing by seventy thousand adults in Virginia, +and forcibly and impressively urges the necessity of a thorough literary +culture to the common prosperity.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">A New Play by Mr. Marston</span>, founded on the story of Philip Augustus of +France and Marie de Méranie, has been put into rehearsal at the Olympic +Theater in London.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Leipzic <i>Grenzboten</i> notices Mrs. Maberly's new romance of "Fashion" +(which we believe has not yet been republished in America) with great +praise, as a work of striking power and artistic management. +Nevertheless, says the critic, this romance has excited in England as +much anger as attention, and this he attributes to the truth with which +the authoress has depicted the aristocratic world. He then makes the +following remarks, which are curious enough to be translated: "The +meaning of the word 'fashion' cannot be rendered in a foreign language. +<i>La mode</i> and its tyranny approach somewhat to the sense, but still it +remains unintelligible to us Germans, because we have no idea of the +capricious, silly, and despotic laws of fashion in England. They do not +relate, as with us, to mere outward things, as clothes and furniture, +but especially to position and estimation in high society. In order to +play a part on that stage it is necessary to understand the mysterious +conditions and requirements which the goddess Fashion prescribes. High +birth and riches, wit and beauty, find no mercy with her if her +whimsical laws are not obeyed. In what these laws consist no living soul +can say: they are double, yes three-fold, the <i>je ne sais quoi</i> of the +French. The exclusiveness of English society is well known, a +peculiarity in which it is only excelled by its copyist the American +society of New York and Boston. But it is not enough to have obtained +admission into the magic circle: there, too, fashion implacably demands +its victims, and to her as to Moloch earthly and heavenly goods, wealth, +and peace of soul, are offered up."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">John Ruskin</span>, who has written of painting, sculpture and architecture, in +a manner more attractive to mere amateurs than any other author, will +soon publish his elaborate work, "The Authors of Venice." +Notwithstanding his almost blind idolatry of Turner, and his other +heresies, Ruskin is one of the few writers on art who open new vistas to +the mind; vehement, paradoxical, and one-sided he may be, but no other +writer <i>clears</i> the subject in the same masterly manner—no other writer +suggests more even to those of opposite opinions.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The first two volumes of Oehlenschlager's</span> <i>Lebens Erinnerungen</i> have +appeared at Vienna, and attract more observation than anything else in +the late movements in the German literature. The poet's early struggles +give one kind of interest to this work, and his friendship with +illustrious litterateurs another. Madame de Stael, Goethe, Schiller, the +Schlegels, Steffens, Hegel, and other representatives of German thought, +pass in succession through these pages, mingled with pictures of Danish +life, and criticisms on the Danish drama. Like most German biographies, +this deals as much with German literature as with German life.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gustave Planche</span>, a clever Parisian critic, has in the last number of <i>La +Revue des Deux Mondes</i>, an article on Lamartine's novels and +Confessions, issued within the year. He spares neither the prose nor +poetry of the romantic statesman. He classes the <i>History of the +Girondists</i> with the novels. On the whole he thinks there is less of +fact, or more of transmutation of fact, than in Sir Walter Scott's +Waverley series: as in Scott's Life of Napoleon there was less of +veracity than in any even of his professed fictions founded upon +history. These romancists are never to be trusted, except in their own +domains.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Prosper Mérimée</span>, known among the poets by his <i>Theatre de Clara Gazul</i>, +and who by his <i>Chronique du Temps de Charles IX.</i> and <i>Colomba</i>, was +entitled to honorable mention in literature, has written a very clever +book about the United States—the fruit of a visit to this country last +year—which an accomplished New-Yorker is engaged in translating. His +last previous performance was a Life of Pedro the Cruel, which has been +translated and published in London, and is thus spoken of in the +<i>Literary Gazette</i>:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The subject hardly yields in romantic variety, strange turns of +fortune, characters of strong expression, and tragedies of the +deepest pathos, to anything created by the imagination. Within the +period and in the land which was marked by the fortunes of Pedro of +Castile, the scene is crowded with figures over which both history +and song have thrown a lasting interest. The names of Planche of +France, Inez de Castro of Portugal, Du Guesclin,—the Black Prince, +the White Company—belong alike to romance and to reality. The very +'Don Juan' of Mozart and Byron plays his part for an hour as no +fabulous gallant at the court of Seville; Moors and Christians join +in the council or in the field here, as well as in the strains of +the Romancero; and the desperate game played for a crown by the +rival brothers whose more than Theban strife was surrounded by such +various objects of pity, admiration or terror, wants no incident, +from its commencement to its climax, to fill the just measure of a +tragic theme. One more striking could scarcely have been desired by +a poet; yet M. Mérimée, who claims that character, has handled it +with the judgment and diligence of an historian."</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nathaniel Hawthorne</span>, the greatest living American writer born in the +present century, has just published, through Ticknor, Reed and Fields, a +volume for juvenile readers, in the preface to which he says:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"It has not been composed without a deep sense of responsibility. +The author regards children as sacred, and would not for the world +cast anything into the fountain of a young heart that might +embitter and pollute its waters. And even in point of the literary +reputation to be aimed at, juvenile literature is as well worth +cultivating as any other. The writer, if he succeed in pleasing his +little readers, may hope to be remembered by them till their own +old age—a far longer period of literary existence than is +generally attained by those who seek immortality from the judgments +of full grown men."</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">An</span> attentive correspondent of the <i>International</i>, at Vienna, mentions +that letters have been received there from the eccentric but daring and +intelligent American, Dr. <span class="smcap">Mathews</span>, formerly of Baltimore, who, some +years since, assumed the style of the Arabs, with a view to discovery in +Northern and Central Africa. We hope to obtain further information of +Dr. Mathews, respecting whose adventures there has not hitherto been +anything in the journals for several years.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Professor G.J. Adler</span>, of the New York University, the learned author of +the German and English Dictionary, is now printing a translation which +he has just completed, of the <i>Iphigenia in Taurus</i>, by Goethe. Of the +eighteen that remain of the sixty to ninety plays of Euripides, the +<i>Iphigenia at Tauri</i> is one of the most remarkable. When Goethe returned +from Italy, his spirit was infused with the love of ancient art, and his +ambition tempting him to a rivalry of its masters, he selected this +subject, to which he brought, if not his finest powers, his severest +labor; and the drama of Iphigenia—which is in many respects very +different from that of Euripides,—is, next to Faust, perhaps the +noblest of his works. We are not aware that it has hitherto appeared in +English. The forthcoming translation, (which is in the press of the +Appletons,) strikes us very favorably. It is exact, and is generally +flowing and elegant.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Official Paper of China</span> has a name which means the <i>Pekin Gazette</i>. +It is impossible to ascertain when its publication was first commenced, +but it seems to be the oldest newspaper in the world. There is a +tradition that it began under the Sung dynasty in the latter part of the +tenth century. It is originally a sort of handbill, containing official +notices, posted up on the walls of the Capital and sent in manuscript to +provincial officers. At Canton it is printed for the public at large and +sold. It appears every other day in the form of a pamphlet of ten or +twelve pages. It consists of three parts; the first is devoted to Court +news, such as the health and other doings of the Imperial family; the +second gives the decrees of the Sovereign; the third contains the +reports and memorials of public functionaries made to the imperial +government on all subjects concerning the interests of the country. The +decrees are concise in style; the reports and memorials are the +perfection of verbiage. The former have the force of laws, the Emperor +being both legislative and executive. As a record of materials for +history the <i>Gazette</i> is of little value, for a little study shows that +lies are abundant in it, and that its statements are designed as much to +conceal as to make known the facts. Since the English war the number of +documents published relating to affairs with foreign nations is very +small. Something is given respecting the finances, but that too, is of +very little value.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Williams</span>, who wrote "Shakspeare and his Friends," &c., has just +published a novel entitled "The Luttrells." It was very high praise of +his earlier works that they were by many sagacious critics attributed to +Savage Landor. His novels on the literature of the Elizabethan age +evince taste and feeling, and his sketches of the Chesterfield and +Walpole period in "Maids of Honor," are happily and gracefully done. +"The Luttrells" has passages occasionally more powerful but hardly so +pleasing as some in the books we have named. In mere style it is an +improvement on his former efforts. In the early passages of the story +there is nice handling of character, and frequent touches of genuine +feeling.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The fifth volume</span> of Vaulabelle's <i>Histoire de la Restauration</i>, a +conscientious and carefully written history of France and the Bourbon +family, from the restoration in 1815 down to the overthrow of Charles +X., has just been published at Paris. It receives the same praise as the +preceding volumes. M. Vaulabelle it may be remembered was for a brief +period, in 1848, General Cavaignac's Minister of Education and Public +Worship.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain Sir Edward Belcher, C.B., R.N.</span>, &c., whose presence in New York +we noted recently, is now in Texas, superintending the settlement of a +large party of first class English emigrants. A volume supplemental to +his "Voyage of H.M.S. Samarang," illustrative of the zoology of the +expedition, has been published in London by Arthur Adams, F.L.S.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">M. Guizot</span>, it is said, is going back to his old profession of editor. He +is to participate in the conduct of the <i>Journal des Debats</i>, in which, +of course, he will sign his articles. We do not always agree with M. +Guizot, but we cannot help thinking him, upon the whole, the most +respectable man who for a long time has been conspicuous in affairs in +France.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> sixth and concluding volume of the life and correspondence of <span class="smcap">Robert +Southey</span>, edited by C.C. Southey—illustrated with a view of Southey's +Monument in Crosthwaite Church, and a view of Crosthwaite, from Greta +Hill—was published in London, early in November, and will soon be +reissued by Harpers.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Somebody</span> having said that Bulwer had lost his hearing, and was in a very +desponding way in consequence, he has written to the <i>Morning Post</i> to +say he is by no means deaf, but that if he were he should not much +despond on that account, "for the quality and material of the talk +that's going is not calculated to cause any great regret for the +deprivation of one's ears."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The second volume of the Count de Castelnau's</span> Expedition into the +Central Regions of South America, under the auspices of the French +government, has just been published in Paris.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">An</span> eminent diplomatist of France has just published two volumes of most +interesting revelations drawn from his own note-books and personal +knowledge. We allude to the <i>Etudes Diplomatiques et Litteraires</i> of +Count Alexis de Saint Priest. On the partition of Poland especially, it +casts an entirely new and conclusive light. M. Saint Priest shows that +apart from the internal anarchy and weakness of Poland, the catastrophe +was the work not of Russia as has been commonly supposed, but of +Frederic the Great of Prussia. Russia had no interest in dividing +Poland; in fact she was already supreme in that country; and besides, +her policy has never been that of an active initiative,—she waits for +the fruit to fall, and does not take the trouble of shaking the tree +herself. The great criminal then in this Polish affair was Prussia, and +the cause was the historic antagonism between Germany and Poland. M. +Saint Priest sketches the character of Frederic with the hand of a +master. "We shall see him," he says in approaching that part of his +subject, "we shall see him as he was, both adventurous and patient, +ardent and calm, full of passion yet perfectly self-possessed, capable +of embracing the vastest horizon and of shutting himself up for the +moment in the most limited detail, his eyes reaching to the farthest +distance, his hand active in the nearest vicinity, approaching his aim +step by step through by-paths, but always gaining it at last by a single +bound. We shall see him employing the most indefatigable, the most +tenacious, the most persevering will in the service of his idea, +preparing it, maturing it by long and skillful reparation, and imposing +it on Europe not by sudden violence, but by the successive and cunning +employment of flattery and intimidation. And finally, when all is +consummated, we shall see him succeed in avoiding the responsibility and +throwing it altogether upon his coadjutors, with an art all the more +profound for the simplicity under which its hardihood was concealed, and +the indifference which masked its avidity. To crown so audacious a +maneuver, he will not hesitate to declare, that "since he has never +deceived any one, he will still less deceive posterity! And in fact he +has treated them with a perfect equality: he made a mock of posterity as +well as of his contemporaries." With regard to the part of France in the +division of Poland, M. Saint Priest attempts to prove that the French +monarchy could not prevent the catastrophe; but that it was in the +revolutionary elements then fermenting in France and opposed to the +monarchy, that Frederic found his most powerful allies. Of course he +defends the monarchy from blame in the matter, and we shall not +undertake to say that he is wrong in so doing. Certainly the downfall of +Poland cannot be regarded as an isolated event, but as a part of the +great series of movements belonging to the age, in which causes the most +antagonistic in their nature often cooperated in producing the same +effect. M. Saint Priest further reasons that the providential mission of +Poland was to oppose Turkey and Islamism, and when the latter ceased to +rise the former necessarily declined. But our space will not permit us +to follow this interesting work any farther. The careful students of +history will not fail to consult it for themselves.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mary Lowell Putnam</span>, a daughter of the Rev. Dr. Lowell of Boston, and +sister of James Russell Lowell, the poet, is the author of an +annihilating reviewal, in the last <i>Christian Examiner</i>, of Mr. Bowen on +the Hungarian Struggle for Independence. The <i>Tribune</i> contains a +<i>resumé</i> of the controversy, in which it had itself been honorably +distinguished, and furnishes the following sketch of Professor Bowen's +antagonist:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Without any ambition for literary distinction, leading a life of +domestic duties and retirement, and pursuing the most profound and +various studies from an insatiate thirst for knowledge, this +admirable person has shown herself qualified to cope with the +difficulties of a complicated historical question, and to vanquish +a notorious Professor on his own ground. The manner in which she +has executed her task (and her victim) is as remarkable for its +unpretending modesty as for its singular acuteness and logical +ability. She writes with the graceful facility of one who is +entirely at home on the subject, conversant from long familiarity +with its leading points, and possessing a large surplus of +information in regard to it for which she has no present use. If +she exhibits a generous sympathy with the cause of the oppressed, +she does not permit the warmth of her feelings to cloud the +serenity of her judgment. She conducts the argument with an almost +legal precision, and compels her opponent to submit to the force of +her intellect."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Harvard would certainly be a large gainer if Mrs. Putnam could succeed +Mr. Bowen as professor of <i>History</i>, or,—as the libeller of Kossuth +<i>fills</i> so small a portion of the chair,—if she could be made associate +professor; but to this she would have objections.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">In Leipsic</span> a monument has been erected by the German agriculturists to +<span class="smcap">Herr Thaer</span>, who has done so much amongst them for agricultural science. +It consists of a marble column nine feet high, on which stands the +statue of Thaer, life size. It is surrounded by granite steps and an +iron balustrade. The column bears the inscription, "To their respected +teacher, Albert Thaer, the German Agriculturists—1850."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">A New Novel</span> by Bulwer Lytton is announced by Bentley, to appear in three +volumes. Dickens, having completed his "David Copperfield," will +immediately commence a new serial story. Thackeray, it is rumored, has a +new work in preparation altogether different from anything he has yet +published. The Lives of Shakspeare's Heroines are announced to appear in +a series of volumes.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir Roger de Coverly: By the Spectator</span>," is one of the newest and most +beautiful books from the English press. It is illustrated by Thompson, +from designs by Frederick Tayler, and edited with much judgment by Mr. +Henry Wills. The idea of the book is an extremely happy one. It is not +always easy to pick out of the eight volumes of the <i>Spectator</i> the +papers which relate to <i>Sir Roger de Coverley</i>, when we happen to want +them. Here we have them all, following close upon each other, forming so +many chapters of the Coverley Chronicle, telling a succinct and charming +story, with just so much pleasing extract from other papers as to throw +light upon the doings of Sir Roger, and enough graceful talk about the +London of Queen Anne's time (by way of annotation) to adapt one's mind +completely to the de Coverley tone of sentiment. The <i>Spectator</i>—we +mean the modern gazette of that name—says of it:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The character of Sir Roger de Coverley is a creation which, in its +way, has never been surpassed; never perhaps equaled except by the +<i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>. The de Coverley establishment and the Vicar's +family have a strong general likeness. They are the same +simple-minded, kind-hearted English souls, in different spheres of +society. The thirty papers of the <i>Spectator</i> devoted to Sir Roger +and his associates, now that we have them together, form a perfect +little novel in themselves, from the reading of which we rise as we +rise from that of Goldsmith, healthier and happier. There never was +so beautiful an illustration of how far mere genuine heartiness of +disposition and rectitude of purpose can impart true dignity to a +character, as Sir Roger de Coverley. He is rather beloved than +esteemed. He talks all the way up stairs on a visit. He is a +walking epitome of as many vulgar errors as Sir Thomas Browne +collected in his book. He has grave doubts as to the propriety of +not having an old woman indicted for a witch. He is brimful of the +prejudices of his caste. He has grown old with the simplicity of a +child. Captain Sentry must keep him in talk lest he expose himself +at the play. And yet about all he does there is an unassuming +dignity that commands respect; and for strength and consistency in +the tender passion Petrarch himself does not excel him. Sir Roger's +unvarying devotion to his widow, his incessant recurrence to the +memory of his affection to her, the remarks relating to her which +the character of Andromache elicits from him at the play, and the +little incident of her message to him on his death-bed, form as +choice a record of passionate fidelity as the sonnets of the +Italian. How beautiful, too, is that death-scene—how quietly +sublime! Let us add that the good Sir Roger is surrounded by people +worthy of him. Will. Wimble, with his good-natured, useless +services; Captain Sentry, brave and stainless as his own sword, and +nearly as taciturn; the servant who saved him from drowning; the +good clergyman who is contented to read the sermons of others; the +innkeeper who must needs have his landlord's head for a sign; the +<i>Spectator</i> and his cronies: and then, and still, <span class="smcap">the Widow</span>!"</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. William W. Story</span>, to whose sculptures we have referred elsewhere, is +engaged in the preparation of a memoir of his father, the great jurist.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Life of John Randolph</span>, by Hugh A. Garland, has been published by the +Appletons in two octavos. It is interesting—as much so perhaps as any +political biography ever written in this country—but the subject was so +remarkable, and the materiel so rich and various, that it might have +been made very much more attractive than it is. Mr. Garland's style is +decidedly bad—ambitious, meretricious and vulgar—but it was impossible +to make a dull work upon John Randolph's history and character.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Best Edition of Milton's Poems</span> ever published in America—a reprint +of the best ever published in England—that of Sir Edgerton Brydges, has +just been printed by George S. Appleton of Philadelphia, and the +Appletons of New York. It is everything that can be desired in an +edition of the great poet, and must take the place, we think, of all +others that have been in the market. We are also indebted to the same +publishers for an admirable edition of <span class="smcap">Burns</span>, which if not as +judiciously edited as the Milton of Sir Edgerton Brydges, is certainly +very much better than any we have hitherto possessed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Keepsake: a Gift for the Holidays</span>, is one of the most +splendid—indeed is the <i>most</i> richly executed annual of the season. We +have not had leisure to examine its literary contents, but they are for +the most part by eminent writers. In unique and variously beautiful +bindings, "The Keepsake" is desirable to all the lovers of fine art.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gray's Poems</span>, with a Life of the author by Professor Henry Reed, has +been published by Mr. Henry C. Baird, of Philadelphia, in a volume the +most elegant that has been issued this year from the press of that city. +The engravings are specimens of genuine art, and the typography is as +perfect as we have ever seen from the printers of Paris or London.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Rev. Duncan Harkness Weir</span>, a distinguished <i>alumnus</i> of the +university and author of an essay "On the tenses of the Hebrew verb," +which appeared in "Kitto's Journal of Sacred Literature" for October +last, has been elected Professor of Oriental Languages, in the College +and University of Glasgow, in room of the late Dr. Gray.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Douglass Jerrold</span> announces a republication of all his writings for the +last fifteen years, in weekly numbers, commencing on the first of +January next—"a most becoming contribution to the Industry of Nations +Congress of 1851."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Rev. Christopher Wordsworth</span>, a nephew of William Wordsworth, has +nearly completed the memoirs of the poet, which will be reprinted, with +a preface by Professor Henry Reed, by Ticknor, Reed and Fields, of +Boston.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> +<h2>The Fine Arts.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Schwanthaler's Bavaria, and the Theresienwiese at Munich</span>.—On the +western side of Munich several streets converge in a plain which is the +arena of the great popular festival that takes place every October. +Around this plain, which is called the Theresienwiese, as well as around +the whole district in which the city is placed, the land rises some +thirty or forty feet. Near the spot where the green waters of the Iser +break through this ridge, King Louis founded the Hall of Fame, which is +to transmit to posterity the busts of renowned natives of the country. +This edifice is in Doric style, and with its two wings forms a +court-yard, opening toward the city. In the center of this court is +placed upon a granite pedestal, thirty feet high, a colossal statue of +bronze, fifty-four feet high, representing Bavaria, to which we have +several times referred in <i>The International</i>—our European +correspondence enabling us to anticipate in regard to subjects of +literature and art generally even the best-informed foreign journals.</p> + +<p>The Hall of Fame will not be completed for some years, but the statue is +finished, and was first exposed to view on the 9th of October. The +execution of this statue was committed by King Louis to Schwanthaler, +who began by making a model of thirteen feet in height. In order to +carry out the work a wooden house was erected at the royal foundry, and +a skeleton was built by masons, carpenters, and smiths, to sustain the +earth used in the mould for the full-sized model. This was begun in +1838, and ere long the figure stood erect. The subsequent work on the +model occupied two years. The result was greatly praised by the critics, +who wondered at the skill which had been able to give beauty as well as +dignity to a statue of so large dimensions. It holds up a crown of +oak-leaves in the left hand, while the right, resting upon the hip, +grasps an unsheathed sword twined with laurel, beneath which rests a +lion. The breast is covered with a lion's skin which falls as low as the +hips; under it is a simple but admirably managed robe extending to the +feet. The hair is wreathed with oak-leaves, and is disposed in rich +masses about the forehead and temples, giving spirit to the face and +dignity to the form. Such was the model, and such is the now finished +statue. But the subsequent steps in its completion are worthy of a +particular description.</p> + +<p>The model was in gypsum, and the first thing done was to take a mould +from it in earth peculiarly prepared for the reception of the melted +metal. The first piece, the head, was cast September 11th, 1844. It +weighs one hundred and twenty hundred-weight, and is five or six feet in +diameter: the remainder was cast at five separate times. When the head +was brought successful out of the mould, King Louis and many of the +magnates of Germany were present. The occasion was in fact a festival, +which Müller, the inspector of the royal bronze foundry and probably the +first living master of the art of casting in bronze, rendered still more +brilliant by illuminations and garlands of flowers. Vocal music also was +not wanting, as the artists of Munich were present in force, and their +singing is noted throughout Germany. Since last July workmen have been +constantly engaged in transporting the pieces of bronze weighing from +200 to 300 cwt. to the place where the statue was to be erected. For +this purpose a wagon of peculiar construction was used, with from +sixteen to twenty horses to draw it. On the 7th of August the last +piece, the head, was conveyed; it was attended by a festal procession. +The space within the head is so great that some twenty-eight men can +stand together in it. The body, the main portions of which were made in +five castings, weighs from 1300 to 1500 cwt., and has a diameter of +twelve feet; the left arm, which is extended to hold the wreaths, from +125 to 130 cwt.; its diameter is five feet, and the diameter of its +index finger six inches. The nail of the great toe can hardly be covered +with both a man's hands. A door in the pedestal leads to a cast-iron +winding stairway which ascends to the head, within which benches have +been arranged for the comfort of visitors, several of whom can sit there +together with ease. The light enters through openings arranged in the +hair, whence also the eye can enjoy the view of the city and the +surrounding country with the magical Alps in the background. The entire +mass of bronze, weighing about 2600 cwt., was obtained from Turkish +cannon lost in the sea at Navarino and recovered by Greek divers. The +value of the bronze is about sixty thousand dollars. The sitting lion +has a height of near thirty feet. It was cast in three pieces, and +completes the composition in the most felicitous manner.</p> + +<p>The statue having been completed, the final removing of the scaffolding +around it and its full exposure to the public took place on the 9th of +October. This was a day of great festivity at Munich and its vicinity. A +platform had been erected directly in front of the statue for the +accommodation of King Maximilian and his suite. The festivities began +with an enormous procession of carriages, led by bands of music and +bearing the representatives of the different industrial and agricultural +trades, with symbols of their respective occupations. As they passed +before the King's platform each carriage stopped, saluted his majesty, +and received a few kindly words in reply. The procession was closed by +the artists of Munich. The carriages took their station in a half circle +around the platform. Soon after, accompanied by the thunder of cannon, +the board walls surrounding the scaffold were gradually lowered to the +ground.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +The admiration of the statue (which by the way is exactly fifty-four +feet high), was universal and enthusiastic. All beholders were delighted +with the harmony of its parts and the loveliness of its expression +notwithstanding its colossal size. The ceremonies of the day were closed +with speeches and music; the painter Tischlein made a speech lauding +King Louis as the creator of a new era for German art. A very numerous +chorus sung several festive hymns composed for the occasion, after which +the multitude dispersed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Dominican Monastery</span> of San Marco at Florence has for centuries been +regarded with special interest by the lovers of art for the share it has +had in the history of their favorite pursuit. Nor has its part been of +less importance in the sphere of politics. The wanderer through its +halls is reminded not only of Fra Angelico da Fičsole and Fra +Bartolommeo, to whose artistic genius the monastery is indebted for the +treasures which adorn its halls, refectory, corridors, and cells, but of +Cosimo de Medici, Lorenzo his great descendant, of Savonarola, and the +long series of contests here waged against temporal and spiritual +tyranny. The works of Giotto and Domenico Ghirlandajo are likewise to be +found in the monastery, and there also miniature pictures of the most +flourishing period of art may be seen ornamenting the books of the +choir. Every historian who has written upon Florence has taken care not +to omit San Marco and its inhabitants.</p> + +<p>We are glad to announce that a society of artists at Florence has +undertaken to give as wide a publicity as possible to the noblest +productions of art in this monastery. A former work by the same men is a +good indication of what may now be expected from them. Some years since +they published copies of the most important pictures from the collection +of the Florentine Academy of Art. They gave sixty prints with +explanations. Among engravings from galleries this was one of the best, +containing in moderate compass a history of Tuscan art from Cimabue to +Andrea del Sarto. The new work, which has long been in preparation but +has been delayed by unfavorable circumstances, will now be carried +through the press without delay. Its title is, <i>San Marco Convento dei +Padri Predicatori in Firenze illustrato e inciso principalmente nei +dipinti del B. Giovanni Angelico</i>. Antonio Parfetti, the successor of +Morghen and Garavaglia as professor of the art of engraving on copper at +the Florentine Academy, has the artistic supervision of the enterprise. +Father Vincenzo Marchese, to whom the public are indebted for the work +well known to all students, on the artists of the Dominican order, is to +furnish a history of the monastery, a biography of Fra Angelico, +together with explanations of the engravings. Everything is thus in the +most capable hands. The execution of the copperplates leaves nothing to +be desired. The draughtsmen and engravers having had the best +preparatory practice in the above-mentioned series from the Academy, +have fully entered into the spirit of the originals; both outlines and +shading are said by the best critics to combine the greatest delicacy +with exactness, and to reproduce the expression of feeling which is the +difficulty in these Florentine works, with tact and truth. As yet they +have finished only the smaller frescoes which adorn almost every cell; +but they will soon have ready the larger ones, which will show how this +painter, whose sphere was mainly the pious emotions of the soul, was +also master of the most thrilling effects. The same is proved by the +powerful picture of the Crucifixion in the chapter hall, with its heads +so full of expression, a selection from which has just been published by +G.B. Nocchi, who some years since issued the well-known collection of +drawings from the Life of Jesus in the Academy. The impression of the +frescoes on Chinese paper has been done with the greatest care. Forty +plates and forty printed folio sheets will complete the work, which is +to be put at a moderate price. These illustrations of San Marco will be +universally welcomed with delight by the admirers of the beautiful, for +there the painter who most purely represented Christian art passed the +greater part of his life, leaving behind him an incomparable mass of the +most characteristic and charming creations.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. William W. Story</span>, who some time since abandoned a lucrative +profession to devote himself to art, has recently returned from Rome, +where he had been practicing sculpture during the past three years. Mr. +Story, we understand, has brought home with him to Boston several models +of classical subjects, the fruits of his labors abroad, which are spoken +of in the highest terms by those who have had the privilege of +inspecting them. Mr. Story is the only son of the late Justice Story of +Massachusetts. Before going abroad he had distinguished himself by some +of his attempts at sculpture, one of which was a bust of his father, +which he executed in marble. A copy of this work has been purchased or +ordered by some of his father's admirers in London, to be placed in one +of the Inns of Court. Mr. Story also made himself known by a volume of +miscellaneous poems, published in 1845. It is his intention, we learn, +to return to Italy in the spring.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Les Beautes de la France</span> is the title of a splendid new work now +publishing at Paris. It consists of a collection of engravings on steel, +representing the principal cities, cathedrals, public monuments, +chateaux, and picturesque landscapes of France. Each engraving is +accompanied by four pages of text, giving the complete history of the +edifice or locality represented. What is curious about it is that the +engravings are made in London, for what reason we are not informed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">The first exhibition</span> of paintings, such as is now given annually by our +academies, was at Paris in the year 1699. In September of that year, at +the suggestion of Mansart, the first was held in the Louvre. It +consisted of two hundred and fifty-three paintings, twenty-four pieces +of sculpture, and twenty-nine engravings. The second and last during the +reign of Louis XIV. was opened in 1704. That was composed of five +hundred and twenty specimens. During the reign of Louis XV., from 1737, +there were held twenty-four expositions. That of 1767 was remarkable for +the presence of several of the marine pieces of Claude Joseph Vernet. +During the reign of Louis XVI., from 1775 to 1791 there were nine +expositions. The <i>Horatii</i>, one of the master pieces of David, figured +in that of 1785. His first pieces had appeared in that of 1782. The +former Republic, too, upon stated occasions "exposed the works of the +artists forming the general commune of the arts." It was in these that +David acquired his celebrity as a painter which alone saved his head +from the revolutionary axe. The Paris exhibition will this year commence +on the fifteenth of December.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The largest specimen of Enamel Painting</span> probably in the world, has +recently been completed by Klöber and Martens at Berlin. It is four and +a half feet high, and eight feet broad, and it is intended for the +castle church at Wittenberg. The subject is Christ on the Cross, and at +his feet, on the right, stands Luther holding an open bible and looking +up to the Savior; and, on the left, Melancthon, the faithful cooperator +of the great reformer. The tombs of both are in this church, and it is +known that to those who, after the capture of the town, desired to +destroy these tombs, the emperor, Charles V., answered, "I war against +the living, not against the dead!" It was to the portal of this church +that Luther affixed the famous protest against indulgences which +occasioned the first movement of the Reformation. The king has caused +two doors to be cast in bronze, with this protest inscribed on them, so +that it will now be seen there in imperishable characters.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> original portrait of <span class="smcap">Sir Francis Drake</span> wearing the jewel around his +neck which Queen Elizabeth gave him, is now in London for the purpose of +being copied for the United Service Club. Sir T.T.F.E. Drake, to whom it +belongs, carried to London at the same time, for the inspection of the +curious in such matters, the original jewel, which, beyond the interest +of its associations with Elizabeth and Drake, is valuable as a work of +art. On the outer case is a carving by Valerio Belli, called Valerio +Vincentino, of a black man kneeling to a white. This is not mentioned by +Walpole in his account of Vincentino. Within is a capital and +well-preserved miniature of Queen Elizabeth, by Isaac Oliver, set round +with diamonds and pearls.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Family of Vernet</span>—the "astonishing family of Vernet"—is thus +referred to by a Paris correspondent of the <i>Courier and Enquirer</i>:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"History, probably, does not show another instance of so remarkable +a descent from father to son, through four generations, of the +possession, in an eminent degree, of a special and rare talent. +Claude Joseph was born in 1714, and was the son of a distinguished +painter of his day, Antoine Vernet. He excelled all his +contemporaries in sea pieces. His son, Antoine Charles Horace +Vernet, was, after David, one of the first painters of the empire, +excelling especially in battle scenes. His Rivoli, Marengo, +Austerlitz, Wagram, and his twenty-eight plates illustrative of the +campaign of Bonaparte in Italy, have secured a very high reputation +for A.C.H. Vernet. The greatest living French painter—perhaps it +may be truly said, the greatest painter of the day—is Horace +Vernet, son of the last named. He was born in 1789 <i>in the Louvre</i>. +He, like his father, excels in battle scenes and is remarkable for +the vivacity and boldness of his conceptions. He is now covering +the walls of the historic gallery at Versailles with canvas, which +will cause him to descend to posterity as the greatest of his +family. None of your readers who have visited Versailles, but have +stood before and admired till the picture seemed almost reality, +his living representations of recent military events in Africa. His +last admirable picture of Louis Napoleon on <i>horseback</i> will, it is +stated, be one of the greatest attractions of the approaching +exposition."</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">M. Leutze</span> is expected home from Germany in the spring. He left +Philadelphia, the last time, nearly ten years ago. He will accompany his +great picture of "Washington crossing the Delaware." Powers's statue of +<span class="smcap">Calhoun</span>, with the left arm broken off by the incompetent persons who at +various times were engaged in attempting to recover it, upon being +removed from the sea under which it had lain nearly three months was +found as fresh in tone as when it came from the chisel of the sculptor. +It has been placed in the temple prepared for it in Charleston. <span class="smcap">Mr. +Ranney</span> has completed a large picture representing Marion and his Men +crossing the Pedee.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Kaulbach</span>, according to a letter from Berlin in the November <i>Art +Journal</i>, was to leave that city about the middle of October, in order +to resume for the winter his duties as Director of the Academy of +Munich. The sum which he will receive for his six great frescoes and the +ornamental frieze, will be 80,000 thalers (12,000<i>l.</i> sterling) and this +is secured to him, as the contract was made before the existence of a +constitutional budget.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Homer's Odyssey</span> furnishes the subjects for a series of frescoes now +being executed in one of the royal palaces at Munich. Six halls are +devoted to the work; four of them are already finished, sixteen cantos +of the poem being illustrated on their walls. The designs are by +Schwanthaler, and executed by Hiltensperger. Between the different +frescoes are small landscapes representing natural scenes from the same +poem.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">If</span> we credit all the accounts of pictures by the old masters, we must +believe that they produced as many works as with ordinary energy they +could have printed had they lived till 1850. The <i>Journal de Lot et +Garonne</i> states that in the church of the Mas-d'Agenais, Count Eugčne de +Lonley has discovered, in the sacristy, concealed beneath dust and +spiders' webs, the 'Dying Christ,' painted by Rubens in 1631. The head +of Christ is said to be remarkable for the large style in which it is +painted, for drawing, color, and vigorous expression.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">A picture</span> painted on wood, and purchased in 1848 at a public sale in +London, where it was sold as the portrait of an Abbess by Le Brozino, +has been examined by the Academy of St. Luke at Rome, to whose judgment +it was submitted by the purchaser, and unanimously recognized as the +work of Michael Angelo, and as representing the illustrious Marchesa de +Pescara, Victoria Colonna.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The National Academy of Design</span> has resolved, that the entire body of +artists in this city should be invited to assemble for social +intercourse, in the saloons of the Academy, on the first Wednesday +evening of every month, commencing in December, and continuing until the +season of the annual exhibition.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The French President</span> has presented to the Museum of the Louvre David's +celebrated painting of Napoleon Bonaparte crossing the Alps. This work +was for many years at Bordentown, New Jersey, in possession of Joseph +Bonaparte.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> <i>Art Journal</i> for November contains an engraving on steel of the +marble bust by Mr. Dunham of Jenny Lind. This bust, we believe, was +recently sold in New York, by Mr. Putnam, for four hundred dollars.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Herman's</span> series of pictures called Illustrations of German History, +which gained great praise in Southern Germany some two years since, are +now being engraved on steel at Munich, and will soon be published.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Music and the Drama.</h2> + + +<h3>THE ASTOR PLACE OPERA</h3> + +<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>E have watched with interest the attempts which have been made for +several years to establish permanently the Italian opera in New York. +Although we disapprove of some of the means which have been used to +accomplish this object, yet, upon the whole, those who have been +efficient in the matter, both amateurs and artists, are entitled to the +hearty commendation of our musical world. To the enterprising Maretzek +belongs the palm, for his energy, liberality, and discrimination, in +bringing forward, in succession, so many great works, and so many +artists of superior excellence. No man could have accomplished what has +been accomplished by Maretzek, without a combination of very rare +endowments. Let the public then see to it that one who has done so much +for the cultivation and gratification of a taste for the most refining +and delightful of the arts, does not remain unappreciated and +unrewarded. Of the last star which has been brought forward by M. +Maretzek, the musical critic of <i>The International</i> (who has been many +years familiar with the performances of the most celebrated artists in +London, Paris, St. Petersburgh and Vienna, and who, it is pertinent to +mention, never saw M. Maretzek or Mlle. Parodi except in the orchestra +or upon the stage) gives these opinions.</p> + +<p>As an artist, Parodi ranks among the very best of Europe. +Notwithstanding so few years have elapsed since her first appearance +upon the stage, she has attained a reputation second only to that of +Grisi and Persiani. We have often had the pleasure of listening to both +of these last-named celebrities, in their principal rôles, and have +dwelt with rapture upon their soul-stirring representations. We have +also listened to the Norma and the Lucrezia Borgia of Parodi, and have +been equally delighted and astonished. Her excellences may be briefly +summed up as follows: With an organ of very great compass and of perfect +register, she combines immense power and endurance, and a variety and +perfection of intonation unsurpassed by any living artist. When she +portrays the softer emotions—affection, love, or benevolence—nothing +can be more sweet, pure, and melodious, than her tones; when rage, +despair, hate, or jealousy, seize upon her, still is she true to nature, +and her notes thrill us to the very soul, by their perfect truthfulness, +power, and intensity of expression. If gayety is the theme, no bird +carols more blithely than the Italian warbler. What singer can sustain a +high or a low tone, or execute a prolonged and varied shake, with more +power and accuracy than Parodi? What prima donna can run through the +chromatic scale, or dally with difficult cadenzas, full of unique +intervals, with more ease and precision than our charming Italian? Who +can execute a musical tour de force with more effect than she has so +recently done in Norma and Lucrezia?</p> + +<p>Persiani has acquired her great reputation by husbanding her powers for +the purpose of making frequent points, and on this account she is not +uniform, but by turn electrifies and tires her audience. She passes +through the minor passages, undistinguished from those around her, but +in the concerted pieces, and wherever she can introduce a cadenza or a +<i>tour de force</i>, she carries all before her. Parodi is good +<i>everywhere</i>—in the dull recitative, and in the secondary and +unimportant passages. Her magnificent acting, combined with her superb +vocalization, enchain through the entire opera.</p> + +<p>Grisi, like Parodi, is always uniform and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> accurate in her +representations, and upon the whole should be regarded as the queen of +song; but with these exceptions we know of no person who deserves a +higher rank as a true artist than Parodi. As yet she is not sufficiently +understood. She electrifies her hearers, and secures their entire +sympathies, but they have still to learn that silvery and melodious +tones, and cool mechanical execution, do not alone constitute a genuine +artist or a faultless prima donna. When the public understand how +perfectly Parodi identifies herself with the emotions and passions she +has to portray,—when they appreciate the immense variety of intonations +with which she illustrates her characters, and the earnestness and +intensity with which she throws her whole nature into all she does—then +she will be hailed as the greatest artist ever on this continent, and +one of the greatest in the world.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. E. Oakes Smith's</span> new tragedy called "The Roman Tribute," has been +produced in Philadelphia for several nights in succession, with very +decided success. The leading character in this play, a noble old Roman, +is quite an original creation. He is represented as a mixture of antique +patriotism, heroic valor, sublime fidelity, and stern resolution, tinged +with a beautiful coloring of romance which softens and relieves his more +commanding virtues. Several feminine characters of singular loveliness +are introduced. The play abounds in scenes of deep passion and thrilling +pathos, while its chaste elegance of language equally adapts it for the +closet or the stage. It was brought out with great splendor of costume, +scenery, proscenium, and the other usual accessories of stage effect, +and presented one of the most gorgeous spectacles of the season. We are +gratified to learn that the dramatic talent of this richly-gifted lady, +concerning which we have before expressed ourselves in terms of high +encomium, has received such a brilliant illustration from the test of +stage experiment. Mrs. Oakes Smith's admirable play of "Jacob Leisler" +will probably be acted in New York during the season.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>LEIGH HUNT UPON G.P.R. JAMES.</h3> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> HAIL every fresh publication of James, though I half know what he is +going to do with his lady, and his gentleman, and his landscape, and his +mystery, and his orthodoxy, and his criminal trial. But I am charmed +with the new amusement which he brings out of old materials. I look on +him as I look on a musician famous for "variations." I am grateful for +his vein of cheerfulness, for his singularly varied and vivid +landscapes, for his power of painting women at once lady-like and loving +(a rare talent,) for making lovers to match, at once beautiful and +well-bred, and for the solace which all this has afforded me, sometimes +over and over again, in illness and in convalescence, when I required +interest without violence, and entertainment at once animated and mild.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>HERR HECKER DESCRIBED BY MADAME BLAZE DE BURY.</h3> + +<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>E have heretofore given in the <i>International</i> some account of Madame +Blaze de Bury, and have made some extracts from her piquant and +otherwise remarkable book, "Germania."<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Looking it over we find +considerable information respecting Herr Hecker, who, since his +unfortunate attempt to revolutionize Germany, has lived in the United +States, being now, we believe, a farmer somewhere in the West. According +to the adventurous Baroness, Hecker was the first man in Germany to +declare for revolution. He was born, near Mannheim, in 1811; he took a +doctor's degree in the University of Heidelberg, followed the profession +of the law, and was elected a member of the Lower House in his 31st +year. Thenceforth he was active in opposition. He possessed all the +chief attributes of a popular leader, and his person was graceful and +commanding, his temperament ardent, his eloquence impassioned. Although +the Grand Duke Leopold was the "gentlest and most paternal of +sovereigns," according to Madame de Bury, still there were many radical +defects in the constitution of Baden. Against these defects Hecker waged +war, and with some success, which instigated him to further efforts +against the government. At length he was beaten on a motion to stop the +supplies, and he retired into France disgusted with his countrymen. +After some time he returned impregnated with the reddest republicanism. +He found sympathy in Baden, and when the revolution broke out in Paris, +he resolved to raise the standard of Republicism in Germany. In April, +1848, he set out for Constance, with four drummers and eight hundred +Badeners. He and they, extravagantly dressed and armed, proceeded +unopposed, singing "Hecker-songs," and comparing their progress to the +march of the French over the Simplon! They arrived at Constance, and +called the people to arms, but the people would not come. The slouched +hats and huge sabers of the patriots did not produce the desired +impression, and then <i>it rained</i>. In short, the movement failed. +Finally, having beaten up all the most disaffected parts of the country +for recruits, Hecker arrived at Kandern with twelve hundred men. Here +Gagern met him with a few hundred regular troops. Hecker attempted to +gain them over with the cry of "German brotherhood," but Gagern kept +them steady until he fell, mortally wounded, on the bridge. Then there +was a slight skirmish; both parties retreated, and act the first of the +drama closed. Meanwhile the <i>Vor Parlament</i> had been summoned, and the +National Assembly of Frankfort had met in the Paulskircke, to the number +of four hundred deputies; their self-constituted task was simply to +reform all Germany. Frankfort was stirring and joyous upon this +occasion, as it had used to be in former days, when within its walls<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +was elected the Head of the Holy Roman Empire. Bells were rung, cannon +fired, triumphal arches raised, green boughs and rainbow-colored banners +waved, flowers strewn in the streets, tapestries hung from windows and +balconies, hands stretched forth in greeting, voices strained to call +down blessings; all that popular enthusiasm could invent was there, and +one immense cry of rejoicing saluted what was fondly termed the +"Regeneration of Germany." The tumults, the misery, the bloodshed, and +the disappointment that followed, until the Rump of this "magniloquent +Parliament" sought shelter at Stuttgardt, are fresh in our memory.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Germania: its Courts, Camps, and People. By the Baroness +Blaze de Bury. London: Colburn.</p></div> + +<p>Hecker, having done his utmost to "agitate" his country, and having +failed "to inspire a dastard populace with the spirit of the ancient +Roman people," as Madame expresses it, he fled to America. But his name +was still a tower of strength to his Red brethren and the <i>Freicorps</i> of +the Schwartzwald and the Rhine. In Western Germany a year ago last +summer his return was enthusiastically expected by the revolutionary +army. "When Hecker comes," said they, "we shall be invincible." He came: +his followers crowded round him and implored him at once to lead them on +to victory! "Victory be d—d," was the reply of the returned exile; "go +home to your plows and your vines and your wives and children, and leave +me to attend to mine." Hecker had only come to Europe for his family, +and he returned almost immediately to America. Meanwhile the war blazed +up for a little while and then expired, leaving behind it the <i>Deutsche +Verwirrung</i><a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> as it now presents itself in Germania.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Literally, the <i>German entanglement</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Hecker seems to have been a sincere enthusiast; and it is +always observed by his friends that he renounced ease and comfort for +the cause that he espoused. We append a single verse from one of the +"Hecker songs" that were in 1849 in the mouth of every Badish +republican:— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Look at Hecker wealth-renouncing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er his head the red plume waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' awakening people's will announcing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the tyrant's blood he craves!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mud boots thick and solid wears he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All round Hecker's banner come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And march at sound of Hecker's drum."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Original Poetry.</h2> + + +<h3>THE GRIEF OF THE WEEPING WILLOW.</h3> + +<div class="poem2"> +<span class="dropcap">R</span>OUND my cottage porch are wreathing<br /> +Creeping vines, their perfume breathing<br /> +To the balmy breeze of Spring.<br /> +Near it is a streamlet flowing,<br /> +Where old shady trees are growing;<br /> +But of <i>one alone</i> I sing.<br /> +</div> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er the water sadly bending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the wave its leaflets blending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands a lonely willow tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shadow seems e'erlasting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That its boughs are always casting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the tiny wavelets' glee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft I've wondered what the sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ne'er know a gladsome morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the mourner's heart was sealed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no bitter wail of sadness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor low tone of chastened gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had the willow tree revealed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the breeze its leaves was lifting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the snows were round it drifting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed it still to grieve the same.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round its trunk a vine is twining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But its tendrils too seem pining<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a hand to tend and claim.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Type of love that bears life's testing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They earth's rudest storms are breasting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harmed not—so together borne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like girl to lover clinging,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passing time is only bringing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strength for every coming morn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of one summer eve I ponder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I musing chanced to wander<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the streamlet's margin bright.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moonbeams thro' the leaves were streaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each leaping wave was gleaming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a paly, astral light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er me hung the weeping willow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mossy bank was balmy pillow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in slumber sweet I dreamed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreamed of music round me gushing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That as winds o'er harp-strings rushing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'er like angel's whisper seemed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, those low-breathed tones of sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would that mortal tongue could borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Power to sing their sweetness o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here and there a sentence gleaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon my spirit caught the meaning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the mournful numbers bore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleeper, who beneath my shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath thy couch of dreaming made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listen as I breathe to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All my mournful history.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Childhood, youth, and womanhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have beneath my branches stood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of each as pass thy slumbers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak my melancholy numbers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of a fair-haired child I tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, one evening shadows fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a bright and gladsome hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passed mid haunt of bird and flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the grassy meadow straying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the streamlet's margin playing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free from thoughts of care and sadness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of life, and joy, and gladness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where my branches lowly hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft her fairy form hath swung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And methinks her laugh I hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaily ringing sweet and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As with fading light of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tripped her dancing feet away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many smiles and fewer tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus flew childhood's sunny years.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon she in my shadow stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the verge of womanhood:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er her pale and thoughtful brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunny tress was braided now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Softer tones her lips were breathing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calmer smiles around them wreathing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than in childhood's gayer day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sported from those lips away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Often with her came another;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But more tender than a brother<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed he in the care of her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who was his perfect worshiper.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His the hand that trained the vine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round my mossy trunk to twine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas the parting gift of one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom no more I looked upon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Memories of bygone hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed to her its fragile flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each bursting, fragrant blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wore she on her gentle bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Till like them in sad decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passed her maiden life away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once, and only once again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the trysting place she came:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad and tearful was her eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I heard a mournful sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathed from out the parted lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose smile seemed quenched by grief's eclipse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaf and flower were fading fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath the autumn's chilling blast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all nature seemed to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindred with her misery.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winter passed—but spring's warm sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought not back the long-missed one.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though vainly, still I yearn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that stricken one's return.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<div class="right">HERMANN</div> + +<p><i>Riverside, Nov. 10, 1850.</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> +<div class="center"><span class="simh3">A STORY WITHOUT A NAME.</span><a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></div> + +<div class="c75">WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE BY</div> + +<div class="center">G.P.R. JAMES, ESQ.</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by +G.P.R. James, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United +States, for the Southern District of New York.</p></div> + + +<div class="center"><br /><b>CHAPTER I.</b></div> + +<p><span class="dropcap">L</span>ET me take you into an old-fashioned country house, built by architects +of the early reign of James the First. It had all the peculiarities—I +might almost say the oddities—of that particular epoch in the building +art. Chimneys innumerable had it. Heaven only knows what rooms they +ventilated; but their name must have been legion. The windows were not +fewer in number, and much more irregular: for the chimneys were gathered +together in some sort of symmetrical arrangement, while the windows were +scattered all over the various faces of the building, with no apparent +arrangement at all. Heaven knows, also, what rooms they lighted, or were +intended to light, for they very little served the purpose, being +narrow, and obstructed by the stone mullions of the Elizabethan age. +Each too had its label of stone superincumbent, and projecting from the +brick-work, which might leave the period of construction somewhat +doubtful—but the gables decided the fact.</p> + +<p>They, too, were manifold; for although the house had been built all at +once, it seemed, nevertheless, to have been erected in detached masses, +and joined together as best the builder could; so that there were no +less than six gables, turning north, south, east, and west, with four +right angles, and flat walls between them. These gables were +surmounted—topped, as it were, by a triangular wall, somewhat higher +than the acute roof, and this wall was constructed with a row of steps, +coped with freestone, on either side of the ascent, as if the architect +had fancied that some man or statue would, one day or another, have to +climb up to the top of the pyramid, and take his place upon the crowning +stone.</p> + +<p>It was a gloomy old edifice: the bricks had become discolored; the +livery of age, yellow and gray lichen, was upon it; daws hovered round +the chimney tops; rooks passed cawing over it, on the way to their +conventicle hard by; no swallow built under the eaves; and the trees, as +if repelled by its stern, cold aspect, retreated from it on three sides, +leaving it alone on its own flat ground, like a moody man amidst a gay +society.</p> + +<p>On the fourth side, indeed, an avenue—that is to say, two rows of old +elms—crept cautiously up to it in a winding and sinuous course, as if +afraid of approaching too rapidly; and at the distance of some five or +six hundred yards, clumps of old trees, beeches and evergreen oaks, and +things of somber foliage, dotted the park, only enlivened by here and +there a herd of deer.</p> + +<p>Now and then, a milk-maid, a country woman going to church or market, a +peasant, or a game-keeper, might be seen traversing the dry brown +expanse of grass, and but rarely deviating from a beaten path, which led +from one stile over the path wall to another. It was all somber and +monotonous: the very spirit of dullness seemed to hang over it; and the +clouds themselves—the rapid sportive clouds, free denizens of the sky, +and playmates of the wind and sunbeam—appeared to grow dull and tardy, +as they passed across the wide space open to the view, and to proceed +with awe and gravity, like timid youth in the presence of stern old age.</p> + +<p>Enough of the outside of the house. Let me take you into the interior, +reader, and into one particular room—not the largest and the finest; +but one of the highest. It was a little oblong chamber, with one window, +which was ornamented—the only ornament the chamber had—with a decent +curtain of red and white checked linen. On the side next the door, and +between it and the western wall, was a small bed. A walnut-tree table +and two or three chairs were near the window. In one corner stood a +washing-stand, not very tidily arranged, in another a chest of drawers; +and opposite the fire-place, hung from nails driven into the wall, two +or three shelves of the same material as the table, each supporting a +row of books, which by the dark black covers, brown edges, and thumbed +corners, seemed to have a right to boast of some antiquity and much use.</p> + +<p>At the table, as you perceive, there is seated a boy of some fifteen +years of age, with pen and ink and paper, and an open book. If you look +over his shoulder, you will perceive that the words are Latin. Yet he +reads it with ease and facility, and seeks no aid from the dictionary. +It is the "Cato Major" of Cicero. Heaven! what a book for a child like +that to read! Boyhood studying old age!</p> + +<p>But let us turn from the book, and examine the lad himself more closely. +See that pale face, with a manlike unnatural gravity upon it. Look at +that high broad brow, towering as a monument above the eyes. Remark +those eyes themselves, with their deep eager thought; and then the gleam +in them—something more than earnestness, and less than wildness—a +thirsty sort of expression, as if they drank in that they rested on, and +yet were unsated.</p> + +<p>The brow rests upon the pale fair hand, as if requiring something to +support the heavy weight of thought with which the brain is burdened. He +marks nothing but the lines of that old book. His whole soul is in the +eloquent words. He hears not the door open; he sees not that tall, +venerable, but somewhat stiff and gaunt figure, enter and approach him. +He reads on, till the old man's Geneva cloak brushes his arm, and his +hand is upon his shoulder. Then he starts up—looks around—but says +nothing. A faint smile, pleasant yet grave, crosses his finely cut lip; +but that is the only welcome, as he raises his eyes to the face that +bends over him. Can that boy in years be already aged in heart?</p> + +<p>It is clear that the old man—the old clergyman, for so he evidently +is—has no very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> tender nature. Every line of his face forbids the +supposition. The expression itself is grave, not to say stern. There is +powerful thought about it, but small gentleness. He seems one of those +who have been tried and hardened in some one of the many fiery furnaces +which the world provides for the test of men of strong minds and strong +hearts. There has been much persecution in the land; there have been +changes, from the rigid and severe to the light and frivolous—from the +light and frivolous to the bitter and cruel. There have been tyrants of +all shapes and all characters within the last forty years, and fools, +and knaves, and madmen, to cry them on in every course of evil. In all +these chances and changes, what fixed and rigid mind could escape the +fangs of persecution and wrong? He had known both; but they had changed +him little. His was originally an unbending spirit: it grew more tough +and stubborn by the habit of resistance; but its original bent was still +the same.</p> + +<p>Fortune—heaven's will—or his own inclination, had denied him wife or +child; and near relation he had none. A friend he had: that boy's +father, who had sheltered him in evil times, protected him as far as +possible against the rage of enemies, and bestowed upon him the small +living which afforded him support. He did his duty therein +conscientiously, but with a firm unyielding spirit, adhering to the +Calvinistic tenets which he had early received, in spite of the +universal falling off of companions and neighbors. He would not have +yielded an iota to have saved his head.</p> + +<p>With all his hardness, he had one object of affection, to which all that +was gentle in his nature was bent. That object was the boy by whom he +now stood, and for whom he had a great—an almost parental regard. +Perhaps it was that he thought the lad not very well treated; and, as +such had been his own case, there was sympathy in the matter. But +besides, he had been intrusted with his education from a very early +period, had taken a pleasure in the task, had found his scholar apt, +willing, and affectionate, with a sufficient touch of his own character +in the boy to make the sympathy strong, and yet sufficient diversity to +interest and to excite.</p> + +<p>The old man was tenderer toward him than toward any other being upon +earth; and he sometimes feared that his early injunctions to study and +perseverance were somewhat too strictly followed—even to the detriment +of health. He often looked with some anxiety at the increasing paleness +of the cheek, at the too vivid gleam of the eye, at the eager nervous +quivering of the lip, and said within himself, "This is overdone."</p> + +<p>He did not like to check, after he had encouraged—to draw the rein +where he had been using the spur. There is something of vanity in us +all, and the sternest is not without that share which makes man shrink +from the imputation of error, even when made by his own heart. He did +not choose to think that the lad had needed no urging forward; and yet +he would fain have had him relax a little more, and strove at times to +make him do so. But the impulse had been given: it had carried the youth +over the difficulties and obstacles in the way to knowledge, and now he +went on to acquire it, with an eagerness, a thirst, that had something +fearful in it. A bent, too, had been given to his mind—nay, to his +character, partly by the stern uncompromising character of him to whom +his education had been solely intrusted, partly by his own peculiar +situation, and partly by the subjects on which his reading had chiefly +turned.</p> + +<p>The stern old Roman of the early republic; the deeds of heroic +virtue—as virtue was understood by the Romans; the sacrifice of all +tender affections, all the sensibilities of our nature to the rigid +thought of what is right; the remorseless disregard of feelings +implanted by God, when opposed to the notion of duties of man's +creation, excited his wonder and his admiration, and would have hardened +and perverted his heart, had not that heart been naturally full of +kindlier affections. As it was, there often existed a struggle—a sort +of hypothetical struggle—in his bosom, between the mind and the heart. +He asked himself sometimes, if he could sacrifice any of those he knew +and loved—his father, his mother, his brother, to the good of his +country, to some grave duty; and he felt pained and roused to resistance +of his own affections when he perceived what a pang it would cost him.</p> + +<p>Yet his home was not a very happy one; the kindlier things of domestic +life had not gathered green around him. His father was varying and +uneven in temper, especially toward his second son; sometimes stern and +gloomy, sometimes irascible almost to a degree of insanity. Generous, +brave, and upright, he was; but every one said, that a wound he had +received on the head in the wars, had marvelously increased the +infirmities of his temper.</p> + +<p>The mother, indeed, was full of tenderness and gentleness; and doubtless +it was through her veins that the milk of human kindness had found its +way into that strange boy's heart. But yet she loved her eldest son +best, and unfortunately showed it.</p> + +<p>The brother was a wild, rash, reckless young man, some three years +older; fond of the other, yet often pleased to irritate—or at least to +try, for he seldom succeeded. He was the favorite, however, somewhat +spoiled, much indulged; and whatever was done, was done for him. He was +the person most considered in the house; his were the parties of +pleasure; his the advantages. Even now the family was absent, in order +to let him see the capital of his native land, to open his mind to the +general world, to show him life on a more extended scale than could be +done in the country; and his younger brother was left at home, to pursue +his studies in dull solitude.</p> + +<p>Yet he did not complain; there was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> even a murmur at his heart. He +thought it all quite right. His destiny was before him. He was to form +his fortune for himself, by his own abilities, his own learning, his own +exertions. It was needful he should study, and his greatest ambition for +the time was to enter with distinction at the University; his brightest +thoughts of pleasure, the comparative freedom and independence of a +collegiate life.</p> + +<p>Not that he did not find it dull; that gloomy old house, inhabited by +none but himself and a few servants. Sometimes it seemed to oppress him +with a sense of terrible loneliness; sometimes it drove him to think of +the strange difference of human destinies, and why it should be +that—because it had pleased Heaven one man should be born a little +sooner or a little later than another, or in some other place—such a +wide interval should be placed between the different degrees of +happiness and fortune.</p> + +<p>He felt, however, that such speculations were not good; they led him +beyond his depth; he involved himself in subtilties more common in those +days than in ours; he lost his way; and with passionate eagerness flew +to his books, to drive the mists and shadows from his mind. Such had +been the case even now; and there he sat, unconscious that a complete +and total change was coming over his destiny.</p> + +<p>Oh, the dark workshop of Fate! what strange things go on therein, +affecting human misery and joy, repairing or breaking shackles for the +mind, the means of carrying us forward in a glorious cause, the +relentless weights which hurry us down to destruction! While you sit +there and read—while I sit here and write, who can say what strange +alterations, what combinations in the most discrepant things may be +going on around—without our will, without our knowledge—to alter the +whole course of our future existence? Doubtless, could man make his own +fate, he would mar it; and the impossibility of doing so is good. The +freedom of his own actions is sufficient, nay, somewhat too much; and it +is well for the world, aye, and for himself—that there is an overruling +Providence which so shapes circumstances around him, that he cannot go +beyond his limit, flutter as he will.</p> + +<p>There is something in that old man's face more than is common with +him—a deeper gravity even than ordinary, yet mingled with a tenderness +that is rare. There is something like hesitation, too—ay, hesitation +even in him who during a stormy life has seldom known what it is to +doubt or to deliberate: a man of strict and ready preparation, whose +fixed, clear, definite mind was always prompt and competent to act.</p> + +<p>"Come, Philip, my son," he said, laying his hand, as I have stated, on +the lad's shoulder, "enough of study for to-day. You read too hard. You +run before my precepts. The body must have thought as well as the mind; +and if you let the whole summer day pass without exercise, you will soon +find that under the weight of corporeal sickness the intellect will flag +and the spirit droop. I am going for a walk. Come with me; and we will +converse of high things by the way."</p> + +<p>"Study is my task and my duty, sir," replied the boy; "my father tells +me so, you have told me so often, and as for health I fear not. I seem +refreshed when I get up from reading, especially such books as this. It +is only when I have been out long, riding or walking, that I feel +tired."</p> + +<p>"A proof that you should ride and walk the more," replied the old man. +"Come, put on your hat and cloak. You shall read no more to-day. There +are other thoughts before you; you know, Philip," he continued, "that by +reading we get but materials, which we must use to build up an edifice +in our own minds. If all our thoughts are derived from others gone +before us, we are but robbers of the dead, and live upon labors not our +own."</p> + +<p>"Elder sons," replied the boy, with a laugh, "who take an inheritance +for which they toiled not."</p> + +<p>"Something worse than that," replied the clergyman, "for we gather what +we do not employ rightly—what we have every right to possess, but upon +the sole condition of using well. Each man possessed of intellect is +bound to make his own mind, not to have it made for him; to adapt it to +the times and circumstances in which he lives, squaring it by just +rules, and employing the best materials he can find."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I am ready," replied the youth, after a moment of deep +thought; and he and his old preceptor issued forth together down the +long staircase, with the slant sunshine pouring through the windows upon +the unequal steps, and illuminating the motes in the thick atmosphere we +breathe, like fancy brightening the idle floating things which surround +us in this world of vanity.</p> + +<p>They walked across the park toward the stile. The youth was silent, for +the old man's last words seemed to have awakened a train of thought +altogether new.</p> + +<p>His companion was silent also; for there was something working within +him which embarrassed and distressed him. He had something to tell that +young man, and he knew not how to tell it. For the first time in his +life he perceived, from the difficulty he experienced in deciding upon +his course, how little he really knew of his pupil's character. He had +dealt much with his mind, and that he comprehended well—its depth, its +clearness, its powers; but his heart and disposition he had not scanned +so accurately. He had a surmise, indeed, that there were feelings strong +and intense within; but he thought that the mind ruled them with +habitual sway that nothing could shake. Yet he paused and pondered; and +once he stopped, as if about to speak, but went on again and said +nothing.</p> + +<p>At length, as they approached the park wall, he laid his finger on his +temple, muttering to himself, "Yes, the quicker the better. 'Tis well to +mingle two passions. Surprise will share with grief—if much grief there +be."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> Then turning to the young man, he said, "Philip, I think you loved +your brother Arthur?"</p> + +<p>He spoke loudly, and in plain distinct tones; but the lad did not seem +to remark the past tense he used. "Certainly, sir," he said, "I love him +dearly. What of that?"</p> + +<p>"Then you will be very happy to hear," replied the old man, "that he has +been singularly fortunate—I mean that he has been removed from earth +and all its allurements—the vanities, the sins, the follies of the +world in which he seemed destined to move, before he could be corrupted +by its evils, or his spirit receive a taint from its vices."</p> + +<p>The young man turned and gazed on him with inquiring eyes, as if still +he did not comprehend what he meant.</p> + +<p>"He was drowned," said the clergyman, "on Saturday last, while sailing +with a party of pleasure on the Thames;" and Philip fell at his feet as +senseless as if he had shot him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>CHAPTER II.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">I must</span> not dwell long upon the youthful scenes of the lad I have just +introduced to the reader; but as it is absolutely needful that his +peculiar character should be clearly understood, I must suffer it to +display itself a little farther before I step from his boyhood to his +maturity.</p> + +<p>We left Philip Hastings senseless upon the ground, at the feet of his +old preceptor, struck down by the sudden intelligence he had received, +without warning or preparation.</p> + +<p>The old man was immeasurably shocked at what he had done, and he +reproached himself bitterly; but he had been a man of action all his +life, who never suffered thought, whether pleasant or painful, to impede +him. He could think while he acted, and as he was a strong man too, he +had no great difficulty in taking the slight, pale youth up in his arms, +and carrying him over the park stile, which was close at hand, as the +reader may remember. He had made up his mind at once to bear his young +charge to a small cottage belonging to a laborer on the other side of +the road which ran under the park wall; but on reaching it, he found +that the whole family were out walking in the fields, and both doors and +windows were closed.</p> + +<p>This was a great disappointment to him, although there was a very +handsome house, in modern taste, not two hundred yards off. But there +were circumstances which made him unwilling to bear the son of Sir John +Hastings to the dwelling of his next neighbor. Next neighbors are not +always friends; and even the clergyman of the parish may have his +likings and dislikings.</p> + +<p>Colonel Marshal and Sir John Hastings were political opponents. The +latter was of the Calvinistic branch of the Church of England—not +absolutely a non-juror, but suspected even of having a tendency that +way. He was sturdy and stiff in his political opinions, too, and had but +small consideration for the conscientious views and sincere opinions of +others. To say the truth, he was but little inclined to believe that any +one who differed from him had conscientious views or sincere opinions at +all; and certainly the demeanor, if not the conduct, of the worthy +Colonel did not betoken any fixed notion or strong principles. He was a +man of the Court—gay, lively, even witty, making a jest of most things, +however grave and worthy of reverence. He played high, generally won, +was shrewd, complaisant, and particular in his deference to kings and +prime ministers. Moreover, he was of the very highest of the High Church +party—so high, indeed, that those who belonged to the Low Church party, +fancied he must soon topple over into Catholicism.</p> + +<p>In truth, I believe, had the heart of the Colonel been very strictly +examined, it would have been found very empty of anything like real +religion. But then the king was a Roman Catholic, and it was pleasant to +be as near him as possible.</p> + +<p>It may be asked, why then did not the Colonel go the same length as his +Majesty? The answer is very simple. Colonel Marshal was a shrewd +observer of the signs of the times. At the card table, after the three +first cards were played, he could tell where every other card in the +pack was placed. Now in politics he was nearly as discerning; and he +perceived that, although King James had a great number of honors in his +hand, he did not hold the trumps, and would eventually lose the game. +Had it been otherwise, there is no saying what sort of religion he might +have adopted. There is no reason to think that Transubstantiation would +have stood in the way at all; and as for the Council of Trent, he would +have swallowed it like a roll for his breakfast.</p> + +<p>For this man, then, Sir John Hastings had both a thorough hatred and a +profound contempt, and he extended the same sensations to every member +of the family. In the estimation of the worthy old clergyman the Colonel +did not stand much higher; but he was more liberal toward the Colonel's +family. Lady Annabella Marshal, his wife, was, when in the country, a +very regular attendant at his church. She had been exceedingly +beautiful, was still handsome, and she had, moreover, a sweet, +saint-like, placid expression, not untouched by melancholy, which was +very winning, even in an old man's eyes. She was known, too, to have +made a very good wife to a not very good husband; and, to say the truth, +Dr. Paulding both pitied and esteemed her. He went but little to the +house, indeed, for Colonel Marshal was odious to him; and the Colonel +returned the compliment by never going to the church.</p> + +<p>Such were the reasons which rendered the thought of carrying young +Philip Hastings up to The Court—as Colonel Marshal's house was +called—anything but agreeable to the good clergyman. But then, what +could he do? He looked in the boy's face. It was like that of a corpse. +Not a sign of return<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>ing animation showed itself. He had heard of +persons dying under such sudden affections of the mind; and so still, so +death-like, was the form and countenance before him, as he laid the lad +down for a moment on the bench at the cottage door, that his heart +misgave him, and a trembling feeling of dread came over his old frame. +He hesitated no longer, but after a moment's pause to gain breath, +caught young Hastings up in his arms again, and hurried away with him +toward Colonel Marshal's house.</p> + +<p>I have said that it was a modern mansion; that is to imply, that it was +modern in that day. Heaven only knows what has become of it now; but +Louis Quatorze, though he had no hand in the building of it, had many of +its sins to answer for—and the rest belonged to Mansard. It was the +strangest possible contrast to the old-fashioned country seat of Sir +John Hastings, who had his joke at it, and at the owner too—for he, +too, could jest in a bitter way—and he used to say that he wondered his +neighbor had not added his own name to the building, to distinguish it +from all other courts; and then it would have been Court Marshal. Many +were the windows of the house; many the ornaments; pilasters running up +between the casements, with sunken panels, covered over with quaint +wreaths of flowers, as if each had an embroidered waistcoat on; and a +large flight of steps running down from the great doorway, decorated +with Cupids and cornucopias running over with this most indigestible +kind of stone-fruit.</p> + +<p>The path from the gates up to the house was well graveled, and ran in +and out amongst sundry parterres, and basins of water, with the Tritons, +&c., of the age, all spouting away as hard as a large reservoir on the +top of the neighboring slope could make them. But for serviceable +purposes these basins were vain, as the water was never suffered to rise +nearly to the brim; and good Dr. Paulding gazed on them without hope, as +he passed on toward the broad flight of steps.</p> + +<p>There, however, he found something of a more comfortable aspect. The +path he had been obliged to take had one convenience to the dwellers in +the mansion. Every window in that side of the house commanded a view of +it, and the Doctor and his burden were seen by one pair of eyes at +least.</p> + +<p>Running down the steps without any of the frightful appendages of the +day upon her head, but her own bright beautiful hair curling wild like +the tendrils of a vine, came a lovely girl of fourteen or fifteen, just +past the ugly age, and blushing in the spring of womanhood. There was +eagerness and some alarm in her face: for the air and haste of the +worthy clergyman, as well as the form he carried in his arms, spoke as +plainly as words could have done that some accident had happened; and +she called to him, at some distance, to ask what was the matter.</p> + +<p>"Matter, child! matter!" cried the clergyman, "I believe I have half +killed this poor boy."</p> + +<p>"Killed him!" exclaimed the girl, with a look of doubt as well as +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Ay, Mistress Rachael," replied the old man, "killed him by unkindly and +rashly telling him of his brother's death, without preparation."</p> + +<p>"You intended it for kind, I am sure," murmured the girl in a sweet low +tone, coming down the steps, and gazing on his pale face, while the +clergyman carried the lad up the steps.</p> + +<p>"There, Miss Marshal, do not stay staring," said Dr. Paulding; "but pray +call some of the lackeys, and bid them bring water or hartshorn, or +something. Your lady-mother must have some essences to bring folks out +of swoons. There is nothing but swooning at Court, I am told—except +gaming, and drinking, and profanity."</p> + +<p>The girl was already on her way, but she looked back, saying, "My father +and mother are both out; but I will soon find help."</p> + +<p>When the lad opened his eyes, there was something very near, which +seemed to him exceedingly beautiful—rich, warm coloring, like that of a +sunny landscape; a pair of liquid, tender eyes, deeply fringed and full +of sympathy; and the while some sunny curls of bright brown hair played +about his cheek, moved by the hay-field breath of the sweet lips that +bent close over him.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?" he said. "What is the matter? What has happened? Ah! now I +recollect. My brother—my poor brother! Was it a dream?"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush!" said a musical voice. "Talk to him, sir. Talk to him, and +make him still."</p> + +<p>"It is but too true, my dear Philip," said the old clergyman; "your +brother is lost to us. But recollect yourself, my son. It is weak to +give way in this manner. I announced your misfortune somewhat suddenly, +it is true, trusting that your philosophy was stronger than it is—your +Christian fortitude. Remember, all these dispensations are from the hand +of the most merciful God. He who gives the sunshine, shall he not bring +the clouds? Doubt not that all is merciful; and suffer not the +manifestations of His will to find you unprepared or unsubmissive."</p> + +<p>"I have been very weak," said the young man, "but it was so sudden! +Heaven! how full of health and strength he looked when he went away! He +was the picture of life—almost of immortality. I was but as a reed +beside him—a weak, feeble reed, beside a sapling oak."</p> + +<p>"'One shall be taken, and the other left,'" said the sweet voice of the +young girl; and the eyes both of the youth and the old clergyman turned +suddenly upon her.</p> + +<p>Philip Hastings raised himself upon his arm, and seemed to meditate for +a moment or two. His thoughts were confused and indistinct. He knew not +well where he was. The impression of what had happened was vague<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> and +indefinite. As eyes which have been seared by the lightning, his mind, +which had lost the too vivid impression, now perceived everything in +mist and confusion.</p> + +<p>"I have been very weak," he said, "too weak. It is strange. I thought +myself firmer. What is the use of thought and example, if the mind +remains thus feeble? But I am better now. I will never yield thus +again;" and flinging himself off the sofa on which they had laid him, he +stood for a moment on his feet, gazing round upon the old clergyman and +that beautiful young girl, and two or three servants who had been called +to minister to him.</p> + +<p>We all know—at least, all who have dealt with the fiery things of +life—all who have felt and suffered, and struggled and conquered, and +yielded and grieved, and triumphed in the end—we all know how +short-lived are the first conquests of mind over body, and how much +strength and experience it requires to make the victory complete. To +render the soul the despot, the tyranny must be habitual.</p> + +<p>Philip Hastings rose, as I have said, and gazed around him. He struggled +against the shock which his mere animal nature had received, shattered +as it had been by long and intense study, and neglect of all that +contributes to corporeal power. But everything grew hazy to his eyes +again. He felt his limbs weak and powerless; even his mind feeble, and +his thoughts confused. Before he knew what was coming, he sunk fainting +on the sofa again, and when he woke from the dull sort of trance into +which he had fallen, there were other faces around him; he was stretched +quietly in bed in a strange room, a physician and a beautiful lady of +mature years were standing by his bedside, and he felt the oppressive +lassitude of fever in every nerve and in every limb.</p> + +<p>But we must turn to good Doctor Paulding. He went back to his rectory +discontented with himself, leaving the lad in the care of Lady Annabella +Marshal and her family. The ordinary—as the man who carried the letters +was frequently called in those days—was to depart in an hour, and he +knew that Sir John Hastings expected his only remaining son in London to +attend the body of his brother down to the family burying place. It was +impossible that the lad could go, and the old clergyman had to sit down +and write an account of what had occurred.</p> + +<p>There was nothing upon earth, or beyond the earth, which would have +induced him to tell a lie. True, his mind might be subject to such +self-deceptions as the mind of all other men. He might be induced to +find excuses to his own conscience for anything he did that was +wrong—for any mistake or error in judgment; for, willfully, he never +did what was wrong; and it was only by the results that he knew it. But +yet he was eagerly, painfully upon his guard against himself. He knew +the weakness of human nature—he had dealt with it often, and observed +it shrewdly, and applied the lesson with bitter severity to his own +heart, detecting its shrinking from candor, its hankering after +self-defense, its misty prejudices, its turnings and windings to escape +conviction; and he dealt with it as hardly as he would have done with a +spoiled child.</p> + +<p>Calmly and deliberately he sat down to write to Sir John Hastings a full +account of what had occurred, taking more blame to himself than was +really his due. I have called it a full account, though it occupied but +one page of paper, for the good doctor was anything but profuse of +words; and there are some men who can say much in small space. He blamed +himself greatly, anticipating reproach; but the thing which he feared +the most to communicate was the fact that the lad was left ill at the +house of Colonel Marshal, and at the house of a man so very much +disliked by Sir John Hastings.</p> + +<p>There are some men—men of strong mind and great abilities—who go +through life learning some of its lessons, and totally neglecting +others—pre-occupied by one branch of the great study, and seeing +nothing in the course of scholarship but that. Dr. Paulding had no +conception of the change which the loss of their eldest son had wrought +in the heart of Sir John and Lady Hastings. The second—the neglected +one—had now become not only the eldest, but the only one. His illness, +painfully as it affected them, was a blessing to them. It withdrew their +thoughts from their late bereavement. It occupied their mind with a new +anxiety. It withdrew it from grief and from disappointment. They thought +little or nothing of whose house he was at, or whose care he was under; +but leaving the body of their dead child to be brought down by slow and +solemn procession to the country, they hurried on before, to watch over +the one that was left.</p> + +<p>Sir John Hastings utterly forgot his ancient feelings toward Colonel +Marshal. He was at the house every day, and almost all day long, and +Lady Hastings was there day and night.</p> + +<p>Wonderful how—when barriers are broken down—we see the objects brought +into proximity under a totally different point of view from that in +which we beheld them at a distance. There might be some stiffness in the +first meeting of Colonel Marshal and Sir John Hastings, but it wore off +with exceeding rapidity. The Colonel's kindness and attention to the +sick youth were marked. Lady Annabella devoted herself to him as to one +of her own children. Rachael Marshal made herself a mere nurse. Hard +hearts could only withstand such things. Philip was now an only child, +and the parents were filled with gratitude and affection.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>CHAPTER III.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> stone which covered the vault of the Hastings family had been +raised, and light and air let into the cold, damp interior. A ray of +sunshine, streaming through the church<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> window, found its way across the +mouldy velvet of the old coffins as they stood ranged along in solemn +order, containing the dust of many ancestors of the present possessors +of the manor. There, too, apart from the rest were the coffins of those +who had died childless; the small narrow resting-place of childhood, +where the guileless infant, the father's and mother's joy and hope, +slept its last sleep, leaving tearful eyes and sorrowing hearts behind, +with naught to comfort but the blessed thought that by calling such from +earth, God peoples heaven with angels; the coffins, too, of those cut +off in the early spring of manhood, whom the fell mower had struck down +in the flower before the fruit was ripe. Oh, how his scythe levels the +blossoming fields of hope! There, too, lay the stern old soldier, whose +life had been given up to his country's service, and who would not spare +one thought or moment to soften domestic joys; and many another who had +lived, perhaps and loved, and passed away without receiving love's +reward.</p> + +<p>Amongst these, close at the end of the line, stood two tressels, ready +for a fresh occupant of the tomb, and the church bell tolled heavily +above, while the old sexton looked forth from the door of the church +toward the gates of the park, and the heavy clouded sky seemed to menace +rain.</p> + +<p>"Happy the bride the sun shines upon; happy the corpse the heaven rains +upon!" said the old man to himself. But the rain did not come down; and +presently, from the spot where he stood, which overlooked the park-wall, +he saw come on in slow and solemn procession along the great road to the +gates, the funeral train of him who had been lately heir to all the fine +property around. The body had been brought from London after the career +of youth had been cut short in a moment of giddy pleasure, and father +and mother, as was then customary, with a long line of friends, +relations, and dependents, now conveyed the remains of him once so +dearly loved, to the cold grave.</p> + +<p>Only one of all the numerous connections of the family was wanting on +this occasion, and that was the brother of the dead; but he lay slowly +recovering from the shock he had received, and every one had been told +that it was impossible for him to attend. All the rest of the family had +hastened to the hall in answer to the summons they had received, for +though Sir John Hastings was not much loved, he was much respected and +somewhat feared—at least, the deference which was paid to him, no one +well knew why, savored somewhat of dread.</p> + +<p>It is a strange propensity in many old persons to hang about the grave +to which they are rapidly tending, when it is opened for another, and to +comment—sometimes even with a bitter pleasantry—upon an event which +must soon overtake themselves. As soon as it was known that the funeral +procession had set out from the hall door, a number of aged people, +principally women, but comprising one or two shriveled men, tottered +forth from the cottages, which lay scattered about the church, and made +their way into the churchyard, there to hold conference upon the dead +and upon the living.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay!" said one old woman, "he has been taken at an early time; but +he was a fine lad, and better than most of those hard people."</p> + +<p>"Ay, Peggy would praise the devil himself if he were dead," said an old +man, leaning on a stick, "though she has never a good word for the +living. The boy is taken away from mischief, that is the truth of it. If +he had lived to come down here again, he would have broken the heart of +my niece's daughter Jane, or made a public shame of her. What business +had a gentleman's son like that to be always hanging about a poor +cottage girl, following her into the corn-fields, and luring her out in +the evenings?"</p> + +<p>"Faith! she might have been proud enough of his notice," said an old +crone; "and I dare say she was, too, in spite of all your conceit, +Matthew. She is not so dainty as you pretend to be; and we may see +something come of it yet."</p> + +<p>"At all events," said another, "he was better than this white-faced, +spiritless boy that is left, who is likely enough to be taken earlier +than his brother, for he looks as if breath would blow him away."</p> + +<p>"He will live to do something yet, that will make people talk of him;" +said a woman older than any of the rest, but taller and straighter; +"there is a spirit in him, be it angel or devil, that is not for death +so soon."</p> + +<p>"Ay! they're making a pomp of it I warrant," said another old woman, +fixing her eyes on the high road under the park wall, upon which the +procession now entered. "Marry, there are escutcheons enough, and coats +of arms! One would think he was a lord's son, with all this to do! But +there is a curse upon the race anyhow; this man was the last of eleven +brothers, and I have heard say, his father died a bad death. Now his +eldest son must die by drowning—saved the hangman something, +perchance—we shall see what comes of the one that is left. 'Tis a curse +upon them ever since Worcester fight, when the old man, who is dead and +gone, advised to send the poor fellows who were taken, to work as slaves +in the colonies."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, the funeral procession advanced up the road, and +approached that curious sort of gate with a penthouse over it, erected +probably to shelter the clergyman of the church while receiving the +corpse at the gate of the burial-ground, which was then universally to +be found at the entrance to all cemeteries. She broke off abruptly, as +if there was something still on her mind which she had not spoken, and +ranging themselves on each side of the church-yard path, the old men and +women formed a lane down which good Dr. Paulding speedily moved with +book in hand. The people assembled, whose num<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>bers had been increased by +the arrival of some thirty or forty young and middle-aged, said not a +word as the clergymen marched on, but when the body had passed up +between them, and the bereaved father followed as chief-mourner, with a +fixed, stern, but tearless eye, betokening more intense affliction +perhaps, in a man of his character, than if his cheeks had been covered +with drops of womanly sorrow, several voices were heard saying aloud, +"God bless and comfort you, Sir John."</p> + +<p>Strange, marvelously strange it was, that these words should come from +tongues, and from those alone, which had been so busily engaged in +carping censure and unfeeling sneers but the moment before. It was the +old men and women alone who had just been commenting bitterly upon the +fate, history, and character of the family, who now uttered the unfelt +expressions of sympathy in a beggar-like, whining tone. It was those who +really felt compassion who said nothing.</p> + +<p>The coffin had been carried into the church, and the solemn rites, the +beautiful service of the Church of England, had proceeded some way, when +another person was added to the congregation who had not at first been +there. All eyes but those of the father of the dead and the lady who sat +weeping by his side, turned upon the new-comer, as with a face as pale +as death, and a faltering step, he took his place on one of the benches +somewhat remote from the rest. There was an expression of feeble +lassitude in the young man's countenance, but of strong resolution, +which overcame the weakness of the frame. He looked as if each moment he +would have fainted, but yet he sat out the whole service of the Church, +mingled with the crowd when the body was lowered into the vault, and saw +the handful of earth hurled out upon the velvet coffin, as if in mockery +of the empty pride of all the pomp and circumstance which attended the +burial of the rich and high.</p> + +<p>No tear came into his eyes—no sob escaped from his bosom; a slight +quivering of the lip alone betrayed that there was strong agitation +within. When all was over, and the father still gazing down into the +vault, the young lad crept quietly back into a pew, covered his face +with his hand, and wept.</p> + +<p>The last rite was over. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust were committed. Sir +John Hastings drew his wife's arm through his own, and walked with a +heavy, steadfast, and unwavering step down the aisle. Everybody drew +back respectfully as he passed; for generally, even in the hardest +hearts, true sorrow finds reverence. He had descended the steps from the +church into the burying ground, and had passed half way along the path +toward his carriage, when suddenly the tall upright old woman whom I +have mentioned thrust herself into his way, and addressed him with a +cold look and somewhat menacing tone—</p> + +<p>"Now, Sir John Hastings," she said, "will you do me justice about that +bit of land? By your son's grave I ask it. The hand of heaven has +smitten you. It may, perhaps, have touched your heart. You know the land +is mine. It was taken from my husband by the usurper because he fought +for the king to whom he had pledged his faith. It was given to your +father because he broke his faith to his king and brought evil days upon +his country. Will you give me back the land, I say? Out man! It is but a +garden of herbs, but it is mine, and in God's sight I claim it."</p> + +<p>"Away out of my path," replied Sir John Hastings angrily. "Is this a +time to talk of such things? Get you gone, I say, and choose some better +hour. Do you suppose I can listen to you now?"</p> + +<p>"You have never listened, and you never will," replied the old woman, +and suffering him to pass without further opposition, she remained upon +the path behind him muttering to herself what seemed curses bitter and +deep, but the words of which were audible only to herself.</p> + +<p>The little crowd gathered round her, and listened eagerly to catch the +sense of what she said, but the moment after the old sexton laid his +hand upon her shoulder and pushed her from the path, saying, "Get along +with you, get along with you, Popish Beldam. What business have you here +scandalizing the congregation, and brawling at the church door? You +should be put in the stocks!"</p> + +<p>"I pity you, old worm," replied the old woman, "you will be soon among +those you feed upon," and with a hanging head and dejected air she +quitted the church-yard.</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile Dr. Paulding had remained gazing down into the vault, +while the stout young men who had come to assist the sexton withdrew the +broad hempen bands by which the coffin had been lowered, from beneath +it, arranged it properly upon the tressels in its orderly place among +the dead, and then mounted by a ladder into the body of the church, +again preparing to replace the stone over the mouth of the vault. He +then turned to the church door and looked out, and then quietly +approached a pew in the side aisle.</p> + +<p>"Philip, this is very wrong," he said; "your father never wished or +intended you should be here."</p> + +<p>"He did not forbid me," replied the young man. "Why should I only be +absent from my brother's funeral?"</p> + +<p>"Because you are sick. Because, by coming, you may have risked your +life," replied the old clergyman.</p> + +<p>"What is life to a duty?" replied the lad. "Have you not taught me, sir, +that there is no earthly thing—no interest of this life, no pleasure, +no happiness, no hope, that ought not to be sacrificed at once to that +which the heart says is right?"</p> + +<p>"True—true," replied the old clergyman, almost impatiently; "but in +following precept so severely, boy, you should use some discrimination. +You have a duty to a living father, which is of more weight than a mere +imaginary one to a dead brother. You could do no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> good to the latter; as +the Psalmist wisely said, 'You must go to him, but he can never come +back to you.' To your father, on the contrary, you have high duties to +perform; to console and cheer him in his present affliction; to comfort +and support his declining years. When a real duty presents itself, +Philip, to yourself, to your fellow men, to your country, or to your +God—I say again, as I have often said, do it in spite of every possible +affection. Let it cut through everything, break through every tie, +thrust aside every consideration. There, indeed, I would fain see you +act the old Roman, whom you are so fond of studying, and be a Cato or a +Brutus, if you will. But you must make very sure that you do not make +your fancy create unreal duties, and make them of greater importance in +your eyes than the true ones. But now I must get you back as speedily as +possible, for your mother, ere long, will be up to see you, and your +father, and they must not find you absent on this errand."</p> + +<p>The lad made no reply, but readily walked back toward the court with Dr. +Paulding, though his steps were slow and feeble. He took the old man's +arm, too, and leaned heavily upon it; for, to say the truth, he felt +already the consequences of the foolish act he had committed; and the +first excitement past, lassitude and fever took possession once more of +every limb, and his feet would hardly bear him to the gates.</p> + +<p>The beautiful girl who had been the first to receive him at that house, +met the eyes both of the young man and the old one, the moment they +entered the gardens. She looked wild and anxious, and was wandering +about with her head uncovered; but as soon as she beheld the youth, she +ran toward him, exclaiming, "Oh, Philip, Philip, this is very wrong and +cruel of you. I have been looking for you everywhere. You should not +have done this. How could you let him, Dr. Paulding?"</p> + +<p>"I did not let him, my dear child," replied the old man, "he came of his +own will, and would not be let. But take him in with you; send him to +bed as speedily as may be; give him a large glass of the fever-water he +was taking, and say as little as possible of this rash act to any one."</p> + +<p>The girl made the sick boy lean upon her rounded arm, led him away into +the house, and tended him like a sister. She kept the secret of his +rashness, too, from every one; and there were feelings sprang up in his +bosom toward her during the next few hours which were never to be +obliterated. She was so beautiful, so tender, so gentle, so full of all +womanly graces, that he fancied, with his strong imagination, that no +one perfection of body or mind could be wanting; and he continued to +think so for many a long year after.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>CHAPTER IV.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Enough</span> of boyhood and its faults and follies. I sought but to show the +reader, as in a glass, the back of a pageant that has past. Oh, how I +sometimes laugh at the fools—the critics. God save the mark! who see no +more in the slight sketch I choose to give, than a mere daub of paint +across the canvas, when that one touch gives effect to the whole +picture. Let them stand back, and view it as a whole; and if they can +find aught in it to make them say "Well done," let them look at the +frame. That is enough for them; their wits are only fitted to deal with +"leather and prunella."</p> + +<p>I have given you, reader—kind and judicious reader—a sketch of the +boy, that you may be enabled to judge rightly of the man. Now, take the +lad as I have moulded him—bake him well in the fiery furnace of strong +passion, remembering still that the form is of hard iron—quench and +harden him in the cold waters of opposition, and disappointment, and +anxiety—and bring him forth tempered, but too highly tempered for the +world he has to live in—not pliable—not elastic; no watchspring, but +like a graver's tool, which must cut into everything opposed to it, or +break under the pressure.</p> + +<p>Let us start upon our new course some fifteen years after the period at +which our tale began, and view Philip Hastings as that which he had now +become.</p> + +<p>Dr. Paulding had passed from this working day world to another and a +better—where we hope the virtues of the heart may be weighed against +vices of the head—a mode of dealing rare here below. Sir John Hastings +and his wife had gone whither their eldest son had gone before them; and +Philip Hastings was no longer the boy. Manhood had set its seal upon his +brow only too early; but what a change had come with manhood!—a change +not in the substance, but in its mode.</p> + +<p>Oh, Time! thy province is not only to destroy! Thou worker-out of human +destinies—thou new-fashioner of all things earthly—thou blender of +races—thou changer of institutions—thou discoverer—thou +concealer—thou builder up—thou dark destroyer; thy waters as they flow +have sometimes a petrifying, sometimes a solvent power, hardening the +soft, melting the strong, accumulating the sand, undermining the rock! +What had been thine effect upon Philip Hastings?</p> + +<p>All the thoughts had grown manly as well as the body. The slight youth +had been developed into the hardy and powerful man; somewhat +inactive—at least so it seemed to common eyes—more thoughtful than +brilliant, steady in resolution, though calm in expression, giving way +no more to bursts of boyish feeling, somewhat stern, men said somewhat +hard, but yet extremely just, and resolute for justice. The poetry of +life—I should have said the poetry of young life—the brilliancy of +fancy and hope, seemed somewhat dimmed in him—mark, I say seemed, for +that which seems too often is not; and he might perhaps have learnt to +rule and conceal feelings which he could not altogether conquer or +resist.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<p>Still there were many traces of his old self visible: the same love of +study, the same choice of books and subjects of thought, the same +subdued yet strong enthusiasms. The very fact of mingling with the +world, which had taught him to repress those enthusiasms, seemed to have +concentrated and rendered them more intense.</p> + +<p>The course of his studies; the habits of his mind; his fondness for the +school of the stoics, it might have been supposed, would rather have +disgusted him with the society in which he now habitually mingled, and +made him look upon mankind—for it was a very corrupt age—with +contempt, if not with horror.</p> + +<p>Such, however, was not the case. He had less of the cynic in him than +his father—indeed he had nothing of the cynic in him at all. He loved +mankind in his own peculiar way. He was a philanthropist of a certain +sort; and would willingly have put a considerable portion of his +fellow-creatures to death, in order to serve, and elevate, and improve +the rest.</p> + +<p>His was a remarkable character—not altogether fitted for the times in +which he lived; but one which in its wild and rugged strength, commanded +much respect and admiration even then. Weak things clung to it, as ivy +to an oak or a strong wall: and its power over them was increased by a +certain sort of tenderness—a protecting pity, which mingled strangely +with his harder and ruder qualities. He seemed to be sorry for +everything that was weak, and to seek to console and comfort it, under +the curse of feebleness. It seldom offended him—he rather loved it, it +rarely came in his way; and his feeling toward it might approach +contempt but never rose to anger.</p> + +<p>He was capable too of intense and strong affections, though he could not +extend them to many objects. All that was vigorous and powerful in him +concentrated itself in separate points here and there; and general +things were viewed with much indifference.</p> + +<p>See him as he walks up and down there before the old house, which I have +elsewhere described. He has grown tall and powerful in frame; and yet +his gait is somewhat slovenly and negligent, although his step is firm +and strong. He is not much more than thirty-one years of age; but he +looks forty at the least; and his hair is even thickly sprinkled with +gray. His face is pale, with some strong marked lines and indentations +in it; yet, on the whole, it is handsome, and the slight habitual frown, +thoughtful rather than stern, together with the massive jaw, and the +slight drawing down of the corners of the mouth, give it an expression +of resolute firmness, that is only contradicted by the frequent +variation of the eye, which is sometimes full of deep thought, sometimes +of tenderness; and sometimes is flashing with a wild and almost +unearthly fire.</p> + +<p>But there is a lady hanging on his arm which supports her somewhat +feeble steps. She seems recovering from illness; the rose in her cheek +is faint and delicate; and an air of languor is in her whole face and +form. Yet she is very beautiful, and seems fully ten years younger than +her husband, although, in truth, she is of the same age—or perhaps a +little older. It is Rachael Marshal, now become Lady Hastings.</p> + +<p>Their union did not take place without opposition; all Sir John +Hastings' prejudices against the Marshal family revived as soon as his +son's attachment to the daughter of the house became apparent. Like most +fathers, he saw too late; and then sought to prevent that which had +become inevitable. He sent his son to travel in foreign lands; he even +laid out a scheme for marrying him to another, younger, and as he +thought fairer. He contrived that the young man should fall into the +society of the lady he had selected, and he fancied that would be quite +sufficient; for he saw in her character, young as she was, traits, much +more harmonious, as he fancied, with those of his son, than could be +found in the softer, gentler, weaker Rachael Marshal. There was energy, +perseverance, resolution, keen and quick perceptions—perhaps a little +too much keenness. More, he did not stay to inquire; but, as is usual in +matters of the heart, Philip Hastings loved best the converse of +himself. The progress of the scheme was interrupted by the illness of +Sir John Hastings, which recalled his son from Rome. Philip returned, +found his father dead, and married Rachael Marshal.</p> + +<p>They had had several children; but only one remained; that gay, light, +gossamer girl, like a gleam darting along the path from sunny rays +piercing through wind-borne clouds. On she ran with a step of light and +careless air, yet every now and then she paused suddenly, gazed +earnestly at a flower, plucked it, pored into its very heart with her +deep eyes, and, after seeming to labor under thought for a moment, +sprang forward again as light as ever.</p> + +<p>The eyes of the father followed her with a look of grave, thoughtful, +intense affection. The mother's eyes looked up to him, and then glanced +onward to the child.</p> + +<p>She was between nine and ten years old—not very handsome, for it is not +a handsome age. Yet there were indications of future beauty—fine and +sparkling eyes, rich, waving, silky hair, long eyelashes, a fine +complexion, a light and graceful figure, though deformed by the stiff +fashions of the day.</p> + +<p>There was a sparkle too in her look—that bright outpouring of the heart +upon the face which is one of the most powerful charms of youth and +innocence. Ah! how soon gone by! How soon checked by the thousand loads +which this heavy laboring world casts upon the buoyancy of youthful +spirits—the chilling conventionality—the knowledge, and the fear of +wrong—the first taste of sorrow—the anxieties, cares, fears—even the +hopes of mature life, are all weights to bear down the pinions of young, +lark-like joy. After twenty, does the heart ever rise up from her green +sod and sing at Heaven's gate as in childhood? Never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>—ah, never! The +dust of earth is upon the wing of the sky songster, and will never let +her mount to her ancient pitch.</p> + +<p>That child was a strange combination of her father and her mother. She +was destined to be their only one; and it seemed as if nature had taken +a pleasure in blending the characters of both in one. Not that they were +intimately mingled, but that they seemed like the twins of Laconia, to +rise and set by turns.</p> + +<p>In her morning walk; in her hours of sportive play; when no subject of +deep thought, no matter that affected the heart or the imagination was +presented to her, she was light and gay as a butterfly; the child—the +happy child was in every look, and word, and movement. But call her for +a moment from this bright land of pleasantness—present something to her +mind or to her fancy which rouses sympathies, or sets the energetic +thoughts at work, and she was grave, meditative, studious, deep beyond +her years.</p> + +<p>She was a subject of much contemplation, some anxiety, some wonder to +her father. The brightness of her perceptions, her eagerness in the +pursuit of knowledge, her vigorous resolution even as a child, when +convinced that she was right, showed him his own mind reflected in hers. +Even her tenderness, her strong affections, he could comprehend; for the +same were in his own heart, and though he believed them to be +weaknesses, he could well understand their existence in a child and in a +woman.</p> + +<p>But that which he did not understand—that which made him marvel—was +her lightness, her gayety, her wild vivacity—I might almost say, her +trifling, when not moved by deep feeling or chained down by thought.</p> + +<p>This was beyond him. Yet strange! the same characteristics did not +surprise nor shock him in her mother—never had surprised or shocked +him; indeed he had rather loved her for those qualities, so unlike his +own. Perhaps it was that he thought it strange, his child should, in any +mood, be so unlike himself; or perhaps it was the contrast between the +two sides of the same character that moved his wonder when he saw it in +his child. He might forget that her mother was her parent as well as +himself; and that she had an inheritance from each.</p> + +<p>In his thoughtful, considering, theoretical way, he determined +studiously to seek a remedy for what he considered the defect in his +child—to cultivate with all the zeal and perseverance of paternal +affection, supported by his own force of character, those qualities +which were most like his own—those, in short, which were the least +womanly. But nature would not be baffled. You may divert her to a +certain degree; but you cannot turn her aside from her course +altogether.</p> + +<p>He found that he could not—by any means which his heart would let him +employ—conquer what he called the frivolity of the child. Frivolity! +Heaven save us! There were times when she showed no frivolity, but, on +the contrary, a depth and intensity far, far beyond her years. Indeed, +the ordinary current of her mind was calm and thoughtful. It was but +when a breeze rippled it that it sparkled on the surface. Her father, +too, saw that this was so; that the wild gayety was but occasional. But +still it surprised and pained him—perhaps the more because it was +occasional. It seemed to his eyes an anomaly in her nature. He would +have had her altogether like himself. He could not conceive any one +possessing so much of his own character, having room in heart and brain +for aught else. It was a subject of constant wonder to him; of +speculation, of anxious thought.</p> + +<p>He often asked himself if this was the only anomaly in his child—if +there were not other traits, yet undiscovered, as discrepant as this +light volatility with her general character: and he puzzled himself +sorely.</p> + +<p>Still he pursued her education upon his own principles; taught her many +things which women rarely learned in those days; imbued her mind with +thoughts and feelings of his own; and often thought, when a season of +peculiar gravity fell upon her, that he made progress in rendering her +character all that he could wish it. This impression never lasted long, +however; for sooner or later the bird-like spirit within her found the +cage door open, and fluttered forth upon some gay excursion, leaving all +his dreams vanished and his wishes disappointed.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he loved her with all the strong affection of which his +nature was capable; and still he persevered in the course which he +thought for her benefit. At times, indeed, he would make efforts to +unravel the mystery of her double nature, not perceiving that the only +cause of mystery was in himself: that what seemed strange in his +daughter depended more upon his own want of power to comprehend her +variety than upon anything extraordinary in her. He would endeavor to go +along with her in her sportive moods—to let his mind run free beside +hers in its gay ramble; to find some motive for them which he could +understand; to reduce them to a system; to discover the rule by which +the problem was to be solved. But he made nothing of it, and wearied +conjecture in vain.</p> + +<p>Lady Hastings sometimes interposed a little; for in unimportant things +she had great influence with her husband. He let her have her own way +wherever he thought it not worth while to oppose her; and that was very +often. She perfectly comprehended the side of her daughter's character +which was all darkness to the father; and strange to say, with greater +penetration than his own, she comprehended the other side likewise. She +recognized easily the traits in her child which she knew and admired in +her husband, but wished them heartily away in her daughter's case, +thinking such strength of mind, joined with whatever grace and +sweetness, somewhat unfeminine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>Though she was full of prejudices, and where her quickness of perception +failed her, altogether unteachable by reason, yet she was naturally too +virtuous and good to attempt even to thwart the objects of the father's +efforts in the education of his child. I have said that she interfered +at times, but it was only to remonstrate against too close study, to +obtain frequent and healthful relaxation, and to add all those womanly +accomplishments on which she set great value. In this she was not +opposed. Music, singing, dancing, and a knowledge of modern languages, +were added to other branches of education, and Lady Hastings was so far +satisfied.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>CHAPTER V.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Italian singing-master was a peculiar man, and well worthy of a few +words in description. He was tall and thin, but well built; and his face +had probably once been very handsome, in that Italian style, which, by +the exaggeration of age, grows so soon into ugliness. The nose was now +large and conspicuous, the eyes bright, black, and twinkling, the mouth +good in shape, but with an animal expression about it, the ear very +voluminous.</p> + +<p>He was somewhat more than fifty years of age, and his hair was speckled +with gray; but age was not apparent in wrinkles and furrows, and in gait +he was firm and upright.</p> + +<p>At first Sir Philip Hastings did not like him at all. He did not like to +have him there. It was against the grain he admitted him into the house. +He did it, partly because he thought it right to yield in some degree to +the wishes of his wife; partly from a grudging deference to the customs +of society.</p> + +<p>But the Signor was a shrewd and world-taught man, accustomed to overcome +prejudices, and to make his way against disadvantages; and he soon +established himself well in the opinion of both father and mother. It +was done by a peculiar process, which is well worth the consideration of +all those who seek <i>les moyens de parvenir</i>.</p> + +<p>In his general and ordinary intercourse with his fellow-men, he had a +happy middle tone,—a grave, reticent manner, which never compromised +him to anything. A shrewd smile, without an elucidatory remark, served +to harmonize him with the gay and vivacious; a serious tranquillity, +unaccompanied by any public professions, was enough to make the sober +and the decent rank him amongst themselves. Perhaps that class of +men—whether pure at heart or not—have always overestimated decency of +exterior.</p> + +<p>All this was in public however. In private, in a <i>tęte-ŕ-tęte</i>, Signor +Guardini was a very different man. Nay more, in each and every +<i>tęte-ŕ-tęte</i> he was a different man from what he appeared in the other. +Yet, with a marvelous art, he contrived to make both sides of his +apparent character harmonize with his public and open appearance. Or +rather perhaps I should say that his public demeanor was a middle tint +which served to harmonize the opposite extremes of coloring displayed by +his character. Nothing could exemplify this more strongly than the +different impressions he produced on Sir Philip and Lady Hastings. The +lady was soon won to his side. She was predisposed to favor him; and a +few light gay sallies, a great deal of conventional talk about the +fashionable life of London, and a cheerful bantering tone of persiflage, +completely charmed her. Sir Philip was more difficult to win. +Nevertheless, in a few short sentences, hardly longer than those which +Sterne's mendicant whispered in the ear of the passengers, he succeeded +in disarming many prejudices. With him, the Signor was a stoic; he had +some tincture of letters, though a singer, and had read sufficient of +the history of his own land, to have caught all the salient points of +the glorious past.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he might even feel a certain interest in the antecedents of his +decrepit land—not to influence his conduct, or to plant ambitious or +nourish pure and high hopes for its regeneration—but to waken a sort of +touch-wood enthusiasm, which glowed brightly when fanned by the stronger +powers of others. Yet before Sir Philip had had time to communicate to +him one spark of his own ardor, he had as I have said made great +progress in his esteem. In five minutes' conversation he had established +for himself the character of one of a higher and nobler character whose +lot had fallen in evil days.</p> + +<p>"In other years," thought the English gentleman, "this might have been a +great man—the defender unto death of his country's rights—the advocate +of all that is ennobling, stern, and grand."</p> + +<p>What was the secret of all this? Simply that he, a man almost without +character, had keen and well-nigh intuitive perceptions of the +characters of others; and that without difficulty his pliable nature and +easy principles would accommodate themselves to all.</p> + +<p>He made great progress then in the regard of Sir Philip, although their +conversations seldom lasted above five minutes. He made greater progress +still with the mother. But with the daughter he made none—worse than +none.</p> + +<p>What was the cause, it may be asked. What did he do or say—how did he +demean himself so as to produce in her bosom a feeling of horror and +disgust toward him that nothing could remove?</p> + +<p>I cannot tell. He was a man of strong passions and no principles: that +his after—perhaps his previous—life would evince. There is a +touchstone for pure gold in the heart of an innocent and highminded +woman that detects all baser metals: they are discovered in a moment: +they cannot stand the test.</p> + +<p>Now, whether his heart-cankering corruption, his want of faith, honesty, +and truth, made themselves felt, and were pointed out by the index of +that fine barometer, without any overt act at all—or whether he gave +ac<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>tual cause of offense, I do not know—none has ever known.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, however, the gay, the apparently somewhat wayward girl, now +between fifteen and sixteen, assumed a new character in her father's and +mother's eyes. With a strange frank abruptness she told them she would +take no more singing lessons of the Italian; but she added no +explanation.</p> + +<p>Lady Hastings was angry, and expostulated warmly; but the girl was firm +and resolute. She heard her mother's argument, and answered in soft and +humble tones that she would not,—could not learn to sing any +longer—that she was very sorry to grieve or to offend her mother; but +she had learned long enough, and would learn no more.</p> + +<p>More angry than before, with the air of indignant pride in which +weakness so often takes refuge, the mother quitted the room; and the +father then, in a calmer spirit, inquired the cause of her resolution.</p> + +<p>She blushed like the early morning sky; but there was a sort of +bewildered look upon her face as she replied, "I know no cause—I can +give no reason, my dear father; but the man is hateful to me. I will +never see him again."</p> + +<p>Her father sought for farther explanation, but he could obtain none. +Guardini had not said anything nor done anything, she admitted, to give +her offense; but yet she firmly refused to be his pupil any longer.</p> + +<p>There are instincts in fine and delicate minds, which, by signs and +indications intangible to coarser natures, discover in others thoughts +and feelings, wishes and designs, discordant—repugnant to themselves. +They are instincts, I say, not amenable to reason, escaping analysis, +incapable of explanation—the warning voice of God in the heart, bidding +them beware of evil.</p> + +<p>Sir Philip Hastings was not a man to allow aught for such impulses—to +conceive or understand them in the least. He had been accustomed to +delude himself with reasons, some just, others very much the reverse, +but he had never done a deed or entertained a thought for which he could +not give some reason of convincing power to his own mind.</p> + +<p>He did not understand his daughter's conduct at all; but he would not +press her any farther. She was in some degree a mysterious being to him. +Indeed, as I have before shown, she had always been a mystery; for he +had no key to her character in his own. It was written in the unknown +language.</p> + +<p>Yet, did he love or cherish her the less? Oh no! Perhaps a deeper +interest gathered round his heart for her, the chief object of his +affections. More strongly than ever he determined to cultivate and form +her mind on his own model, in consequence of what he called a strange +caprice, although he could not but sometimes hope and fancy that her +resolute rejection of any farther lessons from Signor Guardini arose +from her distaste to what he himself considered one of the frivolous +pursuits of fashion.</p> + +<p>Yet she showed no distaste for singing; for somehow every day she would +practice eagerly, till her sweet voice, under a delicate taste, acquired +a flexibility and power which charmed and captivated her father, +notwithstanding his would-be cynicism. He was naturally fond of music; +his nature was a vehement one, though curbed by such strong restraints; +and all vehement natures are much moved by music. He would sit calmly, +with his eyes fixed upon a book, but listening all the time to that +sweet voice, with feelings working in him—emotions, thrilling, deep, +intense, which he would have felt ashamed to expose to any human eye.</p> + +<p>All this however made her conduct toward Guardini the more mysterious; +and her father often gazed upon her beautiful face with a look of +doubting inquiry, as one may look on the surface of a bright lake, and +ask, What is below?</p> + +<p>That face was now indeed becoming very beautiful. Every feature had been +refined and softened by time. There was soul in the eyes, and a gleam of +heaven upon the smile, besides the mere beauties of line and coloring. +The form too had nearly reached perfection. It was full of symmetry and +grace, and budding charms; and while the mother marked all these +attractions, and thought how powerful they would prove in the world, the +father felt their influence in a different manner: with a sort of +abstract admiration of her loveliness, which went no further than a +proud acknowledgment to his own heart that she was beautiful indeed. To +him her beauty was as a gem, a picture, a beautiful possession, which he +had no thought of ever parting with—something on which his eyes would +rest well pleased until they closed forever. How blessed he might have +been in the possession of such a child could he have comprehended +her—could he have divested his mind of the idea that there was +something strange and inharmonious in her character! Could he have made +his heart a woman's heart for but one hour, all mystery would have been +dispelled; but it was impossible, and it remained.</p> + +<p>No tangible effect did it produce at the time; but preconceptions of +another's character are very dangerous things. Everything is seen +through their medium, everything is colored and often distorted. That +which produced no fruit at the time, had very important results at an +after period.</p> + +<p>But I must turn now to other scenes and more stirring events, having I +trust made the reader well enough acquainted with father, mother, and +daughter, at least sufficiently for all the purposes of this tale. It is +upon the characters of two of them that all the interest if there be any +depends. Let them be marked then and remembered, if the reader would +derive pleasure from what follows.</p> + +<div class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> +<div class="center">[From "The Album." Manchester, November, 1850.]</div> + +<div class="center"><span class="simh3">THE POET'S LOT.</span></div> + +<div class="c75">BY PHILIP JAMES BAILEY, AUTHOR OF "FESTUS," ETC.</div> + + + +<div class="poem2"><br /> +<span class="dropcap">N</span>ature in the poet's heart is limned<br /> +In little, as in landscape stones we see<br /> +The swell of land, and groves, and running streams,<br /> +Fresh from the wolds of Chaos; or perchance<br /> +The imaged hint of antemundane life,—<br /> +A photograph of preexistent light,—<br /> +Or Paradisal sun. So, in his mind<br /> +The broad conditions of the world are graven,<br /> +Thoroughly and grandly; in accord wherewith<br /> +His life is ruled to be, and eke to bear.<br /> +Wisdom he wills not only for himself,<br /> +But undergoes the sacred rites whereby<br /> +The privilege he hath earned he may promulge,<br /> +And all men make the partners of his light.<br /> +Between the priestly and the laic powers<br /> +The poet stands, a bright and living link;<br /> +Now chanting odes divine and sacred spells—<br /> +Now with fine magic, holy and austere,<br /> +Inviting angels or evoking fiends;<br /> +And now, in festive guise arrayed, his brow<br /> +With golden fillet bounden round—alone,<br /> +Earnest to charm the throng that celebrates<br /> +The games now—now the mysteries of life,<br /> +With truths ornate and Pleasure's choicest plea.<br /> +Thus he becomes the darling of mankind,<br /> +Armed with the instinct both of rule and right,<br /> +And the world's minion, privileged to speak<br /> +When all beside, the medley mass, are mute:<br /> +Distills his soul into a song—and dies.<br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><span class="simh3">THE COUNT MONTE-LEONE:</span><br /> +OR, THE SPY IN SOCIETY.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></div> + +<div class="c75">TRANSLATED FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE FROM THE FRENCH OF +H. DE ST. GEORGES.</div> + +<div class="center"><i>Continued from Page 512.</i></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by +Stringer & Townsend, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the +United States, for the Southern District of New York.</p></div> + + +<div class="center"><br /><b>BOOK SECOND.—THE VIPER'S NEST.</b></div> + +<p><span class="dropcap">R</span>IGHTLY enough had the young girl been called "The White Rose of +Sorrento." Monte-Leone had based on her his most ardent hopes and +tenderest expectations. Nothing in fact could be more angelic than the +expression of her face. She seemed the <i>virgo immaculata</i> of Rubens, the +<i>virgo</i> of divine love. What would first attract attention at Aminta's +appearance was a marble pallor, the paleness of that beautiful marble of +Carara, in which when Canova had touched it the blood seemed to rush to +the surface and circulate beneath the transparent flesh of the great +master.</p> + +<p>We must however say that beneath the long lids of the young Neapolitan, +the observer would have discovered an expression of firmness and +decision rarely found in so young a girl. Any one who examined her +quickly saw that in her frail and delicate frame there was a soul full +of energy and courage, and that if it should ever be aroused, what she +wished must be, <i>God willing</i>. Nothing in nature is more persevering and +irresistible than woman's will, especially if the woman be an Italian.</p> + +<p>Antonia Rovero, the mother of Aminta and Taddeo, was the widow of a rich +banker of Naples, devoted to the cause of Murat, and had been created by +the late king one of his senators and then minister of finances. In this +last office M. Rovero died, and his widow, after having received every +kindness from Murat, retired to Sorrento. Taddeo then felt an interest +in everything which had a tendency to overturn the government of +Fernando IV. The restoration of the latter had crushed his ambition and +broken his fortunes. On that account he had become one of the Pulcinelli +whom we have described in the last book.</p> + +<p>While this well-beloved son of an affectionate mother, this brother so +idolized by an affectionate sister, languished perhaps like Monte-Leone, +Madame Rovero and her daughter in their quiet retreat fancied that +Taddeo was enjoying at Naples all the pleasures of the Carnival and +abandoning himself to all the follies of that day of pleasure. +Sometimes, however, as the sun set on the hills of Sorrento, Aminta said +to her mother, "Taddeo forgets us. It is not pleasant to enjoy this +beautiful day without him. Were we three together, how delicious it +would be!" Then Aminta would take a volume of Alfieri, her favorite +author, and wander alone amid the fields.</p> + +<p>The day on which the scene we are about to describe happened was one of +those burning ones, which make us even in winter fancy that an eternal +spring exists in that heaven-protected land. We may add that the winter +of 1816 was peculiar even in Italy, and that the sun was so warm and the +heat so genial that nature under their influence put on the most +luxuriant vegetation. The favorite haunt of Aminta was a green hill, +behind which was a pretty and simple house, the cradle of one of the +most wonderful geniuses of the world. This genius was Tasso. A bust of +the poet in <i>terra cotta</i> yet adorned the façade of the house, which +though then in ruins has since been rebuilt. At that time the room of +the divine yet unfortunate lover of Leonora did not exist—the sea had +swept over it. Admirers of the poet yet however visited the remnants of +his habitation. The tender heart of Aminta yet paid a pious worship to +them, and "The White Rose of Sorrento" went toward "The House of Tasso." +Aminta's mother was always offended when she indulged in such distant +excursions.</p> + +<p>She did not however go alone. A singular being accompanied her. This +being was at once a man and a reptile. His features would have denoted +the age of sixteen. They were the most frightful imaginable. A forehead +over which spread a few reddish hairs; a mouth almost without teeth; +small eyes, sad and green, which were however insupportably bright when +they were lit up by anger; long and bony arms; legs horribly thin; a +short and square bust,—all united to make a being so utterly +ungraceful, so inhuman, that the children of the village had nicknamed +him <i>Scorpione</i>—so like that reptile's was his air. The <i>morale</i> of +Scorpione was worthy of his <i>physique</i>. The true name of this child was +Tonio. Being the son of Aminta's nurse, he had never in his life been +separated from her, and seemed to grow daily more ugly as she became +more beautiful. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> became so devoted to Aminta that he never left her. +This whimsical intimacy was not that of children, the attachment of +brother and sister, but that of the intellectual and brute being, of the +master and dog. He was the dog of Aminta. He accompanied and watched +over her in all her long walks. Did a dangerous pass occur, he took her +up and carried her across the pool or torrent, so that not a drop of +water touched her. If any one chanced to meet her and sought to speak to +her, he first growled, and then having looked at Aminta, made the bold +man understand that like a mastiff he would protect her against all +assailants.</p> + +<p>During the winter evenings when Aminta read to her mother, Tonio lying +at the fair reader's feet, warmed them in his bosom, where she suffered +them to remain with as much carelessness as she would have let them rest +on the back of a dog. She became so used to his horrid features, that +she no longer thought them repulsive. No contrast was stronger than that +these two presented. It was like the association of an angel and a +devil.</p> + +<p>The young girl had in vain attempted to impart some knowledge to +Scorpione: his nature did not admit of it. Had he been able to +comprehend anything, if the simple idea of right and wrong could have +reached his heart, Aminta would have accomplished much. This Cretin,<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> +however, knew but three things in the world, to love, to serve, and to +defend Aminta. Nothing more.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> The Cretins are a miserable, feeble and almost idiotic +race, found not infrequently in the south of France. They have sometimes +been horribly persecuted.</p></div> + +<p>Accompanied by her faithful dog one day, the fair creature had walked to +the house of Tasso. She had perhaps twenty times gone through those +magnificent ruins, and read over again and again the inscription every +tourist fancies himself obliged to engrave with his dagger's point on +the tesselated walls of the poet's home. One which seemed new attracted +her attention. Thus it read:</p> + +<p>"One must have suffered as much as the lover of Leonora, to be unhappy +in the paradise of Sorrento."</p> + +<p>These three lines were signed by the <span class="smcap">Marquis de Maulear</span>.</p> + +<p>Aminta read the inscription two or three times, without fancying that it +related to her. The simple style touched her heart, and with no slight +emotion, she left the wall.</p> + +<p>At that moment the sun was at the height of its power, and shed its +burning rays over nature. Aminta's straw hat sheltered her from the +torrents of lava which seemed to fall from heaven and a few drops of +perspiration stood on her marble forehead. While she was seeking in the +ruined house for some shadowed nook, Scorpione amused himself behind a +wall in torturing a gray lizard he had found, and which had taken refuge +in a hole, from which it could not get out. The cruel child made +numerous blows at the timid animal whenever it attempted to escape. He +was perfectly delighted when he had beaten out the eyes of the animal, +and the poor creature, rushing out, surrendered himself. One thrust +completed the work, and it died in convulsions. Aminta found Scorpione +thus engaged.</p> + +<p>"Fie, fie," said she, "you deserve to suffer as much pain as you have +inflicted on this poor animal."</p> + +<p>"I am no lizard, but a scorpion, as the children of Sorrento say. I have +a sting always ready for those who seek to injure me." He showed his +dagger.</p> + +<p>Aminta left, and Tonio, glancing at his mistress like a dog which has +been punished, placed his back against the wall and pretended to sleep. +Before long he really did sleep.</p> + +<p>Not far from Tasso's house there was a grotto, beneath which ran a +little stream, overgrown with aquatic herbs, and which beyond doubt in +other days fed the fish-ponds of the house. It however had insensibly +dried up, and only a feeble thread could henceforth be traced. This was +the grotto which gave Aminta the refuge she sought. A mossy bench was +placed by the side of a stream. She sat on it, took her book, and +recited aloud the harmonious verses of her favorite bard. She gradually +felt the influence of the heat. For a while she contended against the +approach of sleep, which, however, ere long surrounded her with its +leaden wings. The sight of Aminta became clouded, and shadowy mists +passed before her eyes. Her brow bowed down, her head fell upon the +rustic pillow. She was in oblivion. It was noon. All at this hour in +Italy, and especially in Naples, slumber, "except," says the proverb, +certainly not complimentary to my countrymen, "<i>Frenchmen and dogs</i>." +The fact is, that Frenchmen, when they travel, pay no attention to the +customs of the country. A Frenchman who travels unfortunately insists +that everything should be done <i>a la Française</i>, in countries and +climates where such a life as ours is impossible.</p> + +<p>A profound silence covered all nature. The indistinct humming of insects +in the air for a while troubled him; then all was silent. The wind even +was voiceless, and the wave which beat on the rock seemed to repress +every sound to avoid interrupting the repose of earth and heaven.</p> + +<p>All at once, distant steps were heard. At first they were light, then +more positive and distinct as they resounded on the calcined rock which +led to Tasso's house. A young man of twenty-five approached. He was +almost overcome by the sultriness. A whip and spurs showed that he had +just dismounted. He had left his horse in an orange grove. Overcome, he +had sought a shelter, and remembering the ruins he had seen a few days +before, hoped to find freshness and repose there. The poet's mansion, +the roof of which had fallen in, did not answer his expectations. He +hurried toward the very place where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> Aminta slept. His eyes, dazzled by +the brilliant light, did not at first distinguish the young girl in the +darkness of the grotto. After a few moments, however, his sight became +stronger, and he was amazed at the white form which lay on the mossy +seat. Gradually the form became more distinct, and finally the young +stranger was able to distinguish a beautiful girl. Just then a brilliant +sunlight passed over the top of the crumbling wall and fell on her, +enwrapping her in golden light, and, as it were, framing her angelic +head like a glory round one of Raphael's pictures.</p> + +<p>Henri de Maulear, such was the young man's name, fancied that an angelic +vision stood before him. Had the princess Leonora's ghost visited the +scenes Tasso loved so well? Had a great sculptor, Canova, in one of his +charming deliriums reproduced the features of Tasso's mistress and +placed his work in the grotto where the great poet sighed? Marble alone +could compete with Aminta's whiteness. Her round and waxen arms seemed +to have been formed of the purest Carara marble.</p> + +<p>Aminta uttered a sigh and dissipated the illusion of the stranger. It +was not an admirable statue exhibited to him, but a work of nature. It +was such a woman as a poetic and tender heart dreams of—a woman not to +be loved, but adored. Love is earthly; adoration belongs to heaven.</p> + +<p>Henri de Maulear, fascinated by increasing admiration, did not dare to +advance. He held his breath and was afraid, so great was his excitement, +that this wonderful beauty would faint away. Another sentiment, however, +soon took possession of him. A mortal terror filled his soul—death and +sleep were united. A fearful danger menaced the maiden, whence it seemed +no human power could rescue her. In the folds of Aminta's dress, in her +very bosom, Henri saw a strange object, whose whimsical colors +contrasted strangely with the whiteness of her dress. It was one of +those strange things known in Italy as <i>pointed-headed</i> vipers. Their +bite takes effect so rapidly, their poison becomes so soon infused in +the blood, that victims die within a few minutes. Aminta had lain down +near a nest of these dangerous reptiles. The warmth of her body had +gradually attracted them to her, and while she slept they had nestled in +her very bosom. She had been motionless. They had not as yet moved. Any +change of posture however would bring on a terrible catastrophe, a +compulsory witness of which Henri de Maulear would from necessity be. +What assistance could he render her? How could he arouse her without +awaking the reptiles also? With a pale face and icy sweat on his brow, +he thought in vain to contrive a means to save her. What however was his +terror as he saw her make a slight movement! She reached out one of her +arms, held it in the air, and then let it fall on her breast which was +covered with reptiles. Her motion aroused the vipers. For a moment they +became agitated, then uncoiled themselves, and hid their heads in the +folds of her dress. One of them again coiled himself up, passed his thin +tongue through his lips like a <i>gourmand</i> after a feast: the head was +drawn back and the creature assumed the form of a spiral urn, exhibited +all its rings of ruby and <i>malachete</i>, and then drawing back in a line +full of grace, disappeared among its fellows, and sank to sleep as if it +were exhausted with its own efforts.</p> + +<p>During this terrible scene, Maulear could not breathe. The very +pulsation of his heart was stopped, his soul having left his body to +protect Aminta. For the nonce she was safe. But a terrible death yet +hung over her. Maulear did not lose sight of her. Ere long he saw her +bosom heave; he saw her gasp, and her face gradually become flushed. She +was dreaming. Should she make any motion, she would disturb the vipers. +This idea excited him so much that for a while he thought they were +awakened. Their hisses sounded in his ears, and he eagerly looked aside +to avoid the terrible spectacle. His glance however fell on an object +which as yet he had not perceived. So great was his joy that he could +with difficulty refrain from crying aloud. He saw an earthen vase full +of milk, in a dark portion of the cave, left there by some shepherd +anxious to preserve his evening meal from the heat of the summer sun. He +remembered what naturalists say of the passion entertained by reptiles +for milk. The well-known stories of cows, the dugs of whom had been +sucked dry by snakes, were recalled to his mind. Rushing toward the +vase, he seized it and bore it to the mossy rock. Just then Aminta +awoke.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>II.—SCORPIONE.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Having</span> looked around her, Aminta saw Maulear, pale and with an excited +face. He could not restrain his terror and surprise. By a motion more +rapid than thought, he pointed out to her the terrible beings that +nestled in her bosom, and said earnestly and eagerly: "Do not move or +you will die!" He could make no choice as to the means of saving her. It +became necessary for him to rescue her at once, to confront her with +danger, and rely on her strength of mind to brave it, by remaining +motionless. He thought possibly she might succumb beneath its aspect. +This was the result. She looked toward the terrible reptiles Maulear +pointed out to her. Horror took possession of her. Her heart ceased to +beat, and her blood curdled. She fainted. Luckily, however, this +happened without any motion, without even a nervous vibration sufficient +to awake the serpents. Henri uttered a sigh of happiness and delight, +for beyond doubt Heaven protected Aminta and himself. Approaching the +vase of milk, he placed it near her. Dipping his fingers in it, he +scattered a few drops over the reptiles.</p> + +<p>They moved. The milk directly attracted their attention, and as soon as +they had tasted it they became aware of its pres<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>ence. Lifting up their +pointed heads to receive what was offered them, they directed their eyes +toward the vase. When they had once seen it, they began to untwine their +coils and to crawl toward it, like young girls hurrying to the bath. The +mossy bench was near the rock. To remove her from the grotto Henri had +to displace the vase. He had courage enough to wait until the last viper +had gone into it. Seizing it then, he placed it gently on the ground. +Passing his arms under the inanimate body of the girl, he sought to +carry her away. Just then she recovered from her fainting. Aware that +she was in the arms of a strange man, she made a violent effort to get +away, and cast herself from her bed on the ground to escape from this +embrace. In her disorder and agitation, and contest with Maulear, who +sought to restrain her, in the half obscurity of the grotto her foot +touched the coil of vipers.</p> + +<p>She fell shrieking on his bosom. He left the grotto with his precious +burden. Her cry had revealed to him the new misfortune, to which at +first he paid no attention, but which now terrified him. The cry awoke +Scorpione. His ear being familiarized with all the tones of his +mistress, he would have recognized this amid a thousand. Quicker than +the thunderbolt he rushed from the house, and stood at the door just +when Maulear seized her.</p> + +<p>Scorpione fancied the stranger bore away his foster-sister, and rushed +on him as furiously as he would have done on a midnight robber. He +seized Maulear in the breast with his right hand, the nails of which +were trenchant as a needle, while with the left he sought to thrust the +dagger in his heart. Aminta herself was however a shield to his bosom, +and he clasped her closely. In the appearance of the horrid monster, +Maulear almost forgot the perilous situation from which he had just +extricated himself. For a time he fancied he was under the spell of some +terrible vision, being unable to believe one person could unite so many +deformities. With terror then he saw Scorpione seize on him and seek to +snatch the body of Aminta from him. A second cry of Aminta, less +distinct however than the first, changed the scene and recalled two of +the actors to their true interest.</p> + +<p>"Wretch!" said Maulear to Tonio, "if you wish gold I will give it you. +Wait however till I resuscitate this girl."</p> + +<p>"Aminta needs the care of none, when I am by!" said Scorpione. "She is +my mistress, my sister: I watch over her."</p> + +<p>"At all events you watch over her very badly," said Henri, placing +Aminta on a broken stone. "I found her asleep here, with the vipers +nestling in her bosom."</p> + +<p>A groan escaped from the throat of Scorpione as he heard these words. He +fell at Aminta's feet, with such an expression of grief, such cruel +despair, that Maulear despite of himself was moved. "Vipers! +pointed-headed! Have they stung her? tell me," said Tonio to Maulear. "I +will die if she does!"</p> + +<p>He sunk on the ground, mad with rage and terror. The eyes of Maulear +glittered with somber horror. A nervous terror seized him, and, +paralyzed by fright, he pointed out to Tonio the white leg of Aminta, +around which a viper had coiled itself. Scorpione sprang forward and +tore the reptile away, throwing it far from him. This took place in less +than a second. Maulear would have done precisely what Scorpione had +done, but thought was not more rapid than the movement of Aminta's +foster-brother. Above the buskin of the girl a spot of blood appeared on +her silk stocking. This came from the bite of the serpent. It was death. +Maulear, kneeling before Aminta, reached forth his hand to touch the +wound. Tonio rudely pushed him aside. "No one," said he in a sharp harsh +voice, mingled with which was an accent of indignation, "may touch +Aminta!" Tonio alone has that right, and Madame Rovero would drive him +away if he permitted it!"</p> + +<p>"But she will die unless I aid her!"</p> + +<p>"And how can you?" said Scorpione, looking impudently at him. "What do +you know about pointed-heads? You do not even know the only remedy. But +I do, and will cure her."</p> + +<p>There was such conviction in the words, that Maulear almost began to +entertain hope. What probability however was there that this kind of +brute would find means energetic and sure enough to restore the warmth +of life to one over whom the coldness of death had already begun to +settle, to stop the flow of poison which already permeated her frame? +Maulear doubted, trembled, and entertained again the most miserable +ideas. "If you would save her," said he to Scorpione, "there is but one +thing to do. Hurry to the nearest physician and bring him hither to +cauterize the wound and burn out the poison."</p> + +<p>"Physicians are fools!" said Scorpione. "When my mother was thirty years +of age, beautiful and full of life, they let her die. Though she was +only my mother, I would have strangled them. If they were not to save +Aminta, however, I would kill them as I would dogs!" Nothing can give an +idea of his expression as he pronounced the words, "<i>though she was only +my mother</i>." It betokened atrocious coldness and indifference. The +glance however he threw on the maiden at the very idea of her death was +full of intense affection.</p> + +<p>"Save her then!" said Maulear, seizing the idea that this half-savage +creature was perhaps aware of some secret means furnished by nature to +work a true miracle in favor of the victim. The features of Aminta began +to be disturbed; a livid pallor took possession of her; light +contractions agitated her features; her lids became convulsive,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> opening +and shutting rapidly. Scorpione observed all these symptoms. "Well," +said he, placing his hand on her heart, "it beats yet. The poison moves +on: let us stop it."</p> + +<p>Kneeling before her, he grasped the wounded limb, and took off the light +silk stocking. Then taking his dagger from his bosom, he made a slight +incision with the sharp point where the reptile had bitten her. She +uttered a cry of pain. "What are you about?" said Maulear, offended.</p> + +<p>"Do you not see," replied Scorpione, "that I am opening the door for the +escape of the poison?"</p> + +<p>Without speaking a word, he leaned over the wound, applied his lips, and +sucked the blood which ran from it. Twice or thrice he spat out the +blood and resumed the occupation of sublime courage. The ugliness of +Scorpione entirely disappeared from Maulear's eyes, and the monster +seemed to him a saving angel descended from heaven to rescue another +angel from death. A few seconds passed by in terrible and solemn +silence. Scorpione supported Aminta's head, and attempted to read in her +face the effect of his heroism. Henri de Maulear also knelt, and glanced +from heaven to the girl, invoking aid from one, and feeling profound +anxiety for the other.</p> + +<p>Aminta sighed, but not with pain. An internal relief was already +experienced by her. Scorpione seized her hand in his, and feeling her +pulse, laughed aloud. He said, "<i>The Scorpion has overcome the viper</i>: +Aminta will live!"</p> + +<p>"But you? you?" said Maulear, as he saw Scorpione's strength give way.</p> + +<p>"Me? oh, I perhaps will die—that however is a different matter." Though +he did not know it, Scorpione might have been right. Felix Fontana, the +great Italian, one of the most distinguished physicians of the +eighteenth century, in his celebrated <i>Riserche Chemiche Sopra il Veleno +della Vipera</i>, affirms that to suck out the poison of the viper, even +when it does not touch the vital organs, suffices to cause such an +inflammation of the organs of the mouth that death always results from +it.</p> + +<p>Boundless admiration and profound pity appeared in the heart of Maulear +when he heard the answer of Tonio. He even forgot Aminta, and hurried to +her generous liberator. He took him in his arms, and sustained his head, +which in nervous spasms he beat violently against the rock. This +deformed creature became really a friend and brother to Maulear; he had +saved one whom even Heaven abandoned. He had accomplished the most +admirable sacrifice, that equal almost to Christ, who gave his life to +ransom that of his fellows.</p> + +<p>Just then steps were heard in the distance, and many persons approached +the solitude where such terrible scenes were occurring. A woman of about +fifty years of age, with dignified and beautiful features and +distinguished tournure, advanced with an expression of intense terror. +Looking all around, she seemed much terrified. She soon saw the three +characters of our somber drama. Passing hurriedly and rapidly as if she +had been a girl toward Aminta, who lay extended on the ground, she +seized and convulsively clasped her to her heart, without however being +able to utter a word. Her tearful eyes declared however that she was +aware some great misfortune had befallen her child. This woman was +Madame Rovero. Those who accompanied her were old servants of the +family, and surrounded Aminta. They were ignorant as Madame Rovero was +of the danger the young girl had undergone. Aminta however had begun to +recover, and pointed to Tonio, who lay in convulsions in Maulear's arms. +"What, monsieur, has happened?" said Madame de Rovero to Maulear. +"Having become uneasy at my daughter's prolonged absence, I have come to +her usual resort and find her dying and this lad writhing in your arms."</p> + +<p>"Madame, excuse me," said Maulear, "if I do not now make explanation in +relation to the cruel events which have taken place. Time at present is +too precious. Your daughter I trust will live. But this poor fellow +demands all our care. He has sacrificed himself to rescue your child, +and to him you owe now all your happiness. Near this place I have two +horses. Suffer me to place your daughter on one, and do you return with +her to your house. I will on the other hurry with Tonio as fast as +possible to Sorrento."</p> + +<p>Henri took a silver whistle from his pocket and sounded it. A groom soon +appeared with two horses. What he had proposed was soon executed, not +however without difficulty, for Aminta was much enfeebled, and Scorpione +contended violently with those who sought to place him in front of +Maulear, who had already mounted. Madame Rovero went sadly toward +Sorrento, bearing pale and bloody the young girl who had gone on that +very morning from her mother's villa so joyous, happy, and beautiful. +Maulear hurried to the house of the physician which had been pointed out +to him. While they were bringing in Aminta's foster-brother, Henri told +the doctor what had taken place. He examined the lad, and his brow +became overcast. Scorpione was speechless, and but for the faint +pulsations of his heart one might have thought him lifeless. No external +symptom betrayed the effect of the poison except the head of the +patient, which was terribly swollen. His mouth and especially the lower +jaw appeared the seat of suffering, and with a sensation of horror +Maulear saw between the violet lips of the patient a green and tense +tongue, at the appearance of which the physician exhibited much emotion.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of his condition?" said Maulear.</p> + +<p>"The great Felix Fontana says, in such cases there is no safety. Lazarus +Spallan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>zini, however, another savant of the eighteenth century, +published at Venice, in 1767, in the Giornole D'Italia, an admirable +dissertation on wounds caused by the bite of reptiles, especially on +those of the vipers. Treating of suction and its consequences, he points +out a means of cure for it. It is however so terrible and dangerous that +I know not if I should use it."</p> + +<p>"Use it, sir. There is," said Maulear, "only the alternative of it and +death."</p> + +<p>"The man will live, but in all probability will never speak again." He +waited for Maulear's answer.</p> + +<p>"May I consult the family?" said the young man. "I will have returned in +an hour."</p> + +<p>"In ten minutes," said the doctor, "he will be dead."</p> + +<p>"Act quickly, then, monsieur: all his friends would act as I do."</p> + +<p>The physician left: in a few minutes he returned with one of his +assistants, bearing a red hot iron. Maulear shuddered. The physician +placed the patient in a great arm-chair, to which he fastened him with +strong straps of leather. Then, when he was satisfied that no spasm or +motion of the unfortunate man would interrupt the operation, he placed a +speculum in his mouth. The speculum in its expansion tore apart the jaws +of Tonio, and kept them distended, so that the interior orifice of the +throat could be seen. Seizing the hot iron, he plunged it into the +throat of the unhappy man, turned back the palate from the tongue, and +moved it several times about, while the agonizing guttural cries of the +patient were mingled with the sharp hissing of the iron. Torrents of +tears filled his eyes. At this terrible spectacle Maulear fainted.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>III.—THE CONCERT.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Henri Marquis</span> d<span class="smcap">e Maulear</span> was scarcely twenty-six, and was what all would +have called a handsome man. A fine tall person, delicate features, and a +profusion of rich blond hair, curling naturally, justified the +appellation which the world, and especially the female portion of it, +conferred on him. To these external advantages, was united a brilliant +education, rather superficial than serious, and more graceful than +solid. He had dipped without examination in everything. He, however, +knew it to be essential to seem to understand all the subjects of French +conversation, in the saloons of Paris: nothing more.</p> + +<p>The Prince Maulear, the only son of whom Henri was, had accompanied the +Bourbons in their exile, and been one of the faithful at Mettau and +Hartwell. After having undergone banishment with the Princes, his +illustrious friends, he returned to France with Louis XVIII. and shared +with Messieurs de Blacas, Vitrolles, d'Escars and others, the favor and +confidence of the king. A widower, and the recipient of a large fortune +from the restoration of the unsold portion of his estates, cold and +harsh in behavior, the Prince returned from exile in 1815, with the same +ideas he had borne away in 1788. The Prince de Maulear was the true type +of those unchangeable prejudices which can neither learn nor forget. He +was educated in France by a sister of his mother, the Countess of +Grandnesnil, an ancient canoness, a noble lady, who was a second mother +to the young Marquis after death had borne away his own. The Countess +had not emigrated like her brother-in-law. The care demanded by the +delicate health of the heir of the family could not admit of the fatigue +of endless travel, made necessary by emigration. Therefore, the heir of +the Maulears remained under the charge of the Countess. When he grew up, +beneath the ćgis of the Countess, he completed his education, and at a +later day entered society. She exercised over his mind and heart that +influence which affection and the usage of familiar intercourse confer. +Watching over him with maternal care, seeking to ascertain his wishes +that she might be able to gratify them, making him happy in every way in +her power, she was beloved by the Marquis with all his heart. He could +not have loved a mother more.</p> + +<p>The consequence of this education by a woman was that the moral had +somewhat stifled the intellectual. Besides, this kind of fanaticism of +the Countess for her nephew, her constant attention to gratify every +caprice, her readiness to excuse his faults, even when she should have +blamed them severely, made his education vicious as possible, and +brought out two faults with peculiar prominence. His character was very +weak; and he had great self-confidence. The Prince de Maulear found the +son he had left a child in the cradle, a man of twenty-six, and was +literally forced to make his acquaintance.</p> + +<p>The noble bearing and distinguished manners of the young man pleased him +especially. He was also graceful, gallant and brave, and the Prince saw +himself restored to youth in the person of his son. He did not make +himself uneasy about his sentiments, being satisfied that his son was +learned in stable lore, a good rider, skillful in the use of weapons, +heroic and enterprising. He rejoiced at his fortune, as it would make +Henri happy, and anticipated a brilliant and fortunate career for his +son. Henri had no profession, and the Prince procured for him the +appointment of secretary of legation to Naples. He had held this post +six months when he appears in our history.</p> + +<p>Henri had never loved. Much ephemeral gallantry, and many easy +conquests, which soon passed away, had occupied his time without +touching his heart, and this was his situation when for the first time +he saw the White Rose of Sorrento. As we have said, he became sick at +the terrible surgical operation. He did not revive until all was over. +The unfortunate Tonio had been placed in one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> rooms of the +doctor's house, and the latter declared, that in consideration of the +importance of the case, he would himself attend to the patient, and +would not leave him until he should have been completely restored, +unless, added he, death should remove the responsibility. The Marquis +being satisfied that the savior of Aminta would not be neglected, +hurried with the doctor to Madame Rovero's villa. Nothing could be more +simple and charming, and nothing in Italy had struck him so forcibly. +The very look of the house told how happy were its inhabitants. At the +extremity of Sorrento, it was surrounded by large trees, and winter +seemed never to inflict any severity upon it.</p> + +<p>An old servant admitted the strangers. He recognized Maulear, for he had +been with Madame when she recovered her daughter.</p> + +<p>"Madame expects you, gentlemen," said he, when he saw the young Marquis +and the Doctor. "I will accompany you to the room." He went before them +to a pretty room on the ground floor, where he left them a short time.</p> + +<p>Maulear carefully examined it. All betokened elegant tastes in its +occupants. In the middle was an elegant grand piano of Vienna; on the +desk the Don Giovanna of Mozart; and on a pedestal near the window an +exquisite model of Tasso's house. A round table of Florentine +workmanship, of immense value, stood near one side of the apartment. The +valuable Mosaics were, however, hidden by a collection of albums, +keepsakes, and engravings. There were also on it vases of alabaster, +filled with perfumed flowers, and the whole room was lit up by the rays +of the setting sun, the brilliancy of which were softened as they passed +across the park. Madame Rovero entered with a servant. "Take the +Doctor," said she, "to my daughter's room, whither I will come +immediately. You, sir," said she, pointing Maulear to a chair, "will +please to tell me for what I am your debtor. I am sure your claims are +large." He gave Madame Rovero a detailed account of what had happened +since he met Aminta in the grotto, until the cruel devotion of Tonio.</p> + +<p>"Tonio has told you the truth, Monsieur," said Madame Rovero; "the +terrible remedy he had the courage to employ is known in the country to +be infallible, though, as yet, few examples of such heroism have +occurred. The doctor alone can satisfy us of the safety of my daughter." +Madame Rovero moved toward the door to satisfy herself in relation to +this engrossing subject, when the doctor entered. She trembled before +him like a criminal before a judge, when he seeks to divine the nature +of a terrible sentence. "The young lady is in no danger. I have examined +the wound carefully; no trace of poison remains. The poor lad has +entirely exhausted it." The mother lifted her eyes to heaven in +inexpressible gratitude.</p> + +<p>"What hopes have you, doctor, of the poor lad?"</p> + +<p>"He will live, but that is all science can do."</p> + +<p>"Do not neglect one who has so absolute a right to my gratitude."</p> + +<p>Turning then to Maulear, she said, "In a few days, Monsieur, my daughter +and myself will expect you. She will soon be restored, and we will thank +you for your services."</p> + +<p>Maulear bade adieu to Mme. Rovero, not as a stranger or acquaintance of +a few minutes, but as a friend who leaves a family with whom he is +intimate. He left them with regret, as persons to whom he was devoted, +and with whom he was willing to pass his life. Within a few hours, a +strange change had been wrought in him. Struck with admiration at +Aminta, the danger with which he found her surrounded, the successive +agitations of the scene, the sweet influence exerted by her on his +heart, the alternations of hope and fear, everything combined to disturb +the placidity of his withered and somewhat <i>blazé</i> soul which scarcely +seemed plastic enough to receive a profound and tender expression. He +then experienced for Aminta what he had not amid all that terrible.... +The features of the young girl he had borne in his memory, contracted as +they were by pain, did not seem to him less charming, and excited a +warmer interest than ever. Never before had the most beautiful in all +the eclât of dress and manners appeared so attractive as the pale Aminta +in her mortal agony. To sum up all, he was in love, and in love for the +first time.</p> + +<p>Henri left Sorrento with a painful sensation, and returned to Naples, +where pleasure and warm receptions awaited him, from the many beauties +on whom he expended the "small change" of his heart. As he said himself, +he never was ruined by sensitiveness, keeping all the wealth of his +heart for a good opportunity. That opportunity was come. He returned to +the palace of the embassy, far different in his condition from what he +was when he left. With the most perfect <i>sang-froid</i> therefore he read +the following note which his valet had given him when he came in—</p> + +<p>"The Duke de Palma, minister of police, requests the Marquis de Maulear +to pass the evening with him."</p> + +<p>Lower down in another hand was written—</p> + +<p><i>"Do not fail. La Felina will sing, and at two o'clock we will have a +supper of our intimate friends. You know whether or not you are one of +the number."</i></p> + +<p>The Duke of Palma, minister of police of the kingdom of Naples, was one +of the friends of Fernando IV. He was not a great minister, but was +young and intellectual. His principal merit was that he amused his +master, by recounting secret intrigues, whimsical adventures, and +delicate affairs, a knowledge of which he acquired by means of his +position. Thus he found favor with Fernando, who was not served, but +amused and satisfied. Sovereigns who are amused are indulgent. Maulear +hesitated a long time before he accepted the invitation. His soul was +occupied by new and delicious emotions. It seemed to him to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> be +profanity to transport them to such a different and dissipated scene. He +however shrunk from solitude, and the idea of living apart from Aminta +for whole days, made him desire the amusement and excitement promised by +the invitation. The entertainment was superb. All the noble, elegant and +rich of Naples were bidden. The concert began. The first pieces were +scarcely listened to, in consequence of the studiously late entries of +many distinguished personages, and of many pretty women, who would not +on any account enter <i>incognito</i> either a drawing-room or a theater, and +were careful never to come thither until the moment when their presence +would attract attention or produce interruption. Silence however +pervaded in a short time all the assemblage. The crowd which a moment +before had been so agitated became at once calm and mute. A fairy spell +seemed to have transfixed them. A fairy was really come—that of +music.... The Queen of the theater of Italy, <i>La Bella Felina</i>—that +strange sibyl of the ball at San Carlo. The excitement to hear her was +great, and the prima donna had immense success. The young woman, by +coming to his soirée, did the minister of police a great favor: The +singer had during the whole year refused the most brilliant invitations +and the largest sums to sing any where but at San Carlo. Thrice she had +appeared on the concert gallery, and thrice descended amid immense +applause.</p> + +<p>Great is the triumph of song. Yet its success is fleeting and ephemeral, +and may be annihilated by the merest accident. The glory is frail, the +fortune uncertain, of all that emanates from the human throat.</p> + +<p>The concert was over and all left. Henri and the intimate friends alone, +of whom the Duke spoke, passed into an elegant and retired room into +which the minister led La Felina. "Messieurs," said he, "the Signora +honors me by partaking of our collation. Let us bow before the Queen of +Song and thank her for the honor she confers on us." The cantatrice +exhibited no embarrassment at being alone amid so many of another sex, +so notorious for the volatility of their manners. Her habitual calm and +dignity did not hide a kind of restraint from the observation of +Maulear. She replied by a few graceful words to the gallantries of which +she was the object. They then all sat down. Many witty remarks were made +by the guests. Champagne increased Neapolitan volubility, and heads were +beginning to grow light, when the minister seeing that La Felina was ill +at ease at the conversation, said, "The supper, Signora, of a minister +of police should be unique as that of a banker or senator. Where else +would one learn of piquant adventures, scandal, hidden crimes, but at my +house, for I am the keeper of all records and the compulsory confessor +of all. I wish then to give you another fruit and to tell you of a +strange adventure, the hero of which is a person all of you know. That +man is Count Monte-Leone."</p> + +<p>The name of Monte-Leone, so well known in Naples, created the greatest +sensation. All were silent and listened to the Duke of Palma. La Felina +became strangely pale.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>IV.—THE DUKE OF PALMA.</b></div> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">You</span> know," said the Duke to his friends, "that the Count Monte-Leone +has for a long time professed opinions entirely opposed to the +government of our sovereign king Fernando. The heir of the political +errors of his unfortunate father, he seems to travel fatally toward the +same sad fate. The king long ago bade us close our eyes to the guilty +conduct of the young Count. His Majesty was unwilling to continue on the +son the rigors to which his father had been subjected. A revelation of +great importance forced us to act, and we caused the offender to be +arrested for an offence of which he must make a defence before the +appointed tribunal. During many months the Count contrived to avoid all +efforts made to arrest him. At last, however, in consequence of a +youthful escapade in which he should by no means have indulged, his +retreat was revealed to us. The house which concealed him and his +accomplices was found out on the night of the last ball of San Carlo. +The countersign of his associates had been revealed to us by a traitor, +and our precautions were so skillfully taken, that the three friends of +Monte-Leone were arrested one after the other, at the very door of his +house, without in the least rendering the arrest of the Count doubtful. +Two hours after, Monte-Leone, arrested by our agents, was borne to the +<i>Castle del Uovo</i>, a safe and sure prison, whence as yet no prisoner +ever escaped. The report of the chief of the expedition," continued the +Duke, "states, that he saw a woman fainting on the floor. He adds, that +he thought he had nothing to do with it, his orders relating entirely to +the four of whom he obtained possession."</p> + +<p>During this preamble La Felina more than once inhaled the perfume of her +<i>bouquet</i>. When, however, she looked up, her face expressed no trouble +or change.</p> + +<p>"The three friends of Count Monte-Leone," said the Duke, "are a +Frenchman, a German, and an Italian. The first is the Count of Harcourt, +son of the Duke, one of the noblest and most powerful men of France. We +cannot fancy how the heir of so noble a family has become involved in +such a plot, where persons of his rank have all to lose and nothing to +gain. He is a brilliant young madcap, amiable and adventurous, like +almost all of his countrymen, and became a conspirator merely for +recreation and to while away the time he cannot occupy with love and +pleasure. The second is a graver character: the son of a Bohemian +pastor, imbued with the philosophic and political opinions of his +countrymen, Sand, Koerner, and the ideologists of his country, he dreams +of leveling ideas which would set all Europe in a blaze. He has become a +conspirator from conviction, is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> a madman full of genius, but one of +those who must be shut up, before they become furious. The fanatical +friendship of this young man to Monte-Leone involved him in the party of +which he is the shadow and the reflection. He is a conspirator, <i>ex +necessitate</i>, who will never act from his own motive, and who, +consequently, is a subject of no apprehension to us, as long as he has +no head, no chief to nerve his arm, and urge him onward. We have without +any difficulty exonerated Italy from the reproach of containing these +three men, without any scandal or violence.... The German on the very +night of his arrest was sent to the city of Elbogen, his native city, +with recommendations to the paternal care and surveillance of the +friendly governments through which he was to pass. The Count of Harcourt +has already seen the shores of France. When this brilliant gentleman +placed his foot on the deck of the vessel, he was informed that +henceforth he was forbidden ever to return to Naples, under penalty of +perpetual imprisonment. Young Rovero was confined in this identical +palace, until such time as the trial of Count Monte-Leone shall be +terminated. I am informed that he does nothing but sigh after a +mysterious beauty, the charms and voice of whom are incomparable."</p> + +<p>La Felina again put her bouquet to her face.</p> + +<p>"I am now come, Messieurs, to the true hero of this romance."</p> + +<p>Just then he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of one of his +secretaries, who whispered briefly to him, and placed before him a box +mysteriously sealed, with this superscription—<i>"To His Excellency +Monsignore the Duke of Palma, minister of police, and to him alone."</i></p> + +<p>The countenance of the minister expressed surprise, as his secretary +said, "Read, Monsignore, and verify the contents of the box."</p> + +<p>The Duke requested his guests' pardon, and unsealed the letter, which he +rapidly read. He then opened the box, examined it with curiosity, and +without taking out the objects it contained, said, "It is unheard of: it +is almost miraculous."</p> + +<p>The minister's exclamations put an end to all private conversations, and +every eye was turned upon him, "Messieurs," said he with emotion, "I +thought I was about to tell you a strange thing, but all that I know has +become complicated by so strange an accident, that I am myself +amazed—used as I am to mysterious and criminal events."</p> + +<p>At a signal, the secretary left, and the Duke continued: "The trial of +Count Monte-Leone was prepared. Vaguely accused of being the chief of +the secret society, the object of which was the overturning of the +monarchy, he might have been acquitted from want of proof of his +participation in this dark and guilty work, when three witnesses came +forward to charge him with having presided in their own sight over one +of the assemblages which in secret discuss of the death of kings by the +enemies of law and order.</p> + +<p>"On this formal declaration made by three well-known inhabitants of the +town of <i>Torre del Greco</i>, devoted to king Fernando, the Count was +sought for by the police, arrested as I have told you, and imprisoned in +the <i>Castle del Uovo</i>. Every means was taken to make sure of the person +of the prisoner. The garrison of the castle was increased, lest there +should be some daring <i>coup de main</i> to deliver him. The charge of him +was intrusted to the most stern and incorruptible of the jailers, who +was however carefully watched by the agents of the government. This +excess of precaution had nearly cost the life of the prisoner, from the +fact that he was placed in a dungeon into which the sea broke. Judge of +my surprise when yesterday, two of the accusers of the Count, the +Salvatori, came to my hotel insisting that two days before, just as the +population of <i>Torre del Greco</i> was leaving church, their eldest brother +Stenio Salvatori had been poignarded at his door by Count Monte-Leone.</p> + +<p>"'This evidence,' continued they, 'will be confirmed by all the +inhabitants of the town, in the presence of whom the affair happened.' I +refused to believe anything so improbable. I told them the Count had +been a prisoner several days, and assured them I would have been +informed of his escape. Overcome by their persuasions, shaken in my +conviction by their oaths, I determined to satisfy myself that the Count +was at the prison, and went thither."</p> + +<p>The Duke had not deceived the auditors by his promises, for the interest +had rapidly increased, and every one listened to his words with intense +curiosity. A single person only seemed listless and uninterested. This +was La Felina, whose eye never lost sight of the box which the secretary +had given the Duke, and which he had shut, so that no one knew the +nature of the contents. The Duke resumed his story:</p> + +<p>"The new governor of the Castle, whom I had appointed after the +inundation, was not informed of my visit. No one expected me, yet all +was calm and in good order.</p> + +<p>"'Signore,' said I to the governor, 'I am informed that the prisoner I +have confided to your charge, the Count Monte-Leone, has escaped from +the fortress. If this be so, you know the severity of military law, and +must expect its utmost rigor.' As he heard this menace, the governor +grew pale. I fancied his change of color came because he was aware of +some error, and I awaited his answer with anxiety. 'If the Count has +escaped, Monsignore,' he replied, 'it must have been within an hour, for +it is not more than twice that time since I saw him.'</p> + +<p>"I was amazed. Unwilling as I was to be face to face with the Count, the +violence and exasperation of whom I was aware of, I ordered myself to be +led to his cell. The jailer threw back the door on its hinges, and far +from finding the room unoccupied, I saw him stretched on a bed, and +reading a book, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> seemed very much to interest him. He appeared +pale and thin. A year had passed since I had seen him, brilliantly and +carefully dressed, giving tone to the saloons, the cynosure of which he +was. Dignified and haughty, and always polite, even in the coarse dress +he wore, the Count rose, recognized, and bowed to me. 'I did not,' said +he, 'expect the honor of a visit from his excellency the minister of +police, and would have wished to receive him in my palace. As the state +of affairs is, however, he must be satisfied with the rude hospitality +of the humble room I occupy.' He offered me his only stool. I said, 'Not +I, Count, but yourself, have been the cause that you are thus situated. +If you had chosen, you might have lived happy, free, and esteemed, as +your rank and birth entitled you. Remember that all must be attributed +to yourself, if you exchange all these advantages for the solitude of a +prison and the dangers which your opinions have brought on you.' 'Shall +I dare to ask, Monsignore, is the visit I receive an act of benevolence, +or of official duty?' 'I am come hither, Count, from duty. The rumor of +your escape is spread everywhere. A crime committed on the day before +yesterday in the vicinity of Naples is attributed to you, and I am come +to ascertain here if there be any foundation for the accusation.' The +Count laughed. 'Monsignore,' said he, 'one never leaves this place +except under the charge of keepers. As for the new crime of which I am +accused, and of which I know nothing, I trust that the good sense of the +judges will think me innocent as of the imaginary offenses which brought +me hither.'</p> + +<p>"The calmness and sang-froid of Monte-Leone, the improbability of the +story told me, excited a trouble and confusion which did not escape the +observation of the prisoner. 'Monsignore,' said he, 'we have met under +happier circumstances. I expect and ask a favor from no one. I can +however ask an indulgence from so old an acquaintance as yourself. Hurry +on my trial! The preliminary captivity I undergo is one of the greatest +outrages of the law. While a man is uncondemned he should not be +punished. God does not send any one to hell untried and uncondemned. My +life is sad here. This book, the only one allowed me,' said he, +presenting me with it open at the page where he had been reading when I +entered, 'this great book, <i>De Consolatione Philosophić</i> of Anicius +Severinus Boethius, does not console but afflicts me; for in spite of +myself I remember that the author, imprisoned by a tyrant at Pavia, +terminated in torture a life of glory. If such be my fate, signore,—if +I am guilty, the punishment is great enough: if I am not guilty, it is +too great.'</p> + +<p>"I was touched by this logical reasoning. Far more influence however was +exerted on me by his noble tranquillity and the natural dignity +misfortune often kindles up in the noblest souls. 'Count,' said I, 'be +assured that within a few days you will be placed on trial,' and I +retired satisfied with the mistake or falsehood of Monte-Leone's +accusers.</p> + +<p>"I found the Salvatori at my palace. I told them that they played a +terrible game. I said, 'If you had brought a false charge against a +young man at liberty, and on the head of whom there lay no accusation, +your crime would be capital, and you would be vulgar calumniators, such +as are too often made infamous by our criminal records. This matter is +however so complicated by revenge that it will excite general horror, +and draw on you all the severity of the law. Count Monte-Leone, whom you +accused of having poignarded your brother, is now in the <i>Castle del +Uovo</i>, which I left a few minutes ago, and where I saw him.'</p> + +<p>"Nothing can describe the singular expression of the faces of the two +men as they listened. But they still persisted that they had spoken the +truth, and were sternly dismissed by me, affirming that they would prove +all they had said. They have kept their word, and here is the evidence," +said the Duke, opening the box and exhibiting a glittering ring, on +which was engraved the escutcheon of Monte-Leone.</p> + +<p>"This ring," said he, "is acknowledged to be one of the <i>chef +d'œuvres</i> of Benvenuto Cellini. It has an historical fame, and is +considered one of the most admirable works of that great artist. Twenty +times the government has sought to buy it, but the Monte-Leoni have +uniformly refused to part with it. This letter accompanied the precious +jewel:</p> + +<p>"<i>Monsignore</i>: Heaven has come to our aid. Since our evidence, +corroborated by that of all <i>Torre del Greco</i>, could not convince you of +the truth of our accusation—since you refuse to believe that Count +Monte-Leone, to avenge himself, wounded our brother, we send you this +ring, engraved with his arms, which he lost in his contest with Stenio +Salvatori, and which God has placed in our hands to confound and to +punish him.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Raphael and Paolo Salvatori</span>."</p> + +<p>"All is lost!" said La Felina.</p> + +<p>"What now shall we believe?" said the Duke to his guests.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>V.—THE VISIT.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> story of the Duke of Palma was concluded by the last question. All +seemed wrapped in doubt in relation to this singular incident. The night +was far advanced, and the company separated.</p> + +<p>The Duke escorted La Felina to her carriage. Just however as the door +was about to close on him, he said: "Would you not like, beautiful +Felina, to know the name of the woman at Count Monte-Leone's on the +night of the ball?"</p> + +<p>"Why ask that question?" said she.</p> + +<p>"Because," he said, "I know no one more beautiful or more attractive."</p> + +<p>"Her name?" said the singer, with emotion.</p> + +<p>"Is La Felina!" said the Duke. "What surprises you?" he added; "a +minister of po<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>lice, from his very office, knows everything." La Felina +said to herself, "But he does not!"</p> + +<p>The spirited horses bore the carriage rapidly away.</p> + +<p>In the story of Monte-Leone the name of Taddeo Rovero had especially +arrested the attention of Maulear. Was Taddeo a relation or connection +of Aminta? During the few minutes he had passed at Sorrento he had +learned nothing of the Roveri, and had asked no questions of Aminta. +Allied however by the heart to this family already, he naturally enough +took interest in the dangers its members incurred. He therefore +determined to return at once and ascertain this fact from the minister, +when a note handed to him drove the matter completely from his mind. +Thus ran the note:</p> + +<p>"<i>Monsieur</i>: My daughter now knows how much she is indebted to you, and +the efforts you made to rescue her from the fearful danger which menaced +her. The heroic remedy employed by Tonio has luckily succeeded. Aminta +is entirely recovered and is unwilling to delay any longer the tribute +of gratitude. Let me also, Monsieur, again offer you mine. If you will +deign to receive them in our poor villa, we will be delighted to see you +there to-day.</p> + +<p> +Your grateful,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Antonia Rovero</span>."<br /> +</p> + +<p>The heart of Maulear quivered with joy at these words. He would in the +course of a few hours see Aminta, the impression of whose beauty had so +deeply impressed his heart, and from whom he had fancied he would yet be +separated for days. He mounted his best horse and rapidly crossed the +distance which separated him from Sorrento. Two hours after the receipt +of the letter he knocked at the door of Signora Rovero. The old servant +again admitted him.</p> + +<p>"The Signorina is in no danger," said he to Maulear, as soon as he saw +him. Nothing is more graceful than this familiarity of old servants, who +as it were are become from devotion a portion of the family of their +masters. "We know," added the good man taking and kissing Maulear's hand +respectfully, "that we owe all to your Excellency, who drove away the +vipers which otherwise had stung her on the heart, and allowed Tonio no +time to rescue her."</p> + +<p>There was such an expression of gratitude in the features of the old +man, that Maulear was deeply moved.</p> + +<p>"The Signora and the Signorina expect you, Count, to thank you." The old +man let tears drop on the hand of the Marquis.</p> + +<p>"What noble hearts must the mistresses of such servants have," thought +Maulear as he stood in waiting.</p> + +<p>Signora Rovero hurried to meet him, but not with a cold ceremony. The +stranger who had contributed to the salvation of her daughter henceforth +was a friend to her. "Come, come," said Signora Rovero, "she expects +you."</p> + +<p>The door was opened, and they were in the presence of Aminta. The White +Rose of <i>Sorrento</i> never vindicated more distinctly her right to the +name.</p> + +<p>Half reclining on a sofa of pearl velvet, Aminta was wrapped in a large +dressing-gown, the vaporous folds of which hung around her. Her face, +become yet more pale from suffering, was, as it were, enframed in light +clouds of gauze. One might have fancied her a beautiful alabaster +statue, but for the two beautiful bandeaus of black and lustrous hair +which were drawn around her charming face.</p> + +<p>"My child," said Signora Rovero, as she led Henri forward, "the Marquis +of Maulear proves that he is not insensible of the value of our thanks, +since he has come so promptly to receive them."</p> + +<p>"Alas! Signora," said Henri to the mother of Aminta, "the true savior of +your daughter is not myself, but the generous lad who risked his own +life for hers. God, however, is my witness, that had I been aware I +could have thus saved her, I would not have hesitated to employ the +means."</p> + +<p>The chivalric and impassioned tone with which these words were +pronounced, made both mother and daughter look at Henri. The latter, +however, immediately cast down her eyes, confused by the passionate +expression of his.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," said Aminta, with emotion, "I might doubt such devotion from +you, to a person who was a stranger, were I not aware of the nobility +and generosity of the French character."</p> + +<p>For the first time Maulear heard Aminta speak. She had one of those +fresh and sweet voices, so full of melody and persuasion, that every +word she spoke had the air of a caress—one of those delicious voices +with which a few chosen natures alone are endowed, which are never heard +without emotion, and are always remembered with pleasure. If the head +and imagination of the Marquis were excited by her charms, his heart +submitted to the influence of her angelic voice, for it emanated from +her soul; and Maulear, as he heard her delicious notes, thought there +was in this young girl something to love besides beauty.</p> + +<p>The physician had ordered the patient to repose. He feared the wound +made by Tonio's dagger would re-open if she walked. By the side of her +sofa, therefore, the hours of Maulear rolled by like seconds.</p> + +<p>The father, an educated and dignified man, had superintended, in person, +the education of his two children. Wishing neither to separate nor to +leave them, for he loved them both alike, his cares were equally divided +between them, so that Aminta, profiting by the lessons given to her +brother, shared in his masculine and profound education, and acquired +information far surpassing that ordinarily received by her sex. The +seeds of science had fallen on fertile ground. A studious mind had +developed them in meditation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> and solitude, and this beautiful child +concealed serious merit under a frail and delicate form. These +treasures, vailed by modesty, revealed themselves by rare flashes, which +soon disappeared, leaving those lucky enough to witness them, dazzled +and amazed.</p> + +<p>A few brilliant remarks escaped the young girl during Maulear's visit. +He could not restrain the expression of his admiration, and Signora +Rovero, when she saw her daughter confused, told Maulear, who had been +her teacher. In spite of this attractive conversation, one thought was +ever present to the mind of Maulear, who was the Taddeo Rovero of whom +the minister had spoken? The tranquillity the ladies seemed to enjoy, +might be little consonant with the situation of the accomplice of +Monte-Leone. Perhaps they did not know his fate. He resolved to satisfy +himself.</p> + +<p>"Signora," said he to the mother, "there is in Naples a young man named +Taddeo Rovero."</p> + +<p>"My son—the brother of my daughter; one of the pleasantest men of +Naples, whom I regret that I cannot introduce to you. Though he loves us +tenderly, our seclusion has little to attract him. City festivities and +pleasures often take him from us. Naples is now very brilliant."</p> + +<p>The heart of Maulear beat when he heard the poor mother speak of her +son's pleasures.</p> + +<p>"My brother is the soul of honor and courage," said Aminta, "but his +head is easily turned. I fear he is too much under the influence of his +best friends."</p> + +<p>"My daughter means his best friends," said Signora Rovero, gaily, "the +brilliant Count Monte-Leone, one of the proudest nobles of Naples. +Taddeo loves him as a brother. But my Aminta has no sympathy with him."</p> + +<p>The Marquis was glad to hear Signora Rovero speak thus—and he admired +the quick perception of the young girl, who thus, almost by intuition, +foresaw the danger into which Monte-Leone had tempted Taddeo.</p> + +<p>The dislike of Aminta to Monte-Leone, thus referred to by the Signora +Rovero, brought the blood to her cheeks. She blushed to see one of her +sentiments thus displayed before a stranger. In the impenetrable +sanctuary of her soul, she wished to reserve for herself alone her +impressions of pain and sorrow, her antipathies and affections. Besides, +by means of one of those inspirations, the effect, but not the reason, +of which is perceived by us, Aminta was aware that Maulear was the last +man in the world before whom her internal thoughts should be referred +to. Maulear comprehended the cause of her embarrassment. He again spoke +of Taddeo. Once launched on this theme, Signora Rovero spoke of nothing +else but her adored son, of his youth, prospects, and of the hopes she +had formed of him. While she thus dreamed of glory and success for +Taddeo, the latter was a captive in a secret prison.</p> + +<p>"I am astonished," said the Signora, "that my son is so long absent +without suffering his sister and myself to hear from him. For fifteen +days we have not heard, and I beg you, Marquis, on your return to +Naples, to see him, and inform him of the accident which has befallen +Aminta. Tell him to come hither as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"I will see him, Signora, and if possible will return him to you."</p> + +<p>As he made this reply, Henri promised to use every effort and all his +credit to restore the son and brother of these ladies. Just then a sigh +was heard in the saloon, and Maulear looked around, surprised, and +almost terrified at the agony expressed. Aminta arose, hurried toward +the portico, and lifting up the curtain in front of it, cried out, "It +is he—it is he! Mother, he calls me! I must go!"</p> + +<p>As soon, however, as her foot touched the floor, she uttered a cry of +agony. "It is nothing," said she, immediately. "I thought myself strong +enough, yet I suffer much; do not mind me, but attend to poor Tonio." +Signora Rovero passed into the next room.</p> + +<p>"It is he," said Aminta to Maulear, with the greatest emotion. "It is my +savior, my foster-brother, whom we have sent for hither, contrary even +to the advice of the Doctor. We were, however, unwilling to confide the +duty of attending on him to any one. Besides, he would die of despair +did he think we forgot him."</p> + +<p>Signora Rovero returned. "The sufferings of the poor lad are terrible," +said she; "his fever, however, is lessened, his delirium has passed +away, and the physician assures me that he will live. Thanks for it are +due to God, for if he died Aminta and I would die."</p> + +<p>The day was advancing, and Maulear would not leave without seeing Tonio. +His eyes were bloodshot, his lips livid and pendent, his cheeks swollen +by the cauterization he had undergone. All horror at his appearance, +however, disappeared when Maulear remembered what he had done. He looked +at him as the early Christians did at martyrs. His eyes were yet humid +when he returned to Aminta. The latter perceived his trouble, and gave +him her pretty hand with an expression of deep gratitude.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Monsieur," said she, "for your compassion for Tonio. A heart +like yours exhibits itself in tears, and I shall not forget those you +have shed." These words, at once simple and affecting, touched the heart +of Maulear. A great effort was necessary to keep him from falling at the +feet of Aminta. Placing his lips respectfully on the hand offered to +him, he bade adieu to Signora Rovero, and set out for Naples, bearing +with him a precious treasury of memories, hope, anticipation, and +wishes—of everything, in fine, which composes the first and most +adorable pages of the history of our loves: the charming preface to the +yet unread book.</p> + +<p>On the next day Maulear visited the Duke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> of Palma. "Monsignore," said +he to the minister, "I am about to ask you a favor to which I attach +immense value. The pardon of young Rovero, who has been, your Excellency +tells me, rather imprudent than guilty." The Duke laughed. "His liberty! +On my word, Marquis, I would be much obliged if he would accept it."</p> + +<p>"What does this mean, Monsignore?" said Maulear.</p> + +<p>"That Rovero refuses liberty. The king, fancying that mildness would +cure his folly, ordered me to dismiss the <i>novice</i> to his family. I told +Rovero. He replied, 'I refuse a pardon—I ask for justice: I am innocent +or guilty; if guilty, I deserve punishment; if innocent, let them acquit +me. I will not leave this prison except by force, as I entered it.' Thus +I have a prisoner in spite of my wish to release him."</p> + +<p>"I will see him," said the Marquis, "and will speak to him of his +mother."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>VI.—THE PRISONER.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Hotel of the Minister of Police at Naples had been constructed on +the site and on the foundation of the old palace of the Dukes of Palma, +ancestors of the present Duke. Amid the vestiges of the old palace, +which still existed, was an ancient chapel, connected with the new +edifice. This chapel, abandoned long before, had been changed into a +prison, for the reception of persons arrested secretly by the Minister +of Police, into the offences of whom he wished to inquire personally, +before he turned them over to justice. Of this kind was young Rovero. +King Fernando wearied of foolish and ephemeral conspiracies which +disturbed, without endangering his monarchy, combated with all his power +the disposition of his ministers to be rigorous, and the Duke of Palma +to please his master suppressed the various plots which arose +everywhere. This indulgent and pacific system did not all comport with +the revolutionary ideas of Count Monte-Leone, and the deposition of the +brothers Salvatori, united to public rumor, made the arrest of the Count +unavoidably necessary beyond all doubt, much to the annoyance of +Fernando IV. and his minister. An example was needed. One criminal must +be severely punished to terrify all the apostles of dark sedition. The +more exalted the rank of the culprit, the greater the effect of the +example would be. Young Rovero, by refusing his pardon, subjected the +Duke of Palma to a new annoyance. His refusal made a trial necessary, or +he would be forced to release him, contrary to his own protestations, +and therefore subject the government to the odium of arbitrary injustice +and a criminal attack on the liberties of the people. This would be a +new theme of declamation for malcontents. The motives assigned by Taddeo +for insisting on a trial were specious and dignified. We will however, +soon see that they had no reality, and only masked the plans of the +prisoner. A strange event had taken place in the old chapel we have +mentioned, and in which Rovero was shut up.</p> + +<p>Before we relate what follows, we must acquaint the reader with the +secret sentiments of young Rovero. All had done justice to the seductive +grace, which attracted so many adorers to the feet of the singer. +Rovero, the youngest of the band of four, felt far more than admiration +for the prima donna. His soul, hitherto untouched by passion, became +aware of an emotion of which it had not been cognisant, at the sight of +the great artist, the fire and energetic bursts of whom gave so powerful +expression to her glances. Rovero had hitherto thought of women only +under ordinary conditions, adorned with that timid modesty and grace +which seem to call on the ruder sex for protection,—as charming +creatures whom God has formed to command in obeying, to triumph by +weakness. The young and chaste girl, the seraphic reverie of lovers of +twenty, was effaced by the radiant beauty presented him by chance. The +native nobility of Felina, her elegant habits, the ardent imagination +which had expanded the love of her art, the very practice of her +profession which ceaselessly familiarized her with the works of the +great masters, with the royal sovereigns she represented, had enhanced +her natural dignity, with an almost theatrical majesty, which so +perfectly harmonized with her person, so entirely consorted with her +habits, form and queenly bearing, that she might have been fancied a +Juno or a Semiramis disguised as a noble Neapolitan lady, rather than +the reverse, which really was the case. Glittering with these +attractions to which Taddeo had hitherto been insensible, she appeared +to him: like an enchantress and the modern Circe, dragging an +enthusiastic people in her train, and ruling in the morning in her +boudoir, which glittered with velvet and gold, and in the evening making +three thousand people fanatical with her voice and magic talent, it was +not unnatural that she subdued him. The impression produced on Taddeo by +La Felina on the evening they were at the Etruscan house, was so keen, +so new, so full of surprise and passion, that the young man left the +room, less to ascertain what had become of the two friends who had +preceded him, than to avoid the fascination exerted on him by the eyes +of La Felina. He had not seen her since.</p> + +<p>Like Von Apsberg and d'Harcourt, taken in the snare which had been set +for him by the police of Naples, Taddeo was captured after a brief but +violent contest. It seemed to him that his soul was torn from his body +when he was separated from La Felina. He had however previously heard +her at San Carlo. Though charmed by her talent and wonderful beauty, the +illusion was so perfect that he fancied he saw the Juliet of Zingarelli +or the Donna Anna of Mozart, but not a woman to be herself adored,—in +one word, the magnificent Felina. The fancy of the Neapolitan was +enkindled by the eyes of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> Neapolitan. He did not love, but was +consumed. In the cold and solitary cell he had occupied for some days, +he forgot danger, his friends, and almost his mother and sister. Rovero +thought only of his love. Concentrating all power in his devotion, he +evoked La Felina, and in his mind contemplated her. Wild words wrested +from him by delirium declared to the phantom all his hopes and fears. In +his fancy he ran over all the perfections of this beautiful being. It +seemed to him that his idol hovered around the prison, shedding its rays +on him, and filling his heart and senses with an ardor the impotence of +which he cursed. Religious exaltation, like the enthusiasm of love, +assumes in solitude gigantic proportions unknown to the most pious man +and most devoted lover living in the world. Long days and endless nights +occupied with one idea, fixed and immutable, rising before us like the +ghost of Banquo in our dreams, and when we wake, are a sufficient +explanation of the martyrs of love, of the cloister, or of the Thebais.</p> + +<p>Many days had passed since the Duke of Palma had imprisoned young +Rovero. We have already spoken of the ideas which occupied his mind. +Ever under the influence of one thought, the life of the young prisoner +was but one dream of love, which so excited his imagination that he +could scarcely distinguish fiction from reality, and after a troubled +sleep he asked if he had addressed his burning declarations to the +phantom of the singer or to La Felina herself.</p> + +<p>Taddeo in his cell was not subjected to the malicious barbarities with +which Monte-Leone had been annoyed. The Duke of Palma wished the inmates +of his palace, though they might be prisoners, not to complain of their +fare. Taddeo had a bed and not a pallet. He could read and write, it is +true only by means of a doubtful light which reached him through the +stained windows of the antique chapel. This light however was mottled by +the blue cloak of St. Joseph and the purple robe of St. John. Sometimes +it fell on the pavement in golden checkers, after having passed through +the <i>glory</i> of the Virgin. Still it was the light of day, which is half +the sustenance of a prisoner.</p> + +<p>On the fourth night after Rovero's arrest, he reposed rather than rested +on the only chair in his cell, soothed by the wind which beat on the +windows. The rays of the moon passed through the high windows of the old +chapel, and the long tresses of moss which overhung them assumed +fantastic forms as they swung to and fro at the caprice of the wind. A +faint murmur was heard. A white shadow which seemed to rush from the +wall passed over the marble pavement toward the prisoner, looked at him +carefully, and said, with an accent of joy, "It is either he, or I am +mistaken."</p> + +<p>The shadow moved on.</p> + +<p>After the lapse of a few seconds it was about to disappear, when it was +seized by a nervous arm which restrained it. A cry was heard. Rovero, +who had at first seen it but vaguely as it approached him, and who had +convulsively grasped it, was now thoroughly awakened, and seeing the +visitant about to disappear, seized it forcibly. A dense cloud just at +that moment vailed the moon, and the cell became as dark as night.</p> + +<p>"It is a woman!" said Taddeo, and his heart beat violently. A soft and +delicate hand was placed on his lips.</p> + +<p>"If you are heard, I am lost!" said his visitor, in a trembling voice.</p> + +<p>"Who are you? and what do you want?" said Taddeo, suffering his voice to +escape through the delicate fingers which sought to close his lips.</p> + +<p>"I am looking for you: what I wish you will know in four days: who I am +is a secret, and I rely on your honor not to seek to penetrate it." Then +by a rapid movement, the visitor pulled the vail again over her face.</p> + +<p>Just then the clouds passed away, and the moon shone brilliantly, +lighting up the old chapel, and exhibiting to Taddeo the tall and lithe +form of her who held him captive.</p> + +<p>One need not like Taddeo have retained the minutest peculiarities of La +Felina to render it possible to distinguish her lithe stature and +magnificent contour. But his reason could not be convinced, and had not +the singer's hand been pressed on his lips he would have fancied that a +new dream had evoked the phantom of one of whom he had never ceased to +think. "Lift up your vail, Felina," said he. But at the evidence of +terror which she exhibited, he resumed. "Do not attempt to deceive me. +In your presence my heart could not be mistaken, for it meditates by day +and dreams by night of you alone. I know not what good angel has guided +you hither, in pity of the torment I have endured since I left you. An +hour, Felina, in your presence, has sufficed to enslave my soul forever. +Through you have I learned that I have a soul, and by you has the void +in my heart been completely filled."</p> + +<p>"He loves me!" murmured Felina, with an accent of surprise and deep +pity. This however was uttered in so low a tone that the prisoner did +not hear her.</p> + +<p>"Hear me," said Rovero. "You told us at Monte-Leone's that you loved one +of the four."</p> + +<p>"True," said the singer, in a feeble voice.</p> + +<p>"You said that for him you would sacrifice your life."</p> + +<p>"True."</p> + +<p>"That like an invisible providence you would watch over his life and +fate: that this would be the sacred object of your life."</p> + +<p>"I also said," Felina answered, "that my love would ever be unknown, and +that the secret would die with me."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Rovero, "I know him. This man, the ardent passion of whom +you divined, to whom you are come as a minister of hope, is before you, +is at your feet."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How know you that I would not have done as much for each of your +friends?"</p> + +<p>Taddeo felt a hot iron pass through his soul.</p> + +<p>"Hear me," said she; "time is precious. Watched, and the object +everywhere of espionage, from motives of which you must ever be ignorant +I have penetrated hither, by means of a bold will and efforts which were +seconded by chance. I wished to satisfy myself that you were really the +person I sought for, and, hidden beneath this vail, and by a yet greater +concealment, that of your honor, to remain unknown, and accomplish my +purpose, with your cooperation, which otherwise must fail. I was +ignorant then of what I know now. I knew not your sentiments, or I would +have kept my secret."</p> + +<p>"Why fear my love?" said Rovero; "think you I sell my devotion? A love +which hesitates is not love. Mine will obey for the pleasure of obeying +you. But let your requests be great and difficult to be fulfilled, that +you may estimate me by my deeds."</p> + +<p>"You have a noble heart, Rovero, and in it I have confidence. God grant +your capacity fall not below your courage. In four days you will know +what I expect from you."</p> + +<p>"And will you," said he, in a voice stifled with emotion, "tell me which +of the four you love?"</p> + +<p>"You will then know. To you alone will I reveal the secret."</p> + +<p>"How can I live until then!" said Rovero, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>The sound of footsteps was heard. The sentinels were being relieved. It +was growing late, and while Rovero, at a motion from La Felina, went to +the door to listen to what was passing, she disappeared like a shadow +behind a column. Rovero looked around, and was alone. He examined the +walls, attempting to discover the secret issue. No fissure was visible, +there was no sign of the smallest opening, and a dumb sound only replied +to the blows of Rovero on the wall. He sunk on his chair, and covered +his face with his hands, that his thoughts might be distracted by no +external object. A few hours afterward the Duke of Palma caused him to +be informed of his pardon.</p> + +<p>The presence of La Felina had changed everything. The dark walls of the +chapel appeared more splendid than those of the palaces of the Doria, +Cavalcante, Carafa, or of the Pignatelli. He would not have exchanged +the humid walls of his cell for the rich mosaics of the <i>Museo +Borbonico</i>, the rival of that of the Vatican. The pavement had been +pressed by the feet of La Felina, and Rovero yet fancied that he saw the +prints of her footsteps.</p> + +<p>Two days after the nocturnal scene we have described, a stranger +appeared in the cell of the son of Signora Rovero. "Excuse me, sir," +said he to the prisoner, "that I have thus intruded without an +introduction. The motive, however, which conducts me hither will admit +of no delay, and I am sure you will excuse me when you shall have +learned it."</p> + +<p>Rovero bowed coldly, fancying that he had to do with some new police +agent.</p> + +<p>"I am come to appeal to you in behalf of two ladies who worship you, and +are inconsolable in your absence."</p> + +<p>"Two ladies!" said Rovero, with surprise. Yet, under the empire of +passion, he added—"Signor, I love but one." He paused and was much +confused by the avowal he had made.</p> + +<p>"At least," said the stranger, "you love three; for in a heart like +yours family affections and a deeper passion exist together. The ladies +of whom I speak, Signor, are your mother and sister."</p> + +<p>The prisoner blushed. His adored mother, his beautiful sister, were +exiled from his memory! In the presence of a stranger, too, this filial +crime was revealed; a despotic passion had made him thus guilty. +"Signor," said he, "you have thought correctly. Notwithstanding the +forgetfulness of my mind, with which though I protest my heart has +nothing to do, their names are dear to me, and I pray you tell me what +they expect from me."</p> + +<p>"They expect you to return," said the stranger. "A service I rendered +them has made me almost a friend, and my interest in them has induced me +to come without their consent to speak to you in their behalf."</p> + +<p>"Signor," said Rovero, "tell me to whom I have the honor to speak; not +that a knowledge of your name will enhance my gratitude, but that I may +know to whom I must utter it."</p> + +<p>"Signor, I am the Marquis de Maulear. Chance has revealed to me your +strange rejection of the liberty which other prisoners would so eagerly +grasp at. The minister has informed me of your motives, and, though +honorable, permit me to suggest that you do not forget your duty. Did +your mother know your condition, her life would be the sacrifice."</p> + +<p>Taddeo forgot all when he heard these words, admitting neither of +discussion nor of reply.</p> + +<p>"Signor," continued Maulear, "what principle, what opinions can combat +your desire to see your mother, and to rescue her from despair? Bid the +logic of passion and political hatred be still, and hearken only to +duty. Follow me, and by the side of your noble mother you will forget +every scruple which now retains you."</p> + +<p>Rovero for some moments was silent. He then fixed his large black eyes +on those of Maulear, and seemed to seek to read his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Marquis," said he, "I scarcely know you, but there is such sincerity in +your expression that I have confidence in you, and am about to prove it. +Swear on your honor not to betray me, and I will tell you all."</p> + +<p>"I swear."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Taddeo, hurrying him as far as possible from the door that +he might be sure he was not overheard; "I accept the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> liberty offered +me; but for a reason which I can reveal to no one, I must remain a few +days in this cell. Suffer the minister and all to think that I persist +in this refusal. In two days I will have changed my plans, and before +sunset on the third, <i>I will have returned with you to Sorrento</i>."</p> + +<p>Henri, surprised, could not help looking at Rovero.</p> + +<p>"Do not question me, Signor, for I cannot reply. I have told you all I +can, and not one other word shall leave my mouth."</p> + +<p>"I may then tell Signora Rovero, that you will return."</p> + +<p>"Announce to her that in me you have found another friend, and that in +three days, <i>you will place me in her arms</i>."</p> + +<p>Taking Maulear's hand he clasped it firmly.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Signor," said Maulear, "I accept your friendship. With people +like you, this fruit ripens quickly. Perhaps, however, you will discover +that it has not on that account less flavor and value."</p> + +<p>Maulear tapped thrice at the door of the cell; the turnkey appeared, and +Henri left, as he went out casting one last look of affection on Taddeo.</p> + +<p>Never did time appear so long to Aminta's brother as that which +intervened between Maulear's departure and the night he was so anxious +for. That night came at last. The keeper brought his evening meal. He +did not wish to be asleep as he was on the first occasion, when La +Felina visited him. He was unwilling to lose a single moment of her +precious visit. Remembering that his preceding nights had been agitated +and almost sleepless, apprehensive that he would be overcome by +weariness, he resolved to stimulate himself. Like most of the +Neapolitans, he was very temperate, and rarely drank wine; he preferred +that icy water, flavored with the juice of the orange or lime, of which +the people of that country are so fond. He now, however, needed +something to keep him awake, and asked for wine.</p> + +<p>He approached the table on which his evening meal was placed, he took a +flask of Massa wine, one of the best of Naples; he poured out a goblet +and drank it, and felt immediately new strength course through his +veins.</p> + +<p>He sat on his bed and listened anxiously for the slightest sound, to the +low accents of the night, to those indescribable sounds which are +drowned by the tumults of the day, and of whose existence, silence and +night alone make us aware. The hours rolled on, and at every stroke of +the clock his heart kept time with every blow of the iron hammer on the +bell of bronze. At last the clock struck twelve. Midnight, the time for +specters and crimes, was come. A few minutes before the clock sounded, +he perceived that the sleep of which he had been so much afraid +gradually made his eyelids grow heavy—and that though he sought to +overcome the feeling, his drowsiness increased to such a degree that he +was forced to sit down.</p> + +<p>I spoke in one of my preceding chapters of the tyrannical power +exercised by sleep over all organizations, and especially in those +situations when man is least disposed to yield to it. Never had this +absolute master exercised a more despotic power; this pitiless god +seemed to place his iron thumb on the eyes of the prisoner, and to close +them by force. A strange oppression of his limbs, an increasing +disturbance of his memory and thought, a kind of invincible torpor, +rapidly took possession of the young man. Then commenced a painful +contest between mind and body,—the latter succumbed. He felt his body +powerless, his reason grow dim, and his strength pass away. In vain he +sought to see, to hear, to watch, to live, to contend with an enemy +which sought to make him senseless, inert and powerless. His head fell +upon his bosom and he sank to sleep.</p> + +<p>Just then, he heard a light noise, the rustling of a silk dress, and a +timid step. With a convulsive effort he opened his eyes, and saw La +Felina within a few feet of his bed. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and +fell upon the white hand of the singer. She touched Rovero's face to +assure herself that he was in reality asleep.</p> + +<div class="center">END OF PART II.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From the Gem.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">"THE TWICKENHAM GHOST."</span><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="poem2"> +<span class="dropcap">C</span>OME to the casement to-night,<br /> +<span class="p215">And look out at the bright lady-moon;<br /></span> +Come to the casement to-night,<br /> +<span class="p21">And I'll sing you your favorite tune!<br /></span> +Where the stream glides beside the old tower,<br /> +<span class="p21">My boat shall be under the wall,—<br /></span> +Oh, dear one! be there in your bower,<br /> +<span class="p21">With Byron, a lamp, and your shawl.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! come where no troublesome eye<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Can look on the vigil love keeps;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When there is not a cloud in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What maid, <i>but an old maiden</i>, sleeps?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you know not how sweet is the tone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of a song from a lip we have press'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When it breathes it "by moonlight alone,"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the ear of <i>the one</i> it loves best.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! daylight love's music but mars,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(As it breaks up the dance of the elves!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon and the stream and the stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should hear it alone with ourselves:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who'd be content with "<i>I may</i>,"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If they only would think of "<i>I might</i>?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or <i>who'd</i> listen to music by day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That had listened to music by night?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Opera's over by one,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lady Jersey's grows stupid at two;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll dance just one waltz, and have done,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then be off, on the pony, for Kew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My boat holds a cloak—a guitar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And it waits by that dark bridge for me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll row, by the light of one star,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Love's own, to the old tower, by three!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'll bring you that sweet canzonette,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That we practiced together last year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my own little miniature set<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Round with emeralds—tis <i>such</i> a dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You promised you'd love me as long<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As your heart felt me close to it, there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, dear one! for that and the song,<br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>Won't</i> you give me the locket of hair?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, sweet! be not in a fright,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should your grandmamma bid you beware<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a youth, who was murdered one night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And whose ghost haunts the dark waters there:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For <i>you</i> know, ever since his decease,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of a harmless young ghost that's allow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To go, by the River Police,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Serenading about in his shroud!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> +<div class="center">[From the Dublin University Magazine.]</div> + +<div class="center"><span class="simh3">THE MYSTIC VIAL:</span><br /> +OR, THE LAST DEMOISELLE DE CHARREBOURG.<br /><br /> +<b>I.—THE GAME OF BOWLS.</b></div> + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>ORE than a century ago—we know not whether the revolution has left a +vestige of it—there stood an old chateau, backed by an ancient and +funereal forest, and approached through an interminable straight avenue +of frowning timber, somewhere about fifteen leagues from Paris, and +visible from the great high road to Rouen.</p> + +<p>The appliances of comfort had once been collected around it upon a +princely scale; extensive vineyards, a perfect wood of fruit-trees, +fish-ponds, mills, still remained, and a vast park, abounding with cover +for all manner of game, stretched away almost as far as the eye could +reach.</p> + +<p>But the whole of this palatial residence was now in a state of decay and +melancholy neglect. A dilapidated and half-tenanted village, the feudal +dependency of the seignorial domain, seemed to have sunk with the +fortunes of its haughty protector. The steep roofs of the Chateau de +Charrebourg and its flanking towers, with their tall conical caps, were +mournfully visible in the sun among the rich foliage that filled the +blue hazy distance, and seemed to overlook with a sullen melancholy the +village of Charrebourg that was decaying beneath it.</p> + +<p>The Visconte de Charrebourg, the last of a long line of ancient +seigneurs, was still living, and though not under the ancestral roof of +his chateau, within sight of its progressive ruin, and what was harder +still to bear, of its profanation; for his creditors used it as a +storehouse for the produce of the estate, which he thus saw collected +and eventually carted away by strangers, without the power of so much as +tasting a glass of its wine or arresting a single grain of its wheat +himself. And to say the truth, he often wanted a pint of the one and a +measure or two of the other badly enough.</p> + +<p>Let us now see for ourselves something of his circumstances a little +more exactly. The Visconte was now about seventy, in the enjoyment of +tolerable health, and of a pension of nine hundred francs (Ł36) per +annum, paid by the Crown. His creditors permitted him to occupy, +besides, a queer little domicile, little better than a cottage, which +stood just under a wooded hillock in the vast wild park. To this were +attached two or three Lilliputian paddocks, scarcely exceeding an +English acre altogether. Part of it, before the door, a scanty bit we +allow, was laid a little parterre of flowers, and behind the dwelling +was a small bowling-green surrounded by cherry-trees. The rest was +cultivated chiefly for the necessities of the family. In addition to +these concessions his creditors permitted him to shoot rabbits and catch +perch for the use of his household, and that household consisted of +three individuals—the Visconte himself, his daughter Lucille (scarcely +seventeen years of age), and Dame Marguerite, in better times her +nurse—now cook, housemaid, and all the rest.</p> + +<p>Contrast with all this what he had once been, the wealthy Lord of +Charrebourg, the husband of a rich and noble wife, one of the most +splendid among the satellites of a splendid court. He had married rather +late, and as his reverses had followed that event in point of time, it +was his wont to attribute his misfortunes to the extravagance of his +dear and sainted helpmate, "who never could resist play and jewelry." +The worthy Visconte chose to forget how much of his fortune he had +himself poured into the laps of mistresses, and squandered among the +harpies of the gaming-table. The result however was indisputable, by +whatever means it had been arrived at, the Visconte was absolutely +beggared.</p> + +<p>Neither had he been very fortunate in his family. Two sons, who, +together with Lucille, had been the fruit of his marriage, had both +fallen, one in a duel, the other in a madcap adventure in Naples.</p> + +<p>And thus of course ended any hope of seeing his fortunes even moderately +reconstructed.</p> + +<p>We must come now to the lonely dwelling which serves all that is left of +the family of Charrebourg for a palace. It is about the hour of five +o'clock in the afternoon of a summer's day. Dame Marguerite has already +her preparations for supper in the kitchen. The Visconte has gone to the +warren to shoot rabbits for to-morrow's dinner. Two village lads, who +take a pleasure in obliging poor old Marguerite—of course neither ever +thinks of Lucille—have just arrived at the kitchen door. Gabriel has +brought fresh spring water, which, from love of the old cook, he carries +to the cottage regularly every morning and evening. Jacque has brought +mulberries for "the family," from a like motive. The old woman has +pronounced Jacque's mulberries admirable; and with a smile tapped +Gabriel on the smooth brown cheek, and called him her pretty little +water carrier. They loiter there as long as they can; neither much likes +the other; each understands what his rival is about perfectly well; +neither chooses to go while the other remains.</p> + +<p>Jacque, sooth to say, is not very well favored, sallow, flat-faced, with +lank black hair, small, black, cunning eyes, and a wide mouth; he has a +broad square figure, and a saucy swagger. Gabriel is a slender lad, with +brown curls about his shoulders, ruddy brown face, and altogether +good-looking. These two rivals, you would say, were very unequally +matched.</p> + +<p>Poor Gabriel! he has made knots to his knees of salmon-color and blue, +the hues of the Charrebourg livery. It is by the mute eloquence of such +traits of devotion that his passion humbly pleads. He wishes to belong +to her. When first he appears before her in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> these tell-tale ribbons, +the guilty knees that wear them tremble beneath him. He thinks that now +she must indeed understand him—that the murder will out at last. But, +alas! she, and all the stupid world beside, see nothing in them but some +draggled ribbons. He might as well have worn buckles—nay, <i>better</i>; for +he suspects that cursed Jacque understands them. But in this, indeed, he +wrongs him; the mystery of the ribbons is comprehended by himself alone.</p> + +<p>He and Jacque passed round the corner of the quaint little cottage; they +were crossing the bowling-green.</p> + +<p>"And so," sighed poor Gabriel, "I shall not see her to-day."</p> + +<p>"Hey! Gabriel! Jacque! has good Marguerite done with you?—then play a +game of bowls together to amuse me."</p> + +<p>The silvery voice that spoke these words came from the coral lips of +Lucille. Through the open casement, clustered round with wreaths of vine +in the transparent shade, she was looking out like a portrait of Flora +in a bowering frame of foliage. Could anything be prettier?</p> + +<p>Gabriel's heart beat so fast that he could hardly stammer forth a +dutiful answer; he could scarcely see the bowls. The beautiful face +among the vine-leaves seemed everywhere.</p> + +<p>It would have been worth one's while to look at that game of bowls. +There was something in the scene at once comical and melancholy. Jacque +was cool, but very clumsy. Gabriel, a better player, but all bewildered, +agitated, trembling. While the little daughter of nobility, in drugget +petticoat, her arms resting on the window-sill, looked out upon the +combatants with such an air of unaffected and immense superiority as the +queen of beauty in the gallery of a tilting-yard might wear while she +watched the feats of humble yeomen and villein archers. Sometimes +leaning forward with a grave and haughty interest; sometimes again +showing her teeth, like little coronels of pearl, in ringing laughter, +in its very unrestrainedness as haughty as her gravity. The spirit of +the noblesse, along with its blood, was undoubtedly under that slender +drugget bodice. Small suspicion had that commanding little damsel that +the bipeds who were amusing her with their blunders were playing for +love of her. Audacity like that was not indeed to be contemplated.</p> + +<p>"Well, Gabriel has won, and I am glad of it, for I think he is the +better lad of the two," she said, with the prettiest dogmatism +conceivable. "What shall we give you, Gabriel, now that you have won the +game? let me see."</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Mademoiselle—nothing, I entreat," faltered poor Gabriel, +trembling in a delightful panic.</p> + +<p>"Well, but you are hot and tired, and have won the game beside. +Marguerite shall give you some pears and a piece of bread."</p> + +<p>"I wish nothing, Mademoiselle," said poor Gabriel, with a melancholy +gush of courage, "but to die in your service."</p> + +<p>"Say you so?" she replied, with one of those provokingly unembarrassed +smiles of good-nature which your true lovers find far more killing than +the cruelest frown; "it is the speech of a good villager of Charrebourg. +Well, then, you shall have them another time."</p> + +<p>"But, as your excellence is so good as to observe, I have won the game," +said Gabriel, reassured by the sound of his own voice, "and to say I +should have something as—as a token of victory, I would ask, if +Mademoiselle will permit, for my poor old aunt at home, who is so very +fond of those flowers, just one of the white roses which Mademoiselle +has in her hand; it will give her so much pleasure."</p> + +<p>"The poor old woman! Surely you may pluck some fresh from the bush; but +tell Marguerite, or she will be vexed."</p> + +<p>"But, Mademoiselle, pardon me, I have not time: one is enough, and I +think there are none so fine upon the tree as that; besides, I know she +would like it better for having been in Mademoiselle's hand."</p> + +<p>"Then let her have it by all means," said Lucille; and so saying, she +placed the flower in Gabriel's trembling fingers. Had he yielded to his +impulse, he would have received it kneeling. He was intoxicated with +adoration and pride; he felt as if at that moment he was the sultan of +the universe, but her slave.</p> + +<p>The unconscious author of all this tumult meanwhile had left the window. +The rivals were <i>tęte-ŕ-tęte</i> upon the stage of their recent contest. +Jacque stood with his hand in his breast, eyeing Gabriel with a sullen +sneer. <i>He</i> held the precious rose in his hand, and still gazed at the +vacant window.</p> + +<p>"And so your aunt loves a white rose better than a slice of bread?" +ejaculated Jacque. "Heaven! what a lie—ha, ha, ha!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I won the game and I won the rose," said Gabriel, tranquilly. "I +can't wonder you are a little vexed."</p> + +<p>"Vexed?—bah! I thought she would have offered you a piece of money," +retorted Jacque; "and if she <i>had</i>, I venture to say we should have +heard very little about that nice old aunt with the <i>penchant</i> for white +roses."</p> + +<p>"I'm not sordid, Jacque," retorted his rival; "and I did not want to put +Mademoiselle to any trouble."</p> + +<p>"How she laughed at you, Gabriel, your clumsiness and your ridiculous +grimaces; but then you do make—ha, ha, ha!—such very comical faces +while the bowls are rolling, I could not blame her."</p> + +<p>"She laughed more at you than at me," retorted Gabriel, evidently +nettled. "<i>You</i> talk of clumsiness and grimaces—upon my faith, a pretty +notion."</p> + +<p>"Tut, man, you must have been deaf. You amused her so with your +writhing, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> ogling, and grinning, and sticking your tongue first in +this cheek and then in that, according as the bowl rolled to one side or +the other, that she laughed till the very tears came; and after all +that, forsooth, she wanted to feed you like a pig on rotten pears; and +then—ha, ha, ha!—the airs, the command, the magnificence. Ah, la! it +was enough to make a cow laugh."</p> + +<p>"You are spited and jealous; but don't dare to speak disrespectfully of +Mademoiselle in my presence, sirrah," said Gabriel, fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Sirrah me no sirrahs," cried Jacque giving way at last to an +irrepressible explosion of rage and jealousy. "I'll say what I think, +and call things by their names. You're an ass, I tell you—an ass; and +as for her, she's a saucy, impertinent little minx, and you and she, and +your precious white rose, may go in a bunch to the devil together."</p> + +<p>And so saying, he dealt a blow with his hat at the precious relic. A +quick movement of Gabriel's, however, arrested the unspeakable +sacrilege. In an instant Jacque was half frightened at his own audacity; +for he knew of old that in some matters Gabriel was not to be trifled +with, and more than made up in spirit for his disparity in strength. +Snatching up a piece of fire-wood in one hand, and with the other +holding the sacred flower behind him, Gabriel rushed at the miscreant +Jacque, who, making a hideous grimace and a gesture of ridicule, did not +choose to await the assault, but jumped over the low fence, and ran like +a Paynim coward before a crusader of old. The stick flew whizzing by his +ear. Gabriel, it was plain, was in earnest; so down the woody slope +toward the stream the chase swept headlong; Jacque exerting his utmost +speed, and Gabriel hurling stones, clods, and curses after him. When, +however, he had reached the brook, it was plain the fugitive had +distanced him. Pursuing his retreat with shouts of defiance, he here +halted, hot, dusty, and breathless, inflamed with holy rage and +chivalric love, like a Paladin after a victory.</p> + +<p>Jacque meanwhile pursued his retreat at a slackened pace, and now and +then throwing a glance behind him.</p> + +<p>"The fiend catch him!" he prayed. "I'll break his bird-traps and smash +his nets, and I'll get my big cousin, the blacksmith, to drub him to a +jelly."</p> + +<p>But Gabriel was happy: he was sitting under a bush, lulled by the +trickling of the stream, and alone with his visions and his rose.</p> + +<p>The noble demoiselle in the mean time took her little basket, intending +to go into the wood and gather some wild strawberries, which the old +Visconte liked; and as she never took a walk without first saluting her +dear old Marguerite—</p> + +<p>"Adieu, ma bonne petite maman," she said, running up to that lean and +mahogany-complexioned dame, and kissing her heartily on both cheeks; "I +am going to pick strawberries."</p> + +<p>"Ah, ma chere mignonne, I wish I could again see the time when the +lackeys in the Charrebourg blue and salmon, and covered all over with +silver lace, would have marched behind Mademoiselle whenever she walked +into the park. Parbleu, that was magnificence!"</p> + +<p>"Eh bien, nurse," said the little lady, decisively and gravely, "we +shall have all that again."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, my little pet—why not?" she replied, with a dreary shrug, +as she prepared to skewer one of the eternal rabbits.</p> + +<p>"Ay, why not?" repeated the demoiselle, serenely. "You tell me, nurse, +that I am beautiful, and I think I am."</p> + +<p>"Beautiful—indeed you are, my little princess," she replied, turning +from the rabbit, and smiling upon the pretty questioner until her five +thin fangs were all revealed. "They said your mother was the greatest +beauty at court; but, <i>ma foi</i>! she was never like you."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, if that be true, some great man will surely fall in love +with me, you know, and I will marry none that is not richer than ever my +father, the Visconte, was—rely upon that, good Marguerite."</p> + +<p>"Well, my little pet, bear that in mind, and don't allow any one to +steal your heart away, unless you know him to be worthy."</p> + +<p>At these words Lucille blushed—and what a brilliant vermilion—averted +her eyes for a moment, and then looked full in her old nurse's face.</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that, Marguerite?"</p> + +<p>"Because I feel it, my pretty little child," she replied.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no, no," cried Lucille, still with a heightened color, and +looking with her fine eyes full into the dim optics of the old woman; +"you had some reason for saying that—you know you had!"</p> + +<p>"By my word of honor, no," retorted the old woman, in her turn +surprised—"no, my dear; but what is the matter—why do you blush so?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall return in about an hour," said Lucille, abstractedly, and +not heeding the question; and then with a gay air she tripped singing +from the door, and so went gaily down the bosky slope to the edge of the +wood.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>II.—THE GENTLEMAN IN BLUE AND SILVER.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Lucille</span> had no sooner got among the mossy roots of the trees, than her +sylvan task commenced, and the fragrant crimson berries began to fill +her basket. Her little head was very busy with all manner of marvelous +projects; but this phantasmagoria was not gloomy; on the contrary, it +was gorgeous and pleasant; for the transparent green shadow of the +branches and the mellow singing of the birds toned her daydreams with +their influence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the midst of those airy pageants she was interrupted by a substantial +and by no means unprepossessing reality. A gentleman of graceful form +and mien, dressed in a suit of sky-blue and silver, with a fowling-piece +in his hand, and followed closely by a bare-legged rustic, carrying a +rude staff and a well-stored game-bag, suddenly emerged from behind a +mass of underwood close by. It was plain that he and Lucille were +acquainted, for he instantly stopped, signing to his attendant to pursue +his way, and raising his three-cornered hat, bowed as the last century +only could bow, with an inclination that was at once the expression of +chivalry and ease. His features were singularly handsome, but almost too +delicate for his sex, pale, and with a certain dash of melancholy in +their noble intelligence.</p> + +<p>"You here, Monsieur Dubois!" exclaimed Lucille, in a tone that a little +faltered, and with a blush that made her doubly beautiful. "What strange +chance has conducted you to this spot?"</p> + +<p>"My kind star—my genius—my good angel, who thus procures me the honor +of beholding Mademoiselle de Charrebourg—an honor than which fortune +has none dearer to me—no—none <i>half</i> so prized."</p> + +<p>"These are phrases, sir."</p> + +<p>"Yes; phrases that expound my heart. I beseech you bring them to the +test."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," she said, gravely, "let us see. Kneel down and pick the +strawberries that grow upon this bank; they are for the Visconte de +Charrebourg."</p> + +<p>"I am too grateful to be employed."</p> + +<p>"You are much older, Monsieur, than I."</p> + +<p>"No doubt."</p> + +<p>"And have seen more of the world, too."</p> + +<p>"True, Mademoiselle," and he could not forbear smiling.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, you ought not to have tried to meet me in the park so often +as you did—or indeed at all—you know very well you ought not."</p> + +<p>"But, Mademoiselle, what harm can the most ill-natured of human critics +discover——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but listen to me. I begin to fear I have been wrong in talking to +you as I have done; and if so, you ought not to have presented yourself +to me as you did. I have reflected on it since. In fact, I don't know +who you are, Monsieur Dubois. The Charrebourgs do not use to make +companions of everybody; and you may be a roturier, for anything I can +tell."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dubois smiled again.</p> + +<p>"I see you laugh because we are poor," she said, with a heightened color +and a flashing glance.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle misunderstands me. I am incapable of that. There is no +point at which ridicule can approach the family of Charrebourg."</p> + +<p>"That is true, sir," she said, haughtily; and she added, "and on that +account I need not inquire wherefore people smile. But this seems plain +to me—that I have done very wrong in conversing alone with a gentleman +of whom I know nothing beyond his name. You must think so yourself, +though you will not say it; and as you profess your willingness to +oblige me, I have only to ask that all these foolish conversations may +be quite forgotten between us. And now the <i>petit pannier</i> is filled, +and it is time that I should return. Good evening, Monsieur +Dubois—farewell."</p> + +<p>"This is scarcely a kind farewell, considering that we have been good +friends, Mademoiselle de Charrebourg, for so long."</p> + +<p>"Good friends—yes—for a long time; but you know," she continued, with +a sad, wise shake of her pretty head, "I ought not to allow gentlemen +whom I chance to meet here to be my friends—is it not so? This has only +struck me recently, Monsieur Dubois; and I am sure you used to think me +very strange. But I have no one to advise me; I have no mother—she is +dead; and the Visconte seldom speaks to me; and so I fear I often do +strange things without intending; and—and I have told you all this, +because I should be sorry you thought ill of me, Monsieur Dubois."</p> + +<p>She dropped her eyes for a moment to the ground, with an expression at +once very serious and regretful.</p> + +<p>"Then am I condemned to be henceforward a stranger to <i>dear</i> +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you all my thoughts, Monsieur Dubois," she answered, in a +tone whose melancholy made it nearly as tender as his own. But, perhaps, +some idea crossed her mind that piqued her pride; for suddenly +recollecting herself, she added, in a tone it may be a little more +abrupt and haughty than her usual manner—</p> + +<p>"And so, Monsieur Dubois, once for all, good evening. You will need to +make haste to overtake your peasant attendant; and as for me, I must run +home now—adieu."</p> + +<p>Dubois followed her hesitatingly a step or two, but stopped short. A +slight flush of excitement—it might be of mortification—hovered on his +usually pale cheek. It subsided, however, and a sudden and more tender +character inspired his gaze, as he watched her receding figure, and +followed its disappearance with a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>But Monsieur Dubois had not done with surprises.</p> + +<p>"Holloa! sir—a word with you," shouted an imperious voice, rendered +more harsh by the peculiar huskiness of age.</p> + +<p>Dubois turned, and beheld a figure, which penetrated him with no small +astonishment, advancing toward him with furious strides. We shall +endeavor to describe it.</p> + +<p>It was that of a very tall, old man, lank and upright, with snow-white +mustaches, beard, and eyebrows, all in a shaggy and neglected state. He +wore an old coat of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> dark-gray serge, gathered at the waist by a belt of +undressed leather, and a pair of gaiters, of the same material, reached +fully to his knees. From his left hand dangled three rabbits, tied +together by the feet, and in his right he grasped the butt of his +antiquated fowling-piece, which rested upon his shoulder. This latter +equipment, along with a tall cap of rabbit skins, which crowned his +head, gave him a singular resemblance to the old prints of Robinson +Crusoe; and as if the <i>tout ensemble</i> was not grotesque enough without +such an appendage, a singularly tall hound, apparently as old and +feeble, as lank and as gray as his master, very much incommoded by the +rapidity of his pace, hobbled behind him. A string scarce two yards +long, knotted to his master's belt, was tied to the old collar, once +plated with silver, that encircled his neck, and upon which a close +scrutiny might have still deciphered the armorial bearings of the +Charrebourgs.</p> + +<p>There was a certain ludicrous sympathy between the superannuated hound +and his master. While the old man confronted the stranger, erect as Don +Quixote, and glaring upon him in silent fury, as though his eyeballs +would leap from their sockets, the decrepit dog raised his bloodshot, +cowering eyes upon the self-same object, and showing the stumps of his +few remaining fangs, approached him with a long, low growl, like distant +thunder. The man and his dog understood one another perfectly. +Conscious, however, that there might possibly be some vein of ridicule +in this manifest harmony of sentiment, he bestowed a curse and a kick +upon the brute, which sent it screeching behind him.</p> + +<p>"It seems, sir, that you have made the acquaintance of Mademoiselle de +Charrebourg?" he demanded, in a tone scarcely less discordant than those +of his canine attendant.</p> + +<p>"Sir, I don't mean to consult you upon the subject."</p> + +<p>Robinson Crusoe hitched his gun, as though he was about to "let fly" at +the invader of his solitudes.</p> + +<p>"I demand your name, sir."</p> + +<p>"And <i>I</i> don't mean to give it."</p> + +<p>"But give it you shall, sir, by ——."</p> + +<p>"It is plain you understand catching rabbits and dressing their skins +better than conversing with gentlemen," said the stranger, as with a +supercilious smile he turned away.</p> + +<p>"Stay, sir," cried the old gentleman, peremptorily, "or I shall slip my +dog upon you."</p> + +<p>"If you do, I'll shoot him."</p> + +<p>"You have insulted me, sir. You wear a <i>couteau de chasse</i>—so do I. +Destiny condemns the Visconte de Charrebourg to calamity, but not to +insult. Draw your sword."</p> + +<p>"The Visconte de Charrebourg!" echoed Dubois, in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—the Visconte de Charrebourg, who will not pocket an affront +because he happens to have lost his revenues."</p> + +<p>Who would have thought that any process could possibly have +metamorphosed the gay and magnificent courtier, of whose splendid +extravagance Dubois had heard so many traditions, into this grotesque +old savage.</p> + +<p>"There are some houses, and foremost among the number that of +Charrebourg," said the young man, with marked deference, raising his +hat, "which no loss of revenue can possibly degrade, and which, +associated with the early glories of France, gain but a profounder title +to our respect, when their annals and descent are consecrated by the +nobility of suffering."</p> + +<p>Nebuchadnezzar smiled.</p> + +<p>"I entreat that Monsieur le Visconte will pardon what has passed under a +total ignorance of his presence."</p> + +<p>The Visconte bowed, and resumed, gravely but more placidly—</p> + +<p>"I must then return to my question, and ask your name."</p> + +<p>"I am called Dubois, sir."</p> + +<p>"Dubois! hum! I don't recollect, Monsieur Dubois, that I ever had the +honor of being acquainted with your family."</p> + +<p>"Possibly not, sir."</p> + +<p>"However, Monsieur Dubois, you appear to be a gentleman, and I ask you, +as the father of the noble young lady who has just left you, whether you +have established with her any understanding such as I ought not to +approve—in short, any understanding whatsoever?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever, on the honor of a gentleman. I introduced myself to +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg, but she has desired that our acquaintance +shall cease, and <i>her</i> resolution upon the subject is, of course, +decisive. On the faith of a gentleman, you have there the entire truth +frankly stated."</p> + +<p>"Well, Monsieur Dubois, I believe you," said the Visconte, after a +steady gaze of a few seconds; "and I have to add a request, which is +this—that, unless through me, the acquaintance may never be sought to +be renewed. Farewell, sir. Come along, Jonquil!" he added, with an +admonition of his foot, addressed to the ugly old brute who had laid +himself down. And so, with a mutual obeisance, stiff and profound, +Monsieur Dubois and the Visconte de Charrebourg departed upon their +several ways.</p> + +<p>When the old Visconte entered his castle, he threw the three rabbits on +the table before Marguerite, hung his fusil uncleaned upon the wall, +released his limping dog, and stalked past Lucille, who was in the +passage, with a stony aspect, and in total silence. This, however, was +his habit, and he pursued his awful way into his little room of state, +where seated upon his high-backed, clumsy throne of deal, with his +rabbit-skin tiara on his head, he espied a letter, with a huge seal, +addressed to him, lying on his homely table.</p> + +<p>"Ha! hum. From M. Le Prun. The ostentation of the Fermier-General! the +vulgarity of the bourgeois, even in a letter!"</p> + +<p>Alone as he was, the Visconte affected a sneer of tranquil superiority; +but his hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> trembled as he took the packet and broke the seal. Its +contents were evidently satisfactory: the old man elevated his eyebrows +as he read, sniffed twice or thrice, and then yielded to a smile of +irrepressible self-complacency.</p> + +<p>"So it will give him inexpressible pleasure, will it, to consult my +wishes. Should he become the purchaser of the Charrebourg estate, he +entreats—ay, that is the word—that I will not do him the injustice to +suppose him capable of disturbing me in the possession of my present +residence." The Visconte measured the distance between the tiled floor +and the ceiling, with a bitter glance, and said, "So our +bourgeois-gentilhomme will permit the Visconte de Charrebourg—ha, +ha—to live in this stinking hovel for the few years that remain to him; +but, <i>par bleu</i>, that is fortune's doing, not his. I ought not to blame +this poor bourgeois—he is only doing what I asked him. He will also +allow me whatever '<i>privileges</i>' I have hitherto enjoyed—that of +killing roach in the old moat and rabbits in the warren; scarce worth +the powder and shot I spend on them. <i>Eh, bien!</i> after all what more +have I asked for? He is also most desirous to mark, in every way in his +power, the profound respect he entertains for the Visconte de +Charrebourg. How these fellows grimace and caricature when they attempt +to make a compliment! but he can't help that, and he is trying to be +civil. And, see, here is a postscript I omitted to read."</p> + +<p>He readjusted his spectacles. It was thus conceived:—</p> + +<p>"P.S.—I trust the Visconte de Charrebourg will permit me the honor of +waiting upon him, to express in person my esteem and respect; and that +he will also allow me to present my little niece to Mademoiselle de +Charrebourg, as they are pretty nearly of the same age, and likely, +moreover, to become neighbors."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, pursuing a train of self-gratulation, suggested by this +postscript; "it was a <i>coup</i> of diplomacy worthy of Richelieu himself, +the sending Lucille in person with my letter. The girl has beauty; its +magic has drawn all these flowers and figures from the pen of that dry +old schemer. Ay, who knows, she may have fortune before her; were the +king to see her——"</p> + +<p>But here he paused, and, with a slight shake of the head, muttered, +"Apage sathanas!"</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>III.—THE FERMIER-GENERAL.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Visconte ate his supper in solemn silence, which Lucille dared not +interrupt, so that the meal was far from cheerful. Shortly after its +conclusion, however, the old man announced in a few brief sentences, as +much of the letter he had just received as in any wise concerned her to +know.</p> + +<p>"See <i>you</i> and Marguerite to the preparations; let everything, at least, +be neat. He knows, as all the world does, that I am miserably poor; and +we can't make this place look less beggarly than it is; but we must make +the best of it. What can one do with a pension of eight hundred +francs—bah!"</p> + +<p>The latter part of this speech was muttered in bitter abstraction.</p> + +<p>"The pension is too small, sir."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with something like a sneer.</p> + +<p>"It is too small, sir, and ought to be increased."</p> + +<p>"Who says so?"</p> + +<p>"Marguerite has often said so, sir, and I believe it. If you will +petition the king, he will give you something worthy of your rank."</p> + +<p>"You are a pair of wiseheads, truly. It cost the exertions of powerful +friends, while I still had some, to get that pittance; were I to move in +the matter now, it is more like to lead to its curtailment than +extension."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but the king admires beauty, and I am beautiful," she said, with a +blush that was at once the prettiest, the boldest, and yet the purest +thing imaginable; "and I will present your petition myself."</p> + +<p>Her father looked at her for a moment with a gaze of inquiring wonder, +which changed into a faint, abstracted smile; but he rose abruptly from +his seat with a sort of shrug, as if it were chill, and, muttering his +favorite exorcism, "Apage sathanas!" walked with a flurried step up and +down the room. His face was flushed, and there was something in its +expression which forbade her hazarding another word.</p> + +<p>It was not until nearly half an hour had elapsed that the Visconte +suddenly exclaimed, as if not a second had interposed—</p> + +<p>"Well, Lucille, it is not <i>quite</i> impossible; but you need not mention +it to Marguerite."</p> + +<p>He then signed to her to leave him, intending, according to his wont, to +find occupation for his solitary hours in the resources of his library. +This library was contained in an old chest; consisted of some score of +shabby volumes of all sizes, and was, in truth, a queer mixture. It +comprised, among other tomes, a Latin Bible and a missal, in intimate +proximity with two or three other volumes of that gay kind which even +the Visconte de Charrebourg would have blushed and trembled to have seen +in the hands of his child. It resembled thus the heterogeneous furniture +of his own mind, with an incongruous ingredient of superinduced +religion; but, on the whole, unpresentable and unclean. He took up the +well-thumbed Vulgate, in which, of late years, he had read a good deal, +but somehow, it did not interest him at that moment. He threw it back +again, and suffered his fancy to run riot among schemes more exciting +and, alas! less guiltless. His daughter's words had touched an evil +chord in his heart—she had unwittingly uncaged the devil that lurked +within him; and this guardian angel from the pit was playing, in truth, +very ugly pranks with his ambitious imagination.</p> + +<p>Lucille called old Marguerite to her bed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>room, and there made the +astonishing disclosure of the promised visit; but the old woman, though +herself very fussy in consequence, perceived no corresponding excitement +in her young mistress; on the contrary, she was sad and abstracted.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember," said Lucille, after a long pause, "the story of the +fair demoiselle of Alsace you used to tell me long ago? How true her +lover was, and how bravely he fought through all the dangers of +witchcraft and war to find her out again and wed her, although he was a +noble knight, and she, as he believed, but a peasant's daughter. +Marguerite, it is a pretty story. I wonder if gentlemen are as true of +heart now?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, my dear, why not? love is love always; just the same as it was of +old is it now, and will be while the world wags."</p> + +<p>And with this comforting assurance their conference ended.</p> + +<p>The very next day came the visit of Monsieur Le Prun and his niece. The +Fermier-General was old and ugly, there is no denying it; he had a +shrewd, penetrating eye, moreover, and in the lines of his mouth were +certain unmistakable indications of habitual command. When his face was +in repose, indeed, its character was on the whole forbidding. But in +repose it seldom was, for he smiled and grimaced with an industry that +was amazing.</p> + +<p>His niece was a pretty little fair-haired girl of sixteen, with +something sad and even <i>funeste</i> in her countenance. The fragile +timidity of the little blonde contrasted well with the fire and energy +that animated the handsome features of her new acquaintance. Julie St. +Pierre, for that was her name, seemed just as unconscious of Lucille's +deficient toilet as she was herself, and the two girls became, in the +space of an hour's ramble among the brakes and bushes of the park, as +intimate as if they had spent all their days together. Monsieur Le Prun, +meanwhile, conversed affably with the Visconte, whom he seemed to take a +pleasure in treating with a deference which secretly flattered alike his +pride and his vanity. He told him, moreover, that the contract for the +purchase of the Charrebourg estate was already completed, and pleased +himself with projecting certain alterations in the Visconte's humble +residence, which would certainly have made it a far more imposing piece +of architecture than it ever had been. All his plans, however, were +accompanied with so many submissions to the Visconte's superior taste, +and so many solicitations of "permission," and so many delicate +admissions of an ownership, which both parties knew to be imaginary, +that the visitor appeared in the attitude rather of one suing for than +conferring a favor. Add to all this that the Fermier-General had the +good taste to leave his equipage at the park gate, and trudged on foot +beside his little niece, who, in rustic fashion, was mounted on a +donkey, to make his visit. No wonder, then, that when the Crœsus and +his little niece took their departure, they left upon the mind of the +old Visconte an impression which (although, for the sake of consistency, +he was still obliged to affect his airs of hauteur) was in the highest +degree favorable.</p> + +<p>The acquaintance thus commenced was not suffered to languish. Scarce a +day passed without either a visit or a <i>billet</i>, and thus some five or +six weeks passed.</p> + +<p>Lucille and her new companion became more and more intimate; but there +was one secret recorded in the innermost tablet of her heart which she +was too proud to disclose even to her gentle friend. For a day—days—a +week—a fortnight after her interview with Dubois, she lived in hope +that every hour might present his handsome form at the cottage door to +declare himself, and, with the Visconte's sanction, press his suit. +Every morning broke with hope, every night brought disappointment with +its chill and darkness, till hope expired, and feelings of bitterness, +wounded pride, and passionate resentment succeeded. What galled her +proud heart most was the fear that she had betrayed her fondness to him. +To be forsaken was hard enough to bear, but to the desolation of such a +loss the sting of humiliation superadded was terrible.</p> + +<p>One day the rumble of coach-wheels was heard upon the narrow, broken +road which wound by the Visconte's cottage. A magnificent equipage, +glittering with gold and gorgeous colors, drawn by four noble horses +worthy of Cinderella's state-coach, came rolling and rocking along the +track. The heart of Lucille beat fast under her little bodice as she +beheld its approach. The powdered servants were of course to open the +carriage-door, and Dubois himself, attired in the robes of a prince, was +to spring from within and throw himself passionately at her feet. In +short, she felt that the denouement of the fairy tale was at hand.</p> + +<p>The coach stopped—the door opened, and Monsieur Le Prun descended, and +handed his little niece to the ground; Lucille wished him and Dubois +both in the galleys.</p> + +<p>He was more richly dressed than usual, more ceremonious, and if possible +more gracious. He saluted Lucille, and after a word or two of +commonplace courtesy, joined the old Visconte, and they shortly entered +the old gentleman's chamber of audience together, and there remained for +more than an hour. At the end of that time they emerged together, both a +little excited as it seemed. The Fermier-General was flushed like a +scarlet withered apple, and his black eyes glowed and flashed with an +unusual agitation. The Visconte too was also flushed, and he carried his +head a little back, with an unwonted air of reserve and importance.</p> + +<p>The adieux were made with some little flurry, and the equipage swept +away, leaving the spot where its magnificence had just been displayed as +bleak and blank as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> space on which the pageant of a phantasmagoria +has been for a moment reflected.</p> + +<p>The old servant of all work was charmed with this souvenir of better +days. Monsieur Le Prun had risen immensely in her regard in consequence +of the display she had just gloated upon. In the estimation of the +devoted Marguerite he was more than a Midas. His very eye seemed to gild +everything it fell upon as naturally as the sun radiates his yellow +splendor. The blue velvet liveries, the gold-studded harness, the +embossed and emblazoned coach, the stately beasts with their tails tied +up in great bows of broad blue ribbons, with silver fringe, like an +Arcadian beauty's chevelure, the reverential solemnity of the gorgeous +lacqueys, the <i>tout ensemble</i> in short, was overpowering and delightful.</p> + +<p>"Well, child," said the Visconte, after he and Lucille had stood for a +while in silence watching the retiring equipage, taking her hand in his +at the same time, and leading her with a stately gravity along the +narrow walk which environed the cottage, "Monsieur Le Prun, it must be +admitted, has excellent taste; <i>par bleu</i>, his team would do honor to +the royal stables. What a superb equipage! Happy the woman whom fortune +will elect to share the splendor of which all that we have just seen is +but as a sparkle from the furnace—fortunate she whom Monsieur Le Prun +will make his wife."</p> + +<p>He spoke with so much emotion, directed a look of such triumphant +significance upon his daughter, and pressed her hand so hard, that on a +sudden a stupendous conviction, at once horrible and dazzling, burst +upon her.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur!—for the love of God do you mean—do you mean——?" she said, +and broke off abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear Lucille," he returned with elation, "I <i>do</i> mean to tell +you that you—<i>you</i> are that fortunate person. It is true that you can +bring him no wealth, but he already possesses more of that than he knows +how to apply. You can, however, bring him what few other women possess, +an ancient lineage, an exquisite beauty, and the simplicity of an +education in which the seeds of finesse and dissipation have not been +sown, in short, the very attributes and qualifications which he most +esteems—which he has long sought, and which in conversation he has +found irresistible in you. Monsieur Le Prun has entreated me to lay his +proposals at your feet, and you of course convey through me the +gratitude with which you accept them."</p> + +<p>Lucille was silent and pale; within her a war and chaos of emotions were +struggling, like the tumult of the ocean.</p> + +<p>"I felicitate you, my child," said the Visconte, kissing her throbbing +forehead; "in you the fortunes of your family will be restored—come +with me."</p> + +<p>She accompanied him into the cottage; she was walking, as it were, in a +wonderful dream; but amidst the confusion of her senses, her perplexity +and irresolution, there was a dull sense of pain at her heart, there was +a shadowy figure constantly before her; its presence agitated and +reproached her, but she had little leisure to listen to the pleadings of +a returning tenderness, even had they been likely to prevail with her +ambitious heart. Her father rapidly sketched such a letter of +complimentary acceptance as he conceived suitable to the occasion and +the parties.</p> + +<p>"Read that," he said, placing it before Lucille. "Well, that I think +will answer. What say you, child?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," she replied with an effort; "it is true; he does me indeed +great honor; and—and I accept him; and now, sir, I would wish to go and +be for a while alone."</p> + +<p>"Do so," said her father, again kissing her, for he felt a sort of +gratitude toward her as the prime cause of all those comforts and +luxuries, whose long despaired-of return he now beheld in immediate and +certain prospect. Not heeding this unwonted exuberance of tenderness, +she hurried to her little bed-room, and sat down upon the side of her +bed.</p> + +<p>At first she wept passionately, but her girlish volatility soon dried +these tears. The magnificent equipage of Monsieur Le Prun swept before +her imagination. Her curious and dazzled fancy then took flight in +speculations as to the details of all the, as yet, undescribed splendors +in reserve. Then she thought of herself married, and mistress of all +this great fortune, and her heart beat thick, and she laughed aloud, and +clapped her hands in an ecstasy of almost childish exultation.</p> + +<p>Next day she received a long visit from Monsieur Le Prun, as her +accepted lover. Spite of all his splendor, he had never looked in her +eyes half so old, and ugly and sinister, as now. The marriage, which was +sometimes so delightfully full of promise to her vanity and ambition, in +his presence most perversely lost all its enchantment, and terrified +her, like some great but unascertained danger. It was however too late +now to recede; and even were she free to do so, it is more than probable +that she could not have endured the sacrifice involved in retracting her +consent.</p> + +<p>The Visconte's little household kept early hours. He himself went to bed +almost with the sun; and on the night after this decisive visit—for +such Monsieur Le Prun's first appearance and acceptation in the +character of an affianced bridegroom undoubtedly was—Lucille was lying +awake, the prey of a thousand agitating thoughts, when, on a sudden, +rising on the still night air came a little melody—alas! too well +known—a gay and tender song, chanted sweetly. Had the voice of Fate +called her, she could not have started more suddenly upright in her bed, +with eyes straining, and parted lips—one hand pushing back the rich +clusters of hair, and collecting the sound at her ear, and the other +extended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> toward the distant songster, and softly marking the time of +the air. She listened till the song died away, and covering her face +with her hands, she threw herself down upon the pillow, and sobbing +desolately, murmured—"too late!—too late!"</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>IV.—THE STRANGE LADY IN WHITE.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> visits of the happy Fermier-General occurred, of course, daily, and +increased in duration. Meanwhile preparations went forward. The +Visconte, supplied from some mysterious source, appeared to have an +untold amount of cash. He made repeated excursions to the capital, which +for twenty years he had not so much as seen; and handsome dresses, +ornaments, &c., for Lucille, were accompanied by no less important +improvements upon his own wardrobe, as well as various accessions to the +comforts of their little dwelling—so numerous, indeed, as speedily to +effect an almost complete transformation in its character and +pretensions.</p> + +<p>Thus the time wore on, in a state of excitement, which, though checkered +with many fears, was on the whole pleasurable.</p> + +<p>About ten days had passed since the peculiar and delicate relation we +have described was established between Lucille and Monsieur Le Prun. +Urgent business had called him away to the city, and kept him closely +confined there, so that, for the first time since his declaration, his +daily visit was omitted upon this occasion. Had the good Fermier-General +but known all, he need not have offered so many apologies, nor labored +so hard to console his lady-love for his involuntary absence. The truth, +then, is, as the reader no doubt suspects, Lucille was charmed at +finding herself, even for a day, once more her own absolute mistress.</p> + +<p>A gay party from Paris, with orders of admission from the creditors, +that day visited the park. In a remote and bosky hollow they had seated +themselves upon the turf, and, amid songs and laughter, were enjoying a +cold repast. Far away these sounds of mirth were borne on the clear air +to Lucille. Alas! when should she laugh as gaily as those ladies, who, +with their young companions, were making merry?—when again should music +speak as of old with her heart, and bear in its chords no tone of +reproach and despair? This gay party broke up into groups, and began +merrily to ramble toward the great gate, where, of course, their +carriages were awaiting them.</p> + +<p>Attracted mournfully by their mirth, Lucille rambled onward as they +retreated. It was evening, and the sunbeams slanted pleasantly among the +trees and bushes, throwing long, soft shadows over the sward, and +converting into gold every little turf, and weed, and knob, that broke +the irregular sweep of the ground.</p> + +<p>She had reached a part of the park with which she was not so familiar. +Here several gentle hollows were converging toward the stream, and trees +and wild brushwood in fresh abundance clothed their sides, and spread +upward along the plain in rich and shaggy exuberance.</p> + +<p>From among them, with a stick in his hand, and running lightly in the +direction of her father's cottage, Gabriel suddenly emerged.</p> + +<p>On seeing her at the end of the irregular vista, which he had just +entered, however, he slackened his pace, and doffing his hat he +approached her.</p> + +<p>"A message, Gabriel?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if Mademoiselle pleases," said he, blushing all over, like the +setting sun. "I was running to the Visconte's house to tell +Mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"Well, Gabriel, and what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Mademoiselle, a strange lady in the glen desires me to tell +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg that she wishes to see her."</p> + +<p>"But did she say why she desired it, and what she wished to speak to me +about?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"Then tell her that Mademoiselle de Charrebourg, knowing neither her +name nor her business, declines obeying her summons," said she, +haughtily. Gabriel bowed low, and was about to retire on his errand, +when she added—</p> + +<p>"It was very dull of you, Gabriel, not to ask her what she wanted of +me."</p> + +<p>"Madame, without your permission, I dare not," he replied, with a deeper +blush, and a tone at once so ardent and so humble, that Lucille could +not forbear a smile of the prettiest good nature.</p> + +<p>"In truth, Gabriel, you are a dutiful boy. But how did you happen to +meet her?"</p> + +<p>"I was returning, Mademoiselle, from the other side of the stream, and +just when I got into the glen, on turning round the corner of the gray +stone, I saw her standing close to me behind the bushes."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose you were frightened?" she said, archly.</p> + +<p>"No, Mademoiselle, indeed; though she was strangely dressed and very +pale, but she spoke to me kindly. She asked me my name, and then she +looked in my face very hard, as a fortune-teller does, and she told me +many strange things, Mademoiselle, about myself; some of them I knew, +and some of them I never heard before."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she <i>is</i> a fortune-teller; and how did she come to ask for +me?"</p> + +<p>"She inquired if the Visconte de Charrebourg still lived on the estate, +and then she said, 'Has he not a beautiful daughter called Lucille?' and +I, Mademoiselle, made bold to answer, 'O yes, madame, yes, in truth.'"</p> + +<p>Poor Gabriel blushed and faltered more than ever at this passage.</p> + +<p>"'Tell Mademoiselle,' she said, 'I have something that concerns her +nearly to tell her. Let her know that I am waiting here; but I cannot +stay long.' And so she beckoned me away impatiently, and I, expecting to +find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> you near the house was running, when Mademoiselle saw me."</p> + +<p>"It is very strange; stay, Gabriel, I <i>will</i> go and speak to her, it is +only a step."</p> + +<p>The fact was that Lucille's curiosity (as might have been the case with +a great many of her sex in a similar situation) was too strong for her, +and her pride was forced to bend to its importunity.</p> + +<p>"Go you before," she said to Gabriel, who long remembered that evening +walk in attendance upon Lucille, as a scene so enchanting and delightful +as to be rather a mythic episode than an incident in his life; "and +Gabriel," she added, as they entered the cold shadow of the thick +evergreens, and felt she knew not why, a superstitious dread creep over +her, "do you wait within call, but so as not to overhear our +conversation; you understand me."</p> + +<p>They had now emerged from the dark cover into the glen, and looking +downward toward the little stream, at a short distance from them, the +figure of the mysterious lady was plainly discernible. She was sitting +with her back toward them upon a fragment of rock, under the bough of an +old gnarled oak. Her dress was a sort of loose white robe, it might be +of flannel, such as invalids in hospitals wear, and a red cloak had +slipped from her shoulders, and covered the ground at her feet. Thus, +solitary and mysterious, she suggested the image of a priestess cowering +over the blood of a victim in search of omens.</p> + +<p>Lucille approached her with some trepidation, and to avoid coming upon +her wholly by surprise she made a little detour, and thus had an +opportunity of seeing the features of the stranger, as well as of +permitting her to become aware of her approach.</p> + +<p>Her appearance, upon a nearer approach, was not such as to reassure +Lucille. She was tall, deadly pale, and marked with the smallpox. She +had particularly black eyebrows, and awaited the young lady's approach +with that ominous smile which ascends no higher than the lips, and +leaves the eyes and forehead dark, threatening, and uncertain. +Altogether, there was a character, it might be of insanity, it might be +of guilt, in the face, which was formidable.</p> + +<p>Lucille wished herself at home, but there was that in the blood of the +Charrebourgs which never turned away from danger, real or imaginary, +when once confronted.</p> + +<p>"So you are Lucille de Charrebourg?" said the figure, looking at her +with that expression of malice, which is all the more fearful that it +appears causeless.</p> + +<p>"Yea, Madame, that is my name; will you be so good as to tell me, +beside, the name of the lady who has been kind enough to desire an +interview with me?"</p> + +<p>"For a name; my dear, suit yourself; call me Sycorax, Jezebel, or what +you please, and I will answer to it."</p> + +<p>"But what are you?"</p> + +<p>"There again I give you a <i>carte blanche</i>; say I am a benevolent fairy; +you don't seem to like that? or your guardian-angel? nor that neither! +Well, a witch if you please, or a ghost, or a fortune-teller—ay, that +will do, a fortune-teller—so that is settled."</p> + +<p>"Well, Madame, if I may not know either your name or occupation, will +you be good enough at least to let me hear your business."</p> + +<p>"Surely, my charming demoiselle; you should have heard it immediately +had you not pestered me with so many childish questions. Well, then, +about this Monsieur Le Prun?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Madame?" said Lucille, not a little surprised.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, I'm not going to tell you whether this Monsieur Le Prun +is an angel, for angels they say <i>have</i> married women; or whether he is +a Bluebeard—you have heard the story of Bluebeard, my little dear—but +this I say, be he which he may, <i>you</i> must not marry him."</p> + +<p>"And pray, who constrains my will?" exclaimed the girl, scornfully, but +at the same time inwardly frightened.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> do, my pretty pigeon; if you marry him, you do so forewarned, and +if he don't punish you <i>I</i> will."</p> + +<p>"How dare you speak in that tone to me?" said Lucille, to whose cheek +the insolent threat of the stranger called a momentary flush of red; +"<i>you</i> punish me, indeed, if <i>he</i> does not! I'll not permit you to +address me so; besides I have help close by, if I please to call for +it."</p> + +<p>All this time the woman was laughing inwardly, and fumbling under her +white robe, as if in search of something.</p> + +<p>"I say he may be an angel, or he may be a bluebeard, I don't pretend to +say which," she continued, with a perfectly genuine contempt of +Lucille's vaunting, "but I have here an amulet that never fails in cases +like this; it will detect and expel the devil better than blessed water, +<i>vera crux</i>, or body of our Lord, for these things have sometimes +failed, but this can never. With the aid of this you cannot be deceived. +If he be a good man its influence will be ineffectual against him; but +if, on the other hand, he be possessed of evil spirits, then test him +with it, and you will behold him for a moment as he is."</p> + +<p>"Let me see it, then."</p> + +<p>"Here it is."</p> + +<p>She drew from under the white folds of her dress a small spiral bottle, +enameled with some Chinese characters, and set in a base and capital of +chased gold, with four little spiral pillars at the corners connecting +the top and bottom, and leaving the porcelain visible between. It had, +moreover, a stopper that closed with a spring, and altogether did not +exceed two inches in length, and in thickness was about the size of a +swan's quill. It looked like nothing earthly, but what she had described +it. For a scent-bottle, indeed, it might possibly have been used; but +there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> something odd and knowing about this little curiosity, +something mysterious, and which seemed as though it had a tale to tell. +In short, Lucille looked on it with all the interest, and if the truth +must be spoken, a good deal of the awe, which its pretensions demanded.</p> + +<p>"And what am I to do with this little bauble?" she asked, after she had +examined it for some moments curiously.</p> + +<p>"When you want to make trial of its efficacy, take it forth, look +steadily in his face, and say, 'I expect to receive the counterpart of +this,' that is all. If he be a good man, as who can say, the talisman +will leave him as it finds him. But if he be, as some men are, the slave +of Satan, you will see, were it but for a second, the sufferings and +passions of hell in his face. Fear not to make trial of it, for no harm +can ensue; you will but know the character you have to deal with."</p> + +<p>"But this is a valuable bauble, its price must be considerable, and I +have no money."</p> + +<p>"Well, suppose I make it a present to you."</p> + +<p>"I should like to have it—but—but——."</p> + +<p>"But I am too poor to part with it on such terms, and you too proud to +take it—is that your meaning? Never mind, I can afford to give it, and, +proud as you are, you can afford to take it. Hide it until the time to +try him comes, and then speak as I told you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will accept it," said Lucille, coldly, but her voice trembled +and her face was pale; "and this I know, if there be any virtue of any +sort in the toy, it can only prove Monsieur Le Prun's goodness. Yes, he +is a very kind man, and all the world, I am told, speaks of his +excellence."</p> + +<p>"Very probably," said the stranger, "but mark my words, don't marry him; +if you do, you shall see me again."</p> + +<p>"Halloa, devil! are you deaf?" thundered a sneering voice from a crag at +the opposite side. "Come, come, it's time we were moving."</p> + +<p>The summons came from a broad, short, swarthy fellow, with black +mustaches and beard, arrayed in a suit of dusky red. He had one hand +raised high above his head beckoning to her, and with the other he +furiously shook the spreading branch of a tree beside him; the prominent +whites of his eyes, and his grinning teeth, were, even at that distance, +seen conspicuous; and so shaggy, furious, and unearthly did he seem, +that he might well have represented some wild huntsman or demon of the +wood. It seemed, indeed, as though a sort of witches' dance were to be +held that night in the old park of Charrebourg, and that some of the +preternatural company had reached the trysting-place before their time.</p> + +<p>The ill-omened woman in white hastily gathered up her mantle, without +any gesture or word of farewell. With hurried strides her tall figure +glided off toward the apparition in red, and both speedily disappeared +among the hazy cover at the other side.</p> + +<p>The little hollow was now deserted, except for Lucille. It was not till +they had quite vanished, and that she was left there alone, that she +felt something akin to terror steal over her, and hurried from the scene +of her strange interview as from a haunted spot. A little way up the +rising bank Gabriel was awaiting her return, sorely disappointed that +fortune had in no wise made her debtor to his valor.</p> + +<p>Long before she reached home the sun had gone down, and the long dusky +shadows had given place to the thin, cold haze of approaching night. +Often as she glided onward among rocks and bushes she felt an +instinctive impulse, something between terror and aversion, prompting +her to hurl the little spiral vial far from her among the wild weeds and +misty brakes, where, till doomsday, it might never be found again. But +other feelings, stranger in their kind, determined her at least to defer +the sacrifice, and so she reached her chamber with the mysterious gift +fast in her tiny grasp.</p> + +<p>Here she again examined it, more minutely than before; it contained +neither fluid nor powder of any sort, and was free from any perfume or +odor whatsoever; and excepting that the more closely she inspected it, +the more she discovered in its workmanship to excite her admiration, her +careful and curious investigation was without result. As she carefully +folded up the curious souvenir, and secreted it in the safest corner of +the safest drawer, she thought over the interview again and again, and +always with the same result as respected the female who had bestowed it, +namely, that if not actually a lady, she had at least the education and +the manners of a person above the working classes.</p> + +<p>That night Lucille was haunted with ugly dreams. Voices were speaking to +her in threats and blasphemies from the little vial. The mysterious lady +in white would sit huddled up at the foot of her bed, and the more she +smiled the more terrible became her scowl, until at last her countenance +began to dilate, and she slowly advanced her face closer and closer, +until, just as her smiling lips reached Lucille, she uttered a yell, +whether of imprecation or terror she could not hear, but which scared +her from her sleep like a peal of thunder. Then a great coffin was +standing against the wall with Monsieur Le Prun in it dead and shrouded, +and a troop of choristers began singing a requiem, when on a sudden the +furious voice she had heard that evening screamed aloud, "To what +purpose all this hymning, seeing the corpse is possessed by evil +spirits;" and then such looks of rage and hatred flitted over the livid +face in the coffin, as nothing but hell could have inspired. Then again +she would see Monsieur Le Prun struggling, his face all bloody and +distorted, with the man in red and the strange lady of the talisman, who +screamed, laughing with a detestable glee, "Come bride, come, the +bridegroom waits." Such horrid dreams as these haunted her all night, so +much so that one might almost have fancied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> that an evil influence had +entered her chamber with the little vial. But the songs of gay birds +pruning their wings, and the rustle of the green leaves glittering in +the early sun round her window, quickly dispelled the horrors which had +possessed her little room in the hours of silence and darkness. It was, +notwithstanding, with a sense of fear and dislike that she opened the +drawer where the little vial lay, and unrolling all the paper envelopes +in which it was carefully folded, beheld it once more in the clear light +of day.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, nothing, but a grotesque little scent-bottle—why should I be +afraid of it?—a poor little pretty toy."</p> + +<p>So she said, as she folded it up again, and deposited it once more where +it had lain all night. But for all that she felt a mysterious sense of +relief when she ran lightly from her chamber into the open air, +conscious that the harmless little toy was no longer present.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><b>V.—THE CHATEAU DES ANGES.</b></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next day Monsieur Le Prun returned. His vanity ascribed the manifest +agitation of Lucille's manner to feelings very unlike the distrust, +alarm, and aversion which, since her last night's adventure, had filled +her mind. He came, however, armed with votive evidences of his passion, +alike more substantial and more welcome than the gallant speeches in +which he dealt. He brought her, among other jewels, a suit of brilliants +which must have cost alone some fifteen or twenty thousand francs. He +seemed to take a delight in overpowering her with the costly exuberance +of his presents. Was there in this a latent distrust of his own personal +resources, and an anxiety to astound and enslave by means of his +magnificence—to overwhelm his proud but dowerless bride with the almost +fabulous profusion and splendor of his wealth? Perhaps there was, and +the very magnificence which dazzled her was prompted more by meanness +than generosity.</p> + +<p>This time he came accompanied by a gentleman, the Sieur de Blassemare, +who appeared pretty much what he actually was—a sort of general agent, +adviser, companion, and hanger-on of the rich Fermier-General.</p> + +<p>The Sieur de Blassemare had his <i>titres de noblesse</i>, and started in +life with a fair fortune. This, however, he had seriously damaged by +play, and was now obliged to have recourse to that species of dexterity, +to support his luxuries, which, employed by others, had been the main +agent in his own ruin. The millionaire and the parvenu found him +invaluable. He was always gay, always in good humor; a man of birth and +breeding, well accepted, in spite of his suspected rogueries, in the +world of fashion—an adept in all its ways, as well as in the mysteries +of human nature; active, inquisitive, profligate; the very man to pick +up intelligence when it was needed—to execute a delicate commission, or +to advise and assist in any project of taste. In addition to all these +gifts and perfections, his fund of good spirits and scandalous anecdote +was inexhaustible, and so Monsieur Le Prun conceived him very cheaply +retained at the expense of allowing him to cheat him quietly of a few +score of crowns at an occasional game of picquet.</p> + +<p>This fashionable sharper and voluptuary was now somewhere about +five-and-forty; but with the assistance of his dress, which was +exquisite, and the mysteries of his toilet, which was artistic in a high +degree, and above all, his gayety, which never failed him, he might +easily have passed for at least six years younger.</p> + +<p>It was the wish of the benevolent Monsieur Le Prun to set the Viscount +quite straight in money matters; and as there still remained, like the +electric residuum in a Leyden vial after the main shock has been +discharged, some few little affairs not quite dissipated in the +explosion of his fortunes, and which, before his reappearance even in +the background of society, must be arranged, he employed his agile +aid-de-camp, the Sieur de Blassemare, to fish out these claims and +settle them.</p> + +<p>It was not to be imagined that a young girl, perfectly conscious of her +beauty, with a great deal of vanity and an immensity of ambition, could +fail to be delighted at the magnificent presents with which her rich old +lover had that day loaded her.</p> + +<p>She spread them upon the counterpane of her bed, and when she was tired +of admiring them, she covered herself with her treasures, hung the +flashing necklace about her neck, and clasped her little wrists in the +massive bracelets, stuck a pin here and a brooch there, and covered her +fingers with sparkling jewels; and though she had no looking-glass +larger than a playing-card in which to reflect her splendor, she yet +could judge in her own mind very satisfactorily of the effect. Then, +after she had floated about her room, and courtesied, and waved her +hands to her heart's content, she again strewed the bed with these +delightful, intoxicating jewels, which flashed actual fascination upon +her gaze.</p> + +<p>At that moment her gratitude effervesced, and she almost felt that, +provided she were never to behold his face again, she could—<i>not love</i>, +but <i>like</i> Monsieur Le Prun very well; she half relented, she almost +forgave him; she would have received with good-will, with thanks, and +praises, anything and everything he pleased to give her, except his +company.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the old Visconte, somewhat civilized and modernized by recent +restorations, was walking slowly to and fro in the little bowling-green, +side by side with Blassemare.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "with confidence I give my child into his hands. It is a +great trust, Blassemare; but he is gifted with those qualities, which, +more than wealth, conduce to married happiness. I confide in him a great +trust, but I feel I risk no sacrifice."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p>A comic smile, which he could not suppress, illuminated the dark +features of Blassemare, and he looked away as if studying the landscape +until it subsided.</p> + +<p>"He is the most disinterested and generous of men," resumed the old +gentleman.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi</i>, so he is," rejoined his companion; "but Mademoiselle de +Charrebourg happened to be precisely the person he needed; birth, +beauty, simplicity—a rare alliance. You underrate the merits of +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg. He makes no such presents to the Sisters of +Charity."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, sir, I know her merits well; she is indeed a dutiful and +dear child."</p> + +<p>And the Visconte's eyes filled with moisture, for his heart was softened +by her prosperity, involving, as it did, his own.</p> + +<p>"And will make one of the handsomest as she will, no doubt, one of the +most loving wives in France," said Blassemare, gravely.</p> + +<p>"And he will make, or I am no prophet, an admirable husband," resumed +the Visconte; "he has so much good feeling and so much——"</p> + +<p>"So much money," suggested Blassemare, who was charmed at the Visconte's +little hypocrisy; "ay, by my faith, that he has; and as to that little +bit of scandal, those mysterious reports, you know," he added, with a +malicious simplicity.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," said the Visconte, shortly.</p> + +<p>"All sheer fiction, my dear Visconte," continued Blassemare, with a +shrug and a smile of disclaimer.</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course," said the Visconte, peremptorily.</p> + +<p>"It was talked about, you know," persisted his malicious companion, +"about twenty years ago, but it is quite discredited now—scouted. You +can't think how excellently our good friend the Fermier-General is +established in society. But I need not tell you, for of course you +satisfied yourself; the alliance on which I felicitate Le Prun proves +it."</p> + +<p>The Visconte made a sort of wincing smile and a bow. He saw that +Blassemare was making a little scene out of his insincerities for his +own private entertainment. But there is a sort of conventional hypocrisy +which had become habitual to them both. It was like a pair of blacklegs +cheating one another for practice with their eyes open. So Blassemare +presented his snuff-box, and the Visconte, with equal <i>bonhomie</i>, took +a pinch, and the game was kept up pleasantly between them.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Lucille, in her chamber, the window of which opened upon the +bowling-green, caught a word or two of the conversation we have just +sketched. What she heard was just sufficient to awaken the undefined but +anxious train of ideas which had become connected with the image of +Monsieur Le Prun. Something seemed all at once to sadden and quench the +fire that blazed in her diamonds; they were disenchanted; her heart no +longer danced in their light. With a heavy sigh she turned to the drawer +where the charmed vial lay; she took it out; she weighed it in her hand.</p> + +<p>"After all," she said, "it <i>is</i> but a toy. Why should it trouble me? +What harm <i>can</i> be in it?"</p> + +<p>She placed it among the golden store that lay spread upon her coverlet. +But it would not assimilate with those ornaments; on the contrary, it +looked only more quaint and queer, like a suspicious stranger among +them. She hurriedly took it away, more dissatisfied, somehow, than ever. +She inwardly felt that there was danger in it, but what could it be? +what its purpose, significance, or power? Conjecture failed her. There +it lay, harmless and pretty for the present, but pregnant with unknown +mischief, like a painted egg, stolen from a serpent's nest, which time +and temperature are sure to hatch at last.</p> + +<p>The strangest circumstance about it was, that she could not make up her +mind to part with or destroy it. It exercised over her the fascination +of a guilty companionship. She hated but could not give it up. And yet, +after all, what a trifle to fret the spirits even of a girl!</p> + +<p>It is wonderful how rapidly impressions of pain or fear, if they be not +renewed, lose their influence upon the conduct and even upon the +spirits. The scene in the glen, the image of the unprepossessing and +mysterious pythoness, and the substance and manner of the sinister +warning she communicated, were indeed fixed in her memory ineffaceably. +But every day that saw her marriage approach in security and peace, and +her preparations proceed without molestation, served to dissipate her +fears and to obliterate the force of that hated scene.</p> + +<p>It was, therefore, only now and then that the odd and menacing +occurrence recurred to her memory with a depressing and startling +effect. At such moments, it might be of weakness, the boding words, +"Don't marry him; if you do you shall see me again," smote upon her +heart like the voice of a specter, and she felt that chill, succeeded by +vague and gloomy anxiety, which superstition ascribes to the passing +presence of a spirit from the grave.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you are happy, dear Lucille, or may be you are offended +with me," said Julie St. Pierre, turning her soft blue eyes full upon +her handsome companion, and taking her hand timidly between her own.</p> + +<p>They were sitting together on a wild bank, shaded by a screen of +brushwood, in the park. Lucille had been silent, abstracted, and, as it +seemed, almost sullen during their walk, and poor little timid Julie, +who cherished for her girlish friend that sort of devotion with which +gentler and perhaps better natures are so often inspired by firmer +wills, and more fiery tempers, was grieved and perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Lucille, are you angry with me?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> angry! no, indeed; and angry with you, my dear, <i>dear</i> little +friend! I could not be, dear Julie, even were I to try."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<p>And so they kissed heartily again and again.</p> + +<p>"Then," said Julie, sitting down by her, and taking her hand more firmly +in hers, and looking with such a loving interest as nothing could resist +in her face, "you are unhappy. Why don't you tell me what it is that +grieves you? I dare say I could give you very wise counsel, and, at all +events, console you. At the convent the pensioners used all to come to +me when they were in trouble, and, I assure you, I always gave them good +advice."</p> + +<p>"But I am not unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Well, shall I tell you? I thought you were unhappy because you are +going to be married to my uncle."</p> + +<p>"Folly, folly, my dear little prude. Your uncle is a very good man, and +a very grand match. I ought to be delighted at a prospect so brilliant."</p> + +<p>Even while Lucille spoke, she felt a powerful impulse to tell her little +companion <i>all</i>—her fondness for Dubois, her aversion for Monsieur Le +Prun, the scene with the strange woman, and her own forebodings; but +such a confession would have been difficult to reconcile with her fixed +resolution to let the affair take its course, and at all hazards marry +the man whom, it was vain to disguise it from herself, she disliked, +distrusted, and feared.</p> + +<p>"I was going to give you comfort by my own story. I never told you +before that <i>I</i>, too, am affianced."</p> + +<p>"Affianced! and to whom?"</p> + +<p>"To the Marquis de Secqville."</p> + +<p>"Hey! Why that is the very gentleman of whom Monsieur de Blassemare told +us such wicked stories the other day."</p> + +<p>"Did he?" she said, with a sigh. "Well, I often feared he was a +prodigal; but heaven, I trust, will reclaim him."</p> + +<p>"But you do not love him?"</p> + +<p>"No. I never saw him but once."</p> + +<p>"And are you happy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, quite happy now; but, dear Lucille, I was very miserable once. You +must know that shortly after we were betrothed, when I was placed in the +convent at Rouen, there was a nice girl there, of whom I soon grew very +fond. Her brother, Henri, used to come almost every day to see her. He +was about three years older than I, and so brave and beautiful. I did +not know that I loved him until his sister went away, and his visits, of +course, ceased; and when I could not see him any more, I thought my +heart would break."</p> + +<p>"Poor little Julie!"</p> + +<p>"I was afraid of being observed when I wept, but I used to cry to myself +all night long, and wish to die, as my mother used to fear long ago I +would do before I came to be as old as I am now; and I could not even +hear of him, for my friend, his sister, had married, and was living near +Caen, and so we were quite separated."</p> + +<p>"You were, <i>indeed</i>, very miserable, my poor little friend."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but at last, after a whole year, she was passing through Rouen, +and so she came to the convent to see me. Oh, when I saw her my heart +fluttered so that I thought I should have choked. I don't know why it +was, but I was afraid to ask for him; but at last, finding she would not +speak of him at all, which I thought was ill-natured, though indeed it +was not, I <i>did</i> succeed, and asked her how he was; then all at once she +began to cry, for he was dead; and knowing <i>that</i>, I forgot +everything—I lost sight of everything—they said I fainted. And when I +awoke again there was a good many of the sisters and some of the +pensioners round me, and my friend still weeping; and the superioress +was there, too, but I did not heed them, but only said I would not +believe he was dead. Then I was very ill for more than a month, and my +uncle came to see me; but I don't think he knew what had made me so; and +as soon as I grew better the superioress was very angry with me, and +told me it was very wicked, which it may have been, but indeed I could +not help it; and she gave me in charge to sister Eugenie to bring me to +a sense of my sinfulness, seeing that I ought not to have loved any one +but him to whom I was betrothed."</p> + +<p>"Alas! poor Julie, I suppose she was a harsh preceptress also."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed; on the contrary, she was very kind and gentle. She was so +young—only twenty-three—dear sister Eugenie!—and so pretty, though +she was very pale, and oh, so thin; and when we were both alone in her +room she used to let me tell her all my story, and she used to draw her +hand over her pretty face, and cry so bitterly in return, and kiss me, +and shake me by the hands, that I often thought she must once have loved +some one also herself, and was weeping because she could never see him +again; so I grew to love her very much; but I did not know all that time +that sister Eugenie was dying. The day I took leave of her she seemed as +if she was going to tell me something about herself, and I think now if +I had pressed her she would. I am very sorry I did not, for it would +have been pleasant to me as long as I live to have given the dear sister +any comfort, and shown how truly I loved her. But it was not so, and +only four months after we parted she died; but I hope we may meet, where +I am sure she is gone, in heaven, and then she will know how much I +loved her, and how good, and gentle, and kind, I always thought her."</p> + +<p>Poor little Julie shed tears at these words.</p> + +<p>"Now I do not love the Marquis," she continued, "nor I am sure does he +love me. It will be but a match of convenience. I suppose he will +continue to follow his amusements and I will live quietly at home; so +after all it will make but little change to me, and I will still be as I +am now, the widow of poor Henri."</p> + +<p>"You are so tranquil, dear Julie, because he is dead. Happy is it for +you that he is in his grave. Come, let us return."</p> + +<p>They began to walk toward the cottage.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And how would you spend your days, Julie, had you the choice of your +own way of life?"</p> + +<p>"I would take the vail. I would like to be a nun, and to die early, like +sister Eugenie."</p> + +<p>Lucille looked at her with undisguised astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Take the vail!" she exclaimed, "so young, so pretty. <i>Parbleu</i>, I would +rather work in the fields or beg my bread on the high-roads. Take the +vail—no, no, no. Marguerite told me I had a great-aunt who took the +vail, and three years after died mad in a convent in Paris. Ah, it is a +sad life, Julie, it is a sad life!"</p> + +<p>It was the wish of the Fermier-General that his nuptials should be +celebrated with as much privacy as possible. The reader, therefore, will +lose nothing by our dismissing the ceremony as rapidly as may be. Let it +suffice to say, that it <i>did</i> take place, and to describe the +arrangements with which it was immediately succeeded.</p> + +<p>Though Monsieur Le Prun had become the purchaser of the Charrebourg +estate, he did not choose to live upon it. About eight leagues from +Paris he possessed a residence better suited to his tastes and plans. It +was said to have once belonged to a scion of royalty, who had contrived +it with a view to realizing upon earth a sort of Mahomedan paradise. +Nothing indeed could have been better devised for luxury as well as +seclusion. From some Romish legend attaching to its site, it had +acquired the name of the Chateau des Anges, a title which unhappily did +not harmonize with the traditions more directly connected with the +building itself.</p> + +<p>It was a very spacious structure, some of its apartments were even +magnificent, and the entire fabric bore overpowering evidences, alike in +its costly materials and finish, and in the details of its design, of +the prodigal and voluptuous magnificence to which it owed its existence.</p> + +<p>It was environed by lordly forests, circle within circle, which were +pierced by long straight walks diverging from common centers, and almost +losing themselves in the shadowy distance. Studded, too, with a series +of interminable fishponds, encompassed by hedges of beech, yew, and +evergreens of enormous height and impenetrable density, under whose +emerald shadows water-fowl of all sorts, from the princely swan down to +the humble water-hen, were sailing and gliding this way and that, like +rival argosies upon the seas.</p> + +<p>The view of the chateau itself, when at last, through those dense and +extensive cinctures of sylvan scenery, you had penetrated to its site, +was, from almost every point, picturesque and even beautiful.</p> + +<p>Successive terraces of almost regal extent, from above whose marble +balustrades and rows of urns the tufted green of rare and rich plants, +in a long, gorgeous wreath of foliage, was peeping, ran, tier above +tier, conducting the eye, among statues and graceful shrubs, to the +gables and chimneys of the quaint but vast chateau itself. The forecourt +upon which the great avenue debouched was large enough for the stately +muster of a royal levee; and at intervals, upon the balustrade which +surrounded it, were planted a long file of stone statues, each +originally holding a lamp, which, however, the altered habits of the +place had long since dismounted.</p> + +<p>If the place had been specially contrived, as it was said to have been, +for privacy, it could not have been better planned. It was literally +buried in an umbrageous labyrinth of tufted forest. Even the great +avenue commanded no view of the chateau, but abutted upon a fountain, +backed by a towering screen of foliage, where the approach divided, and +led by a double road to the court we have described. In fact, except +from the domain itself, the very chimneys of the chateau were invisible +for a circuit of miles around, the nearest point from which a glance of +its roof could be caught being the heights situated a full league away.</p> + +<p>If the truth must be told, then, Monsieur Le Prun was conscious of some +disparity in point of years between himself and his beautiful wife; and +although he affected the most joyous confidence upon the subject, he was +nevertheless as ill at ease as most old fellows under similar +circumstances. It soon became, therefore, perfectly plain, that the +palace to which the wealthy bridegroom had transported his beautiful +wife was, in truth, but one of those enchanted castles in which enamored +genii in fairy legends are described as guarding their captive +princesses—a gorgeous and luxurious prison, to which there was no +access, from which no escape, and where amidst all the treasures and +delights of a sensuous paradise, the captive beauty languished and +saddened.</p> + +<div class="center">END OF PART I.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From the Examiner.]<br /> +<span class="simh3">TO CHARLES DICKENS.</span></div> + +<div class="c75">BY WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="poem2"> +<span class="dropcap">C</span>ALL we for harp or song?<br /> +<span class="p215">Accordant numbers, measured out, belong<br /></span> +<span class="p21">Alone, we hear, to bard.<br /></span> +Let him this badge, for ages worn, discard;<br /> +<span class="p21">Richer and nobler now<br /></span> +Than when the close-trimm'd laurel mark'd his brow,<br /> +<span class="p21">And from one fount his thirst<br /></span> +Was slaked, and from none other proudly burst<br /> +<span class="p21">Neighing, the winged steed.<br /></span> +Gloriously fresh were those young days indeed!<br /> +<span class="p21">Clear, if confined, the view:<br /></span> +The feet of giants swept that early dew;<br /> +<span class="p21">More graceful came behind,<br /></span> +And golden tresses waved upon the wind.<br /> +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Pity and Love were seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In earnest converse on the humble green;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Grief too was there, but Grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sat down with them, nor struggled from relief.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Strong Pity was, strong he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But little love was bravest of the three.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At what the sad one said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Often he smiled, though Pity shook her head.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Descending from their clouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Muses mingled with admiring crowds:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Each had her ear inclined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each caught and spoke the language of mankind<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From choral thraldom free...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dickens! didst thou teach <i>them</i>, or they teach <i>thee</i>?<br /></span> +</div><br /> + +<i>September, 1850.</i></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center">[From "Light and Darkness," by Catharine Crowe, Author of "The Night Side of Nature," &c. &c.]<br /> +<span class="simh3">THE TWO MISS SMITHS.</span></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> a certain town in the West of England, which shall be nameless, there +dwelt two maiden ladies of the name of Smith; each possessing a small +independence, each residing, with a single maid-servant, in a small +house, the drawing-room floor of which was let, whenever lodgers could +be found; each hovering somewhere about the age of fifty, and each +hating the other with a restless and implacable enmity. The origin of +this aversion was the similarity of their names; each was Miss C. Smith, +the one being called Cecilia, the other Charlotte—a circumstance which +gave rise to such innumerable mistakes and misunderstandings, as were +sufficient to maintain these ladies in a constant state of irritability +and warfare. Letters, messages, invitations, parcels, bills, were daily +missent, and opened by the wrong person; thus exposing the private +affairs of one to the other; and as their aversion had long ago +extinguished everything like delicacy on either side, any information so +acquired was used without scruple to their mutual annoyance. Presents, +too, of fruit, vegetables, or other delicacies from the neighboring +gentry, not unfrequently found their way to the wrong house; and if +unaccompanied by a letter, which took away all excuse for mistake, they +were appropriated without remorse, even when the appropriating party +felt confident in her heart that the article was not intended for her; +and this not from greediness or rapacity, but from the absolute delight +they took in vexing each other.</p> + +<p>It must be admitted, also, that this well-known enmity was occasionally +played upon by the frolic-loving part of the community, both high and +low; so that over and above the genuine mistakes, which were of +themselves quite enough to keep the poor ladies in hot water, every now +and then some little hoax was got up and practiced upon them, such as +fictitious love-letters, anonymous communications, and so forth. It +might have been imagined, as they were not answerable for their names, +and as they were mutual sufferers by the similarity—one having as much +right to complain of this freak of fortune as the other, that they might +have entered into a compact of forbearance, which would have been +equally advantageous to either party; but their naturally acrimonious +dispositions prevented this, and each continued as angry with the other +as she could have been if she had a sole and indefeasible right to the +appellation of <i>C. Smith</i>, and her rival had usurped it in a pure spirit +of annoyance and opposition. To be quite just, however, we must observe +that Miss Cecilia was much the worse of the two; by judicious management +Miss Charlotte might have been tamed, but the malice of Miss Cecilia was +altogether inexorable.</p> + +<p>By the passing of the Reform Bill, the little town wherein dwelt these +belligerent powers received a very considerable accession of importance; +it was elevated into a borough, and had a whole live member to itself, +which, with infinite pride and gratification, it sent to parliament, +after having extracted from him all manner of pledges, and loaded him +with all manner of instructions as to how he should conduct himself +under every conceivable circumstance; not to mention a variety of bills +for the improvement of the roads and markets, the erection of a +town-hall, and the reform of the systems of watching, paving, lighting, +&c., the important and consequential little town of B——.</p> + +<p>A short time previous to the first election—an event which was +anticipated by the inhabitants with the most vivid interest—one of the +candidates, a country gentleman who resided some twenty miles off, took +a lodging in the town, and came there with his wife and family, in +order, by a little courtesy and a few entertainments, to win the hearts +of the electors and their friends; and his first move was to send out +invitations for a tea and card party, which, in due time, when the +preparations were completed, was to be followed by a ball. There was but +one milliner and dressmaker of any consideration in the town of B——, +and it may be imagined that on so splendid an occasion her services were +in great request—so much so, that in the matter of head-dresses, she +not only found that it would be impossible, in so short a period, to +fulfill the commands of her customers, but also that she had neither the +material nor the skill to give them satisfaction. It was, therefore, +settled that she should send off an order to a house in Exeter, which +was the county town, for a cargo of caps, toquets, turbans, &c., fit for +all ages and faces—"such as were not disposed of to be returned;" and +the ladies consented to wait, with the best patience they could, for +this interesting consignment, which was to arrive, without fail, on the +Wednesday, Thursday being the day fixed for the party. But the last +coach arrived on Wednesday night without the expected boxes; however, +the coachman brought a message for Miss Gibbs, the milliner, assuring +her that they would be there the next morning without fail.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, when the first Exeter coach rattled through the little +street of B——, which was about half-past eleven, every head that was +interested in the freight was to be seen looking anxiously out for the +deal boxes; and, sure enough, there they were—three of them—large +enough to contain caps for the whole town. Then there was a rush up +stairs for their bonnets and shawls; and in a few minutes troops of +ladies, young and old, were seen hurrying toward the market-place, where +dwelt Miss Gibbs—the young in pursuit of artificial flowers, gold +bands, and such like adornments—the elderly in search of a more mature +order of decoration.</p> + +<p>Amongst the candidates for finery, nobody was more eager than the two +Miss Smiths; and they had reason to be so, not only because they had +neither of them anything at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> all fit to be worn at Mrs. Hanaway's party, +which was in a style much above the entertainments they were usually +invited to, but also because they both invariably wore turbans, and each +was afraid that the other might carry off the identical turban that +might be most desirable for herself. Urged by this feeling, so alert +were they, that they were each standing at their several windows when +the coach passed, with their bonnets and cloaks actually on—ready to +start for the plate!—determined to reach Miss Gibbs's in time to +witness the opening of the boxes. But "who shall control his fate?" Just +as Miss Cecilia was stepping off her threshold, she was accosted by a +very gentlemanly looking person, who, taking off his hat, with an air +really irresistible, begged to know if he had "the honor of seeing Miss +Smith"—a question which was of course answered in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>"I was not quite sure," said he, "whether I was right, for I had +forgotten the number; but I thought it was sixty," and he looked at the +figures on the door.</p> + +<p>"This <i>is</i> sixty, sir," said Miss Cecilia; adding to herself, "I wonder +if it was sixteen he was sent to?" for at number sixteen lived Miss +Charlotte.</p> + +<p>"I was informed, madam," pursued the gentleman, "that I could be +accommodated with apartments here—that you had a first floor to let."</p> + +<p>"That is quite true, sir," replied Miss Cecilia, delighted to let her +rooms, which had been some time vacant, and doubly gratified when the +stranger added, "I come from Bath, and was recommended by a friend of +yours, indeed probably a relation, as she bears the same name—Miss +Joanna Smith."</p> + +<p>"I know Miss Joanna very well, sir," replied Miss Cecilia; "pray, walk +up stairs, and I'll show you the apartments directly. (For," thought +she, "I must not let him go out of the house till he has taken them, for +fear he should find out his mistake.) Very nice rooms, sir, you +see—everything clean and comfortable—a pretty view of the canal in +front—just between the baker's and the shoemaker's; you'll get a peep, +sir, if you step to this window. Then it's uncommonly lively; the Exeter +and Plymouth coaches, up and down, rattling through all day long, and +indeed all night too, for the matter of that. A beautiful little +bedroom, back, too, sir—Yes, as you observe, it certainly does look +over a brick-kiln; but there's no dust—not the least in the world—for +I never allow the windows to be opened: altogether, there can't be a +pleasanter situation than it is."</p> + +<p>The stranger, it must be owned, seemed less sensible of all these +advantages than he ought to have been; however he engaged the +apartments: it was but for a short time, as he had come there about some +business connected with the election; and as Miss Joanna had so +particularly recommended him to the lodging, he did not like to +disoblige her. So the bargain was struck: the maid received orders to +provision the garrison with bread, butter, tea, sugar, &c., whilst the +gentleman returned to the inn to dispatch Boots with his portmanteau and +carpet-bag.</p> + +<p>"You were only just in time, sir," observed Miss Cecilia, as they +descended the stairs, "for I expected a gentleman to call at twelve +o'clock to-day, who, I am sure, would have taken the lodgings."</p> + +<p>"I should be sorry to stand in the way," responded the stranger, who +would not have been at all sorry for an opportunity of backing out of +the bargain. "Perhaps you had better let him have them—I can easily get +accommodated elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no, sir; dear me! I wouldn't do such a thing for the world!" +exclaimed Miss Cecilia, who had only thrown out this little inuendo by +way of binding her lodger to his bargain, lest, on discovering his +mistake, he should think himself at liberty to annul the agreement. For +well she knew that it <i>was</i> a mistake: Miss Joanna of Bath was Miss +Charlotte's first cousin, and, hating Miss Cecilia, as she was in duty +bound to do, would rather have sent her a dose of arsenic than a lodger, +any day. She had used every precaution to avoid the accident that had +happened, by writing on a card, "Miss Charlotte Smith, No. 16, High +street, B——, <i>opposite the linendrapers shop</i>," but the thoughtless +traveler, never dreaming of the danger in which he stood, lost the card, +and, trusting to his memory, fell into the snare.</p> + +<p>Miss Cecilia had been so engrossed by her anxiety to hook this fish +before her rival could have a chance of throwing out a bait for him, +that, for a time, she actually forgot Miss Gibbs and the turban; but now +that point was gained, and she felt sure of her man, her former care +revived with all its force, and she hurried along the street toward the +market-place, in a fever of apprehension lest she should be too late. +The matter certainly looked ill; for, as she arrived breathless at the +door, she saw groups of self-satisfied faces issuing from it, and, +amongst the rest, the obnoxious Miss Charlotte's physiognomy appeared, +looking more pleased than anybody.</p> + +<p>"Odious creature!" thought Miss Cecilia; "as if she supposed that any +turban in the world could make her look tolerable!" But Miss Charlotte +did suppose it; and moreover she had just secured the very identical +turban that of all the turbans that ever were made was most likely to +accomplish this desideratum—at least so she opined.</p> + +<p>Poor Miss Cecilia! Up stairs she rushed, bouncing into Miss Gibbs's +little room, now strewed with finery. "Well, Miss Gibbs, I hope you have +something that will suit me?"</p> + +<p>"Dear me, mem," responded Miss Gibbs, "what a pity you did not come a +little sooner. The only two turbans we had are just gone—Mrs. Gosling +took one, and Miss Char<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>lotte Smith the other—two of the +beautifulest—here they are, indeed—you shall see them;" and she opened +the boxes in which they were deposited, and presented them to the +grieved eye of Miss Cecilia.</p> + +<p>She stood aghast! The turbans were very respectable turbans indeed; but +to her disappointed and eager desires they appeared worthy of Mahomet +the Prophet, or the grand Sultana, or any other body, mortal or +immortal, that has ever been reputed to wear turbans. And this +consummation of perfection she had lost! lost just by a neck! missed it +by an accident, that, however gratifying she had thought it at the time, +she now felt was but an inadequate compensation for her present +disappointment. But there was no remedy. Miss Gibbs had nothing fit to +make a turban of; besides, Miss Cecilia would have scorned to appear in +any turban that Miss Gibbs could have compiled, when her rival was to be +adorned with a construction of such superhuman excellence. No! the only +consolation she had was to scold Miss Gibbs for not having kept the +turbans till she had seen them, and for not having sent for a greater +number of turbans. To which objurgations Miss Gibbs could only answer: +"That she had been extremely sorry indeed, when she saw the ladies were +bent upon having the turbans, as she had ordered two entirely with a +view to Miss Cecilia's accommodation; and moreover that she was never +more surprised in her life than when Mrs. Gosling desired one of them +might be sent to her, because Mrs. Gosling never wore turbans; and if +Miss Gibbs had only foreseen that she would have pounced upon it in that +way, she, Miss Gibbs, would have taken care she should never have seen +it at all," &c., &c., &c.,—all of which the reader may believe, if he +or she choose.</p> + +<p>As for Miss Cecilia, she was implacable, and she flounced out of the +house, and through the streets, to her own door, in a temper of mind +that rendered it fortunate, as far as the peace of the town of B—— was +concerned, that no accident brought her in contact with Miss Charlotte +on the way.</p> + +<p>As soon as she got into her parlor she threw off her bonnet and shawl, +and plunging into her arm-chair, she tried to compose her mind +sufficiently to take a calm view of the dilemma, and determine on what +line of conduct to pursue—whether to send an excuse to Mrs. Hanaway, or +whether to go to the party in one of her old head-dresses. Either +alternative was insupportable. To lose the party, the game at loo, the +distinction of being seen in such good society—it was too provoking; +besides, very likely people would suppose she had not been invited; Miss +Charlotte, she had no doubt, would try to make them believe so. But +then, on the other hand, to wear one of her old turbans was so +mortifying—they were so very shabby, so unfashionable—on an occasion, +too, when everybody would be so well-dressed! Oh, it was +aggravating—vexatious in the extreme! She passed the day in +reflection—chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancies; recalling to +herself how well she looked in the turban—for she had tried it on; +figuring what would have been Miss Charlotte's mortification if she had +been the disappointed person—how triumphantly she, Miss Cecilia, would +have marched into the room with the turban on her head—how crestfallen +the other would have looked; and then she varied her occupation by +resuscitating all her old turbans, buried in antique band-boxes deep in +dust, and trying whether it were possible, out of their united +materials, to concoct one of the present fashionable shape and +dimensions. But the thing was impracticable: the new turban was composed +of crimson satin and gold lace, hers of pieces of muslin and gauze.</p> + +<p>When the mind is very much engrossed, whether the subject of +contemplation be pleasant or unpleasant, time flies with inconceivable +rapidity; and Miss Cecilia was roused from her meditations by hearing +the clock in the passage strike four, warning her that it was necessary +to come to some decision, as the hour fixed for the party, according to +the primitive customs of B——, was half-past seven, when the knell of +the clock was followed by a single knock at the door, and the next +moment her maid walked into the room with—what do you think?—the +identical crimson and gold turban in her hand!</p> + +<p>"What a beauty!" cried Susan, turning it round, that she might get a +complete view of it in all its phases.</p> + +<p>"Was there any message, Sue?" inquired Miss Cecilia, gasping with +agitation, for her heart was in her throat.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," replied Sue; "Miss Gibbs's girl just left it; she said it +should have come earlier, but she had so many places to go to."</p> + +<p>"And she's gone, is she, Susan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, she went directly—she said she hadn't got half through +yet."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Susan, you may go; and remember, I'm not at home if anybody +calls; and if any message comes here from Miss Gibbs, you'll say I'm +gone out, and you don't expect me home till very late."</p> + +<p>"Very well, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"And I say, Susan, if they send here to make any inquiries about that +turban, you'll say you know nothing about it, and send them away."</p> + +<p>"Very well, ma'am," said Susan, and down she dived to the regions below.</p> + +<p>Instead of four o'clock, how ardently did Miss Cecilia wish it was +seven; for the danger of the next three hours was imminent. Well she +understood how the turban had got there—it was a mistake of the +girl—but the chance was great that, before seven o'clock arrived, Miss +Charlotte would take fright at not receiving her head-dress, and would +send to Miss Gibbs to demand it, when the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> thing would be found +out. However no message came: at five o'clock, when the milk-boy rang, +Miss Cecilia thought she should have fainted: but that was the only +alarm. At six she began to dress, and at seven she stood before her +glass in full array, with the turban on her head. She thought she had +never looked so well; indeed, she was sure she had not. The magnitude of +the thing gave her an air, and indeed a feeling of dignity and +importance that she had never been sensible of before. The gold lace +looked brilliant even by the light of her single tallow candle; what +would it do in a well-illumined drawing-room! Then the color was +strikingly becoming, and suited her hair exactly—Miss Cecilia, we must +here observe, was quite gray; but she wore a frontlet of dark curls, and +a little black silk skull-cap, fitted close to her head, which kept all +neat and tight under the turban.</p> + +<p>She had not far to go; nevertheless, she thought it would be as well to +set off at once, for fear of accidents, even though she lingered on the +way to fill up the time, for every moment the danger augmented; so she +called to Susan to bring her cloak, and her calash, and her overalls, +and being well packed up by the admiring Sue, who declared the turban +was "without exception the beautifulest thing she ever saw," she +started; determined, however, not to take the direct way, but to make a +little circuit by a back street, lest, by ill luck, she should fall foul +of the enemy.</p> + +<p>"Susan," said she, pausing as she was stepping off the threshold, "if +anybody calls you'll say I have been gone to Mrs. Hanaway's some time; +and, Susan, just put a pin in this calash to keep it back, it falls over +my eyes so that I can't see." And Susan pinned a fold in the calash, and +away went the triumphant Miss Cecilia. She did not wish to be guilty of +the vulgarity of arriving first at the party; so she lingered about till +it wanted a quarter to eight, and then she knocked at Mrs. Hanaway's +door, which a smart footman immediately opened, and, with the alertness +for which many of his order are remarkable, proceeded to disengage the +lady from her external coverings—the cloak, the overalls, the calash; +and then, without giving her time to breathe, he rushed up the stairs, +calling out "Miss Cecilia Smith;" whilst the butler, who stood at the +drawing-room door, threw it open, reiterating, "Miss Cecilia Smith;" and +in she went. But, O reader, little do you think, and little did she +think, where the turban was that she imagined to be upon her head, and +under the supposed shadow of which she walked into the room with so much +dignity and complacence. It was below in the hall, lying on the floor, +fast in the calash, to which Susan, ill-starred wench! had pinned it; +and the footman, in his cruel haste, had dragged them both off together.</p> + +<p>With only some under-trappings on her cranium, and altogether +unconscious of her calamity, smiling and bowing, Miss Cecilia advanced +toward her host and hostess, who received her in the most gracious +manner, thinking, certainly, that her taste in a head-dress was +peculiar, and that she was about the most extraordinary figure they had +ever beheld, but supposing that such was the fashion she chose to +adopt—the less astonished or inclined to suspect the truth, from having +heard a good deal of the eccentricities of the two spinsters of B——. +But to the rest of the company, the appearance she made was +inexplicable; they had been accustomed to see her ill dressed, and oddly +dressed, but such a flight as this they were not prepared for. Some +whispered that she had gone mad; others suspected that it must be +accident—that somehow or other she had forgotten to put on her +head-dress; but even if it were so, the joke was an excellent one, and +nobody cared enough for her to sacrifice their amusement by setting her +right. So Miss Cecilia, blessed in her delusion, triumphant and happy, +took her place at the whist table, anxiously selecting a position which +gave her a full view of the door, in order that she might have the +indescribable satisfaction of seeing the expression of Miss Charlotte's +countenance when she entered the room—that is, if she came; the +probability was, that mortification would keep her away.</p> + +<p>But no such thing—Miss Charlotte had too much spirit to be beaten out +of the field in that manner. She had waited with patience for her +turban, because Miss Gibbs had told her, that, having many things to +send out, it might be late before she got it; but when half-past six +arrived, she became impatient, and dispatched her maid to fetch it. The +maid returned, with "Miss Gibbs's respects, and the girl was still out +with the things; she would be sure to call at Miss Charlotte's before +she came back." At half-past seven there was another message, to say +that the turban had not arrived; by this time the girl had done her +errands, and Miss Gibbs, on questioning her, discovered the truth. But +it was too late—the mischief was irreparable—Susan averring, with +truth, that her mistress had gone to Mrs. Hanaway's party some time, +with the turban on her head.</p> + +<p>We will not attempt to paint Miss Charlotte's feelings—that would be a +vain endeavor. Rage took possession of her soul; her attire was already +complete, all but the head-dress, for which she was waiting. She +selected the best turban she had, threw on her cloak and calash, and in +a condition of mind bordering upon frenzy, she rushed forth, determined, +be the consequences what they might, to claim her turban, and expose +Miss Cecilia's dishonorable conduct before the whole company.</p> + +<p>By the time she arrived at Mrs. Hanaway's door, owing to the delays that +had intervened, it was nearly half-past eight; the company had all +arrived; and whilst the butler and footmen were carrying up the +refreshments,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> one of the female servants of the establishment had come +into the hall, and was endeavoring to introduce some sort of order and +classification amongst the mass of external coverings that had been +hastily thrown off by the ladies; so, when Miss Charlotte knocked, she +opened the door and let her in, and proceeded to relieve her of her +wraps.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I'm very late," said Miss Charlotte, dropping into a chair to +seize a moment's rest, whilst the woman drew off her boots; for she was +out of breath with haste, and heated with fury.</p> + +<p>"I believe everybody's come, ma'am," said the woman.</p> + +<p>"I should have been here some time since," proceeded Miss Charlotte, +"but the most shameful trick has been played me about my—my—Why—I +declare—I really believe—" and she bent forward and picked up the +turban—the identical turban, which, disturbed by the maid-servant's +maneuvers, was lying upon the floor, still attached to the calash by +Sukey's unlucky pin.</p> + +<p>Was there ever such a triumph? Quick as lightning, the old turban was +off and the new one on, the maid with bursting sides assisting in the +operation; and then, with a light step and a proud heart, up walked Miss +Charlotte, and was ushered into the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>As the door opened, the eyes of the rivals met. Miss Cecilia's feelings +were those of disappointment and surprise. "Then she has got a turban +too! How could she have got it?"—and she was vexed that her triumph was +not so complete as she had expected. But Miss Charlotte was in +ecstasies. It may be supposed she was not slow to tell the story; it +soon flew round the room, and the whole party were thrown into +convulsions of laughter. Miss Cecilia alone was not in the secret; and +as she was successful at cards, and therefore in good humor, she added +to their mirth, by saying that she was glad to see everybody so merry, +and by assuring Mrs. Hanaway, when she took her leave, that she had +spent a delightful evening, and that her party was the gayest she had +ever seen in B——.</p> + +<p>"I am really ashamed," said Mrs. Hanaway, "at allowing the poor woman to +be the jest of my company; but I was afraid to tell her the cause of our +laughter, from the apprehension of what might have followed her +discovery of the truth."</p> + +<p>"And it must be admitted," said her husband, "that she well deserves the +mortification that awaits her when she discovers the truth."</p> + +<p>Poor Miss Cecilia <i>did</i> discover the truth, and never was herself again. +She parted with her house, and went to live with a relation at Bristol; +but her spirit was broken; and, after going through all the stages of a +discontented old age, ill-temper, peevishness, and fatuity—she closed +her existence, as usual with persons of her class, unloved and +unlamented.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><span class="simh3">SIR NICHOLAS AT MARSTON MOOR.</span></div> +<div class="c75">BY THE AUTHOR OF LILLIAN.<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="poem2"> +<div class="center">I.</div> +<span class="dropcap">T</span>O HORSE, to horse, Sir Nicholas; the clarion's note is high;<br /> +To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas; the huge drum makes reply:<br /> +Ere this hath Lucas marchéd with his gallant cavaliers,<br /> +And the bray of Rupert's trumpets grows fainter on our ears;<br /> +To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas; white Guy is at the door;<br /> +And the vulture whets his beak o'er the field of Marston Moor.<br /> +Up rose the lady Alice from her brief and broken prayer;<br /> +And she brought a silken standard down the narrow turret-stair:<br /> +Oh, many were the tears those radiant eyes had shed,<br /> +As she worked the bright word "Glory" in the gay and glancing thread;<br /> +And mournful was the smile that o'er those beauteous features ran,<br /> +As she said: "It is your lady's gift, unfurl it in the van."<br /> +"It shall flutter, noble wench, where the best and boldest ride;<br /> +Through the steel-clad files of Skippon, and the black dragoons of Pride;<br /> +The recreant soul of Fairfax will feel a sicklier qualm,<br /> +And the rebel lips of Oliver give out a louder psalm,<br /> +When they see my lady's gew-gaw flaunt bravely on their wing,<br /> +And hear her loyal soldier's shout, For God and for the king!"<br /><br /> + +<div class="center">II.</div> + +Tis noon; the ranks are broken along the royal line;<br /> +They fly, the braggarts of the court, the bullies of the Rhine:<br /> +Stout Langley's cheer is heard no more, and Astley's helm is down;<br /> +And Rupert sheathes his rapier with a curse and with a frown:<br /> +And cold Newcastle mutters, as he follows in the flight,<br /> +"The German boar had better far have supped in York to-night."<br /> +The knight is all alone, his steel cap cleft in twain,<br /> +His good buff jerkin crimsoned o'er with many a gory stain;<br /> +But still he waves the standard, and cries amid the rout,<br /> +"For church and king, fair gentlemen, spur on, and fight it out!"—<br /> +And now he wards a roundhead's pike, and now he hums a stave,<br /> +And here he quotes a stage-play, and there he fells a knave.<br /> +Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas! thou hast no thought of fear,<br /> +Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas! but fearful odds are here.<br /> +The traitors ring thee round, and with every blow and thrust,<br /> +"Down, down," they cry, "with Belial, down with him to the dust!"<br /> +"I would," quoth grim old Oliver, "that Belial's trusty sword<br /> +This day were doing battle for the saints and for the Lord!"<br /><br /> + +<div class="center">III.</div> + +The lady Alice sits with her maidens in her bower;<br /> +The gray-haired warden watches on the castle's highest tower.—<br /> +"What news, what news, old Anthony?"—"The field is lost and won;<br /> +The ranks of war are melting as the mists beneath the sun;<br /> +And a wounded man speeds hither,—I am old and cannot see,<br /> +Or sure I am that sturdy step my master's step should be."<br /> +"I bring thee back the standard from as rude and red a fray<br /> +As e'er was proof of soldier's thews, or theme for minstrel's lay:<br /> +Bid Hubert fetch the silver bowl, and liquor quantum suff.;<br /> +I'll make a shift to drain it, ere I part with boot and buff;<br /> +Though Guy through many a gaping wound is breathing out his life,<br /> +And I come to thee a landless man, my fond and faithful wife.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span><br /> +Sweet, we will fill our money-bags, and freight a ship for France,<br /> +And mourn in merry Paris for this poor realm's mischance:<br /> +Or, if the worst betide me, why better ax or rope,<br /> +Than life with Lenthal for a King, and Peters for a Pope!<br /> +Alas, alas, my gallant Guy!—out on the crop-eared boor,<br /> +That sent me with my standard on foot from Marston Moor."<br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From Fraser's Magazine.]<br /> +<span class="simh3">LIFE AT A WATERING PLACE.</span><br /> +ACCIDENTS WILL HAPPEN.</div> + + +<p>"<span class="dropcap">H</span>URRAH, old fellow!" shouted Ashburner's host, on the seventh morning +of his visit; "here's a letter from Carl. I have been expecting it, and +he has been expecting us, some time. So prepare yourself to start +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"He can't have been expecting <i>me</i>, you know," suggested the guest, who, +though remarkably domesticated for so short a time, hardly felt himself +yet entitled to be considered one of the family.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>us</i> means Clara, and myself, and baby, and any friends we choose +to bring,—or, I should say, who will do us the honor to accompany us. +We are hospitable people and the more the merrier. I know how much +house-room Carl has; there is always a prophet's chamber, as the parsons +call it, for such occasions. You <i>must</i> come; there's no two ways about +that. You will see two very fine women there,—<i>nice persons</i>, as you +would say: my sisters-in-law, Miss Vanderlyn, and Mrs. Carl Benson."</p> + +<p>"But at any rate, would it not be better to write first, and apprise him +of the additional visitor?"</p> + +<p>"We should be there a week before our letter. <i>Ecoutez!</i> There is no +post-office near us here, and my note would have to go to the city by a +special messenger. Then the offices along the Hudson are perfectly +antediluvian and barbarous, and mere mockery and delusion. Observe, I +speak of the small local posts; on the main routes letters travel fast +enough. You may send to Albany in nine hours; to Carl's place, which is +about two-thirds of the distance to Albany, it would take more than half +as many days,—if, indeed, it arrived at all. I remember once +propounding this problem in the <i>Blunder and Bluster:—'If a letter sent +from New York to Hastings, distance 22 miles, never gets there, how long +will it take one to go from New York to Red Hook, distance 110 miles?'</i> +We are shockingly behind you in our postal arrangements; <i>there</i> I give +up the country. 'No, you musn't write, but come yourself,' as Penelope +said to Ulysses."</p> + +<p>Ashburner made no further opposition, and they were off the next morning +accordingly. Before four a cart had started with the baggage, and +directions to take up Ashburner's trunks and man-servant on the way. +Soon after the coachman and groom departed with the saddle-horses, +trotters, and wagon; for Benson, meditating some months' absence, took +with him the whole of his stud, except the black colt, who was strongly +principled against going on the water, and had nearly succeeded in +breaking his master's neck on one occasion, when Harry insisted on his +embarking. The long-tailed bays were left harnessed to the +<i>Rockaway</i>,—a sort of light omnibus open at the sides, very like a +<i>char-ŕ-banc</i>, except that the seats run crosswise, and capable of +accommodating from six to nine persons: that morning it held six, +including the maid and nurse. Benson took the reins at a quarter-past +five, and as the steamboat dock was situated at the very southern +extremity of the city, and they had three miles of terrible pavement to +traverse, besides nearly twelve of road, he arrived there just seven +minutes before seven; at which hour, to the second, the good boat +Swallow was to take wing. In a twinkling the horses were unharnessed and +embarked; the carriage instantly followed them; and Harry, after +assuring himself that all his property, animate and inanimate, was +safely shipped, had still time to purchase, for his own and his friend's +edification, the <i>Jacobin</i>, the <i>Blunder and Bluster</i>, the +<i>Inexpressible</i>, and other popular papers, which an infinity of dirty +boys were crying at the top of their not very harmonious voices.</p> + +<p>"Our people do business pretty fast," said he, in a somewhat triumphant +tone. "How this would astonish them on the Continent! See there!" as a +family, still later than his own, arrived with a small mountain of +trunks, all of which made their way on board as if they had wings. "When +I traveled in Germany two years ago with Mrs. B. and her sister, we had +eleven packages, and it used to take half-an-hour at every place to +weigh and ticket them beforehand, not withstanding which one or two +would get lost every now and then. In my own country I have traveled in +all directions with large parties, never have been detained five minutes +for baggage, and never lost anything except once—an umbrella. Now we +are going."</p> + +<p>The mate cried, "All ashore!" the newsboys and apple-venders +disappeared; the planks were drawn in; the long, spidery walking-beam +began to play; and the Swallow had started with her five hundred +passengers.</p> + +<p>"Let us stroll around the boat: I want to show you how we get up these +things here."</p> + +<p>The ladies' cabin on deck and the two general cabins below were +magnificently furnished with the most expensive material, and in the +last Parisian style, and this display and luxury were the more +remarkable as the fare was but twelve shillings for a hundred and sixty +miles. Ashburner admitted that the furniture was very elegant, but +thought it out of place, and altogether too fine for the purpose.</p> + +<p>"So you would say, probably, that the profuse and varied dinner we shall +have is thrown away on the majority of the passengers, who bolt it in +half-an-hour. But there are some who habitually appreciate the dinner +and the furniture: it does them good, and it does the others no +harm,—nay, it does <i>them</i> good, too.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> The wild man from the West, who +has but recently learned to walk on his hind legs, is dazzled with these +sofas and mirrors, and respects them more than he would more ordinary +furniture. At any rate, it's a fault on right side. The furniture of an +English hotel is enough to give a traveler a fit of the blues, such an +extreme state of fustiness it is sure to be in. Did it ever strike you, +by the way, how behindhand your countrymen are in the matter of hotels? +When a traveller passes from England into Belgium (putting France out of +the question), it is like going from Purgatory into Paradise."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I ever stayed at a London hotel."</p> + +<p>"Of course not; when your governor was out of town, and you not with +him, you had your club. This is exactly what all travelers in England +complain of. Everything for the exclusive use of the natives is +good—except the water, and of that you don't use much in the way of a +beverage; everything particularly tending to the comfort of strangers +and sojourners—as the hotels, for instance, is bad, dear, and +uncomfortable. I don't think you like to have foreigners among you, for +your arrangements are calculated to drive them out of the country as +fast as possible!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we don't, as a general principle," said Ashburner, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't say that it is not the wisest policy. We have suffered +much by being too liberal to foreigners. But then you must not be +surprised at what they say about you. However, it is not worth while to +lose the view for our discussion. Come up-stairs and take a good look at +the river of rivers."</p> + +<p>Ashburner felt no disposition to deny the beauty and grandeur of the +Hudson. At first, the shore was lined with beetling ramparts of +trap-rock. After many miles of this, the clear water spread out into a +great lake, with apparently no egress. But on turning a promontory, the +river stretched away nearly as wide as before, under wooded cliffs not +dissimilar to those of the Rhine. Then came the picturesque Catskill +mountains; and near these Harry was to stop, but Ashburner did not stop +with him. At West Point the boat had taken up, among other passengers, +two young officers of his acquaintance, then quartered in Canada. They +were going to take the tour of the lakes, including, of course, Niagara, +and offered Ashburner, if he would accompany them on this excursion +first, to show him the lions of Canada afterward. On consulting with +Benson, he found that the trip would not occupy more than a month or +five weeks, and that after that time the watering-place season would be +at its height.</p> + +<p>"And it will be an excuse for my staying with Carl till August," Harry +continued. "The women are half crazy to be at Oldport already. I would +rather stay at Ravenswood. We shall expect you there at the end of July. +But," and here, for the first time since their acquaintance, Ashburner +perceived a slight embarrassment in his manner, "don't bring your +friends."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no!" said Ashburner, not comprehending what could have put +such a thing into the other's head, or what was coming next.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to Ravenswood, but to Oldport; that is, if you can help +their coming. To tell you the truth, your university men, and literary +men generally, are popular enough here, but your army is in very bad +odor. The young fellows who come down among us from Canada behave +shockingly. They don't act like gentlemen or Christians."</p> + +<p>Ashburner hastened to assure him that Captain Blank and Lieutenant Dash +were both gentlemen and Christians, in the ordinary acceptation of the +terms, and had never been known to misconduct themselves in any way.</p> + +<p>"Doubtless, inasmuch as they are your friends, but the general principle +remains the same. So many of your young officers have misconducted +themselves that the <i>primâ facie</i> evidence is always against one of +them, and he stands a chance of being coolly treated."</p> + +<p>Ashburner wanted to know what the young officers had done.</p> + +<p>"Everything they could do to go counter to the habits and prejudices of +the people among whom they were, and to show their contempt of American +society; to act, in short, as if they were among uncivilized people. For +instance, it is a custom at these watering-place hotels to dress for the +<i>table-d'hôte</i>. Now, I do not think it altogether reasonable that a man +should be expected to make his evening toilet by three in the afternoon, +and, indeed, I do not strictly conform to the rule myself. But these men +came in with flannel shirts and dirty shoes, and altogether in a state +unfit for ladies' company. Perhaps, however, we were too fastidious in +this. But what do you say to a youngster's seating himself upon a piano +in the public parlor, while a lady is playing on it?"</p> + +<p>Ashburner allowed that it was rather unceremonious.</p> + +<p>"By various similar acts, trivial, perhaps, individually, but forming a +very disagreeable aggregate, these young men made themselves so +unpopular that one season the ladies, by common consent, refused to +dance with any of them. But there is worse behind. These gentlemen, so +stupid in a drawing-room, are sharp enough in borrowing money, and +altogether oblivious of repaying it."</p> + +<p>Ashburner remembered the affair of Ensign Lawless, and made up his mind +to undergo another repetition of it.</p> + +<p>"I don't speak of my individual case, the thing has happened fifty +times. I could tell of a dozen friends who have been victimized in this +way during the last three years. In fact, I believe that your <i>jeunes +militaires</i> have formed a league to avenge the Mississippi bondholders, +and recover their lost money under the form of these nominal loans. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +may think it poetic justice, but we New Yorkers have no fancy to pay the +Mississippians' debts in this way."</p> + +<p>It would be foreign to our present purpose to accompany Ashburner in his +Northwestern and Canadian tour. Suffice it to say, that he returned by +the first of August, very much pleased, having seen many things well +worth seeing, and experienced no particular annoyance, except the one +predicted by Benson, that he sometimes <i>had to take care of his +servant</i>. Neither shall we say much of his visit to Ravenswood, where, +indeed, he only spent a few hours, arriving there in the morning and +leaving it in the afternoon of the same day, and had merely time to +partake of a capital lunch, and to remark that his entertainer had a +beautiful place and a handsome wife, and was something like his younger +brother, but more resembling an Englishman than any American he had yet +seen.</p> + +<p>The party to Oldport was increased by the addition of Miss Vanderlyn, a +tall, stylish girl, more striking than her sister, but less delicately +beautiful. Though past twenty, she had been out only one season, having +been kept back three years by various accidents. But though new to +society, she had nothing of the book-muslin timidity about her; nor was +she at all abashed by the presence of the titled foreigner. On the +contrary, she addressed him with perfect ease of manner, in French, +professing, as an apology for conversing in that language, a fear that +he might not be able to understand her English,—<i>"Parceque chez vous, +on dit que nous autres Americaines, ne parlons pas l'Anglais comme il +faut."</i></p> + +<p>As we are not writing a handbook or geographical account of the Northern +States, it will not be necessary to mention where the fashionable +watering-place of Oldport Springs is situated—not even what State it is +in—suffice it to say, that from Carl Benson's place thither was a day's +journey, performed partly by steamboat, partly by rail, and the last +forty miles by stage-coach, or, as the Americans say, "for shortness," +by stage. The water portion of their journey was soon over, nor did +Ashburner much regret it, for he had been over this part of the route +before on his way to Canada, and the river is not remarkably beautiful +above the Catskill range.</p> + +<p>On taking the cars, Benson seized the opportunity to enlighten his +friend with a quantity of railroad statistics and gossip, such as, that +the American trains averaged eighteen miles an hour, including +stoppages,—about two miles short of the steamboat average; that they +cost about one-fifth of an English road, or a dollar for a pound, which +accounted for their deficiency in some respects; that there were more +than three thousand miles of rail in the country; that there was no +division of first, second, and third class, but that some lines had +ladies cars—that is to say, cars for the gentlemen with ladies and the +ladies without gentlemen—and some had separate cars for the ladies and +gentlemen of color; that there had been some attempts to get up +smoking-cars after the German fashion, but the public mind was not yet +fully prepared for it; that one of the southern lines had tried the +experiment of introducing a <i>restaurant</i> and other conveniences, with +tolerable success; and other facts of more or less interest. Ashburner +for his part, on examining his ticket, found upon the back of it a list +of all the stations on the route, with their times and distances—a very +convenient arrangement; and he was also much amused at the odd names of +some of the stations—Nineveh, Pompey, Africa, Cologne, and others +equally incongruous.</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid of laughing," said Benson, who guessed what he was +smiling at. "Whenever I am detained at a country tavern, if there duly +happens to be a good-sized map of the United States there, I have enough +to amuse me in studying the different styles of names in the different +sections of the Union—different in style, but alike in impropriety. In +our State, as you know, the fashion is for classical and oriental names. +In New England there is a goodly amount of old English appellations, but +often sadly misapplied; for instance, an inland town will be called +Falmouth, or Oldport, like the place we are going to. The aboriginal +names, often very harmonious, had been generally displaced, except in +Maine, where they are particularly long, and jaw-breaking, such as +<i>Winnipiscoggir</i> and <i>Chargogagog</i>. Still we have some very pretty +Indian names left in New York; <i>Ontario</i>, for instance, and <i>Oneida</i>, +and <i>Niagara</i>, which you who have been there know is</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>Pronounced Niágara,<br /> +To rhyme with <i>staggerer</i>,<br /> +And not Niagára,<br /> +To rhyme with <i>starer</i>."<br /></p> +</blockquote> + +<p>"What does <i>Niagara</i> mean?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Broken water</i>, I believe; but one gets so many different meanings for +these names, from those who profess to know more or less about the +native dialects, that you can never be certain. For instance, a great +many will tell you, on Chateaubriand's authority, that <i>Mississippi</i> +means <i>Father of the waters</i>. Some years ago one of our Indian scholars +stated that this was an error; that the literal meaning of Mississippi +was <i>old-big-strong</i>—not quite so poetic an appellation. I asked Albert +Gallatin about it at the time—he was considered our best man on such +subjects—and he told me that the word, or words, for the name is made +up of two, signified <i>the entire river</i>. This is a fair specimen of the +answers you get. I never had the same explanation of an Indian name +given me by two men who pretended to understand the Indian languages."</p> + +<p>"What rule does a gentleman adopt in naming his country-seat when he +acquires a new one, or is there any rule?"</p> + +<p>"There are two natural and proper expedients, one to take the nearest +aboriginal name that is pretty and practicable, the other to adopt the +name from some natural<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> feature. Of this latter we have two very neat +examples in the residences of our two greatest statesmen, Clay and +Webster, which are called <i>Ashland</i> and <i>Marshfield</i>—appellations +exactly descriptive of the places. But very often mere fancy names are +adopted, and frequently in the worst possible taste, by people too who +have great taste in other respects. I wanted my brother to call his +place Carlsruhe—that would have been literally appropriate, though +sounding oddly at first. But as it belonged originally to his +father-in-law, it seemed but fair that his wife should have the naming +of it, and she was <i>so</i> fond of the Bride of Lammermoor! Well, I hope +Carl will set up a few crows some day, just to give a little color to +the name. But, after all, what's in a name? We are to stop at +Constantinople; if they give us a good supper and bed there (and they +will unless the hotel is much altered for the worse within two years), +they may call the town Beelzebub for me."</p> + +<p>But Benson reckoned without his host. They were fated to pass the night, +not at Constantinople, but at the rising village of Hardscrabble, +consisting of a large hotel and a small blacksmith's shop.</p> + +<p>The <i>contretemps</i> happened in this wise. The weather was very hot—it +always is from the middle of June to the middle of September—but this +day had been particularly sultry, and toward evening oppressed nature +found relief in a thunder-storm, and such a storm! Ashburner, though +anything but a nervous man, was not without some anxiety, and the ladies +were in a sad fright; particularly Mrs. Benson, who threatened +hysterics, and required a large expenditure of Cologne and caresses to +bring her round. At last the train came to a full stop at Hardscrabble, +about thirty-six miles on the wrong side of Constantinople. Even before +the usual three minutes' halt was over our travelers suspected some +accident; their suspicions were confirmed when the three minutes +extended to ten, and ultimately the conductor announced that just beyond +this station half a mile of the road had been literally washed away, so +that further progress was impossible. Fortunately by this time the rain +had so far abated that the passengers were able to pass from the shelter +of the cars (there was no covered way at the station) to that of the +spacious hotel <i>stoop</i> without being very much wetted. Benson +recollected that there was a canal at no great distance, which, though +comparatively disused since the establishment of the railroad, still had +some boats on it, and he thought it probable that they might finish +their journey in this way—not a very comfortable or expeditious one, +but better than standing still. It appeared however on inquiry that the +canal was also put <i>hors de combat</i> by the weather, and nothing was to +be done that way. Only two courses remained, either to go back to +Clinton, or to remain for the night where they were.</p> + +<p>"This hotel ought to be able to accommodate us all," remarked a +fellow-passenger near them.</p> + +<p>He might well say so. The portico under which they stood (built of the +purest white pine, and modeled after that of a Grecian temple with eight +columns) fronted at least eighty feet. The house was several stories +high, and if the front were anything more than a mere shell, must +contain rooms for two hundred persons. How the building came into its +present situation was a mystery to Ashburner; it looked as if it had +been transported bodily from some large town, and set down alone in the +wilderness. The probability is, that some speculators, judging from +certain signs that a town was likely to arise there soon, had built the +hotel so as to be all ready for it.</p> + +<p>There was no need to question the landlord: he had already been +diligently assuring every one that he could accommodate all the +passengers, who indeed did not exceed a hundred in number.</p> + +<p>Logicians tell us, that a great deal of the trouble and misunderstanding +which exists in this naughty world, arises from men not defining their +terms in the outset. The landlord of Hardscrabble had evidently some +peculiar ideas of his own as to the meaning of the term <i>accommodate</i>. +The real state of the case was, that he had any quantity of rooms, and a +tolerably liberal supply of bedsteads, but his stock of bedding was by +no means in proportion; and he was, therefore, compelled to multiply it +by process of division, giving the hair mattress to one, the feather bed +to another, the straw bed to a third; and so with the pillows and +bolsters as far as they would go. This was rather a long process, even +with American activity, especially as some of the hands employed were +temporarily called off to attend to the supper table.</p> + +<p>The meal, which was prepared and eaten with great promptitude, was a +mixture of tea and supper. Very good milk, pretty good tea, and pretty +bad coffee, represented the drinkables; and for solids, there was a +plentiful provision of excellent bread and butter, new cheese, dried +beef in very thin slices, or rather <i>chips</i>, gingerbread, dough-nuts, +and other varieties of home-made cake, sundry preserves, and some +pickles. The waiters were young women—some of them very pretty and +lady-like. The Bensons kept up a conversation with each other and +Ashburner in French, which he suspected to be a customary practice of +"our set" when in public, as indeed it was, and one which tended not a +little to make them unpopular. A well-dressed man opposite looked so +fiercely at them that the Englishman thought he might have partially +comprehended their discourse and taken offense at it, till he was in a +measure reassured by seeing him eat poundcake and cheese together,—a +singularity of taste about which he could not help making a remark to +Benson.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, that's nothing," said Harry. "Did you never, when you were on the +lakes, see them eat ham and molasses? It is said to be a western +practice: I never was there; but I'll tell you what I <i>have</i> seen. A man +with cake, cheese, smoked-beef, and preserves, all on his plate +together, and paying attention to them all indiscriminately. He was not +an American either, but a Creole Frenchman of New Orleans, who had +traveled enough to know better."</p> + +<p>Soon after supper most of the company seemed inclined bedward; but there +were no signs of beds for some time. Benson's party, who were more +amused than fatigued by their evening's experience, spread the carpet of +resignation, and lit the cigar of philosophy. All the passengers did not +take it so quietly. One tall, melancholy-faced man, who looked as if he +required twice the ordinary amount of sleep, was especially anxious to +know "where they were going to put him."</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid, sir," said the landlord, as he shot across the room on +some errand; "we'll tell you before you go to bed." With which safe +prediction the discontented one was fain to content himself.</p> + +<p>At length, about ten or half-past, the rooms began to be in readiness, +and their occupants to be marched off to them in squads of six or eight +at a time,—the long corridors and tall staircases of the hotel +requiring considerable pioneering and guidance. Benson's party came +among the last. Having examined the room assigned to the ladies, Harry +reported it to contain one bed and half a washstand; from which he and +Ashburner had some misgivings as to their own accommodation, but were +not exactly prepared for what followed, when a small boy with a tallow +candle and face escorted them up three flights of stairs into a room +containing two small beds and a large spittoon, and not another single +article of furniture.</p> + +<p>"I say, boy!" quoth Benson, in much dudgeon, turning to their +chamberlain, "suppose we should want to wash in the morning, what are we +to do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir," answered the boy; and depositing the candle on the +floor, disappeared in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" ejaculated the fastidious youth, "there isn't as much as a +hook in the wall to hang one's coat on. It's lucky we brought up our +carpet-bags with us, else we should have to look out a clean spot on the +floor for our clothes."</p> + +<p>Ashburner was not very much disconcerted. He had traveled in so many +countries, notwithstanding his youth, that he could pass his nights +anyhow. In fact, he had never been at a loss for sleep in his life, +except on one occasion, when, in Galway, a sofa was assigned to him at +one side of a small parlor, on the other side of which three Irish +gentlemen were making a night of it.</p> + +<p>So they said their prayers, and went to bed, like good boys. But their +slumbers were not unbroken. Ashburner dreamed that he was again in +Venice, and that the musquitoes of that delightful city, of whose +venomousness and assiduity he retained shuddering recollections, were +making an onslaught upon him in great numbers; while Benson awoke toward +morning with a great outcry; in apology for which he solemnly assured +his friend, that two seconds before he was in South Africa, where a lion +of remarkable size and ferocity had caught him by the leg. And on rising +they discovered some spots of blood on the bed-clothes, showing that +their visions had not been altogether without foundation in reality.</p> + +<p>The Hardscrabble hotel, grand in its general outlines, had overlooked +the trifling details of wash-stands and chamber crockery. Such of these +articles as it <i>did</i> possess, were very properly devoted to the use of +the ladies; and accordingly Ashburner and Benson, and forty-five more, +performed their matutinal ablutions over a tin basin in the bar-room, +where Harry astonished the natives by the production of his own +particular towel and pocket comb. The weather had cleared up +beautifully, the railroad was repaired, and the train ready to start as +soon as breakfast was over. After this meal, as miscellaneous as their +last night's supper, while the passengers were discharging their +reckoning, Ashburner noticed that his friend was unusually fussy and +consequential, asked several questions, and made several remarks in a +loud tone, and altogether seemed desirous of attracting attention. When +it came to his turn to pay, he told out the amount, not in the ordinary +dirty bills, but in hard, ringing half-dollars, which had the effect of +drawing still further notice upon him.</p> + +<p>"Five dollars and a quarter," said Benson, in a measured and audible +tone; "and, Landlord, here's a quarter extra."</p> + +<p>The landlord looked up in surprise; so did the two or three men standing +nearest Harry.</p> + +<p>"It's to buy beef with, to feed 'em. Feed 'em well now, don't forget!"</p> + +<p>"Feed 'em! feed who?" and the host looked as if he thought his customer +crazy.</p> + +<p>"Feed <i>who</i>? Why look here!" and bending over the counter, Harry uttered +a portentous monosyllable, in a pretended whisper, but really as audible +to the bystanders as a stage aside. Three or four of those nearest +exploded.</p> + +<p>"Yes, feed 'em <i>well</i> before you put anybody into your beds again, or +you'll have to answer for the death of a fellow-Christian some day, +that's all. Good morning!" And taking his wife under his arm, Benson +stalked off to the cars with a patronizing farewell nod, amid a +sympathetic roar, leaving the host irresolute whether to throw a +decanter after him, or to join in the general laugh.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hook and one of his friends happened to come to a bridge. "Do you know +who built this bridge?" said he to Hook. "No, but if you go over you'll +be tolled."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> +<div class="center">[From the December number of Graham's Magazine.]<br /> +<span class="simh3">TO A CELEBRATED SINGER.</span><br /></div> +<div class="c75">BY R.H. STODDARD.</div> + + +<div class="poem2"><br /> +<span class="dropcap">O</span>FT have I dreamed of music rare and fine,<br /> +<span class="p22">The wedded melody of lute and voice,<br /></span> +<span class="p21">Divinest strains that made my soul rejoice,<br /></span> +And woke its inner harmonies divine.<br /> +And where Sicilia smooths the ruffled seas,<br /> +<span class="p21">And Tempe hallows all its purple vales,<br /></span> +<span class="p21">Thrice have I heard the noble nightingales,<br /></span> +All night entranced beneath the gloomy trees;<br /> +But music, nightingales, and all that Thought<br /> +<span class="p24">Conceives of song is naught<br /></span> +To thy rich voice, which echoes in my brain,<br /> +And fills my longing heart with a melodious pain!<br /> +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A thousand lamps were lit—I saw them not—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor all the thousands round me like a sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life, Death and Time, and all things were forgot;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I only thought of thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile the music rose sublime and strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But sunk beneath thy voice which rose alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Above its crumbled fragments to thy throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Above the clouds of Song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth let Music seal her lips, and be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silent Ministrant of Poesy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For not the delicate reed that Pan did play<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To partial Midas at the match of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor yet Apollo's lyre, with chords of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That more than won the crown he lost that day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor even the Orphean lute, that half set free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh why not all?—the lost Eurydice—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Were fit to join with thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much less our instruments of meaner sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That track thee slowly o'er enchanted ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfit to lift the train thy music leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or glean around its sheaves!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I strive to disentangle in my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy many-knotted threads of softest song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose memory haunts me like a voiceless wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whose silence does it wrong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No single tone thereof, no perfect sound<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lingers, but dim remembrance of the whole;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A sound which was a Soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Soul of sound diffused an atmosphere around<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So soft, so sweet, so mellow, rich and deep!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So like a heavenly soul's ambrosial breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It would not wake but only deepen Sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Into diviner Death!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Softer and sweeter than the jealous flute,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose soft, sweet voice grew harsh before its own,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It stole in mockery its every tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And left it lone and mute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It flowed like liquid pearl through golden cells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It jangled like a string of golden bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It trembled like a wind in golden strings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It dropped and rolled away in golden rings;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then it divided and became a shout,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That Echo chased about,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">However wild and fleet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until it trod upon its heels with flying feet!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At last it sunk and sunk from deep to deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Below the thinnest word,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sunk till naught was heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But charméd Silence sighing in its sleep!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Powerless and mute beneath thy mighty spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My heart was lost within itself and thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when a pearl is melted in its shell,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sunken in the sea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sunk, and sunk beneath thy song, but still<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I thirsted after more, the more I sank;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A flower that drooped with all the dew it drank,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still upheld its cup for Heaven to fill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My inmost soul was drunk with melody,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which thou didst pour around,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To crown the feast of sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And lift to every lip, but chief to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whose spirit uncontrolled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drained all the fiery wine and clutched its cup of gold!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would I could only hear thee once again,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But once again, and pine into the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fade away with all this hopeless pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This hope divine, and this divine despair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we were only Voices, if our minds<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Were only voices, what a life were ours!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul would woo thee in the vernal winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And thine would answer me in summer showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At morn and even, when the east and west<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Were bathed in floods of purple poured from Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We would delay the Morn upon its nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And fold the wings of Even!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All day we'd fly with azure wings unfurled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gird a belt of Song about the world;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All night we'd teach the winds of night a tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While charméd oceans slept beneath a yellow moon!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when aweary grown of earthly sport,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We'd wind our devious flight from star to star,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till we beheld the palaces afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where Music holds her court.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entered and beckoned up the aisles of sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where starry melodies are marshaled round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'd kneel before her throne with eager dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And when she kissed us melt in trances deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While angels bore us to her bridal bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sung our souls asleep!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Queen of Song! as peerless as thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As worthy as thou art to wear thy crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou hast a deeper claim to thy renown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a diviner music in thy heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Simplicity and goodness walk with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beneath the wings of watchful Seraphim:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love is wed to whitest Chastity,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And Pity sings its hymn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is thy goodness passive in its end,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But ever active as the sun and rain—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Unselfish, lavish of its golden gain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not want alone, but a whole nation's—Friend!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is thy glory, this thy noblest fame;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And when thy glory fades, and fame departs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This will perpetuate a deathless name,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where names are deathless—deep in loving hearts!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From Miss McIntosh's "Christmas Gift."]<br /> +<span class="simh3">THE WOLF-CHASE.</span><br /></div> +<div class="c75">BY C. WHITEHEAD.<br /><br /></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">D</span>URING the winter of 1844, being engaged in the northern part of Maine, +I had much leisure to devote to the wild sports of a new country. To +none of these was I more passionately addicted than to skating. The deep +and sequestered lakes of this State, frozen by the intense cold of a +northern winter, present a wide field to the lovers of this pastime. +Often would I bind on my skates, and glide away up the glittering river, +and wind each mazy streamlet that flowed beneath its fetters on toward +the parent ocean, forgetting all the while time and distance in the +luxurious sense of the gliding motion—thinking of nothing in the easy +flight, but rather dreaming, as I looked through the transparent ice at +the long weeds and cresses that nodded in the current beneath, and +seemed wrestling with the waves to let them go; or I would follow on the +track of some fox or otter, and run my skate along the mark he had left +with his dragging tail until the trail would enter the woods. Sometimes +these excursions were made by moonlight, and it was on one of these +occasions that I had a rencounter, which even now, with kind faces +around me, I cannot recall without a nervous looking-over-my-shoulder +feeling.</p> + +<p>I had left my friend's house one evening just before dusk, with the +intention of skating a short distance up the noble Kennebec, which +glided directly before the door. The night was beautifully clear. A +peerless moon rode through an occasional fleecy cloud, and stars +twinkled from the sky and from every frost-covered tree in millions. +Your mind would wonder at the light that came glinting from ice, and +snow-wreath, and incrusted branches, as the eye followed for miles the +broad gleam of the Kennebec, that like a jeweled zone swept between the +mighty forests on its banks. And yet all was still. The cold seemed to +have frozen tree, and air, and water, and every living thing that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +moved. Even the ringing of my skates on the ice echoed back from the +Moccasin Hill with a startling clearness, and the crackle of the ice as +I passed over it in my course seemed to follow the tide of the river +with lightning speed.</p> + +<p>I had gone up the river nearly two miles when, coming to a little stream +which empties into the larger, I turned in to explore its course. Fir +and hemlock of a century's growth met overhead, and formed an archway +radiant with frost-work. All was dark within, but I was young and +fearless, and as I peered into an unbroken forest that reared itself on +the borders of the stream, I laughed with very joyousness: my wild hurra +rang through the silent woods, and I stood listening to the echo that +reverberated again and again, until all was hushed. I thought how often +the Indian hunter had concealed himself behind these very trees—how +often his arrow had pierced the deer by this very stream, and his wild +halloo had here rung for his victory. And then, turning from fancy to +reality, I watched a couple of white owls, that sat in their hooded +state, with ruffled pantalets and long ear-tabs, debating in silent +conclave the affairs of their frozen realm, and wondering if they, "for +all their feathers, were a-cold," when suddenly a sound arose—it seemed +to me to come from beneath the ice; it sounded low and tremulous at +first, until it ended in one wild yell. I was appalled. Never before had +such a noise met my ears. I thought it more than mortal—so fierce, and +amid such an unbroken solitude, it seemed as if a fiend had blown a +blast from an infernal trumpet. Presently I heard the twigs on shore +snap, as if from the tread of some animal, and the blood rushed back to +my forehead with a bound that made my skin burn, and I felt relieved +that I had to contend with things earthly, and not of spiritual +nature—my energies returned, and I looked around me for some means of +escape. The moon shone through the opening at the mouth of the creek by +which I had entered the forest, and considering this the best means of +escape, I darted toward it like an arrow. 'Twas hardly a hundred yards +distant, and the swallow could scarcely excel my desperate flight; yet, +as I turned my head to the shore, I could see two dark objects dashing +through the underbrush at a pace nearly double in speed to my own. By +this great speed, and the short yells which they occasionally gave, I +knew at once that these were the much dreaded gray wolf.</p> + +<p>I had never met with these animals, but from the description given of +them I had but little pleasure in making their acquaintance. Their +untamable fierceness, and the untiring strength which seems part of +their nature, render them objects of dread to every benighted traveler.</p> + +<p> +"With their long gallop, which can tire<br /> +The deer-hound's hate, the hunter's fire,"<br /> +</p> + +<p>they pursue their prey—never straying from the track of their +victim—and as the wearied hunter thinks he has at last outstripped +them, he finds that they but waited for the evening to seize their prey, +and falls a prize to the tireless animals.</p> + +<p>The bushes that skirted the shore flew past with the velocity of +lightning as I dashed on in my flight to pass the narrow opening. The +outlet was nearly gained; one second more and I would be comparatively +safe, when my pursuers appeared on the bank directly above me, which +here rose to the height of ten feet. There was no time for thought, so I +bent my head and dashed madly forward. The wolves sprang, but +miscalculating my speed, sprang behind, while their intended prey glided +out upon the river.</p> + +<p>Nature turned me toward home. The light flakes of snow spun from the +iron of my skates, and I was some distance from my pursuers, when their +fierce howl told me I was still their fugitive. I did not look back, I +did not feel afraid, or sorry, or glad; one thought of home, of the +bright faces awaiting my return, of their tears if they never should see +me, and then every energy of body and mind was exerted for escape. I was +perfectly at home on the ice. Many were the days that I spent on my good +skates, never thinking that at one time they would be my only means of +safety. Every half minute an alternate yelp from my fierce attendants +made me but too certain that they were in close pursuit. Nearer and +nearer they came; I heard their feet pattering on the ice nearer still, +until I could feel their breath and hear their snuffing scent. Every +nerve and muscle in my frame was stretched to the utmost tension.</p> + +<p>The trees along the shore seemed to dance in the uncertain light, and my +brain turned with my own breathless speed, yet still they seemed to hiss +forth their breath with a sound truly horrible, when an involuntary +motion on my part turned me out of my course. The wolves close behind, +unable to stop, and as unable to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and +fell, still going on far ahead; their tongues were lolling out, their +white tusks glaring from their bloody mouths, their dark, shaggy breasts +were fleeced with foam, and as they passed me their eyes glared, and +they howled with fury. The thought flashed on my mind, that by this +means I could avoid them, viz., by turning aside whenever they came too +near; for they, by the formation of their feet, are unable to run on ice +except on a straight line.</p> + +<p>I immediately acted upon this plan. The wolves, having regained their +feet, sprang directly toward me. The race was renewed for twenty yards +up the stream; they were already close on my back, when I glided round +and dashed directly past my pursuers. A fierce yell greeted my +evolution, and the wolves, slipping upon their haunches, sailed onward, +presenting a perfect picture of helplessness and baffled rage. Thus I +gained nearly a hundred yards at each turning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> This was repeated two or +three times, every moment the animals getting more excited and baffled.</p> + +<p>At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my fierce antagonists came +so near, that they threw the white foam over my dress as they sprang to +seize me, and their teeth clashed together like the spring of a +fox-trap. Had my skates failed for one instant, had I tripped on a +stick, or caught my foot in a fissure in the ice, the story I am now +telling would never have been told. I thought all the chances over; I +knew where they would first take hold of me if I fell; I thought how +long it would be before I died, and when there would be a search for the +body that would already have its tomb; for oh! how fast man's mind +traces out all the dead colors of death's picture, only those who have +been near the grim original can tell.</p> + +<p>But soon I came opposite the house, and my hounds—I knew their deep +voices—roused by the noise, bayed furiously from the kennels. I heard +their chains rattle; how I wished they would break them, and then I +would have protectors that would be peers to the fiercest denizens of +the forest. The wolves, taking the hint conveyed by the dogs, stopped in +their mad career, and after a moment's consideration, turned and fled. I +watched them until their dusky forms disappeared over a neighboring +hill. Then, taking off my skates, I wended my way to the house, with +feelings which may be better imagined than described.</p> + +<p>But even yet, I never see a broad sheet of ice in the moonshine, without +thinking of that snuffling breath and those fearful things that followed +me so closely down the frozen Kennebec.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From Recollections and Anecdotes of the Bard of Glamorgan.]<br /> +<span class="simh3">STORY OF A POET.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">D</span>URING one of his perambulations in Cardiganshire, the Bard found +himself, on a dreary winter evening, at too great a distance from the +abode of any friend, for him to reach it at a reasonable hour: he was +also more than commonly weary, and therefore turned into a roadside +public house to take up his night's lodgings. He had been there only a +short time, standing before the cheerful fire, when a poor peddler +entered with a pack on his back, and evidently suffering from cold and +fatigue. He addressed the landlord in humble tone, begging he might +lodge there, but frankly avowing he had no money. Trade, he said, had of +late been unfavorable to him—no one bought his goods, and he was making +the best of his way to a more populous district. There were, however, +articles of value in his pack, much more than sufficient to pay for his +entertainment, and he tendered any part of them, in payment, or in +pledge for the boon of shelter and refreshment. The landlord, however, +was one of those sordid beings who regard money as the standard of worth +in their fellow-men, and the want of it as a warrant for insult; he, +therefore, sternly told the poor wayfarer there was no harbor for him +under that roof, unless he had coin to pay for it. Again and again, the +weary man, with pallid looks and feeble voice, entreated the heartless +wretch, and was as often repulsed in a style of bulldog surliness, till +at length he was roughly ordered to leave the house. The bard was not an +unmoved witness of this revolting scene; and his heart had been sending +forth its current, in rapid and yet more rapid pulsations to his now +glowing extremities, as he listened and looked on. He had only one +solitary shilling in his pocket, which he had destined to purchase his +own accommodations for that wintry night; but its destination was now +changed. Here was a needy man requiring it more than himself; and +according to his generous views of the social compact, it became his +duty to sacrifice his minor necessities to the greater ones of his +fellow-creature. Snatching the shilling from its lurking place, he +placed it in the hand of the peddler, telling him <i>that</i> would pay for +his lodging, and lodging he should have, in spite of the savage who had +refused it. Then darting a withering look at the publican, he exclaimed, +"Villain! do you call yourself a man? You, who would turn out a poor +exhausted traveler from your house on a night like this, under any +circumstances! But he has offered you ample payment for his quarters and +you refused him. Did you mean to follow him and rob him—perhaps murder +him? You have the heart of a murderer; you are a disgrace to humanity, +and I will not stay under your roof another minute; but turn out this +poor traveler at your peril—you dare not refuse the money he can now +offer you." Having thus vented his indignant feeling with his usual +heartiness, Iolo seized his staff and walked out into the inclement +night, penniless indeed, and supperless too, but with a rich perception +of the truth uttered by Him who "had not where to lay his head," though +omnipotent as well as universal in his beneficence—"It is more blessed +to give than to receive." A walk of many miles lay between him and his +friend's house, to which he now directed his steps, and by the time he +entered early on the following morning his powers had nearly sunk under +cold and exhaustion. A fever was the sequel, keeping him stationary for +several weeks.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From Dickens's Household Words.]<br /> +<span class="simh3">HIRAM POWERS'S GREEK SLAVE.</span><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="poem2"> +<span class="dropcap">T</span>HEY say Ideal Beauty cannot enter<br /> +<span class="p215">The house of anguish. On the threshold stands<br /></span> +This alien Image with the shackled hands,<br /> +Called the Greek Slave: as if the artist meant her,<br /> +(The passionless perfection which he lent her,<br /> +Shadowed, not darkened, where the sill expands,)<br /> +To, so, confront man's crimes in different lands,<br /> +With man's ideal sense. Pierce to the centre,<br /> +Art's fiery finger! and break up ere long<br /> +The serfdom of this world. Appeal, fair stone,<br /> +From God's pure heights of beauty, against man's wrong!<br /> +Catch up, in thy divine face, not alone<br /> +East griefs, but west, and strike and shame the strong,<br /> +By thunders of white silence, overthrown.<br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +<div class="center">[From Papers for the People.]<br /> +<span class="simh3">THE BLACK POCKET-BOOK.</span><br /></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">"W</span>HAT do you pay for peeping?" said a baker's boy with a tray on his +shoulder to a young man in a drab-colored greatcoat, and with a cockade +in his hat, who, on a cold December's night was standing with his face +close to the parlor window of a mean house, in a suburb of one of our +largest seaport towns in the south of England.</p> + +<p>Tracy Walkingham, which was the name of the peeper, might have answered +that he paid <i>dear enough</i>; for in proportion as he indulged himself +with these surreptitious glances, he found his heart stealing away from +him, till he literally had not a corner of it left that he could fairly +call his own.</p> + +<p>Tracy was a soldier; but being in the service of one of his officers, +named D'Arcy, was relieved from wearing his uniform. At sixteen years of +age he had run away from a harsh schoolmaster, and enlisted in an +infantry regiment; and about three weeks previous to the period at which +our story opens, being sent on an early errand to his master's +laundress, his attention had been arrested by a young girl, who, coming +hastily out of an apothecary's shop with a phial in her hand, was +rushing across the street, unmindful of the London coach and its four +horses, which were close upon her, and by which she would assuredly have +been knocked down, had not Tracy seized her by the arm and snatched her +from the danger.</p> + +<p>"You'll be killed if you don't look sharper," said he carelessly; but as +he spoke, she turned her face toward him. "I hope my roughness has not +hurt you?" he continued in a very different tone: "I'm afraid I gripped +your arm too hard?"</p> + +<p>"I'm very much obliged to you," she said; "you did not hurt me at all. +Thank you," she added, looking back to him as she opened the door of the +opposite house with a key which she held in her hand.</p> + +<p>The door closed, and she was gone ere Tracy could find words to detain +her; but if ever there was a case of love at first sight, this was one. +Short as had been the interview, she carried his heart with her. For +some minutes he stood staring at the house, too much surprised and +absorbed in his own feelings to be aware that, as is always the case if +a man stops to look at anything in the street, he was beginning to +collect a little knot of people about him, who all stared in the same +direction too, and were asking each other what was the matter. Warned by +this discovery, the young soldier proceeded on his way; but so engrossed +and absent was he, that he had strode nearly a quarter of a mile beyond +the laundress' cottage before he discovered his error. On his return, he +contrived to walk twice past the house; but he saw nothing of the girl. +He had a mind to go into the apothecary's and make some inquiry about +her; but that consciousness which so often arrests such inquiries +arrested his, and he went home, knowing no more than his eyes and ears +had told him—namely, that this young damsel had the loveliest face and +the sweetest voice that fortune had yet made him acquainted with, and, +moreover, that the possessor of these charms was apparently a person in +a condition of life not superior to his own. Her dress and the house in +which she lived both denoted humble circumstances, if not absolute +poverty, although he felt that her countenance and speech indicated a +degree of refinement somewhat inconsistent with this last conjecture. +She might be a reduced gentlewoman. Tracy hoped not, for if so, poor as +she was, she would look down upon him; she might, on the contrary, be +one of those natural aristocrats, born Graces, that nature sometimes +pleases herself with sending into the world; as in her humorous moments +she not unfrequently does the reverse, bestowing on a princess the +figure and port of a market-woman. Whichever it was, the desire +uppermost in his mind was to see her again; and accordingly, after his +master was dressed, and gone to dinner, he directed his steps to the +same quarter. It was now evening, and he had an opportunity of more +conveniently surveying the house and its neighborhood without exciting +observation himself. For this purpose he crossed over to the +apothecary's door, and looked around him. It was a mean street, +evidently inhabited by poor people, chiefly small retail dealers; almost +every house in it being used as a shop, as appeared from the lights and +the merchandise in the windows, except the one inhabited by the unknown +beauty. They were all low buildings of only two stories; and that +particular house was dark from top to bottom, with the exception of a +faint stripe of light which gleamed from one of the lower windows, of +which there were only two, apparently from a rent or seam in the +shutter, which was closed within. On crossing over to take a nearer +survey, Tracy perceived that just above a green curtain which guarded +the lower half of the window from the intrusions of curiosity, the +shutters were divided into upper and lower, and that there was a +sufficient separation between them to enable a person who was tall +enough to place his eye on a level with the opening, to see into the +room. Few people, however, were tall enough to do this, had they thought +it worth their while to try; but Tracy, who was not far from six feet +high, found he could accomplish the feat quite easily. So, after looking +round to make sure nobody was watching him, he ventured on a peep; and +there indeed he saw the object of all this interest sitting on one side +of a table, whilst a man, apparently old enough to be her father, sat on +the other. He was reading, and she was working, with the rich curls of +her dark-brown hair tucked carelessly behind her small ears, disclosing +the whole of her young and lovely face, which was turned toward the +window. The features of the man he could not see, but his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> head was +bald, and his figure lank; and Tracy fancied there was something in his +attitude that indicated ill health. Sometimes she looked up and spoke to +her companion, but when she did so, it was always with a serious, +anxious expression of countenance, which seemed to imply that her +communications were on no very cheerful subject. The room was lighted by +a single tallow candle, and its whole aspect denoted poverty and +privation, while the young girl's quick and eager fingers led the +spectator to conclude she was working for her bread.</p> + +<p>It must not be supposed that all these discoveries were the result of +one enterprise. Tracy could only venture on a peep now and then when +nobody was nigh; and many a time he had his walk for nothing. Sometimes, +too, his sense of propriety revolted, and he forebore from a +consciousness that it was not a delicate proceeding thus to spy into the +interior of this poor family at moments when they thought no human eye +was upon them: but his impulse was too powerful to be always thus +resisted, and fortifying himself with the consideration that his purpose +was not evil, he generally rewarded one instance of self-denial by two +or three of self-indulgence. And yet the scene that met his view was so +little varied, that it might have been supposed to afford but a poor +compensation for so much perseverance. The actors and their occupation +continued always the same; and the only novelty offered was, that Tracy +sometimes caught a glimpse of the man's features, which, though they +betrayed evidence of sickness and suffering, bore a strong resemblance +to those of the girl.</p> + +<p>All this, however, to make the most of it, was but scanty fare for a +lover; nor was Tracy at all disposed to content himself with such cold +comfort. He tried what walking through the street by day would do, but +the door was always closed, and the tall green curtain presented an +effectual obstacle to those casual glances on which alone he could +venture by sunlight. Once only he had the good fortune again to meet +this "bright particular star" out of doors, and that was one morning +about eight o'clock, when he had been again sent on an early embassy to +the laundress. She appeared to have been out executing her small +marketings, for she was hastening home with a basket on her arm. Tracy +had formed a hundred different plans for addressing her—one, in short, +suited to every possible contingency—whenever the fortunate opportunity +should present itself; but, as is usual in similar cases, now that it +did come, she flashed upon him so suddenly, that in his surprise and +agitation he missed the occasion altogether. The fact was that she +stepped out of a shop just as he was passing it; and her attention being +directed to some small change which she held in her hand, and which she +appeared to be anxiously counting, she never even saw him, and had +reentered her own door before he could make up his mind what to do. He +learned, however, by this circumstance, that the best hope of success +lay in his going to Thomas Street at eight o'clock; but alas! this was +the very hour that his services could not be dispensed with at home; and +although he made several desperate efforts, he did not succeed in +hitting the lucky moment again.</p> + +<p>Of course he did not neglect inquiry; but the result of his +perquisitions afforded little encouragement to his hopes of obtaining +the young girl's acquaintance. All that was known of the family was, +that they had lately taken the house, that their name was Lane, that +they lived quite alone, and were supposed to be very poor. Where they +came from, and what their condition in life might be, nobody knew or +seemed desirous to know, since they lived so quietly, that they had +hitherto awakened no curiosity in the neighborhood. The Scotsman at the +provision shop out of which she had been seen to come, pronounced her a +<i>wise-like girl</i>; and the apothecary's lad said that she was uncommon +<i>comely and genteel-like</i>, adding that her father was in very bad +health. This was the whole amount of information he could obtain, but to +the correctness of it, as regarded the bad health and the poverty, his +own eyes bore witness.</p> + +<p>Nearly three weeks had elapsed since Tracy's first meeting with the +girl, when one evening he thought he perceived symptoms of more than +ordinary trouble in this humble ménage. Just as he placed his eye to the +window, he saw the daughter entering the room with an old blanket, which +she wrapped round her father, whilst she threw her arms about his neck, +and tenderly caressed him; at the same time he remarked that there was +no fire in the grate, and that she frequently applied her apron to her +eyes. As these symptoms denoted an unusual extremity of distress, Tracy +felt the strongest desire to administer some relief to the sufferers; +but by what stratagem to accomplish his purpose it was not easy to +discover. He thought of making the apothecary or the grocer his agent, +requesting them not to name who had employed them; but he shrank from +the attention and curiosity such a proceeding would awaken, and the evil +interpretations that might be put upon it. Then he thought of the ribald +jests and jeers to which he might subject the object of his admiration, +and he resolved to employ no intervention, but to find some means or +other of conveying his bounty himself; and having with this view +inclosed a sovereign in half a sheet of paper, he set out upon his +nightly expedition.</p> + +<p>He was rather later than usual, and the neighboring church clock struck +nine just as he turned into Thomas Street; he was almost afraid that the +light would be extinguished, and the father and daughter retired to +their chambers, as had been the case on some previous evenings; but it +was not so: the faint<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> gleam showed that they were still there, and +after waiting some minutes for a clear coast, Tracy approached the +window—but the scene within was strangely changed.</p> + +<p>The father was alone—at least except himself there was no living being +in the room—but there lay a corpse on the floor; at the table stood the +man with a large black notebook in his hand, out of which he was taking +what appeared to the spectator, so far as he could discern, to be bank +notes. To see this was the work of an instant; to conclude that a crime +had been committed was as sudden! and under the impulse of fear and +horror that seized him, Tracy turned to fly, but in his haste and +confusion, less cautious than usual, he struck the window with his +elbow. The sound must have been heard within; and he could not resist +the temptation of flinging an instantaneous glance into the room to +observe what effect it had produced. It was exactly such as might have +been expected; like one interrupted in a crime, the man stood +transfixed, his pale face glaring at the window, and his hands, from +which the notes had dropped suspended in the attitude in which they had +been surprised; with an involuntary exclamation of grief and terror, +Tracy turned again and fled. But he had scarcely gone two hundred yards +when he met the girl walking calmly along the street with her basket on +her arm. She did not observe him, but he recognized her; and urged by +love and curiosity, he could not forbear turning back, and following her +to the door. On reaching it, she, as usual, put her key into the lock; +but it did not open as usual; it was evidently fastened on the inside. +She lifted the knocker, and let it fall once, just loud enough to be +heard within; there was a little delay, and then the door was opened—no +more, however, than was sufficient to allow her to pass in—and +immediately closed. Tracy felt an eager desire to pursue this strange +drama further, and was standing still, hesitating whether to venture a +glance into the room, when the door was again opened, and the girl +rushed out, leaving it unclosed, and ran across the street into the +apothecary's shop.</p> + +<p>"She is fetching a doctor to the murdered man," thought Tracy. And so it +appeared, for a minute had scarcely elapsed, when she returned, +accompanied by the apothecary and his assistant; they all three entered +the house; and upon the impulse of the moment, without pausing to +reflect on the impropriety of the intrusion, the young soldier entered +with them.</p> + +<p>The girl, who walked first with a hasty step, preceded them into that +room on the right of the door which, but a few minutes before, Tracy had +been surveying through the window. The sensations with which he now +entered it formed a singular contrast to his anticipations, and +furnished a striking instance of what we have all occasion to remark as +we pass through life—namely, that the thing we have most earnestly +desired, frequently when it does come, arrives in a guise so different +to our hopes, and so distasteful to the sentiments or affections which +have given birth to the wish, that what we looked forward to as the +summit of bliss, proves, when we reach it, no more than a barren peak +strewn with dust and ashes. Fortunate, indeed, may we esteem ourselves +if we find nothing worse to greet us. How often had Tracy fancied that +if he could only obtain entrance into that room he should be happy! As +long as he was excluded from it, it was <i>his</i> summit, for he could see +no further, and looked no further, sought no further: it seemed to him +that, once there, all that he desired must inevitably follow. Now he +<i>was</i> there, but under what different circumstances to those he had +counted on! with what different feelings to those his imagination had +painted!</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Adams the apothecary, as he approached +the body, which still lay on the floor.</p> + +<p>"I hope it's only a fit!" exclaimed the girl, taking the candle off the +table, and holding it in such a manner as to enable the apothecary to +examine the features.</p> + +<p>"He's dead, I fancy," said the latter, applying his fingers to the +wrist. "Unloose his neckcloth, Robert, and raise the head."</p> + +<p>This was said to the assistant, who, having done as he was told, and no +sign of life appearing, Mr. Adams felt for his lancet, and prepared to +bleed the patient. The lancet, however, had been left in the pocket of +another coat, and Robert being sent over to fetch it, Tracy stepped +forward and took his place at the head of the corpse; the consequence of +which was, that, when the boy returned, Mr. Adams bade him go back and +mind the shop, as they could do very well without him; and thus Tracy's +intrusion was, as it were, legitimized, and all awkwardness removed from +it. Not, however, that he had been sensible of any: he was too much +absorbed with the interest of the scene to be disturbed by such minor +considerations. Neither did anybody else appear discomposed or surprised +at his presence: the apothecary did not know but he had a right to be +there; the boy, who remembered the inquiries Tracy had made with regard +to the girl, concluded they had since formed an acquaintance; the girl +herself was apparently too much absorbed in the distressing event that +had occurred to have any thoughts to spare on minor interests; and as +for the man, he appeared to be scarcely conscious of what was going on +around him. Pale as death, and with all the symptoms of extreme sickness +and debility, he sat bending somewhat forward in an old arm-chair, with +his eyes fixed on the spot where the body lay; but there was "no +speculation" in those eyes, and it was evident that what he seemed to be +looking at he did not see. To every thoughtful mind the corporeal +investiture from which an immortal spirit has lately fled must present a +strange and painful interest; but Tracy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> felt now a more absorbing +interest in the mystery of the living than the dead; and as strange +questionings arose in his mind with regard to the pale occupant of the +old arm-chair as concerning the corpse that was stretched upon the +ground. Who was this stranger, and how came he there lying dead on the +floor of that poor house? And where was the pocket-book and the notes? +Not on the table, not in the room, so far as he could discern. They must +have been placed out of sight; and the question occurred to him, was +<i>she</i> a party to the concealment? But both his heart and his judgment +answered <i>no</i>. Not only her pure and innocent countenance, but her whole +demeanor acquitted her of crime. It was evident that her attention was +entirely engrossed by the surgeon's efforts to recall life to the +inanimate body; there was no <i>arričre pensée</i>, no painful consciousness +plucking at her sleeve; her mind was anxious, but not more so than the +ostensible cause justified, and there was no expression of mystery or +fear about her. How different to the father, who seemed terror-struck! +No anxiety for the recovery of the stranger, no grief for his death, +appeared in him; and it occurred to Tracy that he looked more like one +condemned and waiting for execution than the interested spectator of +another's misfortune.</p> + +<p>No blood flowed, and the apothecary having pronounced the stranger dead, +proposed, with the aid of Tracy, to remove him to a bed; and as there +was none below, they had to carry him up stairs, the girl preceding them +with a light, and leading the way into a room where a small tent +bedstead without curtains, two straw-bottomed chairs, with a rickety +table, and cracked looking-glass, formed nearly all the furniture; but +some articles of female attire lying about, betrayed to whom the +apartment belonged, and lent it an interest for Tracy.</p> + +<p>Whilst making these arrangements for the dead but few words were spoken. +The girl looked pale and serious, but said little; the young man would +have liked to ask a hundred questions, but did not feel himself entitled +to ask one; and the apothecary, who seemed a quiet, taciturn person, +only observed that the stranger appeared to have died of disease of the +heart, and inquired whether he was a relation of the family.</p> + +<p>"No," replied the girl; "he's no relation of ours—his name is +Aldridge."</p> + +<p>"Not Ephraim Aldridge?" said the apothecary.</p> + +<p>"Yes; Mr. Ephraim Aldridge," returned she: "my father was one of his +clerks formerly."</p> + +<p>"You had better send to his house immediately," said Mr. Adams. "I +forget whether he has any family?"</p> + +<p>"None but his nephew, Mr. Jonas," returned the girl. "I'll go there +directly, and tell him."</p> + +<p>"Your father seems in bad health?" observed Mr. Adams, as he quitted the +room, and proceeded to descend the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he has been ill a long time," she replied, with a sad countenance; +"and nobody seems to know what's the matter with him."</p> + +<p>"Have you had any advice for him," inquired the apothecary.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, a great deal, when first he was ill; but nobody did him any +good."</p> + +<p>By this time they had reached the bottom of the stairs; and Mr. Adams, +who now led the van, instead of going out of the street door, turned +into the parlor again.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said he, addressing Lane, "this poor gentleman is dead. I +should have called in somebody else had I earlier known who he was; but +it would have been useless, life must have been extinct half an hour +before I was summoned. Why did you not send for me sooner?"</p> + +<p>"I was out," replied the girl, answering the question that had been +addressed to her father. "Mr. Aldridge had sent me away for something, +and when I returned I found him on the floor, and my father almost +fainting. It was a dreadful shock for him, being so ill."</p> + +<p>"How did it happen?" inquired Mr. Adams, again addressing Lane.</p> + +<p>A convulsion passed over the sick man's face, and his lip quivered as he +answered in a low sepulchral tone. "He was sitting on that chair, +talking about—about his nephews, when he suddenly stopped speaking, and +fell forward. I started up, and placed my hands against his breast to +save him, and then he fell backward upon the floor."</p> + +<p>"Heart, no doubt. Probably a disease of long standing," said Mr. Adams. +"But it has given you a shock: you had better take something, and go to +bed."</p> + +<p>"What should he take?" inquired the daughter.</p> + +<p>"I'll send over a draught," replied the apothecary, moving toward the +door; "and you won't neglect to give notice of what has happened—it +must be done to-night."</p> + +<p>"It is late for you to go out," observed Tracy, speaking almost for the +first time since he entered the house. "Couldn't I carry the message for +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes: if you will, I shall be much obliged," said she; "for I do not +like to leave my father again to-night. The house is No. 4, West +Street."</p> + +<p>Death is a great leveler, and strong emotions banish formalities. The +offer was as frankly accepted as made; and his inquiry whether he could +be further useful being answered by "No, thank you—not to-night," the +young man took his leave and proceeded on his mission to West Street in +a state of mind difficult to describe—pleased and alarmed, happy and +distressed. He had not only accomplished his object by making the +acquaintance of Mary Lane, but the near view he had had of her, both as +regarded her person and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> behavior, confirmed his admiration and +gratified his affection; but, as he might have told the boy who +interrupted him, he had paid dear for peeping. He had seen what he would +have given the world not to have seen; and whilst he eagerly desired to +prosecute his suit to this young woman, and make her his wife, he shrank +with horror from the idea of having a thief and assassin for his +father-in-law.</p> + +<p>Engrossed with these reflections he reached West Street before he was +aware of being half-way there, and rang the bell of No. 4. It was now +past eleven o'clock, but he had scarcely touched the wire, before he +heard a foot in the passage, and the door opened. The person who +presented himself had no light, neither was there any in the hall, and +Tracy could not distinguish to whom he spoke when he said, "is this the +house of Mr. Ephraim Aldridge?"</p> + +<p>"It is: what do you want?" answered a man's voice, at the same time that +he drew back, and made a movement toward closing the door.</p> + +<p>"I have been requested to call here to say that Mr. Aldridge is"—And +here the recollection that the intelligence he bore would probably be +deeply afflicting to the nephew he had heard mentioned as the deceased +man's only relation, and to whom he was now possibly speaking, arrested +the words in his throat, and after a slight hesitation he added—"is +taken ill."</p> + +<p>"Ill!" said the person who held the door in his hand, which he now +opened wider. "Where? What's the matter with him? Is he very ill? Is it +any thing serious?"</p> + +<p>The tone in which these questions were put relieved Tracy from any +apprehension of inflicting pain, and he rejoined at once, "I'm afraid he +is dead."</p> + +<p>"Dead!" reiterated the other, throwing the door wide. "Step in if you +please. Dead! how should that be? He was very well this afternoon. Where +is he?" And so saying, he closed the street door, and led the young +soldier into a small parlor, where a lamp with a shade over it, and +several old ledgers, were lying on the table.</p> + +<p>"He's at Mr. Lane's in Thomas Street," replied Tracy.</p> + +<p>"But are you sure he's dead?" inquired the gentleman, who was indeed no +other than Mr. Jonas Aldridge himself. "How did he die? Who says he's +dead?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how he died. The apothecary seemed to think it was disease +of the heart," replied Tracy; "but he is certainly dead."</p> + +<p>At this crisis of the conversation a new thought seemed to strike the +mind of Jonas, who, exhibiting no symptoms of affliction, had hitherto +appeared only curious and surprised. "My uncle Ephraim dead!" said he. +"No, no, I can't believe it. It is impossible—it cannot be! My dear +uncle! My only friend! Dead! Impossible!—you must be mistaken."</p> + +<p>"You had better go and see yourself," replied Tracy, who did not feel at +all disposed to sympathize with this sudden effusion of sentiment. "I +happened to be by, by mere chance, and know nothing more than I heard +the apothecary say." And with these words he turned toward the door.</p> + +<p>"You are an officer's servant, I see?" rejoined Jonas.</p> + +<p>"I live with Captain D'Arcy of the 32d," answered Tracy; and wishing Mr. +Jonas a good-evening, he walked away with a very unfavorable impression +of that gentleman's character.</p> + +<p>The door was no sooner closed on Tracy than Mr. Jonas Aldridge returned +into the parlor, and lighted a candle which stood on a side-table, by +the aid of which he ascended to the second floor, and entered a +back-room wherein stood a heavy four-post bed, the curtains of which +were closely drawn together. The apartment, which also contained an +old-fashioned mahogany set of drawers, and a large arm-chair, was well +carpeted, and wore an aspect of considerable comfort. The shutters were +closed, and a moreen curtain was let down to keep out the draught from +the window.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jonas had mounted the stairs three at a time; but no sooner did he +enter the room, and his eye fall upon the bed, then he suddenly paused, +and stepping on the points of his toes toward it, he gently drew back +one of the side curtains, and looked in. It was turned down, and ready +for the expected master, but it was tenantless: he who should have lain +there lay elsewhere that night. Mr. Jonas folded in his lips, and nodded +his head with an expression that seemed to say <i>all's right</i>. And then +having drawn the bolt across the door, he took two keys out of his +waistcoat pocket; with one he opened a cupboard in the wainscot, and +with the other a large tin-box which stood therein, into which he thrust +his hand, and brought out a packet of papers, which not proving to be +the thing he sought, he made another dive; but this second attempt +turned out equally unsuccessful with the first; whereupon he fetched the +candle from the table, and held it over the box, in hopes of espying +what he wished. But his countenance clouded, and an oath escaped him, on +discovering it was not there.</p> + +<p>"He has taken it with him!" said he. And having replaced the papers he +had disturbed, and closed the box, he hastily descended the stairs. In +the hall hung his greatcoat and hat. These he put on, tying a comforter +round his throat to defend him from the chill night-air; and then +leaving the candle burning in the passage, he put the key of the +house-door in his pocket, and went out.</p> + +<p>Dead men wait patiently; but the haste with which Mr. Jonas Aldrich +strode over the ground seemed rather like one in chase of a fugitive; +and yet, fast as he went, the time seemed long to him till he reached +Thomas Street.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is my uncle here!" said he to Mary, who immediately answered to his +knock.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied she.</p> + +<p>"And what's the matter? I hope it is nothing serious?" added he.</p> + +<p>"He's dead, sir, the doctor says," returned she.</p> + +<p>"Then you had a doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, sir; I fetched Mr. Adams over the way immediately; but he said +he was dead the moment he saw him. Will you please to walk up stairs, +and see him yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Impossible! It cannot be that my uncle is dead!" exclaimed Mr. Jonas, +who yet suspected some <i>ruse</i>. "You should have had the best advice—you +should have called in Dr. Sykes. Let him be sent for immediately!" he +added, speaking at the top of his voice, as he entered the little room +above: "no means must be neglected to recover him. Depend on it, it is +only a fit."</p> + +<p>But the first glance satisfied him that all these ingenious precautions +were quite unnecessary. There lay Mr. Ephraim Aldridge dead +unmistakably; and while Mary was inquiring where the celebrated Dr. +Sykes lived, in order that she might immediately go in search of him, +Mr. Jonas was thinking on what pretense he might get her out of the room +without sending for anybody at all.</p> + +<p>Designing people often give themselves an enormous deal of useless +trouble; and after searching his brain in vain for an expedient to get +rid of the girl, Mr. Jonas suddenly recollected that the simplest was +the best. There was no necessity, in short, for saying anything more +than that he wished to be alone; and this he did say, at the same time +drawing his handkerchief from his pocket, and applying it to his eyes, a +little pantomime that was intended to aid the gentle Mary in putting a +kind construction on the wish. She accordingly quitted the room, and +descended to the parlor; whereupon Mr. Jonas, finding himself alone, +lost no time in addressing himself to his purpose, which was to search +the pockets of the deceased, wherein he found a purse containing gold +and silver, various keys, and several other articles, but not the +article he sought; and as he gradually convinced himself that his search +was vain, his brow became overcast, angry ejaculations escaped his lips, +and after taking a cursory survey of the room, he snatched up the +candle, and hastily descended the stairs.</p> + +<p>"When did my uncle come here? What did he come about?" he inquired +abruptly as he entered the parlor where Mary, weary and sad, was resting +her head upon the table.</p> + +<p>"He came this evening, sir; but I don't know what he came about. He said +he wanted to have some conversation with my father, and I went into the +kitchen to leave them alone."</p> + +<p>"Then you were not in the room when the accident happened?"</p> + +<p>"What accident, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, when he died."</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I had gone out to buy something for supper."</p> + +<p>"What made you go out so late for that purpose?"</p> + +<p>"My father called me in, sir, and Mr. Aldridge gave me some money."</p> + +<p>"Then nobody was present but your father?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"And where is he now?"</p> + +<p>"My father is very ill, sir; and it gave him such a shock, that he was +obliged to go to bed."</p> + +<p>"Had my uncle nothing with him but what I have found in his pockets?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing that I know of, sir."</p> + +<p>"No papers?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Go and ask your father if he saw any papers."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he didn't, sir, or else they would be here."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll thank you to go and ask him, however."</p> + +<p>Whereupon Mary quitted the room; and stepping up stairs, she opened, and +then presently shut again, the door of her own bedroom. "It is no use +disturbing my poor father," said she to herself; "I'm sure he knows +nothing about any papers; and if I wake him, he will not get to sleep +again all night. If he saw them, he'll say so in the morning."</p> + +<p>"My father knows nothing of the papers, sir," said she, reentering the +room; "and if they're not in the pocket, I'm sure Mr. Aldridge never +brought them here."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he did not, after all," thought Jonas; "he has maybe removed it +out of the tin-box, and put it into the bureau." A suggestion which made +him desire to get home again as fast as he had left it. So, promising to +send the undertakers in the morning to remove the body, Mr. Jonas took +his leave, and hastened back to West Street, where he immediately set +about ransacking every drawer, cupboard, and press, some of which he +could only open with the keys he had just extracted from the dead man's +pocket. But the morning's dawn found him unsuccessful: it appeared +almost certain that the important paper was not in the house; and weary, +haggard, and angry, he stretched himself on his bed till the hour +admitted of further proceedings. And we will avail ourselves of this +interval to explain more particularly the relative position of the +parties concerned in our story.</p> + +<p>Ephraim Aldridge, a younger member of a large and poor family, had been +early in life apprenticed to a hosier; and being one of the most steady, +cautious, saving boys that ever found his bread amongst gloves and +stockings, had early grown into great favor with his master, who, as +soon as he was out of his apprenticeship, elevated him to the post of +book-keeper; and in this situation, as he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> a liberal salary, and was +too prudent to marry, he contrived to save such a sum of money as, +together with his good character, enabled him to obtain the reversion of +the business when his master retired from it. The prudence which had +raised him adhered to him still; his business flourished, and he grew +rich; but the more money he got, the fonder he became of it; and the +more he had, the less he spent; while the cautious steadiness of the boy +shrank into a dry reserve as he grew older, till he became an austere, +silent, inaccessible man, for whom the world in general entertained a +certain degree of respect, but whom nobody liked, with the exception +perhaps of one person, and that was Maurice Lane, who had formerly been +his fellow-apprentice, and was now his shopman. And yet a more marked +contrast of character could scarcely exist than between these two young +men; but, somehow or other, everybody liked Lane; even the frigid heart +of Ephraim could not defend itself from the charm of the boy's beautiful +countenance and open disposition; and when he placed his former comrade +in a situation of responsibility, it was not because he thought him the +best or the steadiest servant he could possibly find, but because he +wished to have one person about him that he liked, and that liked him. +But no sooner did Lane find himself with a salary which would have +maintained himself comfortably, than he fell in love with a beautiful +girl whom he saw trimming caps and bonnets in an opposite shop-window, +and straightway married her. Then came a family, and with it a train of +calamities which kept them always steeped in distress, till the wife, +worn out with hard work and anxiety, died; the children that survived +were then dispersed about the world to earn their bread, and Lane found +himself alone with his youngest daughter Mary. Had he retained his +health, he might now have done better; but a severe rheumatic fever, +after reducing him to the brink of the grave, had left him in such +infirm health, that he was no longer able to maintain his situation; so +he resigned it, and retired to an obscure lodging, with a few pounds in +his pocket, and the affection and industry of his daughter for his only +dependence.</p> + +<p>During all this succession of calamities, Mr. Aldrich had looked on with +a severe eye. Had it been anybody but Lane, he would have dismissed him +as soon as he married; as it was, he allowed him to retain his place, +and to take the consequences of his folly. He had carved his own +destiny, and must accept it; it was not for want of knowing better, for +Ephraim had warned him over and over again of the folly of poor men +falling in love and marrying. Entertaining this view of the case, he +justified his natural parsimony with the reflection, that by encouraging +such imprudence he should be doing an injury to other young men. He made +use of Lane as a beacon, and left him in his distress, lest assistance +should destroy his usefulness. The old house in Thomas Street, however, +which belonged to him, happening to fall vacant, he so far relented as +to send word to his old clerk that he might inhabit it if he pleased.</p> + +<p>Some few years, however, before these latter circumstances, Mr. +Aldridge, who had determined against matrimony, had nevertheless been +seized with that desire so prevalent in the old especially, to have an +heir of his own name and blood for his property. He had but two +relations that he remembered, a brother and a sister. The latter, when +Ephraim was a boy, had married a handsome sergeant of a marching +regiment, and gone away with it; and her family never saw her afterward, +though for some years she had kept up an occasional correspondence with +her parents, by which they learned that she was happy and prosperous; +that her husband had been promoted to an ensigncy for his good conduct; +that she had one child; and finally, that they were about to embark for +the West Indies.</p> + +<p>His brother, with whom he had always maintained some degree of +intercourse, had early settled in London as a harness-maker, and was +tolerably well off; on which account Ephraim respected him, and now that +he wanted an heir, it was in this quarter he resolved to look for one. +So he went to London, inspected the family, and finally selected young +Jonas, who everybody said was a facsimile of himself in person and +character. He was certainly a cautious, careful, steady boy who was +guilty of no indiscretions, and looked very sharp after his halfpence. +Ephraim, who thought he had hit upon the exact desideratum, carried him +to the country, put him to school, and became exceedingly proud and fond +of him. His character, indeed, as regarded his relations with the boy, +seemed to have undergone a complete change, and the tenderness he had +all through life denied to everybody else, he now in his decline +lavished to an injudicious excess on this child of his adoption. When he +retired from business he took Jonas home; and as the lad had some talent +for portrait-painting, he believed him destined to be a great artist, +and forbore to give him a profession. Thus they lived together +harmoniously enough for some time, till the factitious virtues of the +boy ripened into the real vices of the man; and Ephraim discovered that +the cautious, economical, discreet child was, at five-and-twenty, an +odious specimen of avarice, selfishness, and cunning; and what made the +matter worse was, that the uncle and nephew somehow appeared to have +insensibly changed places—the latter being the governor, and the former +the governed; and that while Mr. Jonas professed the warmest affection +for the old man, and exhibited the tenderest anxiety for his health, he +contrived to make him a prisoner in his own house, and destroy all the +comfort of his existence—and everybody knows how hard it is to break +free from a domestic despotism of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> this description, which, like the +arms of a gigantic cuttle-fish, has wound itself inextricably around its +victim.</p> + +<p>To leave Jonas, or to make Jonas leave him, was equally difficult; but +at length the declining state of his health, together with his +ever-augmenting hatred of his chosen heir, rendering the case more +urgent, he determined to make a vigorous effort for freedom; and now it +first occurred to him that his old friend Maurice Lane might help him to +attain his object. In the mean time, while waiting for an opportunity to +get possession of the will by which he had appointed Jonas heir to all +his fortune, he privately drew up another, in favor of his sister's +eldest son or his descendants, on condition of their taking the name of +Aldridge; and this he secured in a tin-box, of which he kept the key +always about him, the box itself being deposited in a cupboard in his +own chamber. In spite of all these precautions, however, Jonas +penetrated the secret, and by means of false keys, obtained a sight of +the document which was to cut him out of all he had been accustomed to +consider his own; but it was at least some comfort to observe that the +will was neither signed nor witnessed, and therefore at present +perfectly invalid. This being the case, he thought it advisable to +replace the papers, and content himself with narrowly watching his +uncle's future proceedings, since stronger measures at so critical a +juncture might possibly provoke the old man to more decisive ones of his +own.</p> + +<p>In a remote quarter of the town resided two young men, commonly called +Jock and Joe Wantage, who had formerly served Mr. Aldridge as errand +boys, but who had since managed to set up in a humble way of business +for themselves; and having at length contrived one evening to elude the +vigilance of his nephew, he stepped into a coach, and without entering +into any explanation of his reasons, he, in the presence of those +persons, produced and signed his will, which they witnessed, desiring +them at the same time never to mention the circumstance to anybody, +unless called upon to do so. After making them a little present of +money, for adversity had now somewhat softened his heart, he proceeded +to the house of his old clerk.</p> + +<p>It was by this time getting late, and the father and daughter were +sitting in their almost fireless room, anxious and sad, for, as Tracy +had conjectured, they were reduced to the last extremity of distress, +when they were startled at a double knock at the door. It was long since +those old walls had reverberated to such a sound.</p> + +<p>"Who can that be?" exclaimed Lane, looking suddenly up from his book, +which was a tattered volume of Shakspeare, the only one he possessed. "I +heard a coach stop."</p> + +<p>"It can be nobody here," returned Mary: "it must be a mistake."</p> + +<p>However, she rose and opened the door, at which by this time stood Mr. +Aldridge, whose features it was too dark to distinguish.</p> + +<p>"Bring a light here!" said he. "No; stay; I'll send you out the money," +he added to the coachman, and with that he stepped forward to the little +parlor. But the scene that there presented itself struck heavily upon +his heart, and perhaps upon his conscience, for instead of advancing, he +stood still in the doorway. Here was poverty indeed! He and Lane had +begun life together, but what a contrast in their ultimate fortunes! The +one with much more money than he knew what to do with; the other without +a shilling to purchase a bushel of coals to warm his shivering limbs; +and yet the rich man was probably the more miserable of the two!</p> + +<p>"Mr. Aldridge!" exclaimed Lane, rising from his seat in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Take this, and pay the man his fare," said the visitor to Mary, handing +her some silver. "And have you no coals?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then buy some directly, and make up the fire. Get plenty; here's the +money to pay for them;" and as the coals were to be had next door, there +was soon a cheerful fire in the grate. Lane drew his chair close to the +fender, and spread his thin fingers to the welcome blaze.</p> + +<p>"I did not know you were so badly off as this," Mr. Aldridge remarked.</p> + +<p>"We have nothing but what Mary earns, and needlework is poorly paid," +returned Lane; "and often not to be had. I hope Mr. Jonas is well?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Aldridge did not answer, but sat silently looking into the fire. The +corners of his mouth were drawn down, his lip quivered, and the tears +rose to his eyes as he thought of all he had lavished on that ungrateful +nephew, that serpent he had nourished in his bosom, while the only +friend he ever had was starving.</p> + +<p>"Mary's an excellent girl," pursued the father, "and has more sense than +years. She nursed me through all my illness night and day; and though +she has had a hard life of it, she's as patient as a lamb, poor thing! I +sometimes wish I was dead, and out of her way, for then she might do +better for herself."</p> + +<p>Mr. Aldridge retained his attitude and his silence, but a tear or two +escaped from their channels, and flowed down the wan and hollow cheek: +he did not dare to speak, lest the convulsion within his breast should +burst forth into sobs and outward demonstrations, from which his close +and reserved nature shrunk. Lane made two or three attempts at +conversation, and then, finding them ineffectual, sank into silence +himself.</p> + +<p>If the poor clerk could have penetrated the thoughts of his visitor +during that interval, he would have read there pity for the sufferings +of his old friend, remorse for having treated him with harshness under +the name of justice, and the best resolutions to make him amends for the +future.</p> + +<p>"Justice!" thought he; "how can man, who sees only the surface of +things, ever hope to be just?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You have no food either, I suppose?" said he abruptly breaking the +silence.</p> + +<p>"There's part of a loaf in the house, I believe," returned Lane.</p> + +<p>"Call the girl, and bid her fetch some food! Plenty and the best! Do you +hear, Mary?" he added as she appeared at the door. "Here's money."</p> + +<p>"I have enough left from what you gave me for the coals," said Mary, +withholding her hand.</p> + +<p>"Take it!—take it!" said Mr. Aldridge, who was now for the first time +in his life beginning to comprehend that the real value of money depends +wholly on the way in which it is used, and that that which purchases +happiness neither for its possessor nor anybody else is not wealth, but +dross. "Take it, and buy whatever you want. When did <i>he</i> ever withhold +his hand when I offered him money?" thought he as his mind recurred to +his adopted nephew.</p> + +<p>Mary accordingly departed, and having supplied the table with +provisions, was sent out again to purchase a warm shawl and some other +articles for herself, which it was too evident she was much in need of. +It was not till after she had departed that Mr. Aldridge entered into +the subject that sat heavy on his soul. He now first communicated to +Lane that which the reserve of his nature had hitherto induced him to +conceal from everybody—namely, the disappointment he had experienced in +the character of his adopted son, the ill-treatment he had received from +him, and the mixture of fear, hatred, and disgust with which the conduct +of Jonas had inspired him.</p> + +<p>"He has contrived, under the pretense of taking care of my health, to +make me a prisoner in my own house. I haven't a friend nor an +acquaintance; he has bought over the servants to his interest, and his +confidential associate is Holland, <i>my</i> solicitor, who drew up the will +I made in that rascal's favor, and has it in his possession. Jonas is to +marry his daughter too; but I have something in my pocket that will +break off that match. I should never sleep in my grave if he inherited +my money! The fact is," continued he, after a pause, "I never mean to go +back to the fellow. I won't trust myself in his keeping; for I see he +has scarcely patience to wait till nature removes me out of the way. +I'll tell you what, Lane," continued he, his hollow cheek flushing with +excited feelings, "I'll come and live with you, and Mary shall be my +nurse."</p> + +<p>Lane, who sat listening to all this in a state of bewilderment, +half-doubting whether his old master had not been seized with a sudden +fit of insanity, here cast a glance round the miserable whitewashed +walls begrimed with smoke and dirt. "Not here—not here!" added Mr. +Aldridge, interpreting the look aright; we'll take a house in the +country, and Mary shall manage everything for us, whilst we sit +together, with our knees to the fire, and talk over old times. Thank +God, my money is my own still! and with country air and good nursing I +should not wonder if I recover my health; for I can safely say I have +never known what it is to enjoy a happy hour these five years—never +since I found out that fellow's real character—and that is enough to +kill any man! Look here," said he, drawing from his pocket a large black +leathern note-case. "Here is a good round sum in Bank of England notes, +which I have kept concealed until I could get clear of Mr. Jonas; for +though he cannot touch the principal, thank God! he got a power of +attorney from me some time ago, entitling him to receive my dividends; +but now I'm out of his clutches, I'll put a drag on his wheel, he may +rely on it. With this we can remove into the country and take lodgings, +while we look out for a place to suit us permanently. We'll have a cow +in a paddock close to the house; the new milk and the smell of the hay +will make us young again. Many an hour, as I have lain in my wearisome +bed lately, I have thought of you and our Sunday afternoons in the +country when we were boys. In the eagerness of money-getting, these +things had passed away from my memory; but they return to me now as the +only pleasant recollection of my life."</p> + +<p>"And yet I never thought you enjoyed them much at the time," observed +Lane, who was gradually getting more at ease with the rich man that had +once been his equal, but between whom and himself all equality had +ceased as the one grew richer and the other poorer.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I did not," returned Ephraim. "I was too eager to get on in the +world to take much pleasure in anything that did not help to fill my +pockets. Money—money, was all I thought of! and when I got it, what did +it bring me? Jonas—and a precious bargain he has turned out! But I'll +be even with him yet." Here there was a sob and a convulsion of the +breast, as the wounded heart swelled with its bitter sense of injury. "I +have not told you half yet," continued he; "but I'll be even with him, +little as he thinks it."</p> + +<p>As a pause now ensued, Lane felt it was his turn to say something, and +he began with, "I am surprised at Mr. Jonas;" for so cleverly had the +nephew managed, that the alienation of the uncle was unsuspected by +everybody, and Lane could hardly bring himself to comment freely on this +once-cherished nephew. "I could not have believed, after all you've done +for him, that he would turn out ungrateful. Perhaps," continued he; but +here the words were arrested on his lips by a sudden movement on the +part of Mr. Aldridge, which caused Lane, who had been staring vacantly +into the fire, to turn his eyes toward his visitor, whom, to his +surprise, he saw falling gradually forward. He stretched out his hand to +arrest the fall; but his feeble arm only gave another direction to the +body, which sank on its face to the ground. Lane, who naturally thought +Mr. Aldridge had fainted from excess of emotion, fetched water, and +endeavored to raise him from the floor; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> he slipped heavily from his +grasp; and the recollection that years ago, he had heard from the +apothecary who attended Ephraim that the latter had disease of the +heart, and would some day die suddenly, filled him with terror and +dismay. He saw that the prophecy was fulfilled; his own weak nerves and +enfeebled frame gave way under the shock, and dropping into the nearest +chair, he was for some moments almost as insensible as his friend.</p> + +<p>When he revived, and was able to recall his scattered senses, the first +thing that met his eye was the open pocket-book and the notes that lay +on the table. But a moment before, how full of promise was that book to +him! Now, where were his hopes? Alas, like his fortunes, in the dust! +Never was a man less greedy of money than Lane; but he knew what it was +to want bread, to want clothes, to want fire. He felt sure Jonas would +never give him a sixpence to keep him from starving; and there was his +poor Mary, so overworked, fading her fair young cheeks with toil. That +money was to have made three persons comfortable: he to whom it belonged +was gone, and could never need it; and he had paid quite enough before +he departed to satisfy Lane, that could he lift up his voice from the +grave to say who would have the contents of that book, it would not be +Jonas. Where, then, could be the harm of helping himself to that which +had been partly intended for him? Where too, could be the danger? +Assuredly Jonas, the only person who had a right to inquire into Mr. +Aldridge's affairs, knew nothing of this sum; and then the pocket-book +might be burned, and so annihilate all trace. There blazed the fire so +invitingly. Besides, Jonas would be so rich, and could so well afford to +spare it. As these arguments hastily suggested themselves, Lane, +trembling with emotion, arose from his seat, seized the book, and +grasped a handful of the notes, when to his horror, at that moment he +heard a tap at the window. Shaking like a leaf, his wan cheeks whiter +than before, and his very breath suspended, he stood waiting for what +was to follow; but nothing ensued—all was silent again. It was probably +an accident: some one passing had touched the glass; but still an +undefined fear made him totter to the street door, and draw the bolt. +Then he returned into the room: there were the notes yet tempting him. +But this interruption had answered him. He longed for them as much as +before, but did not dare to satisfy his desire, lest he should hear that +warning tap again. Yet if left there till Mary returned, they were lost +to him forever; and he and she would be starving again, all the more +wretched for this transitory gleam of hope that had relieved for a +moment the darkness of their despair. But time pressed: every moment he +expected to hear her at the door; and as unwilling to relinquish the +prize as afraid to seize it, he took refuge in an expedient that avoided +either extreme—he closed the book, and flung it beneath the table, over +which there was spread an old green cloth, casting a sufficiently dark +shadow around to render the object invisible, unless to a person +stooping to search for it. Thus, if inquired for and sought, it would be +found, and the natural conclusion be drawn that it had fallen there; if +not, he would have time for deliberation, and circumstances should +decide him what to do.</p> + +<p>There were but two beds in this poor house: in one slept Lane, on the +other was stretched the dead guest. Mary, therefore, on this eventful +night had none to go to. So she made up the fire, threw her new shawl +over her head, and arranged herself to pass the hours till morning in +the rickety old chair in which her father usually sat. The scenes in +which she had been assisting formed a sad episode in her sad life; and +although she knew too little of Mr. Aldridge to feel any particular +interest in him, she had gathered enough from her father, and from the +snatches of conversation she had heard, to be aware that this visit was +to have been the dawn of better fortunes, and that the old man's sudden +decease was probably a much heavier misfortune to themselves than to +him. A girl more tenderly nurtured and accustomed to prosperity would +have most likely given vent to her disappointment in tears; but tears +are an idle luxury, in which the poor rarely indulge: they have no time +for them. They must use their eyes for their work; and when night comes, +their weary bodies constrain the mind to rest. Mary had had a fatiguing +evening—it was late before she found herself alone; and tired and +exhausted, unhappy as she felt, it was not long ere she was in a sound +sleep.</p> + +<p>It appeared to her that she must have slept several hours, when she +awoke with the consciousness that there was somebody stirring in the +room. She felt sure that a person had passed close to where she was +sitting; she heard the low breathing and the cautious foot, which +sounded as if the intruder was without shoes. The small grate not +holding much coal, the fire was already out, and the room perfectly +dark, so that Mary had only her ear to guide her: she could see nothing. +A strange feeling crept over her when she remembered their guest: but +no—he was forever motionless; there could be no doubt of that. It could +not surely be her father. His getting out of bed and coming down stairs +in the middle of the night was to the last degree improbable. What could +he come for? Besides, if he had done so, he would naturally have spoken +to her. Then came the sudden recollection that she had not fastened the +back-door, which opened upon a yard as accessible to their neighbors as +to themselves—neighbors not always of the best character either; and +the cold shiver of fear crept over her. Now she felt how fortunate it +was that the room <i>was</i> dark. How fortunate, too, that she had not +spoken or stirred; for the intruder withdrew as silently as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> came. +Mary strained her ears to listen which way he went; but the shoeless +feet gave no echo. It was some time before the poor girl's beating heart +was stilled; and then suddenly recollecting that this mysterious +visitor, whoever he was, might have gone to fetch a light and return, +she started up, and turned the key in the door. During that night Mary +had no more sleep. When the morning broke, she arose and looked around +to see if any traces of her midnight visitor remained, but there were +none. A sudden alarm now arose in her breast for her father's safety, +and she hastily ascended the stairs to his chamber; but he appeared to +be asleep, and she did not disturb him. Then she opened the door of her +own room, and peeped in—all was still there, and just as it had been +left on the preceding evening; and now, as is usual on such occasions, +when the terrors of the night had passed away, and the broad daylight +looked out upon the world, she began to doubt whether the whole affair +had not been a dream betwixt sleeping and waking, the result of the +agitating events of the preceding evening.</p> + +<p>After lighting the fire, and filling the kettle, Mary next set about +arranging the room; and in so doing, she discovered a bit of folded +paper under the table, which, on examination, proved to be a five-pound +note. Of course this belonged to Mr. Aldridge, and must have fallen +there by accident; so she put it aside for Jonas, and then ascended to +her father's room again. He was now awake, but said he felt very unwell, +and begged for some tea, a luxury they now possessed, through the +liberality of their deceased guest.</p> + +<p>"Did anything disturb you in the night, father?" inquired Mary.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Lane, "I slept all night." He did not look as if he had, +though; and Mary, seeing he was irritable and nervous, and did not wish +to be questioned, made no allusion to what had disturbed herself.</p> + +<p>"If Mr. Jonas Aldridge comes here, say I am too ill to see him," added +he, as she quitted the room.</p> + +<p>About eleven o'clock the undertakers came to remove the body; and +presently afterward Tracy arrived.</p> + +<p>"I came to say that I delivered your message last night to Mr. Jonas +Aldridge," said he, when she opened the door; "and he promised to come +here directly."</p> + +<p>"He did come," returned Mary. "Will you please to walk in? I'm sorry my +father is not down stairs. He's very poorly to-day."</p> + +<p>"I do not wonder at that," answered Tracy, as his thoughts recurred to +the black pocket-book.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Jonas seemed very anxious about some papers he thought his uncle +had about him; but I have found nothing but this five-pound note, which +perhaps you would leave at Mr. Aldridge's for me?"</p> + +<p>"I will, with pleasure," answered Tracy, remembering that this +commission would afford him an excuse for another visit; and he took his +leave a great deal more in love than ever.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Mr. Jonas, taking the note that Tracy brought him; "and +she has found no papers?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, none. Miss Lane says that unless they were in his pocket, Mr. +Aldridge could not have had any papers with him."</p> + +<p>"It's very extraordinary," said Mr. Jonas, answering his own +reflections.</p> + +<p>"Will you give me a receipt for the note, sir?" asked Tracy. My name +is"——</p> + +<p>"It's all right. I'm going there directly myself, and I'll say you +delivered it," answered Jonas, hastily interrupting him, and taking his +hat off a peg in the passage. "I'm in a hurry just now;" whereupon Tracy +departed without insisting farther.</p> + +<p>While poor Ephraim slept peaceably in his coffin above, Mr. Jonas, +perplexed by all manner of doubts in regard to the missing will, sat +below in the parlor, in a fever of restless anxiety. Every heel that +resounded on the pavement made his heart sink till it had passed the +door, while a ring or a knock shook his whole frame to the center; and +though he longed to see Mr. Holland, his uncle's solicitor, whom he knew +to be quite in his interest, he had not courage either to go to him or +to send for him, for fear of hastening the catastrophe he dreaded.</p> + +<p>Time crept on; the day of the funeral came and passed; the will was +read; and Mr. Jonas took possession as sole heir and executor, and no +interruption occurred. Smoothly and favorably, however, as the stream of +events appeared to flow, the long-expectant heir was not the less +miserable.</p> + +<p>But when three months had elapsed he began to breathe more freely, and +to hope that the alarm had been a false one. The property was indeed his +own—he was a rich man, and now for the first time he felt in sufficient +spirits to look into his affairs and review his possessions. A +considerable share of these consisted in houses, which his uncle had +seized opportunities of purchasing on advantageous terms; and as the +value of some had increased, whilst that of others was diminishing for +want of repair, he employed a surveyor to examine and pronounce on their +condition.</p> + +<p>"Among the rest," said he, "there is a small house in Thomas Street, No. +7. My uncle allowed an old clerk of his to inhabit it, rent free; but he +must turn out. I gave them notice three months ago; but they've not +taken it. Root them up, will you? and get the house cleaned down and +whitewashed for some other tenant."</p> + +<p>Having put these matters in train, Mr. Jonas resolved, while his own +residence was set in order, to make a journey to London, and enjoy the +gratification of presenting himself to his family in the character of a +rich man; and so fascinating did he find the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> pleasures of wealth and +independence, that nearly four months had elapsed since his departure +before he summoned Mr. Reynolds to give an account of his proceedings.</p> + +<p>"So," said he, after they had run through the most important items—"so +you have found a tenant for the house in Thomas Street? Had you much +trouble in getting rid of the Lanes?"</p> + +<p>"They're in it still," answered Mr. Reynolds. "The man that has taken it +has married Lane's daughter."</p> + +<p>"What is he?" inquired Jonas.</p> + +<p>"An officer's servant—a soldier in the regiment that is quartered in +the citadel."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've seen the man—a good-looking young fellow. But how is he to +pay the rent?"</p> + +<p>"He says he has saved money, and he has set her up in a shop. However, I +have taken care to secure the first quarter; there's the receipt for +it."</p> + +<p>"That is all right," said Mr. Jonas, who was in a very complacent humor, +for fortune seemed quite on his side at present. "How," said he, +suddenly changing color as he glanced his eye over the slip of paper; +"how! Tracy Walkingham!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; an odd name enough for a private soldier, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Tracy Walkingham!" he repeated. "Why how came he to know the Lanes? +Where does he come from?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of him, except that he is in the barracks. But I can +inquire, and find out his history and genealogy if you wish it," replied +Mr. Reynolds.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no," said Jonas; "leave him alone. If I want to find out +anything about him, I'll do it myself. Indeed it is nothing connected +with himself, but the name struck me as being that of a person who owed +my uncle some money; however, it cannot be him of course. And to return +to matters of more consequence, I want to know what you've done with the +tenements in Water Lane?" And having thus adroitly turned the +conversation, the subject of the tenant with the odd name was referred +to no more; but although it is true, that "out of the fullness of the +heart the mouth speaketh," it is also frequently true, that that which +most occupies the mind is the farthest from the lips, and this was +eminently the case on the present occasion; for during the ensuing half +hour that Mr. Jonas appeared to be listening with composure to the +surveyor's reports and suggestions, the name of Tracy Walkingham was +burning itself into his brain in characters of fire.</p> + +<p>"Tracy Walkingham!" exclaimed he, as soon as Mr. Reynolds was gone, and +he had turned the key in the lock to exclude interruptions; "here, and +married to Lane's daughter! There's something in this more than meets +the eye! The Lanes have got that will as sure as my name's Jonas +Aldridge, and have been waiting to produce it till they had him fast +noosed. But why do they withhold it now? Waiting till they hear of my +return, I suppose." And as this conviction gained strength, he paced the +room in a paroxysm of anguish. And there he was, so helpless, too! What +could he do but wait till the blow came? He would have liked to turn +them out of his house, but they had taken it for a year; and besides, +what good would that do but to give them a greater triumph, and perhaps +expedite the catastrophe? Sometimes he thought of consulting his friend +Holland; but his pride shrank from the avowal that his uncle had +disinherited him, and that the property he and everybody else had long +considered so securely his, now in all probability justly belonged to +another. Then he formed all sorts of impracticable schemes for getting +the paper into his possession, or Tracy out of the way. Never was there +a more miserable man; the sight of those two words, <i>Tracy Walkingham</i>, +had blasted his sight, and changed the hue of everything he looked upon. +Our readers will have little difficulty in guessing the reason: the +young soldier, Mary's handsome husband, was the heir named in the +missing will—the son of that sister of Ephraim who had married a +sergeant, and had subsequently gone to the West Indies.</p> + +<p>Tracy Walkingham, the father, was not exactly in his right position as a +private in the 9th regiment, for he was the offspring of a very +respectable family; but some early extravagance and dissipation, +together with a passion for a military life, which was denied +gratification, had induced him to enlist. Good conduct and a tolerable +education soon procured him the favorable notice of his superiors, took +him out of the ranks, and finally procured him a commission. When both +he and his wife died in Jamaica, their only son was sent home to the +father's friends; but the boy met with but a cold reception; and after +some years passed, far from happily, he, as we have said, ran away from +school; and his early associations being all military, seized the first +opportunity of enlisting, as his father had done before him. But of the +history of his parents he knew nothing whatever, except that his father +had risen from the ranks; and he had as little suspicion of his +connection with Ephraim Aldridge as Mary had. Neither did the name of +Tracy Walkingham suggest any reminiscences to Lane, who had either +forgotten, or more probably had never heard it, Mr. Aldridge's sister +having married prior to the acquaintance of the two lads. But Jonas had +been enlightened by the will; and although the regiment now quartered at +P—— was not the one therein mentioned, the name was too remarkable not +to imply a probability, which his own terror naturally converted into a +certainty.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, while the rich and conscious usurper was nightly lying +on a bed of thorns, and daily eating the broad of bitter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>ness, the poor +and unconscious heir was in the enjoyment of a larger share of happiness +than usually falls to the lot of mortals. The more intimately he became +acquainted with Mary's character, the more reason he found to +congratulate himself on his choice; and even Lane he had learned to +love; while all the painful suspicions connected with Mr. Aldridge's +death and the pocket-book had been entirely dissipated by the evident +poverty of the family; since, after the expenditure of the little ready +money Mr. Aldridge had given them, they had relapsed into their previous +state of distress, having clearly no secret resources wherewith to avert +it. Mary's shop was now beginning to get custom too, and she was by slow +degrees augmenting her small stock, when the first interruption to their +felicity occurred. This was the impending removal of the regiment, +which, under present circumstances, was an almost inevitable sentence of +separation; for even could they have resolved to make the sacrifice, and +quit the home on which they had expended all their little funds, it was +impossible for Mary to abandon her father, ever feeble, and declining in +health. The money Tracy had saved toward purchasing his discharge was +not only all gone, but, though doing very well, they were not yet quite +clear of the debt incurred for their furniture. There was therefore no +alternative but to submit to the separation, hard as it was; and all the +harder, that they could not tell how long it might take to amass the +needful sum to purchase Tracy's liberty. Lane, too, was very much +affected, and very unwilling to part with his son-in-law.</p> + +<p>"What," said he, "only twenty pounds?" And when he saw his daughter's +tears, he would exclaim, "Oh, Mary! and to think that twenty pounds +would do it!" And more than once he said, "Tracy should not go; he was +determined he should not leave them;" and bade Mary dry her tears, for +he would prevent it. But nevertheless the route came; and early one +morning the regiment marched through Thomas Street, the band playing the +tune of "The girl I left behind me;" while poor Mary, choking with sobs, +peeped through the half-open shutter, to which the young husband's eyes +were directed as long as the house was in sight. That was a sad day, and +very sad were many that followed. Neither was there any blessed Penny +Post then, to ease the sick hearts and deferred hopes of the poor; and +few and rare were the tidings that reached the loving wife—soon to +become a mother. The only pleasure Mary had now was in the amassing +money. How eager she was for it! How she counted over and over her daily +gains! How she economized! What self-denial she practiced! Oh for twenty +pounds to set her husband free, and bring him to her arms again! So +passed two years, circumstances always improving, but still this object +so near her heart was far from being attained, when there arrived a +letter from Tracy, informing her that the regiment was ordered abroad, +and that, as he could not procure a furlough, there was no possibility +of their meeting unless she could go to him. What was to be done? If she +went, all her little savings would be absorbed in the journey, and the +hope of purchasing her husband's discharge indefinitely postponed. +Besides, who was to take care of her father, and the lodger, and the +shop? The former would perhaps die from neglect, she should lose her +lodger, and the shop would go to destruction for want of the needful +attention. But could she forbear? Her husband might never return—they +might never meet again—then how she should reproach herself! Moreover, +Tracy had not seen the child: that was decisive. At all risks she must +go; and this being resolved, she determined to shut up her shop, and +engage a girl to attend to her father and her lodger. These arrangements +made, she started on her long journey with her baby in her arms.</p> + +<p>At the period of which we are treating, a humble traveler was not only +subject to great inconveniences, but besides the actual sum disbursed, +he paid a heavy per-centage from delay on every mile of his journey. +Howbeit, "Time and the hour run through the roughest day," and poor Mary +reached her destination at last; and in the joy of meeting with her +husband, forgot all her difficulties and anxieties, till the necessity +for parting recalled her to the sad reality that awaited them. If she +stayed too long away from her shop, she feared her customers would +forsake her altogether; and then how was the next rent-day to be +provided for? So, with many a sigh and many a tear, the young couple +bade each other farewell, and Mary recommenced her tedious journey. If +tedious before, when such a bright star of hope lighted her on her way, +how much more so now! While poor Tracy felt so wretched and depressed, +that many a time vague thoughts of deserting glanced through his mind, +and he was only withheld from it by the certainty that if they shot +him—and deserters, when taken, were shot in those days—it would break +his poor little wife's heart. Soon after Mary's departure, however, it +happened that his master, Major D'Arcy, met with a severe accident while +hunting; and as Tracy was his favorite servant, and very much attached +to him, his time and thoughts were so much occupied with attendance on +the invalid, that he was necessarily in some degree diverted from his +own troubles.</p> + +<p>In the mean time Mary arrived at home, where she found her affairs in no +worse condition than might be expected. Her father was in health much as +she had left him, and her lodger still in the house, though both weary +of her substitute; and the latter—that is, the lodger—threatening to +quit if the mistress did not make haste back. All was right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> now +again—except Mary's heart—and things resumed their former train; the +only event she expected being a letter to inform her of her husband's +departure, which he had promised to post on the day of his embarkation.</p> + +<p>Three months elapsed, however, before the postman stopped at her door +with the dreaded letter. How her heart sank when she saw him enter the +shop!</p> + +<p>"A letter for you, Mrs. Walkingham—one-and-two-pence, if you please." +Mary opened her till, and handed him the money.</p> + +<p>"Poor thing!" thought the man, observing how her hand shook, and how +pale she turned; "expects bad news, I suppose!"</p> + +<p>Mary dropped the letter into the money-drawer, for there was a customer +in the shop waiting to be served—and then came in another. When the +second was gone, she took it out and looked at it, turned it about, and +examined it, and kissed it, and then put it away again. She felt that +she dared not open it till night, when all her business was over, and +her shop closed, and she might pour out her tears without interruption. +She could scarcely tell whether she most longed or feared to open it; +and when at length the quiet hour came, and her father was in bed, and +her baby asleep in its cradle beside her, and she sat down to read it, +she looked at it, and pressed it to her bosom, and kissed it again and +again, before she broke the seal; and then when she had done so, the +paper shook in her hand, and her eyes were obscured with tears, and the +light seemed so dim that she could not at first decipher anything but +"My darling Mary!" It was easy to read that, for he always called her +<i>his darling Mary</i>—but what came next? "Joy! joy! dry your dear tears, +for I know how fast they are falling, and be happy! I am not going +abroad with the regiment, and I shall soon be a free man. Major D'Arcy +has met with a sad accident, and cannot go to a foreign station; and as +he wishes me not to leave him, he is going to purchase my discharge," +&c. &c.</p> + +<p>Many a night had Mary lain awake from grief, but this night she could +not sleep for joy. It was such a surprise, such an unlooked-for piece of +good fortune. It might indeed be some time before she could see her +husband, but he was free, and sooner or later they should be together. +Everybody who came to the shop the next day wondered what had come over +Mrs. Walkingham. She was not like the same woman.</p> + +<p>It was about eight months after the arrival of the above welcome +intelligence, on a bright winter's morning, Mary as usual up betimes, +her shop all in order, her child washed and dressed, and herself as neat +and clean "as a new pin," as her neighbor, Mrs. Crump the laundress, +used to say of her—her heart as usual full of Tracy, and more than +commonly full of anxiety about him, for the usual period for his writing +was some time passed. She was beginning to be uneasy at his prolonged +silence, and to fear that he was ill.</p> + +<p>"No letter for me, Mr. Ewart?" she said, as she stood on the step with +her child in her arms, watching for the postman.</p> + +<p>"None to-day, Mrs. Walkingham; better luck next time!" answered the +functionary, as he trotted past. Mary, disappointed was turning in, +resolving that night to write and upbraid her husband for causing her so +much uneasiness, when she heard the horn that announced the approach of +the London coach, and she stopped to see it pass; for there were +pleasant memories connected with that coach: it was the occasion of her +first acquaintance with Tracy—so had the driver sounded his horn, which +she, absorbed in her troubles, had not heard; so had he cracked his +whip; so had the wheels rattled over the stones; and so had the idle +children in the street run hooting and hallooing after it; but not so +had it dashed up to her door and stopped. It cannot be!—yes, it +is—Tracy himself, in a drab great-coat and crape round his hat, jumping +down from behind! The guard throws him a large portmanteau, and a paper +parcel containing a new gown for Mary and a frock for the boy; and in a +moment more they are in the little back parlor in each other's arms. +Major D'Arcy was dead, and Tracy had returned to his wife to part no +more—so we will shut the door, and leave them to their happiness, while +we take a peep at Mr. Jonas Aldridge.</p> + +<p>We left him writhing under the painful discovery that the rightful heir +of the property he was enjoying, at least so far as his uncle's +intentions were concerned, was not only in existence, but was actually +the husband of Lane's daughter; and although he sometimes hoped the +fatal paper had been destroyed, since he could in no other way account +for its non-production, still the galling apprehension that it might +some day find its way to light was ever a thorn in his pillow; and the +natural consequence of this irritating annoyance was, that while he +hated both Tracy and his wife, he kept a vigilant eye on their +proceedings, and had a restless curiosity about all that concerned them. +He would have been not only glad to eject them from the house they +occupied, and even to drive them out of the town altogether, but he had +a vague fear of openly meddling with them; so that the departure of the +regiment, and its being subsequently ordered abroad, afforded him the +highest satisfaction; in proportion to which was his vexation at Tracy's +release, and ultimate return as a free man, all which particulars he +extracted from Mr. Reynolds as regularly as the payment of the quarter's +rent.</p> + +<p>"And what does he mean to do now?" inquired Jonas.</p> + +<p>"To settle here, I fancy," returned Mr. Reynolds. "They seem to be doing +very well in the little shop; and I believe they have some thoughts of +extending their business."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>This was extremely unpleasant intelligence, and the more so, that it was +not easy to discover any means of defeating these arrangements; for as +Mr. Jonas justly observed, as he soliloquized on the subject, "In this +cursed country there is no getting rid of such a fellow!"</p> + +<p>In the town of which we speak there are along the shore several houses +of public resort of a very low description, chiefly frequented by +soldiers and sailors; and in war-times it was not at all an uncommon +thing for the hosts of these dens to be secretly connected with the +pressgangs and recruiting companies, both of whom, at a period when men +were so much needed for the public service, pursued their object after a +somewhat unscrupulous fashion. Among the most notorious of these houses +was one called the Britannia, kept by a man of the name of Gurney, who +was reported to have furnished, by fair means or foul, a good many +recruits to his Majesty's army and navy. Now it occurred to Mr. Jonas +Aldridge that Gurney might be useful to him in his present strait; nor +did he find any unwillingness on the part of that worthy person to serve +his purposes.</p> + +<p>"A troublesome sort of fellow this Walkingham is," said Mr. Jonas; "and +I wouldn't mind giving twenty pounds if you could get him to enlist +again."</p> + +<p>The twenty pounds was quite argument enough to satisfy Gurney of the +propriety of so doing; but success in the undertaking proved much less +easy than desirable. Tracy, who spent his evenings quietly at home with +his wife, never drank, and never frequented the houses on the quay, +disappointed all the schemes laid for entrapping him; and Mr. Jonas had +nearly given up the expectation of accomplishing his purpose, when a +circumstance occurred that awakened new hopes. The house next to that +inhabited by the young couple took fire in the night when everybody was +asleep; the party-walls being thin, the flames soon extended to the +adjoining ones; and the following morning saw poor Tracy and his wife +and child homeless, and almost destitute, their best exertions having +enabled them to save little more than their own lives and that of Mary's +father, who was now bedridden. But for his infirm condition they might +have saved more of their property; but not only was there much time +necessarily consumed in removing him, but when Tracy rushed into his +room, intending to carry him away in his arms, Lane would not allow him +to lift him from his bed till he had first unlocked a large trunk with a +key which was attached to a string hung round the sick man's neck.</p> + +<p>"Never mind—never mind trying to save anything but your life! You'll be +burnt, sir; indeed you will; there's not a moment to lose," cried Tracy +eagerly.</p> + +<p>But Lane would listen to nothing: the box must be opened, and one +precious object secured. "Thrust your hand down to the bottom—the +corner next the window—and you'll find a parcel in brown paper."</p> + +<p>"I have it, sir—I have it!" cried Tracy; and lifting the invalid from +his bed with the strong arm of vigorous youth, he threw him on his back, +and bore him safely into the street.</p> + +<p>"The parcel!" said Lane; "where is it?"</p> + +<p>Tracy flung it to him, and rushed back into the house. But too late: the +flames drove him forth immediately; and finding he could do nothing +there, he proceeded to seek a shelter for his houseless family.</p> + +<p>It was with no little satisfaction that Mr. Jonas Aldridge heard of this +accident. These obnoxious individuals were dislodged now without any +intervention of his, and the link was broken that so unpleasantly seemed +to connect them with himself. Moreover, they were to all appearance +ruined, and consequently helpless and defenseless. Now was the time to +root them out of the town if possible, and prevent them making another +settlement in it; and now was the time that Gurney might be useful; for +Tracy, being no longer a householder, was liable to be pressed, if he +could not be induced to reenlist.</p> + +<p>In the mean while, all unconscious of the irritation and anxiety they +were innocently inflicting on the wealthy Mr. Jonas Aldridge, Tracy and +his wife were struggling hard to keep their heads above water in this +sudden wreck of all their hopes and comforts. It is so hard to rise +again after such a plunge; for the destruction of the poor is their +poverty; and <i>having</i> nothing, they could undertake nothing, begin +nothing. The only thing open seemed for Tracy to seek service, and for +Mary to resume her needlework; but situations and custom are not found +in a day, and they were all huddled together in a room, and wanting +bread. The shock of the fire and the removal had seriously affected Lane +too, and it was evident that his sorrows and sufferings were fast +drawing to a close. He was aware of it himself, and one day when Mary +was out he called Tracy to his bedside, and asked him if Mr. Adams did +not think he was dying.</p> + +<p>"You have been very ill before, and recovered," said Tracy, unwilling to +shock him with the sentence that the apothecary had pronounced against +him.</p> + +<p>"I see," said Lane; "my time is come; and I am not unwilling to go, for +I am a sore burthen to you and Mary, now you're in trouble. I know +you're very kind," he added, seeing Tracy about to protest; "but it's +high time I was under ground. God knows—God knows I have had a sore +struggle, and it's not over yet! To see you so poor, in want of +everything, and to know that I could help you. I sometimes think there +could be no great harm in it either. The Lord have mercy upon me! What +am I saying?"</p> + +<p>"You had better not talk any more, but try to sleep till Mary comes in," +said Tracy, concluding his mind was beginning to wander.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, no," said Lane; "that won't do: I must say it now. You remember +that parcel we saved from the fire?"</p> + +<p>"Yes I do," answered Tracy, looking about. "Where is it? I've never seen +it since."</p> + +<p>"It's here!" said Lane, drawing it from under his pillow. "Look there," +he added: "<i>not to be opened till after my death</i>. You observe?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir."</p> + +<p>"<i>Not to be opened till after my death.</i> But as soon as I am gone, take +it to Mr. Jonas Aldridge: it belongs to him. There is a letter inside +explaining everything; and I have asked him to be good to you and Mary +for the sake of—for the sake of the hard, hard struggle I have had in +poverty and sickness, when I saw her young cheek fading with want and +work; and now again, when you are all suffering, and little Tracy too, +with his thin pale face that used to be so round and rosy: but it will +soon be over, thank God! You will be sure to deliver it into his own +hands?"</p> + +<p>"I give you my word I will, sir."</p> + +<p>"Take it away then, and let me see it no more; but hide it from Mary, +and tell her nothing about it."</p> + +<p>"I will not, sir. And now you must try to rest."</p> + +<p>"I feel more at peace now," said Lane; "and perhaps I may. Thank God the +worst struggle is over—dying is easy."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adams was right in his prediction. In less than a week from the +period of that solemn behest poor Lane was in his grave; and his last +word, with a significant glance at Tracy, was—<i>remember</i>!</p> + +<p>Mary had loved her father tenderly—indeed there was a great deal in him +to love; and he was doubly endeared to her by the trials they had gone +through together, and the cares and anxieties she had lavished on him. +But there was no bitterness in the tears she shed: she had never failed +him in their hours of trial; she had been a dutiful and affectionate +daughter, and he had expired peacefully in the arms of herself and her +kind and beloved husband. It was on the evening of the day which had +seen the remains of poor Maurice Lane deposited in the churchyard of St. +Jude that Tracy, having placed the parcel in his bosom, and buttoned his +coat over it, said to his wife—"Mary, I have occasion to go out on a +little business; keep up your spirits till I return; I will not be away +more than an hour;" and leaning over her chair he kissed her cheek, and +left the room. As he stepped from his own door into the street, he +observed two men leaning against the rails of the adjoining house, and +he heard one say to the other, "Yes, by jingo!" "At last!" returned the +other; whereupon they moved on, pursuing the same way he went himself, +but keeping at some distance behind.</p> + +<p>Tracy could not quite say that he owed no man anything, for the fire had +incapacitated them from paying some small accounts which they would +otherwise have been able to discharge, and he even owed a month's rent; +but this, considering the circumstances of the case, he did not expect +would be claimed. Indeed Mr. Reynolds, who was quite ignorant of Mr. +Jonas' enmity, had hinted as much. He had therefore no apprehension of +being pursued for debt, nor, till he recollected that there was a very +active pressgang in the town, did it occur to him that the movements of +these men could be connected with himself. It is true that, as a +discharged soldier, he was not strictly liable, but he was aware that +immunities of this sort were not always available at the moment of need; +and that, as these persons did not adhere very strictly to the terms of +their warrant, once in their clutches, it was no easy matter to get out +of them: so he quickened his pace, and kept his eyes and ears on the +alert.</p> + +<p>His way lay along the shore, and shortly before he reached the +Britannia, the two men suddenly advanced, and placed themselves one on +each side of him. But for the suspicion we have named, Tracy would have +either not observed their movements, or, if he had, would have stopped +and inquired what they wanted. As it was, he thought it much wiser to +escape the seizure at first, should such be their intention, than trust +to the justice of his cause afterward; so, without giving them time to +lay hands upon him, he took to his heels and ran, whereupon they sounded +a whistle, and as he reached Joe Gurney's door, he found his flight +impeded by that worthy himself, who came out of it, and tried to trip +him up. But Tracy was active, and making a leap, he eluded the +stratagem. The man, however, seized him, which gave time to the two +others to come up; and there commenced a desperate struggle of three to +one, in which, in spite of his strength and ability, Tracy would +certainly have been worsted but for a very unexpected reinforcement +which joined him from some of the neighboring houses, to whose +inhabitants Gurney's proceedings had become to the last degree odious; +more especially in the women, among whom there was scarcely one who had +not the cause of a brother, a son, or a lover to avenge. Armed with +pokers, brooms, or whatever they could lay their hands on, these Amazons +issued from their doors, and fell foul of Gurney, whom they singled from +the rest as their own peculiar prey. In the confusion Tracy contrived to +make his escape; and without his hat, and his clothes almost torn off +his back, he rushed in upon the astonished Mary in less than half an +hour after he had left her.</p> + +<p>His story was soon told, and there was nothing sufficiently uncommon in +such an incident in those days to excite much surprise, except as +regarded the circumstance of the men lying in wait for him. Tracy was +not ignorant that malice and jealousy had occasionally furnished victims +to the press<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> system; but they had no enemy they knew of, nor was there +any one, as far as they were aware, that had an interest in getting him +out of the way. It was, however, an unpleasant and alarming occurrence, +and he resolved on consulting a lawyer, in order to ascertain how he +might protect himself from any repetition of the annoyance.</p> + +<p>With this determination, the discussion between the husband and wife +concluded for that night; but the former had a private source of +uneasiness, which on the whole distressed him much more than the seizure +itself, and which he could not have the relief of communicating to +Mary—this was the loss of the parcel so sacredly committed to his care +by his deceased father-in-law, and which he was on his way to deliver +into the hands of Mr. Jonas Aldridge when he met with the interruption. +It had either fallen or been torn from his bosom in the struggle, and +considering the neighborhood and the sort of people that surrounded him, +he could scarcely indulge the most remote hope of ever seeing it again. +To what the papers contained Lane had furnished him no clew; but whether +it was anything of intrinsic worth, or merely some article to which +circumstances or association lent an arbitrary value, the impossibility +of complying with the last and earnest request of Mary's father formed +far the most painful feature in the accident of the evening; and while +the wife lay awake, conjuring up images of she knew not what dangers and +perils that threatened her husband, Tracy passed an equally sleepless +night in vague conjectures as to what had become of the parcel, and in +forming visionary schemes for its recovery.</p> + +<p>In the morning he even determined to face Gurney in his den; for it was +only at night that he felt himself in any danger from the nefarious +proceedings of himself and his associates. But his inquiries brought him +no satisfaction. The people who resided in the neighborhood of Gurney's +house, many of whom had engaged in the broil, declared they knew nothing +of the parcel; "but," said they, "if any of Gurney's people have it, you +need never hope to see it again." Tracy thought so too; however, he paid +a visit to their den of iniquity, and declared his determination to have +them summoned before the magistrates, to answer for his illegal seizure; +but as all who were present denied any knowledge of the affair, and as +he could not have sworn to the two ruffians who tracked him, he +satisfied himself with this threat without proceeding further in the +business.</p> + +<p>Having been equally unsuccessful at the police-office, he determined +after waiting a few days in the hope of discovering some clew by which +he might recover the parcel, to communicate the circumstance to Mr. +Jonas Aldridge. He therefore took an early opportunity of presenting +himself in West Street.</p> + +<p>"Here's a man wishes to see you, sir," said the servant.</p> + +<p>"Who is it? What does he want?" inquired Mr. Jonas, who, recumbent in +his arm-chair, and his glass of port beside him, was leisurely perusing +his newspaper after dinner. "Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"He's in the passage, sir."</p> + +<p>"Take care he's not a thief come to look after the greatcoats and hats."</p> + +<p>"He looks very respectable, sir."</p> + +<p>"Wants me to subscribe to something, I suppose. Go and ask him what's +his business."</p> + +<p>"He says he can't tell his business except to you, sir, because it's +something very partickler," said the maid, returning into the room. "He +says he's been one of your tenants; his name's Walkingham."</p> + +<p>"Walkingham!" reiterated Mr. Jonas, dropping the newspaper, and starting +erect out of his recumbent attitude. "Wants me! Business! What business +can he possibly have with me? Say I'm engaged, and can't see him. No, +stay! Yes; say I'm engaged and can't see him."</p> + +<p>"He wishes to know what time it will be convenient for you to see him, +sir, as it's about something very partickler indeed," said the girl, +again making her appearance.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jonas reflected a minute or two; he feared this visit portended him +no good. He had often wondered that Tracy had not claimed relationship +with him, for he felt no doubt of his being his cousin; probably he was +now come to do it; or had he somehow got hold of that fatal will? One or +the other surely was the subject of his errand; and if I refuse to see +him, he will go and tell his story to somebody else. "Let him come in. +Stay! Take the lamp off the table, and put it at the other end of the +room."</p> + +<p>This done, Mr. Jonas having reseated himself in his arm-chair in such a +position that he could conceal his features from his unwelcome visitor, +bade the woman send him in.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon for intruding, sir," said Tracy, "but I thought it my +duty to come to you," speaking in such a modest tone of voice, that Mr. +Jonas began to feel somewhat reassured, and ventured to ask with a +careless air, "What was his business?"</p> + +<p>"You have perhaps heard, sir, that Mr. Lane is dead?"</p> + +<p>"I believe I did," said Mr. Jonas.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, shortly before his death he called me to his bedside and +gave me a parcel, which he desired me to deliver to you as soon as he +was laid in his grave."</p> + +<p>"To me?" said Mr. Jonas, by way of filling up the pause, and concealing +his agitation, for he immediately jumped to the conclusion that the will +was really forthcoming now.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, into your own hand; and accordingly the day he was buried I +set out in the evening to bring it to you; but the pressgang got hold of +me, and in the scuffle I lost it out of my bosom, where I had put it +for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> safety, and though I have made every inquiry, I can hear nothing of +it."</p> + +<p>"What was it? What did the parcel contain?" inquired Mr. Jonas, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I am sure, sir," answered Tracy. "It was sealed up in +thick brown paper; but, from the anxiety Mr. Lane expressed about its +delivery, I am afraid it was something of value. He said he should never +rest in his grave if you did not get it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Jonas now seeing there was no immediate danger, found courage to ask +a variety of questions with a view to further discoveries; but as Tracy +had no clew to guide him with regard to the contents of the parcel +except his own suspicions, which he did not feel himself called upon to +communicate, he declared himself unable to give any information. All he +could say was, that "he thought the parcel felt as if there was a book +in it."</p> + +<p>"A book!" said Mr. Jonas. "What sized book?"</p> + +<p>"Not a large book, sir, but rather thick; it might be a pocket-book."</p> + +<p>"Very odd!" said Mr. Jonas, who was really puzzled; for if the book +contained the will, surely it was not to him that Lane would have +committed it. However, as nothing more could be elicited on the subject, +he dismissed Tracy, bidding him neglect nothing to recover the parcel, +and inexpressibly vexed that his own stratagem to get rid of this +"discomfortable cousin," had prevented his receiving the important +bequest.</p> + +<p>Whilst Tracy returned home, satisfied that he had fulfilled his duty as +far as he was able, Mr. Jonas having well considered the matter, +resolved on obtaining an interview with Joe Gurney himself; "for," +thought he, "if the parcel contained neither money, nor anything that +could be turned into money, he may possibly be able to get it for me."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I remembers the night very well," said Joe. "They'd ha' been +watching for that 'ere young chap, off and on, for near a fortnight, +when they got him, as luck would have it, close to my door; but he +raised such a noise that the neighbors came out, and he got away."</p> + +<p>"But did you hear anything of the parcel?" inquired Mr. Jonas.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I'm not sure whether I did or no," answered Gurney; "but I +think it was Tom Purcell as picked it up."</p> + +<p>"Then you saw it?" said Mr. Jonas. "What did it contain? Where is it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sure, sir, that is more than I can say," returned Gurney, who +always spared himself the pain of telling more truth than he could +avoid; "but Tom went away the next day to Lunnun."</p> + +<p>"And did he take the parcel with him? Was there no address on it?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, not on the outside at least—there was something wrote, but it +wasn't addressed to nobody."</p> + +<p>Although Mr. Jonas was perfectly aware that Gurney knew more than he +chose to tell, not wishing to quarrel with him, he was obliged to +relinquish the interrogative system, and content himself with a promise +that he would endeavor to discover the whereabout of Tom Purcell, and do +all he could to recover the lost article; and to a certain extent Gurney +intended to fulfill the engagement. The fact of the matter was, that the +parcel had been found by Tom Purcell, but not so exclusively as that he +could secure the benefit of its contents to himself. They had been +divided amongst those who put in their claim, the treasure consisting of +a black pocket-book, containing Ł95 in bank-notes, and Lane's letter, +sealed, and addressed to Mr. Jonas Aldridge. The profits being +distributed, the pocket-book and letter were added to the share of the +finder, and these, it was possible, might be recovered; and with that +view Gurney dispatched a missive to their possessor. But persons who +follow the profession of Tom Purcell have rarely any fixed address, and +a considerable time elapsed ere an answer was received; and when it did +come, it led to no result. The paper he had burnt, and the pocket-book +he had thrown into a ditch. He described the spot, and it was searched, +but nothing of the sort was found. Here, therefore, ended the matter to +all appearance, especially as Mr. Jonas succeeded in extracting from +Gurney that there was nothing in the book but that letter and some +money.</p> + +<p>In the mean while, however, the pocket-book had strangely enough found +its way back to Thomas Street. A poor woman that carried fish about the +town for sale, and with whom Mary not unfrequently dealt, brought it to +her one day, damp, tattered, and discolored, and inquired if it did not +belong to her husband.</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Because," said the woman, "he came to our house one morning last winter +asking for a parcel. Now, I know this pocket-book—at least I think it's +the same—had been picked up by some of Gurney's folks the night afore, +though it wasn't for me that lives next door to him to interfere in his +matters. Hows'ever, my son's a hedger and ditcher, and when he came home +last night he brought it: he says he found it in a field near by the +Potteries."</p> + +<p>"I do not think it is Tracy's," said Mary; "but if you will leave it, +I'll ask him." And the article being in too dilapidated a condition to +have any value, the woman told her she was welcome to it, and went away.</p> + +<p>The consequence of this little event was, that when Tracy returned, Mary +became a participator in the secret which had hitherto been withheld +from her.</p> + +<p>"I see it all," said she. "No doubt Mr. Aldridge gave it to my father to +take care of the night he came here; and when he died, my poor father, +knowing we were to have shared with him had he lived, felt tempted to +keep it; but he was too honest to do so; and in all our distresses he +never touched what was not his own; but this explains many things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> I +could not understand." And as the tears rose to her eyes at the +recollection of the struggle she had witnessed, without comprehending +it, betwixt want and integrity, she fell into a reverie, which prevented +her observing that her child, a boy of four years old, had taken +possession of the pocket-book, and, seated on the floor, was pulling it +to pieces.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what, Mary," said Tracy, returning into the shop, which he +had left for a few minutes, "I'll take the book as it is to Mr. Jonas +Aldridge. I'm sorry the money's lost; but we are not to blame for that, +and I suppose he has plenty. Put it into a bit of clean paper, will you, +and I'll set off at once."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tracy, Tracy," cried Mary, addressing her little boy, "what <i>are</i> +you doing with that book? Give it me, you naughty child! See, he has +almost torn it in half!" Not a very difficult feat, for the leather was +so rotten with damp that it scarcely held together.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Tracy: here's a paper in it," said Mary, as she took it from +the child, and from the end of a secret pocket, which was unript, she +drew a folded sheet of long writing-paper.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! look here!" said she, as she unfolded and cast her eye over +it. "'In the name of God, amen! I, Ephraim Aldridge, residing at No. 4, +West Street, being of sound mind, memory, and understanding'——Why, +Tracy, it's a will, I declare! Only think, How odd! isn't it? 'Of sound +mind, memory, and understanding, do make and publish this my last will +and testament'"——</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what, Mary," said Tracy, attempting to take the paper +from her, "I don't think we've any right to read it: give it me."</p> + +<p>"Stay," said Mary; "stay. Oh, Tracy, do but listen to this: 'I give, +devise, and bequeath all property, of what nature or kind soever, real, +freehold, or personal, of which I shall die seized or +possessed'——Think what a deal Mr. Jonas must have!"</p> + +<p>"Mary, I'm surprised at you."</p> + +<p>"'Of which I shall die seized or possessed, to my nephew'"——</p> + +<p>"It's merely the draft of a will. Give it me, and let me go."</p> + +<p>"'To my nephew, Tracy Walkingham, son of the late Tracy Walkingham, +formerly a private, and subsequently a commissioned officer in his +majesty's 96th Regiment of foot, and of my sister, Eleanor Aldridge, his +wife.' Tracy, what can it mean? Can you be Mr. Ephraim Aldridge's +nephew?"</p> + +<p>"It's very strange," said Tracy. "I never heard my mother's maiden name; +for both she and my father died in the West Indies when I was a child; +but certainly, as I have often told you, my father was a private in the +96th Regiment, and afterward got a commission."</p> + +<p>It would be useless to dwell on the surprise of the young couple, or to +detail the measures that were taken to ascertain and prove, beyond a +cavil, that Tracy was the right heir. There were relations yet alive +who, when they heard that he was likely to turn out a rich man, were +willing enough to identify him, and it was not till the solicitor he had +employed was perfectly satisfied on this head that Mr. Jonas was waited +on, with the astounding intelligence that a will had been discovered, +made subsequent to the one by which he inherited. At the same time a +letter was handed to him, which, sealed and addressed in Ephraim's hand, +had been found in the same secret receptacle of the book as the larger +paper.</p> + +<p>The contents of that letter none ever knew but Jonas himself. It seemed +to have been a voice of reproach from the grave for the ill return he +had made to the perhaps injudicious but well-meant generosity and +indulgence of the old man. The lawyer related that when he opened it he +turned deadly pale, and placing his hands before his face, sank into a +chair quite overcome: let us hope his heart was touched.</p> + +<p>However that may be, he had no reason to complain of the treatment he +received from the hands of his successors, who temperate in prosperity, +as they had been patient in adversity, in consideration of the +relationship and of the expectations in which he had been nurtured, made +Jonas a present of a thousand pounds for the purpose of establishing him +in any way of life he might select; while, carefully preserved in a +leathern case, the old black pocket-book, to which they owed so much, is +still extant in the family of Tracy Walkingham.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<div class="center">[Abridged from "Light and Darkness," just published.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">THE LAST VAMPIRE.</span><br /></div> + +<div class="c75">BY MRS. CROWE.</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>N the fifteenth century lycanthropy prevailed extensively amongst the +Vaudois, and many persons suffered death for it; but as no similar case +seems to have been heard of for a long while, lycanthropy and ghoulism +were set down amongst the superstitions of the East, and the follies and +fables of the dark ages. A circumstance however has just come to light +in France that throws a strange and unexpected light upon this curious +subject. The account we are going to give is drawn from a report of the +investigation before a council of war, held on the 10th of the present +month (July, 1849), Colonel Manselon, president. It is remarked that the +court was extremely crowded, and that many ladies were present.</p> + +<p>The facts of this mysterious affair, as they came to light in the +examinations, are as follows: For some months past the cemeteries in and +around Paris have been the scenes of a frightful profanation, the +authors of which had succeeded in eluding all the vigilance that was +exerted to detect them. At one time the guardians or keepers of these +places of burial were themselves suspected; at others the odium was +thrown on the surviving relations of the dead.</p> + +<p>The cemetery of Pčre la Chaise was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> first field of these horrible +operations. It appears that for a considerable time the guardians had +observed a mysterious figure flitting about by night amongst the tombs, +on whom they never could lay their hands. As they approached, he +disappeared like a phantom; and even the dogs that were let loose, and +urged to seize him, stopped short, and ceased to bark, as if they were +transfixed by a charm. When morning broke, the ravages of this strange +visitant were but too visible—graves had been opened, coffins forced, +and the remains of the dead, frightfully torn and mutilated, lay +scattered upon the earth. Could the surgeons be the guilty parties? No. +A member of the profession being brought to the spot declared that no +scientific knife had been there; but certain parts of the human body +might be required for anatomical studies, and the gravediggers might +have violated the tombs to obtain money by the sale of them. The watch +was doubled, but to no purpose. A young soldier was one night seized in +a tomb, but he declared he had gone there to meet his sweetheart, and +had fallen asleep; and as he evinced no trepidation they let him go.</p> + +<p>At length these profanations ceased in Pčre la Chaise, but it was not +long before they were renewed in another quarter. A suburban cemetery +was the new theater of operations. A little girl aged seven years, and +much loved by her parents, died. With their own hands they laid her in +her coffin, attired in the frock she delighted to wear on <i>fęte</i> days, +and with her favorite playthings beside her; and accompanied by numerous +relatives and friends they saw her laid in the earth. On the following +morning it was discovered that the grave had been violated, the body +torn from the coffin, frightfully mutilated, and the heart extracted. +There was no robbery. The sensation in the neighborhood was tremendous; +and in the general terror and perplexity suspicion fell on the +broken-hearted father, whose innocence however was easily proved. Every +means was taken to discover the criminal; but the only result of the +increased surveillance was that the scene of profanation was removed to +the cemetery of Mont Parnasse, where the exhumations were carried to +such an extent that the authorities were at their wits' end.</p> + +<p>Considering, by the way, that all these cemeteries are surrounded by +walls, and have iron gates, which are kept closed, it certainly seems +very strange that any ghoul or vampire of solid flesh and blood should +have been able to pursue his vocation so long undiscovered. However, so +it was; and it was not till they bethought themselves of laying a snare +for this mysterious visitor that he was detected. Having remarked a spot +where the wall, though nine feet high, appeared to have been frequently +scaled, an old officer contrived a sort of infernal machine, with a wire +attached to it, which he so arranged that it should explode if any one +attempted to enter the cemetery at that point. This done, and a watch +being set, they thought themselves now secure of their purpose. +Accordingly, at midnight an explosion roused the guardians, who +perceived a man already in the cemetery; but before they could seize him +he had leaped the wall with an agility that confounded them; and +although they fired their pieces after him, he succeeded in making his +escape. But his footsteps were marked with blood that had flowed from +his wounds, and several scraps of military attire were picked up on the +spot. Nevertheless, they seem to have been still uncertain where to seek +the offender, till one of the gravediggers of Mont Parnasse, whilst +preparing the last resting-place of two criminals about to be executed, +chanced to overhear some sappers of the 74th regiment remarking that one +of their sergeants had returned on the preceding night cruelly wounded, +nobody knew how, and had been conveyed to Val de Grace, which is a +military hospital. A little inquiry now soon cleared up the mystery; and +it was ascertained that Sergeant Bertrand was the author of all these +profanations, and of many others of the same description previous to his +arrival in Paris.</p> + +<p>Supported on crutches, wrapped in a gray cloak, pale and feeble, +Bertrand was now brought forward for examination; nor was there anything +in the countenance or appearance of this young man indicative of the +fearful monomania of which he is the victim; for the whole tenor of his +confession proves that in no other light is his horrible propensity to +be considered. In the first place, he freely acknowledged himself the +author of these violations of the dead both in Paris and elsewhere.</p> + +<p>"What object did you propose to yourself in committing these acts?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell," replied Bertrand: "it was a horrible impulse. I was +driven to it against my own will; nothing could stop or deter me. I +cannot describe or understand myself what my sensations were in tearing +and rending these bodies."</p> + +<p>President.—"And what did you do after one of these visits to a +cemetery?"</p> + +<p>Bertrand.—"I withdrew, trembling convulsively, feeling a great desire +for repose. I fell asleep, no matter where, and slept for several hours; +but during this sleep I heard everything that passed around me! I have +sometimes exhumed from ten to fifteen bodies in a night. I dug them up +with my hands, which were often torn and bleeding with the labor I +underwent; but I minded nothing, so that I could get at them. The +guardians fired at me one night and wounded me, but that did not prevent +my returning the next. This desire seized me generally about once a +fortnight."</p> + +<p>Strange to say, the perpetrator of all these terrors was "gentle and +kind to the living, and especially beloved in his regiment for his +frankness and gayety."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> +<div class="center">[From Blackwood's Magazine.]<br /> +<span class="simh3">MY NOVEL:</span><br /> + OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE.<br /> +BY PISISTRATUS CAXTON.<br /> +<i>Continued from Page 582.</i></div> +<div class="c75">BOOK II.—INITIAL CHAPTER:—INFORMING THE READER HOW THIS WORK CAME TO +HAVE INITIAL CHAPTERS.<br /></div> + +<p><span class="dropcap">"T</span>HERE can't be a doubt," said my father, "that to each of the main +divisions of your work—whether you call them Books or Parts—you should +prefix an Initial or Introductory Chapter."</p> + +<p><i>Pisistratus.</i>—"Can't be a doubt, sir! Why so?"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Caxton.</i>—"Fielding lays it down as an indispensable rule, which he +supports by his example; and Fielding was an artistical writer, and knew +what he was about."</p> + +<p><i>Pisistratus.</i>—"Do you remember any of his reasons, sir?"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Caxton.</i>—"Why, indeed, Fielding says very justly that he is not +bound to assign any reason; but he does assign a good many, here and +there—to find which, I refer you to <i>Tom Jones</i>. I will only observe, +that one of his reasons, which is unanswerable, runs to the effect that +thus, in every Part or Book, the reader has the advantage of beginning +at the fourth or fifth page instead of the first—'a matter by no means +of trivial consequence,' saith Fielding, 'to persons who read books with +no other view than to say they have read them—a more general motive to +reading than is commonly imagined; and from which not only law books and +good books, but the pages of Homer and Virgil, of Swift and Cervantes, +have been often turned over.' There," cried my father triumphantly, "I +will lay a shilling to twopence that I have quoted the very words."</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Caxton.</i>—"Dear me, that only means skipping: I don't see any +great advantage in writing a chapter, merely for people to skip it."</p> + +<p><i>Pisistratus.</i>—"Neither do I!"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Caxton</i>, dogmatically.—"It is the repose in the picture—Fielding +calls it 'contrast'—(still more dogmatically) I say there can't be a +doubt about it. Besides, (added my father after a pause,) besides, this +usage gives you opportunities to explain what has gone before, or to +prepare for what's coming; or, since Fielding contends with great truth, +that some learning is necessary for this kind of historical composition, +it allows you, naturally and easily, the introduction of light and +pleasant ornaments of that nature. At each flight in the terrace, you +may give the eye the relief of an urn or a statue. Moreover, when so +inclined, you create proper pausing places for reflection; and complete, +by a separate yet harmonious ethical department, the design of a work, +which is but a mere Mother Goose's tale if it does not embrace a general +view of the thoughts and actions of mankind."</p> + +<p><i>Pisistratus.</i>—"But then, in these initial chapters, the author thrusts +himself forward; and just when you want to get on with the <i>dramatis +personć</i>, you find yourself face to face with the poet himself."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Caxton.</i>—"Pooh! you can contrive to prevent that! Imitate the +chorus of the Greek stage, who fill up the intervals between the action +by saying what the author would otherwise say in his own person."</p> + +<p><i>Pisistratus</i>, slily.—"That's a good idea, sir—and I have a chorus, +and a chorćgus too, already in my eye."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Caxton</i>, unsuspectingly.—"Aha! you are not so dull a fellow as you +would make yourself out to be; and, even if an author did thrust himself +forward, what objection is there to that?—I don't say a good poem, but +a poem. It is a mere affectation to suppose that a book can come into +the world without an author. Every child has a father, one father at +least, as the great Condé says very well in his poem."</p> + +<p><i>Pisistratus.</i>—"The great Condé a poet!—I never heard that before."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Caxton.</i>—"I don't say he was a poet, but he sent a poem to Madame +de Montansier. Envious critics think that he must have paid somebody +else to write it; but there is no reason why a great Captain should not +write a poem. I wonder, Roland, if the Duke ever tried his hand at +'Stanzas to Mary,' or 'Lines to a sleeping babe.'"</p> + +<p><i>Captain Roland.</i>—"Austin, I'm ashamed of you. Of course the Duke could +write poetry if he pleased—something, I dare say, in the way of the +great Condé—that is something warlike and heroic, I'll be bound. Let's +hear!"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Caxton</i>, reciting—</p> + +<p> +"Telle est du Ciel la loi sévčre<br /> +Qu'il faut qu'un enfant ait un pčre;<br /> +On dit męme quelque fois<br /> +Tel enfant en a jusqu'ŕ trois."<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Captain Roland</i>, greatly disgusted.—"Condé write such stuff!—I don't +believe it."</p> + +<p><i>Pisistratus.</i>—"I do, and accept the quotation—you and Roland shall be +joint fathers to my child as well as myself."</p> + +<p> +"Tel enfant en a jusqu'ŕ trois."<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Caxton</i>, solemnly.—"I refuse the proffered paternity; but so far +as administering a little wholesome castigation, now and then, have no +objection to join in the discharge of a father's duty."</p> + +<p><i>Pisistratus.</i>—"Agreed; have you anything to say against the infant +hitherto?"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Caxton.</i>—"He is in long clothes at present; let us wait till he +can walk."</p> + +<p><i>Blanche.</i>—"But pray whom do you mean for a hero?—and is Miss Jemima +your heroine?"</p> + +<p><i>Captain Roland.</i>—"There is some mystery about the—"</p> + +<p><i>Pisistratus</i>, hastily.—"Hush, Uncle; no letting the cat out of the bag +yet. Listen, all of you! I left Frank Hazeldean on his way to the +Casino."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">It</span> is a sweet pretty place," thought Frank, as he opened the gate which +led across the fields to the Casino, that smiled down upon him with its +plaster pilasters. "I wonder, though, that my father, who is so +particular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> in general, suffers the carriage road to be so full of holes +and weeds. Mounseer does not receive many visits, I take it."</p> + +<p>But when Frank got into the ground immediately before the house, he saw +no cause of complaint as to want of order and repair. Nothing could be +kept more neatly. Frank was ashamed of the dint made by the pony's hoofs +in the smooth gravel; he dismounted, tied the animal to the wicket, and +went on foot toward the glass door in front.</p> + +<p>He rang the bell once, twice, but nobody came, for the old +woman-servant, who was hard of hearing, was far away in the yard, +searching for any eggs which the hen might have scandalously hidden from +culinary purposes; and Jackeymo was fishing for the sticklebacks and +minnows, which were, when caught, to assist the eggs, when found, in +keeping together the bodies and souls of himself and his master. The old +woman was on board wages,—lucky old woman! Frank rang a third time, and +with the impetuosity of his age. A face peeped from the Belvidere on the +terrace. "Diavolo!" said Dr. Riccabocca to himself. "Young cocks crow +hard on their own dunghill; it must be a cock of a high race to crow so +loud at another's."</p> + +<p>Therewith he shambled out of the summer-house, and appeared suddenly +before Frank, in a very wizard-like dressing-robe of black serge, a red +cap on his head, and a cloud of smoke coming rapidly from his lips, as a +final consolatory whiff, before he removed the pipe from them. Frank had +indeed seen the Doctor before, but never in so scholastic a costume, and +he was a little startled by the apparition at his elbow, as he turned +round.</p> + +<p>"Signorino—young gentleman," said the Italian, taking off his cap with +his usual urbanity, "pardon the negligence of my people—I am too happy +to receive your commands in person."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Rickeybockey?" stammered Frank, much confused by this polite +address, and the low yet stately bow with which it was accompanied, +"I—I have a note from the Hall. Mamma—that is, my mother,—and aunt +Jemima beg their best compliments, and hope you will come, sir."</p> + +<p>The Doctor took the note with another bow, and, opening the glass door, +invited Frank in.</p> + +<p>The young gentleman, with a school-boy's usual bluntness, was about to +say that he was in a hurry, and had rather not; but Dr. Riccabocca's +grand manner awed him, while a glimpse of the hall excited his +curiosity—so he silently obeyed the invitation.</p> + +<p>The hall, which was of an octagon shape, had been originally paneled off +into compartments, and in these the Italian had painted landscapes, rich +with the warm sunny light of his native climate. Frank was no judge of +the art displayed; but he was greatly struck with the scenes depicted: +they were all views of some lake, real or imaginary—in all, dark-blue +shining waters reflected dark-blue placid skies. In one, a flight of +steps descended to the lake, and a gay group was seen feasting on the +margin; in another, sunset threw its rose-hues over a vast villa or +palace, backed by Alpine hills, and flanked by long arcades of vines, +while pleasure-boats skimmed over the waves below. In short, throughout +all the eight compartments, the scene, though it differed in details, +preserved the same general character, as if illustrating some favorite +locality. The Italian did not, however, evince any desire to do the +honors to his own art, but, preceding Frank across the hall, opened the +door of his usual sitting-room, and requested him to enter. Frank did +so, rather reluctantly, and seated himself with unwonted bashfulness on +the edge of a chair. But here new specimens of the Doctor's handicraft +soon riveted attention. The room had been originally papered; but +Riccabocca had stretched canvas over the walls, and painted thereon +sundry satirical devices, each separated from the other by scroll-works +of fantastic arabesques. Here a Cupid was trundling a wheel-barrow full +of hearts which he appeared to be selling to an ugly old fellow, with a +money-bag in his hand—probably Plutus. There Diogenes might be seen +walking through a market-place, with his lantern in his hand, in search +of an honest man, whilst the children jeered at him, and the curs +snapped at his heels. In another place, a lion was seen half dressed in +a fox's hide, while a wolf in a sheep's mask was conversing very +amicably with a young lamb. Here again might be seen the geese +stretching out their necks from the Roman Capitol in full cackle, while +the stout invaders were beheld in the distance, running off as hard as +they could. In short, in all these quaint entablatures some pithy +sarcasm was symbolically conveyed; only over the mantlepiece was the +design graver and more touching. It was the figure of a man in a +pilgrim's garb, chained to the earth by small but innumerable ligaments, +while a phantom likeness of himself, his shadow, was seen hastening down +what seemed an interminable vista; and underneath were written the +pathetic words of Horace—</p> + +<p> +"Patrić quis exul<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Se quoque fugit?"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>—"What exile from his country can fly himself as well?" The furniture +of the room was extremely simple, and somewhat scanty; yet it was +arranged so as to impart an air of taste and elegance to the room. Even +a few plaster busts and statues, though bought but of some humble +itinerant, had their classical effect, glistening from out stands of +flowers that were grouped around them, or backed by graceful +screen-works formed from twisted osiers, which, by the simple +contrivance of trays at the bottom, filled with earth, served for living +parasitical plants, with gay flowers contrasting thick ivy leaves, and +gave to the whole room the aspect of a bower.</p> + +<p>"May I ask your permission?" said the Italian, with his finger on the +seal of the letter.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Frank with <i>naďveté</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>Riccabocca broke the seal, and a slight smile stole over his +countenance. Then he turned a little aside from Frank, shaded his face +with his hand, and seemed to muse. "Mrs. Hazeldean," said he at last, +"does me very great honor. I hardly recognize her handwriting, or I +should have been more impatient to open the letter." The dark eyes were +lifted over the spectacles, and went right into Frank's unprotected and +undiplomatic heart. The Doctor raised the note, and pointed to the +characters with his forefinger.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Jemima's hand," said Frank, as directly as if the question had +been put to him.</p> + +<p>The Italian smiled. "Mr. Hazeldean has company staying with him?"</p> + +<p>"No; that is, only Barney—the Captain. There's seldom much company +before the shooting season," added Frank with a slight sigh; "and then +you know the holidays are over. For my part, I think we ought to break +up a month later."</p> + +<p>The Doctor seemed reassured by the first sentence in Frank's reply, and +seating himself at the table, wrote his answer—not hastily, as we +English write, but with care and precision, like one accustomed to weigh +the nature of words—in that stiff Italian hand, which allows the writer +so much time to think while he forms his letters. He did not therefore +reply at once to Frank's remark about the holidays, but was silent till +he had concluded his note, read it three times over, sealed it by the +taper he slowly lighted, and then, giving it to Frank, he said—</p> + +<p>"For your sake, young gentleman, I regret that your holidays are so +early; for mine, I must rejoice, since I accept the kind invitation you +have rendered doubly gratifying by bringing it yourself."</p> + +<p>"Deuce take the fellow and his fine speeches! One don't know which way +to look," thought English Frank.</p> + +<p>The Italian smiled again, as if this time he had read the boy's heart, +without need of those piercing black eyes, and said, less ceremoniously +than before, "You don't care much for compliments, young gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't indeed," said Frank heartily.</p> + +<p>"So much the better for you, since your way in the world is made: it +would be so much the worse if you had to make it!"</p> + +<p>Frank looked puzzled: the thought was too deep for him—so he turned to +the pictures.</p> + +<p>"Those are very funny," said he: "they seem capitally done—who did +'em?"</p> + +<p>"Signorino Hazeldean, you are giving me what you refused yourself."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" said Frank inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Compliments!"</p> + +<p>"Oh—I—no; but they are well done, aren't they, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Not particularly: you speak to the artist."</p> + +<p>"What! you painted them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And the pictures in the hall?"</p> + +<p>"Those too."</p> + +<p>"Taken from nature—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Nature," said the Italian sententiously, perhaps evasively, "let +nothing be taken from her."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Frank, puzzled again.</p> + +<p>"Well, I must wish you good morning, sir; I am very glad you are +coming."</p> + +<p>"Without compliment?"</p> + +<p>"Without compliment."</p> + +<p>"<i>A rivedersi</i>—good-by for the present, my young signorino. This way," +observing Frank make a bolt toward the wrong door.</p> + +<p>"Can I offer you a glass of wine—it is pure, of our own making?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, indeed, sir," cried Frank, suddenly recollecting his +father's admonition. "Good-by—don't trouble yourself, sir; I know my +way now."</p> + +<p>But the bland Italian followed his guest to the wicket, where Frank had +left the pony. The young gentleman, afraid lest so courteous a host +should hold the stirrup for him, twitched off the bridle, and mounted in +haste, not even staying to ask if the Italian could put him in the way +to Rood Hall, of which way he was profoundly ignorant. The Italian's eye +followed the boy as he rode up the ascent in the lane, and the Doctor +sighed heavily. "The wiser we grow," said he to himself, "the more we +regret the age of our follies: it is better to gallop with a light heart +up the stony hill than sit in the summer-house and cry 'How true!' to +the stony truths of Machiavelli!"</p> + +<p>With that he turned back into the Belvidere; but he could not resume his +studies. He remained some minutes gazing on the prospect, till the +prospect reminded him of the fields which Jackeymo was bent on his +hiring, and the fields reminded him of Lenny Fairfield. He walked back +to the house, and in a few moments reemerged in his out-of-door trim, +with cloak and umbrella, relighted his pipe, and strolled toward +Hazeldean village.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Frank, after cantering on for some distance, stopped at a +cottage, and there learned that there was a short cut across the fields +to Rood Hall, by which he could save nearly three miles. Frank however +missed the short cut, and came out into the highroad. A turnpike-keeper, +after first taking his toll, put him back again into the short cut, and +finally he got into some green lanes, where a dilapidated finger-post +directed him to Rood. Late at noon, having ridden fifteen miles in the +desire to reduce ten to seven, he came suddenly upon a wild and +primitive piece of ground, that seemed half chase, half common, with +slovenly tumble-down cottages of villainous aspect scattered about in +odd nooks and corners; idle dirty children were making mud-pies on the +road; slovenly-looking children were plaiting straw at the thresholds; a +large but forlorn and decayed church, that seemed to say that the +generation which saw it built was more pious than the generation which +now resorted to it, stood boldly and nakedly out by the road-side.</p> + +<p>"Is this the village of Rood?" asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> Frank of a stout young man +breaking stones on the road—sad sign that no better labor could be +found for him!</p> + +<p>The man sullenly nodded, and continued his work.</p> + +<p>"And where's the Hall—Mr. Leslie's?"</p> + +<p>The man looked up in stolid surprise, and this time touched his hat.</p> + +<p>"Be you going there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if I can find out where it is."</p> + +<p>"I'll show your honor," said the boor alertly.</p> + +<p>Frank reined in the pony, and the man walked by his side.</p> + +<p>Frank was much of his father's son, despite the difference of age, and +that more fastidious change of manner which characterizes each +succeeding race in the progress of civilization. Despite all his Eton +finery, he was familiar with peasants, and had the quick eye of one +country-born as to country matters.</p> + +<p>"You don't seem very well off in this village, my man," said he +knowingly.</p> + +<p>"Noa; there be a deal of distress here in the winter time, and summer +too, for that matter; and the parish ben't much help to a single man."</p> + +<p>"But the farmers want work here as well as elsewhere, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Deed, and there ben't much farming work here—most o' the parish be all +wild ground loike."</p> + +<p>"The poor have a right of common, I suppose," said Frank, surveying a +large assortment of vagabond birds and quadrupeds.</p> + +<p>"Yes; neighbor Timmins keeps his geese on the common, and some has a +cow—and them be neighbor Jowlas's pigs. I don't know if there's a +right, loike; but the folks at the Hall does all they can to help us, +and that ben't much: they ben't as rich as some folks; but," added the +peasant proudly, "they be as good blood as any in the shire."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to see you like them, at all events."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I likes them well eno'; mayhap you are at school with the young +gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Frank.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I heard the clergyman say as how Master Randal was a mighty clever +lad, and would get rich some day. I'se sure I wish he would, for a poor +squire makes a poor parish. There's the Hall, sir."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Frank</span> looked right ahead, and saw a square house, that in spite of +modern sash-windows was evidently of remote antiquity—a high conical +roof; a stack of tall quaint chimney-pots of red baked clay (like those +at Sutton Place in Surrey) dominating over isolated vulgar +smoke-conductors of the ignoble fashion of present times; a dilapidated +groin-work, incasing within a Tudor arch a door of the comfortable date +of George III., and the peculiarly dingy and weather-stained appearance +of the small finely-finished bricks, of which the habitation was +built,—all showed the abode of former generations adapted with +tasteless irreverence to the habits of descendants unenlightened by +Pugin, or indifferent to the poetry of the past. The house had emerged +suddenly upon Frank out of the gloomy waste land, for it was placed in a +hollow, and sheltered from sight by a disorderly group of ragged, +dismal, valetudinarian fir-trees, until an abrupt turn of the road +cleared that screen, and left the desolate abode bare to the +discontented eye. Frank dismounted, the man held his pony, and after +smoothing his cravat, the smart Etonian sauntered up to the door, and +startled the solitude of the place with a loud peal from the modern +brass knocker—a knock which instantly brought forth an astonished +starling who had built under the eaves of the gable roof, and called up +a cloud of sparrows, tomtits, and yellow-hammers, who had been regaling +themselves amongst the litter of a slovenly farmyard that lay in full +sight to the right of the house, fenced off by a primitive, paintless +wooden rail. In process of time a sow, accompanied by a thriving and +inquisitive family, strolled up to the gate of the fence, and leaning +her nose on the lower bar of the gate, contemplated the visitor with +much curiosity and some suspicion.</p> + +<p>While Frank is still without, impatiently swingeing his white trowsers +with his whip, we will steal a hurried glance toward the respective +members of the family within. Mr. Leslie, the <i>pater familias</i>, is in a +little room called his "study," to which he regularly retires every +morning after breakfast, rarely reappearing till one o'clock, which is +his unfashionable hour for dinner. In what mysterious occupations Mr. +Leslie passes those hours no one ever formed a conjecture. At the +present moment he is seated before a little rickety bureau, one leg of +which (being shorter than the other) is propped up by sundry old letters +and scraps of newspapers; and the bureau is open, and reveals a great +number of pigeon-holes and divisions, filled with various odds and ends, +the collection of many years. In some of these compartments are bundles +of letters, very yellow, and tied in packets with faded tape; in +another, all by itself, is a fragment of plum-pudding stone, which Mr. +Leslie has picked up in his walks and considered a rare mineral. It is +neatly labeled, "Found in Hollow Lane, May 21st, 1824, by Maunder Slugge +Leslie, Esq." The next division holds several bits of iron in the shape +of nails, fragments of horse-shoes, &c., which Mr. Leslie had also met +with in his rambles, and according to a harmless popular superstition, +deemed it highly unlucky not to pick up, and once picked up, no less +unlucky to throw away. <i>Item</i>, in the adjoining pigeon-hole a goodly +collection of pebbles with holes in them, preserved for the same reason, +in company with a crooked sixpence; <i>item</i>, neatly arranged in fanciful +mosaics, several periwinkles, blackamoor's teeth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> (I mean the shell so +called,) and other specimens of the conchiferous ingenuity of nature, +partly inherited from some ancestral spinster, partly amassed by Mr. +Leslie himself in a youthful excursion to the sea-side. There were the +farm-bailiff's accounts, several files of bills, an old stirrup, three +sets of knee and shoe-buckles which had belonged to Mr. Leslie's father, +a few seals tied together by a shoe-string, a shagreen toothpick case, a +tortoiseshell magnifying glass to read with, his eldest son's first +copy-books, his second son's ditto, his daughter's ditto, and a lock of +his wife's hair arranged in a true lover's knot, framed and glazed. +There were also a small mousetrap, a patent corkscrew, too good to be +used in common; fragments of a silver teaspoon, that had by natural +decay arrived at a dissolution of its parts; a small brown Holland bag, +containing half-pence of various dates, as far back as Queen Anne, +accompanied by two French <i>sous</i> and a German <i>silber gros</i>; the which +miscellany Mr. Leslie magniloquently called "his coins," and had left in +his will as a family heirloom. There were many other curiosities of +congenial nature and equal value—"<i>quć nunc describere longum est</i>." +Mr. Leslie was engaged at this time in what is termed "putting things to +rights"—an occupation he performed with exemplary care once a week. +This was his day; and he had just counted his coins, and was slowly +tying them up again, when Frank's knock reached his ears.</p> + +<p>Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie paused, shook his head as if incredulously, +and was about to resume his occupation, when he was seized with a fit of +yawning which prevented the bag being tied for full two minutes.</p> + +<p>While such the employment of the study—let us turn to the recreations +in the drawing-room, or rather parlor. A drawing-room there was on the +first floor, with a charming look-out, not on the dreary fir-trees, but +on the romantic undulating forest-land; but the drawing-room had not +been used since the death of the last Mrs. Leslie. It was deemed too +good to sit in, except when there was company; there never being +company, it was never sat in. Indeed, now the paper was falling off the +walls with the damp, and the rats, mice, and moths—those "<i>edaces +rerum</i>"—had eaten, between them, most of the chair-bottoms and a +considerable part of the floor. Therefore the parlor was the sole +general sitting-room; and being breakfasted in, dined and supped in, +and, after supper, smoked in by Mr. Leslie to the accompaniment of rum +and water, it is impossible to deny that it had what is called "a +smell"—a comfortable wholesome family smell—speaking of numbers, +meals, and miscellaneous social habitation. There were two windows; one +looked full on the fir-trees; the other on the farmyard with the pigsty +closing the view. Near the fir-tree window sat Mrs. Leslie; before her +on a high stool, was a basket of the children's clothes that wanted +mending. A work-table of rosewood inlaid with brass, which had been a +wedding present, and was a costly thing originally but in that peculiar +taste which is vulgarly called "Brumagem," stood at hand: the brass had +started in several places, and occasionally made great havoc on the +childrens' fingers and Mrs. Leslie's gown; in fact, it was the liveliest +piece of furniture in the house, thanks to that petulant brass-work, and +could not have been more mischievous if it had been a monkey. Upon the +work-table lay a housewife and thimble, and scissors and skeins of +worsted and thread, and little scraps of linen and cloth for patches. +But Mrs. Leslie was not actually working—she was preparing to work; she +had been preparing to work for the last hour and a half. Upon her lap +she supported a novel, by a lady who wrote much for a former generation, +under the name of "Mrs. Bridget Blue Mantle." She had a small needle in +her left hand, and a very thick piece of thread in her right; +occasionally she applied the end of the said thread to her lips, and +then—her eyes fixed on the novel—made a blind vacillating attack at +the eye of the needle. But a camel would have gone through it with quite +as much ease. Nor did the novel alone engage Mrs. Leslie's attention, +for ever and anon she interrupted herself to scold the children; to +inquire "what o'clock it was;" to observe that "Sarah would never suit," +and to wonder why Mr. Leslie would not see that the work-table was +mended. Mrs. Leslie had been rather a pretty woman. In spite of a dress +at once slatternly and economical, she has still the air of a +lady—rather too much so, the hard duties of her situation considered. +She is proud of the antiquity of her family on both sides; her mother +was of the venerable stock of the Daudlers of Daudle Place, a race that +existed before the Conquest. Indeed, one has only to read our earliest +chronicles, and to glance over some of those long-winded moralizing +poems which delighted the thanes and ealdermen of old, in order to see +that the Daudles must have been a very influential family before William +the First turned the country topsy-turvy. While the mother's race was +thus indubitably Saxon, the father's had not only the name but the +peculiar idiosyncracy of the Normans, and went far to establish that +crotchet of the brilliant author of <i>Sybil, or the Two Nations</i>, as to +the continued distinction between the conquering and the conquered +populations. Mrs. Leslie's father boasted the name of Montfydget; +doubtless of the same kith and kin as those great barons Montfichet, who +once owned such broad lands and such turbulent castles. A high-nosed, +thin, nervous, excitable progeny, these same Montfydgets, as the most +troublesome Norman could pretend to be. This fusion of race was notable +to the most ordinary physiognomist in the <i>physique</i> and in the <i>morale</i> +of Mrs. Leslie. She had the speculative blue eye of the Saxon, and the +passionate high nose of the Nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>man; she had the musing donothingness of +the Daudlers, and the reckless have-at-everythingness of the +Montfydgets. At Mrs. Leslie's feet, a little girl with her hair about +her ears, (and beautiful hair it was too) was amusing herself with a +broken-nosed doll. At the far end of the room, before a high desk, sat +Frank's Eton schoolfellow, the eldest son. A minute or two before +Frank's alarum had disturbed the tranquillity of the household, he had +raised his eyes from the books on the desk, to glance at a very tattered +copy of the Greek Testament, in which his brother Oliver had found a +difficulty that he came to Randal to solve. As the young Etonian's face +was turned to the light, your first impression, on seeing it, would have +been melancholy but respectful interest—for the face had already lost +the joyous character of youth—there was a wrinkle between the brows; +and the lines that speak of fatigue were already visible under the eyes +and about the mouth; the complexion was sallow, the lips were pale. +Years of study had already sown, in the delicate organization, the seeds +of many an infirmity and many a pain; but if your look had rested longer +on that countenance, gradually your compassion might have given place to +some feeling uneasy and sinister, a feeling akin to fear. There was in +the whole expression so much of cold calm force, that it belied the +debility of the frame. You saw there the evidence of a mind that was +cultivated, and you felt that in that cultivation there was something +formidable. A notable contrast to this countenance, prematurely worn and +eminently intelligent, was the round healthy face of Oliver, with slow +blue eyes, fixed hard on the penetrating orbs of his brother, as if +trying with might and main to catch from them a gleam of that knowledge +with which they shone clear and frigid as a star.</p> + +<p>At Frank's knock, Oliver's slow blue eyes sparkled into animation, and +he sprang from his brother's side. The little girl flung back the hair +from her face, and stared at her mother with a look of wonder and +fright.</p> + +<p>The young student knit his brows, and then turned wearily back to his +books.</p> + +<p>"Dear me," cried Mrs. Leslie, "who can that possibly be? Oliver, come +from the window, sir, this instant, you will be seen! Juliet, run—ring +the bell—no, go to the stairs, and say, 'not at home.' Not at home on +any account," repeated Mrs. Leslie nervously, for the Montfydget blood +was now in full flow.</p> + +<p>In another minute or so, Frank's loud boyish voice was distinctly heard +at the outer door.</p> + +<p>Randal slightly started.</p> + +<p>"Frank Hazeldean's voice," said he; "I should like to see him, mother."</p> + +<p>"See him," repeated Mrs. Leslie in amaze, "see him!—and the room in +this state!"</p> + +<p>Randal might have replied that the room was in no worse state than +usual; but he said nothing. A slight flush came and went over his pale +face; and then he leaned his cheek on his hand, and compressed his lips +firmly.</p> + +<p>The outer door closed with a sullen inhospitable jar, and a slipshod +female servant entered with a card between her finger and thumb.</p> + +<p>"Who is that for?—give it to me, Jenny," cried Mrs. Leslie.</p> + +<p>But Jenny shook her head, laid the card on the desk beside Randal, and +vanished without saying a word.</p> + +<p>"Oh look, Randal, look up," cried Oliver, who had again rushed to the +window; "such a pretty gray pony!"</p> + +<p>Randal did look up; nay, he went deliberately to the window, and gazed a +moment on the high-mettled pony, and the well-dressed, high-spirited +rider. In that moment changes passed over Randal's countenance more +rapidly than clouds over the sky in a gusty day. Now envy and +discontent, with the curled lip and the gloomy scowl; now hope and proud +self-esteem, with the clearing brow, and the lofty smile; and then all +again became cold, firm, and close, as he walked back to his books, +seated himself resolutely, and said half aloud,—"Well, <span class="smcap">knowledge is +power</span>!"</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs.</span> Leslie came up in fidget and in fuss; she leant over Randal's +shoulder and read the card. Written in pen and ink, with an attempt at +imitation of printed Roman character, there appeared first, '<i>Mr. Frank +Hazeldean</i>;' but just over these letters, and scribbled hastily and less +legibly in pencil, was—</p> + +<p>'Dear Leslie,—sorry you are out—come and see us—<i>Do!</i>'</p> + +<p>"You will go, Randal?" said Mrs. Leslie after a pause.</p> + +<p>"I am not sure."</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>you</i> can go; <i>you</i> have clothes like a gentleman; <i>you</i> can go +anywhere, not like those children;" and Mrs. Leslie glanced almost +spitefully on poor Oliver's coarse threadbare jacket, and little +Juliet's torn frock.</p> + +<p>"What I have I owe at present to Mr. Egerton, and I should consult his +wishes; he is not on good terms with these Hazeldeans." Then glancing +toward his brother, who looked mortified, he added with a strange sort +of haughty kindness, "What I may have hereafter, Oliver, I shall owe to +myself; and then, if I rise, I will raise my family."</p> + +<p>"Dear Randal," said Mrs. Leslie, fondly kissing him on the forehead, +"what a good heart you have!"</p> + +<p>"No, mother; my books don't tell me that it is a good heart that gets on +in the world: it is a hard head," replied Randal with a rude and +scornful candor. "But I can read no more just now; come out, Oliver."</p> + +<p>So saying, he slid from his mother's hand and left the room.</p> + +<p>When Oliver joined him, Randal was already on the common; and, without +seeming to notice his brother, he continued to walk quickly and with +long strides in profound silence. At length he paused under the shade<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +of an old oak, that, too old to be of value save for firewood, had +escaped the axe. The tree stood on a knoll, and the spot commanded a +view of the decayed house—the old dilapidated church—the dismal, +dreary village.</p> + +<p>"Oliver," said Randal between his teeth, so that his voice had the sound +of a hiss, "it was under this tree that I first resolved to—"</p> + +<p>He paused.</p> + +<p>"What, Randal?"</p> + +<p>"Read hard; knowledge is power!"</p> + +<p>"But you are so fond of reading."</p> + +<p>"I!" cried Randal. "Do you think, when Woolsey and Thomas-ŕ-Becket +became priests, they were fond of telling their beads and pattering +Aves?—I fond of reading!"</p> + +<p>Oliver stared; the historical allusions were beyond his comprehension.</p> + +<p>"You know," continued Randal, "that we Leslies were not always the +beggarly poor gentlemen we are now. You know that there is a man who +lives in Grosvenor Square, and is very rich—very. His riches came to +him from a Leslie; that man is my patron, Oliver, and he is very good to +me."</p> + +<p>Randal's smile was withering as he spoke. "Come on," he said, after a +pause—"come on." Again the walk was quicker, and the brothers were +silent.</p> + +<p>They came at length to a little shallow brook, across which some large +stones had been placed at short intervals, so that the boys walked over +the ford dryshod. "Will you pull me down that bough, Oliver?" said +Randal abruptly, pointing to a tree. Oliver obeyed mechanically; and +Randal, stripping the leaves, and snapping off the twigs, left a fork at +the end; with this he began to remove the stepping stones. "What are you +about, Randal?" asked Oliver, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"We are on the other side of the brook now; and we shall not come back +this way. We don't want the stepping-stones anymore!—away with them!"</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> morning after this visit of Frank Hazeldean's to Rood Hall, the +Right Honorable Audley Egerton, member of parliament, privy councillor, +and minister of a high department in the state—just below the rank of +the cabinet—was seated in his library, awaiting the delivery of the +post, before he walked down to his office. In the meanwhile, he sipped +his tea, and glanced over the newspapers with that quick and half +disdainful eye with which your practical man in public life is wont to +regard the abuse or the eulogium of the Fourth Estate.</p> + +<p>There is very little likeness between Mr. Egerton and his half-brother; +none indeed, except that they are both of tall stature, and strong, +sinewy, English build. But even in this last they do not resemble each +other; for the Squire's athletic shape is already beginning to expand +into that portly embonpoint which seems the natural development of +contented men as they approach middle life. Audley, on the contrary, is +inclined to be spare; and his figure, though the muscles are as firm as +iron, has enough of the slender to satisfy metropolitan ideas of +elegance. His dress—his look—his <i>tout ensemble</i>, are those of the +London man. In the first, there is more attention to fashion than is +usual amongst the busy members of the House of Commons; but then Audley +Egerton had always been something more than a mere busy member of the +House of Commons. He had always been a person of mark in the best +society, and one secret of his success in life has been his high +reputation as 'a gentleman.'</p> + +<p>As he now bends over the journals, there is an air of distinction in the +turn of the well-shaped head, with the dark-brown hair—dark in spite of +a reddish tinge—cut close behind, and worn away a little toward the +crown, so as to give additional height to a commanding forehead. His +profile is very handsome, and of that kind of beauty which imposes on +men if it pleases women; and is therefore, unlike that of your mere +pretty fellows, a positive advantage in public life. It is a profile +with large features clearly cut, masculine, and somewhat severe. The +expression of his face is not open, like the Squire's; nor has it the +cold closeness which accompanies the intellectual character of young +Leslie's; but it is reserved and dignified, and significant of +self-control, as should be the physiognomy of a man accustomed to think +before he speaks. When you look at him, you are not surprised to learn +that he is not a florid orator nor a smart debater—he is a "weighty +speaker." He is fairly read, but without any great range either of +ornamental scholarship or constitutional lore. He has not much humor; +but he has that kind of wit which is essential to grave and serious +irony. He has not much imagination, nor remarkable subtilty in +reasoning; but if he does not dazzle, he does not <i>bore</i>: he is too much +the man of the world for that. He is considered to have sound sense and +accurate judgment. Withal, as he now lays aside the journals, and his +face relaxes its austerer lines, you will not be astonished to hear that +he is a man who is said to have been greatly beloved by women, and still +to exercise much influence in drawing-rooms and boudoirs. At least no +one was surprised when the great heiress Clementina Leslie, kinswoman +and ward to Lord Lansmere—a young lady who had refused three earls and +the heir-apparent to a dukedom—was declared by her dearest friends to +be dying of love for Audley Egerton.</p> + +<p>It had been the natural wish of the Lansmeres that this lady should +marry their son, Lord L'Estrange. But that young gentleman, whose +opinions on matrimony partook of the eccentricity of his general +character, could never be induced to propose, and had, according to the +<i>on-dits</i> of town, been the principal party to make up the match between +Clementina and his friend Audley; for the match required making-up, +despite the predilections of the young heiress. Mr. Egerton had had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +scruples of delicacy. He avowed, for the first time, that his fortune +was much less than had been generally supposed, and he did not like the +idea of owing all to a wife, however much he might esteem and admire +her. L'Estrange was with his regiment abroad during the existence of +these scruples; but by letters to his father, and to his cousin +Clementina, he contrived to open and conclude negotiations, while he +argued away Mr. Egerton's objections; and before the year in which +Audley was returned for Lansmere had expired, he received the hand of +the great heiress. The settlement of her fortune, which was chiefly in +the funds, had been unusually advantageous to the husband; for though +the capital was tied up so long as both survived—for the benefit of any +children they might have—yet, in the event of one of the parties dying +without issue by the marriage, the whole passed without limitation to +the survivor. In not only assenting to, but proposing this clause, Miss +Leslie, if she showed a generous trust in Mr. Egerton, inflicted no +positive wrong on her relations; for she had none sufficiently near to +her to warrant their claim to the succession. Her nearest kinsman, and +therefore her natural heir, was Harley L'Estrange; and if he was +contented, no one had a right to complain. The tie of blood between +herself and the Leslies of Rood Hall was, as we shall see presently, +extremely distant.</p> + +<p>It was not till after his marriage that Mr. Egerton took an active part +in the business of the House of Commons. He was then at the most +advantageous starting-point for the career of ambition. His words on the +state of the country took importance from his stake in it. His talents +found accessories in the opulence of Grosvenor Square, the dignity of a +princely establishment, the respectability of one firmly settled in +life, the reputation of a fortune in reality very large, and which was +magnified by popular report into the revenues of Crœsus. Audley +Egerton succeeded in Parliament beyond the early expectations formed of +him. He took at first that station in the House which it requires tact +to establish, and great knowledge of the world to free from the charge +of impracticability and crotchet, but which, once established, is +peculiarly imposing from the rarity of its independence; that is to say, +the station of the moderate man, who belongs sufficiently to a party to +obtain its support, but is yet sufficiently disengaged from a party to +make his vote and word, on certain questions, matter of anxiety and +speculation.</p> + +<p>Professing Toryism, (the word Conservative, which would have suited him +better, was not then known,) he separated himself from the country +party, and always avowed great respect for the opinions of the large +towns. The epithet given to the views of Audley Egerton was +"enlightened." Never too much in advance of the passion of the day, yet +never behind its movement, he had that shrewd calculation of odds which +a consummate mastery of the world sometimes bestows upon +politicians—perceived the chances for and against a certain question +being carried within a certain time, and nicked the question between +wind and water. He was so good a barometer of that changeful weather +called Public Opinion that he might have had a hand in the <i>Times</i> +newspaper. He soon quarreled, and purposely, with his Lansmere +constituents—nor had he ever revisited that borough, perhaps because it +was associated with unpleasant reminiscences in the shape of the +Squire's epistolary trimmer, and in that of his own effigies which his +agricultural constituents had burned in the corn-market. But the +speeches which produced such indignation at Lansmere, had delighted one +of the greatest of our commercial towns, which at the next general +election honored him with its representation. In those days, before the +Reform Bill, great commercial towns chose men of high mark for their +members; and a proud station it was for him who was delegated to speak +the voice of the princely merchants of England.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Egerton survived her marriage but a few years; she left no +children; two had been born, but died in their first infancy. The +property of the wife, therefore, passed without control or limit to the +husband.</p> + +<p>Whatever might have been the grief of the widower, he disdained to +betray it to the world. Indeed, Audley Egerton was a man who had early +taught himself to conceal emotion. He buried himself in the country, +none knew where, for some months: when he returned, there was a deep +wrinkle on his brow; but no change in his habits and avocation, except +that soon afterward he accepted office, and thus became busier than +ever.</p> + +<p>Mr. Egerton had always been lavish and magnificent in money matters. A +rich man in public life has many claims on his fortune, and no one +yielded to those claims with an air so regal as Audley Egerton. But +amongst his many liberal actions, there was none which seemed more +worthy of panegyric than the generous favor he extended to the son of +his wife's poor and distant kinsfolks, the Leslies of Rood Hall.</p> + +<p>Some four generations back, there had lived a certain Squire Leslie, a +man of large acres and active mind. He had cause to be displeased with +his elder son, and though he did not disinherit him, he left half his +property to a younger.</p> + +<p>The younger had capacity and spirit, which justified the paternal +provision. He increased his fortune; lifted himself into notice and +consideration by public services and a noble alliance. His descendants +followed his example, and took rank among the first commoners in +England, till the last male, dying, left his sole heiress and +representative in one daughter, Clementina, afterward married to Mr. +Egerton.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the elder son of the forementioned Squire had muddled and +sotted away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> much of his share in the Leslie property; and, by low +habits and mean society, lowered in repute his representation of the +name.</p> + +<p>His successors imitated him, till nothing was left to Randal's father, +Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie, but the decayed house which was what the +Germans call the <i>stamm schloss</i>, or "stem hall" of the race, and the +wretched lands immediately around it.</p> + +<p>Still, though all intercourse between the two branches of the family had +ceased, the younger had always felt a respect for the elder, as the head +of the house. And it was supposed that, on her deathbed, Mrs. Egerton +had recommended her impoverished namesakes and kindred to the care of +her husband. For, when he returned to town after Mrs. Egerton's death, +Audley had sent to Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie the sum of Ł5000, which he +said his wife, leaving no written will, had orally bequeathed as a +legacy to that gentleman; and he requested permission to charge himself +with the education of the eldest son.</p> + +<p>Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie might have done great things for his little +property with those five thousand pounds, or even (kept in the three per +cents) the interest would have afforded a material addition to his +comforts. But a neighboring solicitor having caught scent of the legacy, +hunted it down into his own hands, on pretense of having found a capital +investment in a canal. And when the solicitor had got possession of the +five thousand pounds, he went off with them to America.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Randal, placed by Mr. Egerton at an excellent preparatory +school, at first gave no signs of industry or talent; but just before he +left it, there came to the school, as classical tutor, an ambitious +young Oxford man; and his zeal, for he was a capital teacher, produced a +great effect generally on the pupils, and especially on Randal Leslie. +He talked to them much in private on the advantages of learning, and +shortly afterward he exhibited those advantages in his own person; for, +having edited a Greek play with much subtil scholarship, his college, +which some slight irregularities of his had displeased, recalled him to +its venerable bosom by the presentation of a fellowship. After this he +took orders, became a college tutor, distinguished himself yet more by a +treatise on the Greek accent, got a capital living, and was considered +on the highroad to a bishopric. This young man, then, communicated to +Randal the thirst for knowledge; and when the boy went afterward to +Eton, he applied with such earnestness and resolve that his fame soon +reached the ears of Audley; and that person, who had the sympathy for +talent, and yet more for purpose, which often characterizes ambitious +men, went to Eton to see him. From that time Audley evinced great and +almost fatherly interest in the brilliant Etonian; and Randal always +spent with him some days in each vacation.</p> + +<p>I have said that Egerton's conduct, with respect to this boy, was more +praiseworthy than most of those generous actions for which he was +renowned, since to this the world gave no applause. What a man does +within the range of his family connections, does not carry with it that +<i>éclat</i> which invests a munificence exhibited on public occasions. +Either people care nothing about it, or tacitly suppose it to be but his +duty. It was true, too, as the Squire had observed, that Randal Leslie +was even less distantly related to the Hazeldeans than to Mrs. Egerton, +since Randal's grandfather had actually married a Miss Hazeldean, (the +highest worldly connection that branch of the family had formed since +the great split I have commemorated.) But Audley Egerton never appeared +aware of that fact. As he was not himself descended from the Hazeldeans, +he never troubled himself about their genealogy; and he took care to +impress it upon the Leslies that his generosity on their behalf was +solely to be ascribed to his respect for his wife's memory and kindred. +Still the Squire had felt as if his "distant brother" implied a rebuke +on his own neglect of these poor Leslies, by the liberality Audley +evinced toward them; and this had made him doubly sore when the name of +Randal Leslie was mentioned. But the fact really was, that the Leslies +of Rood had so shrunk out of all notice that the Squire had actually +forgotten their existence, until Randal became thus indebted to his +brother; and then he felt a pang of remorse that any one save himself, +the head of the Hazeldeans, should lend a helping hand to the grandson +of a Hazeldean.</p> + +<p>But having thus, somewhat too tediously, explained the position of +Audley Egerton, whether in the world or in the relation to his young +<i>protégé</i>, I may now permit him to receive and to read his letters.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr.</span> Egerton glanced over the pile of letters placed beside him, and +first he tore up some, scarcely read, and threw them into the +waste-basket. Public men have such odd out-of-the-way letters that their +waste-baskets are never empty: letters from amateur financiers proposing +new ways to pay off the National Debt; letters from America, (never +free!) asking for autographs; letters from fond mothers in country +villages, recommending some miracle of a son for a place in the king's +service; letters from freethinkers in reproof of bigotry; letters from +bigots in reproof of freethinking; letters signed Brutus Redivivus, +containing the agreeable information that the writer has a dagger for +tyrants, if the Danish claims are not forthwith adjusted; letters signed +Matilda or Caroline, stating that Caroline or Matilda has seen the +public man's portrait at the Exhibition, and that a heart sensible to +its attractions may be found at No. —— Piccadilly; letters from +beggars, impostors, monomaniacs, speculators, jobbers—all food for the +waste-basket.</p> + +<p>From the correspondence thus winnowed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> Mr. Egerton first selected those +on business, which he put methodically together in one division of his +pocket-book; and secondly, those of a private nature, which he as +carefully put into another. Of these last there were but three—one from +his steward, one from Harley L'Estrange, one from Randal Leslie. It was +his custom to answer his correspondence at his office; and to his +office, a few minutes afterward, he slowly took his way. Many a +passenger turned back to look again at the firm figure, which, despite +the hot summer day, was buttoned up to the throat; and the black +frock-coat thus worn, well became the erect air, and the deep full chest +of the handsome senator. When he entered Parliament Street, Audley +Egerton was joined by one of his colleagues, also on his way to the +cares of office.</p> + +<p>After a few observations on the last debate, this gentleman said—</p> + +<p>"By the way, can you dine with me next Saturday, to meet Lansmere? He +comes up to town to vote for us on Monday."</p> + +<p>"I had asked some people to dine with me," answered Egerton, "but I will +put them off. I see Lord Lansmere too seldom, to miss any occasion to +meet a man whom I respect so much."</p> + +<p>"So seldom! True, he is very little in town; but why don't you go and +see him in the country? Good shooting—pleasant old-fashioned house."</p> + +<p>"My dear Westbourne, his house is '<i>nimium vicina Cremonć</i>,' close to a +borough in which I have been burned in effigy."</p> + +<p>"Ha—ha—yes—I remember you first came into Parliament for that snug +little place; but Lansmere himself never found fault with your votes, +did he?"</p> + +<p>"He behaved very handsomely, and said he had not presumed to consider me +his mouthpiece; and then, too, I am so intimate with L'Estrange."</p> + +<p>"Is that queer fellow ever coming back to England?"</p> + +<p>"He comes, generally every year, for a few days, just to see his father +and mother, and then goes back to the Continent."</p> + +<p>"I never meet him."</p> + +<p>"He comes in September or October, when you, of course, are not in town, +and it is in town that the Lansmeres meet him."</p> + +<p>"Why does he not go to them?"</p> + +<p>"A man in England but once a year, and for a few days, has so much to do +in London, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Is he as amusing as ever?"</p> + +<p>Egerton nodded.</p> + +<p>"So distinguished as he might be!" continued Lord Westbourne.</p> + +<p>"So distinguished as he is!" said Egerton formally; "an officer selected +for praise, even in such fields as Quatre Bras and Waterloo; a scholar, +too, of the finest taste; and as an accomplished gentleman, matchless!"</p> + +<p>"I like to hear one man praise another so warmly in these ill-natured +days," answered Lord Westbourne. "But still, though L'Estrange is +doubtless all you say, don't you think he rather wastes his life—living +abroad?"</p> + +<p>"And trying to be happy, Westbourne? Are you sure it is not we who waste +our lives? But I can't stay to hear your answer. Here we are at the door +of my prison."</p> + +<p>"On Saturday, then?"</p> + +<p>"On Saturday. Good day."</p> + +<p>For the next hour, or more, Mr. Egerton was engaged on the affairs of +the state. He then snatched an interval of leisure, (while awaiting a +report, which he had instructed a clerk to make him,) in order to reply +to his letters. Those on public business were soon dispatched; and +throwing his replies aside, to be sealed by a subordinate hand, he drew +out the letters which he had put apart as private.</p> + +<p>He attended first to that of his steward: the steward's letter was long, +the reply was contained in three lines. Pitt himself was scarcely more +negligent of his private interests and concerns than Audley +Egerton—yet, withal, Audley Egerton was said by his enemies to be an +egotist.</p> + +<p>The next letter he wrote was to Randal, and that, though longer, was far +from prolix: it ran thus—</p> + +<p>"Dear Mr. Leslie,—I appreciate your delicacy in consulting me, whether +you should accept Frank Hazeldean's invitation to call at the Hall. +Since you are asked, I can see no objection to it. I should be sorry if +you appeared to force yourself there; and for the rest, as a general +rule, I think a young man who has his own way to make in life had better +avoid all intimacy with those of his own age who have no kindred objects +nor congenial pursuits.</p> + +<p>"As soon as this visit is paid, I wish you to come to London. The report +I receive of your progress at Eton renders it unnecessary, in my +judgment, that you should return there. If your father has no objection, +I propose that you should go to Oxford at the ensuing term. Meanwhile, I +have engaged a gentleman who is a fellow of Baliol, to read with you; he +is of opinion, judging only by your high repute at Eton, that you may at +once obtain a scholarship in that college. If you do so, I shall look +upon your career in life as assured.</p> + +<p> +Your affectionate friend, and sincere<br /> +well-wisher, A.E."<br /> +</p> + +<p>The reader will remark that, in this letter, there is a certain tone of +formality. Mr. Egerton does not call his <i>protegé</i> "Dear Randal," as +would seem natural, but coldly and stiffly, "Dear Mr. Leslie." He hints, +also, that the boy has his own way to make in life. Is this meant to +guard against too sanguine notions of inheritance, which his generosity +may have excited?</p> + +<p>The letter to Lord L'Estrange was of a very different kind from the +others. It was long, and full of such little scraps of news and gossip +as may interest friends in a foreign land; it was written gaily, and as +with a wish to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> cheer his friend; you could see that it was a reply to a +melancholy letter; and in the whole tone and spirit there was an +affection, even to tenderness, of which those who most liked Audley +Egerton would have scarcely supposed him capable. Yet, notwithstanding, +there was a kind of constraint in the letter, which perhaps only the +fine tact of a woman would detect. It had not that <i>abandon</i>, that +hearty self-outpouring, which you might expect would characterize the +letters of two such friends, who had been boys at school together, and +which did breathe indeed in all the abrupt rambling sentences of his +correspondent. But where was the evidence of the constraint? Egerton is +off-hand enough where his pen runs glibly through paragraphs that relate +to others; it is simply that he says nothing about himself—that he +avoids all reference to the inner world of sentiment and feeling. But +perhaps, after all, the man has no sentiment and feeling! How can you +expect that a steady personage in practical life, whose mornings are +spent in Downing Street, and whose nights are consumed in watching +government bills through committee, can write in the same style as an +idle dreamer amidst the pines of Ravenna or on the banks of Como.</p> + +<p>Audley had just finished this epistle, such as it was, when the +attendant in waiting announced the arrival of a deputation from a +provincial trading town, the members of which deputation he had +appointed to meet at two o'clock. There was no office in London at which +deputations were kept waiting less than at that over which Mr. Egerton +presided.</p> + +<p>The deputation entered—some score or so of middle-aged, +comfortable-looking persons, who nevertheless had their grievance—and +considered their own interests, and those of the country, menaced by a +certain clause in a bill brought in by Mr. Egerton.</p> + +<p>The Mayor of the town was the chief spokesman, and he spoke well—but in +a style to which the dignified official was not accustomed. It was a +slap-dash style—unceremonious, free, and easy—an American style. And, +indeed, there was something altogether in the appearance and bearing of +the Mayor which savored of residence in the Great Republic. He was a +very handsome man, but with a look sharp and domineering—the look of a +man who did not care a straw for president or monarch, and who enjoyed +the liberty to speak his mind, and "wallop his own nigger!"</p> + +<p>His fellow-burghers evidently regarded him with great respect; and Mr. +Egerton had penetration enough to perceive that Mr. Mayor must be a rich +man, as well as an eloquent one, to have overcome those impressions of +soreness or jealousy which his tone was calculated to create in the +self-love of his equals.</p> + +<p>Mr. Egerton was far too wise to be easily offended by mere manner; and, +though he stared somewhat haughtily when he found his observations +actually pooh-poohed, he was not above being convinced. There was much +sense and much justice in Mr. Mayor's arguments, and the statesman +civilly promised to take them into full consideration.</p> + +<p>He then bowed out the deputation; but scarcely had the door closed +before it opened again, and Mr. Mayor presented himself alone, saying +aloud to his companions in the passage, "I forgot something I had to say +to Mr. Egerton; wait below for me."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Mayor," said Audley, pointing to a seat, "what else would you +suggest?"</p> + +<p>The Mayor looked round to see that the door was closed; and then, +drawing his chair close to Mr. Egerton's, laid his forefinger on that +gentleman's arm, and said, "I think I speak to a man of the world, sir."</p> + +<p>Mr. Egerton bowed, and made no reply by word, but he gently removed his +arm from the touch of the forefinger.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor.</i>—"You observe, sir, that I did not ask the members whom we +return to Parliament to accompany us. Do better without 'em. You know +they are both in Opposition—out-and-outers."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton.</i>—"It is a misfortune which the Government cannot +remember, when the question is whether the trade of the town itself is +to be served or injured."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor.</i>—"Well, I guess you speak handsome, sir. But you'd be glad +to have two members to support Ministers after the next election."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton</i>, smilingly.—"Unquestionably, Mr. Mayor."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor.</i>—"And I can do it, Mr. Egerton. I may say I have the town +in my pocket; so I ought, I spend a great deal of money in it. Now, you +see, Mr. Egerton, I have passed a part of my life in a land of +liberty—the United States—and I come to the point when I speak to a +man of the world. I am a man of the world myself, sir. And if so be the +Government will do something for me, why, I'll do something for the +Government. Two votes for a free and independent town like ours—that's +something, isn't it?"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton</i>, taken by surprise—"Really I—"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor</i>, advancing his chair still nearer, and interrupting the +official.—"No nonsense, you see, on one side or the other. The fact is +that I have taken it into my head that I should like to be knighted. You +may well look surprised, Mr. Egerton—trumpery thing enough, I dare say; +still every man has his weakness and I should like to be Sir Richard. +Well, if you can get me made Sir Richard, you may just name your two +members for the next election—that is, if they belong to your own set, +enlightened men, up to the times. That's speaking fair and manful, isn't +it?"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton</i>, drawing himself up.—"I am at a loss to guess why you +should select me, sir, for this very extraordinary proposition."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor</i>, nodding good-humoredly.—"Why, you see, I don't go all +along with the Government; you're the best of the bunch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> And maybe +you'd like to strengthen your own party. This is quite between you and +me, you understand; honor's a jewel!"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton</i>, with great gravity.—"Sir, I am obliged by your good +opinion; but I agree with my colleagues in all the great questions +affecting the government of the country, and—"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor</i>, interrupting him.—"Ah, of course you must say so; very +right. But I guess things would go differently if you were Prime +Minister. However, I have another reason for speaking to you about my +little job. You see you were member for Lansmere once, and I think you +came in but by two majority, eh?"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton.</i>—"I know nothing of the particulars of that election; I +was not present."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor.</i>—"No; but, luckily for you, two relatives of mine were, and +they voted for you. Two votes, and you came in by two! Since then, you +have got into very snug quarters here, and I think we have a claim on +you—"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton.</i>—"Sir, I acknowledge no such claim; I was and am a +stranger in Lansmere; and, if the electors did me the honor to return me +to Parliament, it was in compliment rather to—"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor</i>, again interrupting the official.—"Rather to Lord Lansmere, +you were going to say; unconstitutional doctrine that, I fancy. Peer of +the realm. But, never mind, I know the world; and I'd ask Lord Lansmere +to do my affair for me, only I hear he is as proud as Lucifer."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton</i>, in great disgust, and settling his papers before +him.—"Sir, it is not in my department to recommend to his Majesty +candidates for the honor of knighthood, and it is still less in my +department to make bargains for seats in Parliament."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor.</i>—"Oh, if that's the case, you'll excuse me; I don't know +much of the etiquette in these matters. But I thought that, if I put two +seats in your hands, for your own friends, you might contrive to take +the affair into your department, whatever it was. But since you say you +agree with your colleagues, perhaps it comes to the same thing. Now you +must not suppose I want to sell the town, and that I can change and chop +my politics for my own purpose. No such thing! I don't like the sitting +members; I'm all for progressing, but they go <i>too</i> much ahead for me; +and, since the Government is disposed to move a little, why I'd as lief +support them as not. But, in common gratitude, you see, (added the +Mayor, coaxingly,) I ought to be knighted! I can keep up the dignity, +and do credit to his Majesty."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton</i>, without looking up from his papers.—"I can only refer +you, sir, to the proper quarter."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor</i>, impatiently.—"Proper quarter! Well, since there is so much +humbug in this old country of ours, that one must go through all the +forms and get at the job regularly, just tell me whom I ought to go to."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton</i>, beginning to be amused as well as indignant.—"If you +want a knighthood, Mr. Mayor, you must ask the Prime Minister; if you +want to give the Government information relative to seats in Parliament, +you must introduce yourself to Mr. ——, the Secretary of the Treasury."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor.</i>—"And if I go to the last chap, what do you think he'll +say?"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton</i>, the amusement preponderating over the indignation.—"He +will say, I suppose, that you must not put the thing in the light in +which you have put it to me; that the Government will be very proud to +have the confidence of yourself and your brother electors; and that a +gentleman like you, in the proud position of Mayor, may well hope to be +knighted on some fitting occasion. But that you must not talk about the +knighthood just at present, and must confine yourself to converting the +unfortunate political opinions of the town."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Mayor.</i>—"Well, I guess that chap there would want to do me! Not +quite so green, Mr. Egerton. Perhaps I'd better go at once to the +fountain-head. How d'ye think the Premier would take it?"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Egerton</i>, the indignation preponderating over the +amusement.—"Probably just as I am about to do."</p> + +<p>Mr. Egerton rang the bell; the attendant appeared.</p> + +<p>"Show Mr. Mayor the way out," said the Minister.</p> + +<p>The Mayor turned round sharply, and his face was purple. He walked +straight to the door; but, suffering the attendant to precede him along +the corridor, he came back with rapid stride, and clinching his hands, +and with a voice thick with passion, cried, "Some day or other I will +make you smart for this, as sure as my name's Dick Avenel!"</p> + +<p>"Avenel!" repeated Egerton, recoiling, "Avenel!"</p> + +<p>But the Mayor was gone.</p> + +<p>Audley fell into a deep and musing reverie which seemed gloomy, and +lasted till the attendant announced that the horses were at the door.</p> + +<p>He then looked up, still abstractedly, and saw his letter to Harley +L'Estrange open on the table. He drew it toward him, and wrote, "A man +has just left me, who calls himself Aven—" in the middle of the name +his pen stopped. "No, no," muttered the writer, "what folly to reopen +the old wounds there," and he carefully erased the words.</p> + +<p>Audley Egerton did not ride in the park that day, as was his wont, but +dismissed his groom; and, turning his horse's head toward Westminster +Bridge, took his solitary way into the country. He rode at first slowly, +as if in thought; then fast, as if trying to escape from thought. He was +later than usual at the House that evening, and he looked pale and +fatigued. But he had to speak, and he spoke well.</p> + +<div class="center">TO BE CONTINUED.</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> +<div class="center">[From the Journal des Chasseurs.]<br /> +<span class="simh3">WILD SPORTS IN ALGERIA.</span></div> + +<div class="c75">BY M. JULES GERARD.<br /></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> KNEW of a large old lion in the Smauls country and betook myself in +that direction. On arriving I heard that he was in the Bonarif, near +Batnah. My tent was not yet pitched at the foot of the mountain, when I +learned that he was at the Fed Jong, where, on my arrival, I found he +had gained the Aures. After traveling one hundred leagues in ten days in +the trace of my brute without catching a glimpse of anything but his +footprints, I was gratified on the night of the 22d of August with the +sound of my lord's voice. I had established my tent in the valley of +Ousten. As there is only one path across this thickly covered valley, I +found it an easy task to discover his track and follow it to his lair. +At six o'clock in the evening I alighted upon a hillock commanding a +prospect of the country around. I was accompanied by a native of the +country and my spahi, one carrying my carbine, the other my old gun. As +I had anticipated, the lion roared under cover at dawn of day; but +instead of advancing toward me, he started off in a westerly direction +at such a pace that it was impossible for me to come up with him. I +retraced my steps at midnight and took up my quarters at the foot of a +tree upon the path which the lion had taken. The country about this spot +was cleared and cultivated. The moon being favorable, the approach of +anything could be descried in every direction. I installed myself and +waited. Weary after a ride of several hours over a very irregular +country, and not expecting any chance that night, I enjoined my spahi to +keep a good watch, and lay down. I was just about to fall asleep when I +felt a gentle pull at my burnous. On getting up I was able to make out +two lions, sitting one beside the other, about one hundred paces off, +and exactly on the path in which I had taken up my position. At first I +thought we had been perceived, and prepared to make the best of this +discovery. The moon shed a light upon the entire ground which the lions +would have to cross in order to reach the tree, close to which all +within a circumference of ten paces was completely dark, both on account +of the thickness of the tree and the shadow cast by the foliage. My +spahi, like me, was in range of the shadow, while the Arab lay snoring +ten paces off in the full light of the moon. There was no doubting the +fact—it was this man who attracted the attention of the lions. I +expressly forbade the spahi to wake up the Arab, as I was persuaded that +when the action was over he would be proud of having served as a bait +even without knowing it. I then prepared my arms and placed them against +the tree and got up, in order the better to observe the movements of the +enemy. They were not less than half an hour traversing a distance of one +hundred metres. Although the ground was open, I could only see them when +they raised their heads to make sure that the Arab was still there. They +took advantage of every stone and every tuft of grass to render +themselves almost invisible; at last the boldest of them came up +crouching on his belly to within ten paces of me and fifteen of the +Arab. His eye was fixed on the latter, and with such an expression that +I was afraid I had waited too long. The second, who had stayed a few +paces behind, came and placed himself on a level with and about four or +five paces from the first. I then saw for the first time that they were +full-grown lionesses. I took aim at the first, and she came rolling and +roaring down to the foot of the tree. The Arab was scarcely awakened +when a second ball stretched the animal dead upon the spot. The first +bullet went in at the muzzle and came out at the tail; the second had +gone through the heart. After making sure that my men were all right, I +looked out for the second lioness. She was standing up within fifteen +paces, looking at what was going on around her. I took my gun and +leveled it at her. She squatted down. When I fired she fell down +roaring, and disappeared in a field of maize on the edge of the road. On +approaching I found by her moaning that she was still alive, and did not +venture at night into the thick plantation which sheltered her. As soon +as it was day I went to the spot where she had fallen, and all I found +were bloodmarks showing her track in the direction of the wood. After +sending the dead lioness to the neighboring garrison, who celebrated its +arrival by a banquet, I returned to my post of the previous night. A +little after sunset the lion roared for the first time, but instead of +quitting his lair he remained there all night, roaring like a madman. +Convinced that the wounded lioness was there, I sent on the morning of +the 24th two Arabs to explore the cover. They returned without daring to +approach it. On the night of the 24th there was the same roaring and +complaining of the lion on the mountain and under cover. On the 25th, at +five in the evening, I had a young goat muzzled, and proceeded with it +to the mountain. The lair was exceedingly difficult of access. +Nevertheless I succeeded at last by crawling now on my hands and now on +my belly in reaching it. Having discovered certain indications of the +presence of the inhabitants of this locality, I had the goat unmuzzled +and tied to a tree. Then followed the most comical panic on the part of +the Arabs, who were carrying my arms. Seeing themselves in the middle of +the lion's lair, whom they could distinctly smell, and hearing the +horrified goat calling them with all its might, was a position perfectly +intolerable to them. After consulting together as to whether it were +better to climb up a tree or clamber on a rock, they asked my permission +to remain near the goat. This confidence pleased me and obtained them +the privilege of a place by my side. I had not been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> there a quarter of +an hour when the lioness appeared; she found herself suddenly beside the +goat, and looked about her with an air of astonishment. I fired, and she +fell without a struggle. The Arabs were already kissing my hands, and I +myself believed her dead, when she got up again as though nothing was +the matter and showed us all her teeth. One of the Arabs who had run +toward her was within six paces of her. On seeing her get up he clung to +the lower branches of the tree to which the goat was tied, and +disappeared like a squirrel. The lioness fell dead at the foot of the +tree, a second bullet piercing her heart. The first had passed out of +the nape of the neck without breaking the skull bone.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From the Spectator.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">RECENT DEATHS IN THE FAMILY OF ORLEANS.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">"O</span>NE touch of nature makes the whole world kin:" there is not one among +the millions who read of the mortal sufferings endured by Queen Louise +of Belgium that will not sympathize with the sorrowing relatives around +her deathbed; especially with that aged lady who has seen so many +changes, survived so many friends, mourned so many dear ones. To the +world Queen Amélie is like a relative to whom we are endeared by report +without having seen her; and as we read of her journey to pay the last +sad offices to her daughter, we forget the "royal personage," in regard +for that excellent lady who has been made known to us by so many +sorrows.</p> + +<p>The Orleans family, in its triumphs and in its adversities, may be taken +as a living and most striking illustration of "principle,"—of principle +working to ends that are certain. Louis Philippe's character shone best +in his personal and family relation. He was a shifty expedientist in +politics: a great national crisis came to him as a fine opportunity to +the commercial man for pushing some particular kind of traffic. He +adopted the cant of the day, as mere traders adopt produce, ready made; +taking the correctness of the earlier stages for granted. He adopted +"the Monarchy surrounded by Republican institutions," as a Member of +Parliament takes the oaths, for form's sake: it was the form of +accepting the crown, its power and dignity; and he did what was +suggested as the proper thing to be done: but did he ever trouble +himself about the "Republican institutions?" He adopted the National +Guard, as a useful instrument to act by way of breastwork, under cover +of which his throne could repose secure, while the royal power could +shoot as it pleased <i>over</i> that respectable body at the people: but did +he ever trouble himself with the purpose of a national guard?—No more +than a beadle troubles his head with the church theology or parochial +constitution. He never meddled with the stuff and vital working of +politics; and when the time came that required him to maintain his post +by having a hold on the nation of France, by acting with the forces then +at work, wholly incompetent to the unsought task, he let go, and was +drifted away by the flood of events. But still, though the most signal +instance of opportunity wasted and success converted to failure before +the eyes of Europe, he retained a considerable degree of respectability. +First, the vitality of the man was strong, and had been tested by many +vicissitudes; and the world sympathizes with that sort of leasehold +immortality. Further, his family clung around him: the respectable, +amiable paterfamilias, whose personal qualities had been somewhat +obscured by the splendors of the throne, now again appeared unvailed, +and that which was sterling in the man was once more known—again tried, +again sound. Louis Philippe failed as a king, he succeeded as a father.</p> + +<p>Queen Amélie placed her faith less on mundane prosperity than on +spiritual welfare; and she was so far imbued by faith as a living +principle that it actuated her in her conduct as a daily practice. With +the obedience of the true Catholic, she combined the spirit of active +Christianity. While some part of her family has been inspired mainly by +the paternal spirit, some took their spirit from the mother; and none, +it would appear, more decidedly than Queen Louise. The accounts from +Belgium liken her to our own Queen Adelaide, in whom was exhibited the +same spirit of piety and practical Christianity; and we see the result +in the kind of personal affection that she earned. Agree with these +estimable women in their doctrine or not, you cannot but respect the +firmness of their own faith or the spirit of self-sacrifice which +remained uncorrupted through all the trials of temptations, so rife, so +<i>devitalizing</i> in the life of royalty.</p> + +<p>Death visits the palace and the cottage, and we expect his approach: we +understand his aspect, and know how he affects the heart of mortality. +Be they crowned or not, we understand what it is that mortal creatures +are enduring under the affliction; and we well know what it means when +parent and children, brothers and sisters, collect around the deathbed.</p> + +<p>King Leopold we have twice seen under the same trial, and again remember +how much he has rested of his life on the personal relation. We note +these things; we call to mind all that the family, illustrious not less +by its vicissitudes and its adversities than by its exaltation, has +endured; and while we sympathize with its sorrows, we feel how much it +must be sustained by those reliances which endure more firmly than +worldly fortune. But our regard does not stop with admiration; we notice +with satisfaction this example to the family and personal relation—this +proof that amid the splendors of royalty the firmest reliances and the +sweetest consolations are those which are equally open to the humblest.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> +<div class="center">[From "Leaves from the Journal of a Naturalist," in Fraser's Magazine.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">PLEASANT STORY OF A SWALLOW.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>N September, 1800, the Rev. Walter Trevelyan wrote from Long-Wilton, +Northumberland, in a letter to the editor of Bewick's "British Birds," +the following narrative, which is so simply and beautifully written, and +gives so clear an account of the process of taming, that it would be +unjust to recite it in any words but his own for the edification of +those who may wish to make the experiment:—"About nine weeks ago +(writes the good clergyman), a swallow fell down one of our chimneys, +nearly fledged, and was able to fly in two or three days. The children +desired they might try to rear him, to which I agreed, fearing the old +ones would desert him; and as he was not the least shy they succeeded +without any difficulty, for he opened his mouth for flies as fast as +they could supply them, and was regularly fed to a whistle. In a few +days, perhaps a week, they used to take him into the fields with them, +and as each child found a fly and whistled, the little bird flew for his +prey from one to another; at other times he would fly round about them +in the air, but always descended at the first call, in spite of the +constant endeavors of the wild swallows to seduce him away; for which +purpose several of them at once would fly about him in all directions, +striving to drive him away when they saw him about to settle on one of +the children's hands, extended with the food. He would very often alight +on the children, uncalled, when they were walking several fields distant +from home." What a charming sketch of innocence and benevolence, +heightened by the anxiety of the pet's relations to win him away from +beings whom they must have looked upon as so many young ogres! The poor +flies, it is true, darken the picture a little; but to proceed with the +narrative:—"Our little inmate was never made a prisoner by being put +into a cage, but always ranged about the room at large wherever the +children were, and they never went out of doors without taking him with +them. Sometimes he would sit on their hands or heads and catch flies for +himself, which he soon did with great dexterity. At length, finding it +take up too much of their time to supply him with food enough to satisfy +his appetite (for I have no doubt he ate from seven hundred to a +thousand flies a day), they used to turn him out of the house, shutting +the window to prevent his returning for two or three hours together, in +hopes he would learn to cater for himself, which he soon did; but still +was no less tame, always answering their call, and coming in at the +window to them (of his own accord) frequently every day, and always +roosting in their room, which he has regularly done from the first till +within a week or ten days past. He constantly roosted on one of the +children's heads till their bed-time; nor was he disturbed by the child +moving about, or even walking, but would remain perfectly quiet with his +head under his wing, till he was put away for the night in some warm +corner, for he liked much warmth." The kind and considerate attempt to +alienate the attached bird from its little friends had its effect. "It +is now four days (writes worthy Mr. Trevelyan, in conclusion) since he +came in to roost in the house, and though he then did not show any +symptoms of shyness, yet he is evidently becoming less tame, as the +whistle will not now bring him to the hand; nor does he visit us as +formerly, but he always acknowledges it when within hearing by a chirp, +and by flying near. Nothing could exceed his tameness for about six +weeks; and I have no doubt it would have continued the same had we not +left him to himself as much as we could, fearing he would be so +perfectly domesticated that he would be left behind at the time of +migration, and of course be starved in the winter from cold and hunger." +And so ends this agreeable story: not, however, that it was "of course" +that the confiding bird would be starved if it remained, for the Rev. +W.F. Cornish, of Totness, kept two tame swallows, one for a year and a +half, and the other for two years, as he informed Mr. Yarrell.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From Mure's Literature of Ancient Greece.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">EXCLUSION OF LOVE FROM GREEK POETRY.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>NE of the most prominent forms in which the native simplicity and +purity of the Hellenic bard displays itself is the entire exclusion of +sentimental or romantic love from his stock of poetical materials. This +is a characteristic which, while inherited in a greater or less degree +by the whole more flourishing age of Greek poetical literature, +possesses also the additional source of interest to the modern scholar, +of forming one of the most striking points of distinction between +ancient and modern literary taste. So great an apparent contempt, on the +part of so sensitive a race as the Hellenes, for an element of poetical +pathos which has obtained so boundless an influence on the comparatively +phlegmatic races of Western Europe, is a phenomenon which, although it +has not escaped the notice of modern critics, has scarcely met with the +attention which its importance demands. By some it has been explained as +a consequence of the low estimation in which the female sex was held in +Homer's age, as contrasted with the high honors conferred on it by the +courtesy of medieval chivalry; by others as a natural effect of the +restrictions placed on the free intercourse of the sexes among the +Greeks. Neither explanation is satisfactory. The latter of the two is +set aside by Homer's own descriptions, which abundantly prove that in +his time, at least, women could have been subjected to no such jealous +control as to interfere with the free course of amorous intrigue. Nor +even, had such been the case, would the cause have been adequate to the +effect. Ex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>perience seems rather to evince that the greater the +difficulties to be surmounted the higher the poetical capabilities of +such adventures. Erotic romance appears, in fact, to have been nowhere +more popular than in the East, where the jealous separation of the sexes +has, in all ages, been extreme. As little can it be said that Homer's +poems exhibit a state of society in which females were lightly esteemed. +The Trojan war itself originates in the susceptibility of an injured +husband: and all Greece takes up arms to avenge his wrong. The plot of +the Odyssey hinges mainly on the constant attachment of the hero to the +spouse of his youth; and the whole action tends to illustrate the high +degree of social and political influence consequent on the exemplary +performance of the duties of wife and mother. Nor surely do the +relations subsisting between Hector and Andromache, or Priam and Hecuba, +convey a mean impression of the respect paid to the female sex in the +heroic age. As little can the case be explained by a want of fit or +popular subjects of amorous adventure. Many of the favorite Greek +traditions are as well adapted to the plot of an epic poem or tragedy of +the sentimental order, as any that modern history can supply. Still less +can the exclusion be attributed to a want of sensibility, on the part of +the Greek nation, to the power of the tender passions. The influence of +those passions is at least as powerfully and brilliantly asserted in +their own proper sphere of poetical treatment, in the lyric odes, for +example, of Sappho or Mimnermus, as in any department of modern poetry. +Nor must it be supposed that even the nobler Epic or Tragic Muse was +insensible to the poetical value of the passion of love. But it was in +the connection of that passion with others of a sterner nature to which +it gives rise, jealousy, hatred, revenge, rather than in its own tender +sensibilities, that the Greek poets sought to concentrate the higher +interest of their public. Any excess of the amorous affections which +tended to enslave the judgment or reason was considered as a weakness, +not an honorable emotion; and hence was confined almost invariably to +women. The nobler sex are represented as comparatively indifferent, +often cruelly callous, to such influence; and, when subjected to it, are +usually held up as objects of contempt rather than admiration. As +examples may be cited the amours of Medea and Jason, of Phćdra and +Hippolytus, of Theseus and Ariadne, of Hercules and Omphale. The satire +on the amorous weakness of the most illustrious of Greek heroes embodied +in the last mentioned fable, with the glory acquired by Ulysses from his +resistance to the fascinations of Circe and Calypso, may be jointly +contrasted with the subjection by Tasso of Rinaldo and his comrades to +the thraldom of Armida, and with the pride and pleasure which the +Italian poet of chivalry appears to take in the sensual degradation of +his heroes. The distinction here drawn by the ancients is the more +obvious, that their warriors are least of all men described as +indifferent to the pleasures of female intercourse. They are merely +exempt from subjection to its unmanly seductions. Ulysses, as he sails +from coast to coast, or island to island, willingly partakes of the +favors which fair goddesses or enchantresses press on his acceptance. +But their influence is never permitted permanently to blunt the more +honorable affections of his bosom, or divert his attention from higher +objects of ambition.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From the Spectator.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">THE GATEWAY OF THE OCEANS.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE forcing of the barrier which for three hundred years has defied and +imperiled the commerce of the world seems now an event at hand. One half +of the contract for the junction of the Atlantic and Pacific, obtained +from the State of Nicaragua last year by the promptitude of the +Americans, is to be held at the option of English capitalists; and an +understanding is at length announced, that if the contemplated +ship-canal can be constructed on conditions that shall leave no +uncertainty as to the profitableness of the enterprise, it is to be +carried forward with the influence of our highest mercantile firms. The +necessary surveys have been actually commenced; and as a temporary route +is at the same time being opened, an amount of information is likely +soon to be collected which will familiarize us with each point regarding +the capabilities of the entire region. It is understood, moreover, that +when the canal-surveys shall be completed, they are to be submitted to +the rigid scrutiny of Government engineers both in England and the +United States; so that before the public can be called upon to consider +the expediency of embarking in the undertaking, every doubt in +connection with it, as far as practical minds are concerned, will have +been removed.</p> + +<p>The immediate steps now in course of adoption may be explained in a few +words. At present the transit across the Isthmus of Panama occupies four +days, and its inconveniences and dangers are notorious. At Nicaragua, it +is represented, the transit may possibly be effected in one day, and +this by a continuous steam-route with the exception of fifteen miles by +mule or omnibus. The passage would be up the San Juan, across Lake +Nicaragua to the town of that name, and thence to the port of San Juan +del Sur on the Pacific. On arriving at this terminus, (which is +considerably south of the one contemplated for the permanent canal, +namely Realejo,) the passenger would find himself some six or seven +hundred miles nearer to California than if he had crossed at the Isthmus +of Panama; and as the rate of speed of the American steamers on this +service is upward of three hundred miles a day, his saving of three days +in crossing, coupled with the saving in sea distance, would be +equivalent to a total of fifteen hundred miles, measured in relation to +what is accom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>plished by these vessels. A lower charge for the transit, +and a comparatively healthy climate, are also additional inducements; +and under these circumstances, anticipations are entertained that the +great tide of traffic will be turned in the new direction. This tide, +according to the last accounts from Panama, was kept up at the rate of +70,000 persons a year; and it was expected to increase.</p> + +<p>The navigability of the San Juan, however, in its present state, remains +yet to be tested. The American company who have obtained the privilege +of the route have sent down two vessels of light draught, the Nicaragua +and the Director, for the purpose of forthwith placing the matter beyond +doubt. At the last date, the Director had safely crossed the bar at its +mouth, and was preparing to ascend; the Nicaragua had previously gone up +the Colorado, a branch river, where, it is said, through the +carelessness of her engineer, she had run aground upon a sand-bank, +though without sustaining any damage. The next accounts will possess +great interest. Whatever may be the real capabilities of the river, +accidents and delays must be anticipated in the first trial of a new +method of navigating it: even in our own river, the Thames, the first +steamer could scarcely have been expected to make a trip from London +Bridge to Richmond without some mishap. Should, therefore, the present +experiment show any clear indications of success, there will be +reasonable ground for congratulation; and it forms so important a +chapter in the history of enterprise, that all must regard it with good +wishes.</p> + +<p>If the results of this temporary transit should realize the expectations +it seems to warrant, there can be little doubt the completion of the +canal will soon be commenced with ardor. Supposing the surveys should +show a cost not exceeding the sum estimated in 1837 by Lieutenant Baily, +the prospect of the returns would, there is reason to believe, be much +larger than the public have at any time been accustomed to suppose. +There is also the fact that the increase of these returns can know no +limit so long as the commerce of the world shall increase; and indeed, +already the idea of the gains to accrue appears to have struck some +minds with such force as to lead them to question if the privileges +which have been granted are not of a kind so extraordinarily favorable +that they will sooner or later be repudiated by the State of Nicaragua. +No such danger however exists; as the company are guaranteed in the safe +possession of all their rights by the treaty of protection which has +been ratified between Great Britain and the United States.</p> + +<p>One most important sign in favor of the quick completion of the +ship-canal is now furnished in the circumstance that there are no rival +routes. At Panama, a cheap wooden railway is to be constructed, which +will prove serviceable for much of the passenger-traffic to Peru and +Chili; but the project for a canal at that point has been entirely given +up. The same is the case at Tehuantepec, where the difficulties are far +greater than at Panama.</p> + +<p>It is true, the question naturally arises, whether if an exploration +were made of other parts of Central America or New Grenada, some route +might not be discovered which might admit of the construction of a canal +even at a less cost than will be necessary at Nicaragua. But in a matter +which concerns the commerce of the whole world for ages, there are other +points to be considered besides mere cheapness; and those who have +studied the advantages of Nicaragua maintain that enough is known of the +whole country both north and south of that State, to establish the fact +that she possesses intrinsic capabilities essential to the perfectness +of the entire work, which are not to be found in any other quarter, and +for the absence of which no saving of any immediate sum would +compensate. In the first place, it is nearer to California by several +hundred miles than any other route that could be pointed out except +Tehuantepec, while at the same time it is so central as duly to combine +the interests both of the northern and southern countries of the +Pacific; in the next place, it contains two magnificent natural docks, +where all the vessels in the world might refresh and refit; thirdly, it +abounds in natural products of all kinds, and is besides comparatively +well-peopled; fourthly, it possesses a temperature which is relatively +mild, while it is also in most parts undoubtedly healthy; and finally, +it has a harbor on the Pacific, which, to use the words of Dunlop in his +book on Central America, is as good as any port in the known world, and +decidedly superior even to Portsmouth, Rio Janeiro, Port Jackson, +Talcujana, Callao, and Guayaquil. The proximity to California moreover +settles the question as to American cooperation; which, it may be +believed, would certainly not be afforded to any route farther south, +and without which it would be idle to contemplate the undertaking.</p> + +<p>At the same time, however, it must be admitted, that if any body of +persons would adopt the example now set by the American company, and +commence a survey of any new route at their own expense, they would be +entitled to every consideration, and to rank as benefactors of the +community, whatever might be the result of their endeavors. There are +none who can help forward the enterprise, either directly or indirectly, +upon whom it will not shed honor. That honor, too, will not be distant. +The progress of the work will unite for the first time in a direct +manner the two great nations upon whose mutual friendship the welfare of +the world depends; and its completion will cause a revolution in +commerce more extensive and beneficent than any that has yet occurred, +and which may still be so rapid as to be witnessed by many who even now +are old.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> +<div class="center">[From the Spectator.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">THE MURDER MARKET.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">"T</span>HE Doddinghurst murder," "the Frimley murder," "the Regent's Park +burglary," "the Birmingham burglary," "the Liverpool plate +robberies,"—the plots thicken to such a degree that society turns still +paler; and having last week asked for ideas on the subject of better +security for life and property, asks this week, still more urgently, for +<i>more</i> security. We must then penetrate deeper into the causes.</p> + +<p>Yes, civilization is observable in nothing more than in the development +of criminality. Whether it is that <i>pennyalining</i> discloses it more, or +that the instances really are more numerous, may be doubtful; but why, +in spite of modern improvements to illumine, order, and guard society, +does crime stalk abroad so signally unchecked?—<i>that</i> is the question.</p> + +<p>We believe that the causes are various; and that to effect a thorough +amendment, we must deal with <i>all</i> the causes, radically. Let us reckon +up some of them. One is, that the New Police, which at first acted as a +scarecrow, has grown familiar to the ruffianly or roguish: it has been +discovered that a Policeman is not ubiquitous, and if you know that he +is walking toward Berkhamstead you are certain that he is not going +toward Hemel Hempstead. In some counties the Policeman is the very +reverse of ubiquitous, being altogether non-inventus, by reason of +parsimony in the rate-payers. The disuse of arms and the general +unfamiliarity with them help to embolden the audacious. The increase of +wealth is a direct attraction: the more silver spoons and épergnes, the +more gold-handled knives and dish-covers electro-gilt, are to be found +in pantry, the more baits are there set for the wild animals of society; +and if there be no trap with the bait, then the human vermin merely run +off with it. But he will bite if you offer any let. With the general +luxury grows the burglarious love of luxury: as peers and cits grow more +curious in their appetites, so burglars and swell-mobsmen. The tasteful +cruet which tempts Lady Juliana, and is gallantly purchased by her +obliging husband Mr. Stubbs, has its claims also for Dick Stiles; and +the champagne which is so relished by the guests round Mr. Stubbs's +mahogany is pleasant tipple under a hedge. Another cause, most pregnant +with inconvenience to the public, is the practice in which we persist in +letting our known criminals go about at large, on constitutional +scruples against shutting the door till the steed be gone. We are bound +to treat a man as innocent until he be found guilty,—which means, that +we must not hang him or pillory him without proof before a jury: but an +innocent man may be suspected, and <i>ought</i> to be suspected, if +appearances are against him. So much for the suspected criminal, whom we +will not take into custody until he has galloped off in our own saddle. +But even the convicted ruffian is to be set at large, under the system +of time sentences. Yes, "the liberty of the subject" demands the license +of the burglar.</p> + +<p>A sixth cause is the mere increase of the population hereditarily given +to crime,—a caste upon which we have made so little impression, either +by prison discipline, ragged schools, or any other process. In education +we rely upon book learning or theological scrap teaching, neither of +which influences will reach certain minds; for there are many, and not +the worst dispositions, that never can be brought under a very active +influence of a studious or spiritual kind. But we omit the right kind of +training, the physical and material, for that order of mind.</p> + +<p>Other causes are—the wide social separation in this country, by virtue +of which our servants are strangers in the house, alien if not hostile +to the family; the want of our present customs to give scope for such +temperaments as need excitement; the state of the Poor-law, which makes +the honest man desperate and relaxes the proper control over the +vagrant.</p> + +<p>The remedies for these causes must go deeper than bells for shutters or +snappish housedogs for the night: meanwhile, we must be content to read +of murders, and to use the best palliatives we can—even shutter-bells +and vigilant little dogs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From the Examiner.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">STATUES.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">S</span>TATUES are now rising in every quarter of our metropolis, and mallet +and chisel are the chief instruments in use. Whatever is conducive to +the promotion of the arts ought undoubtedly to be encouraged; but love +in this instance, quite as much as in any, ought neither to be +precipitate nor blind. A true lover of his country should be exempted +from the pain of blushes, when a foreigner inquires of him, "<i>Whom does +this statue represent? and for what merits was it raised?</i>" The +defenders of their country, not the dismemberers of it, should be first +in honor; the maintainers of the laws, not the subverters of them, +should follow next. I may be asked by the studious, the contemplative, +the pacific, whether I would assign a higher station to any public man +than to a Milton and a Newton. My answer is plainly and loudly, <i>Yes</i>. +But the higher station should be in the streets, in squares, in houses +of parliament: such are their places; our vestibules and our libraries +are best adorned by poets, philosophers, and philanthropists. There is a +feeling which street-walking and public-meeting men improperly call +<i>loyalty</i>; a feeling intemperate and intolerant, smelling of dinner and +wine and toasts, which raises their stomachs and their voices at the +sound of certain names reverberated by the newspaper press. As little do +they know about the proprietary of these names as pot-wallopers know +about the candidates at a borough election, and are just as vociferous +and violent. A few days ago, I received a most courteous invitation to +be named on a Committee for erecting a statue to Jenner. It was +impossible for me to decline<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> it; and equally was it impossible to +abstain from the observations which I am now about to state. I +recommended that the statue should be placed before a public hospital, +expressing my sense of impropriety in confounding so great a benefactor +of mankind, in any street or square or avenue, with the Dismemberer of +America and his worthless sons. Nor would I willingly see him among the +worn-out steam-engines of parliamentary debates. The noblest +parliamentary men who had nothing to distribute, not being ministers, +are without statues. The illustrious Burke, the wisest, excepting Bacon, +who at any time sat within the people's House; Romilly, the sincerest +patriot; Huskisson, the most intelligent in commercial affairs, has +none. Peel is become popular, not by his incomparable merits, but by his +untimely death. Shall we never see the day when Oliver and William mount +the chargers of Charles and George; and when a royal swindler is +superseded by the purest and most exalted of our heroes, Blake?</p> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Walter Savage Landor</span>.<br /> +</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From the last Edinburgh Review.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">RESPONSIBILITY OF STATESMEN.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T is of the last moment that all who are, or are likely to be, called +to administer the affairs of a free state, should be deeply imbued with +the statesmanlike virtues of modesty and caution, and should act under a +profound sense of their personal responsibility. It is an awful thing to +undertake the government of a great country; and no man can be any way +worthy of that high calling who does not from his inmost soul feel it to +be so. When we reflect upon the fearful consequences, both to the lives, +the material interests, and the moral well-being of thousands, which may +ensue from a hasty word, an erroneous judgment, a temporary +carelessness, or a lapse of diligence; when we remember that every +action of a statesman is pregnant with results which may last for +generations after he is gathered to his fathers; that his decisions may, +and probably must, affect for good or ill the destinies of future times; +that peace or war, crime or virtue, prosperity or adversity, the honor +or dishonor of his country, the right or wrong, wise or unwise solution +of some of the mightiest problems in the progress of humanity, depend +upon the course he may pursue at those critical moments which to +ordinary men occur but rarely, but which crowd the daily life of a +statesman; the marvel is that men should be forthcoming bold enough to +venture on such a task. Now, among public men in England this sense of +responsibility is in general adequately felt. It affords an honorable +(and in most cases we believe a true) explanation of that singular +discrepancy between public men when in and when out of office—that +inconsistency between the promise and the performance,—between what the +leader of the opposition urges the minister to do, and what the same +leader, when minister himself, actually does,—which is so commonly +attributed to less reputable motives. The independent member may +speculate and criticise at his ease; may see, as he thinks, clearly, and +with an undoubting and imperious conviction, what course on this or that +question ought to be pursued; may feel so unboundedly confident in the +soundness of his views, that he cannot comprehend or pardon the +inability of ministers to see as he sees, and to act as he would wish; +but as soon as the overwhelming responsibilities of office are his own, +as soon as he finds no obstacle to the carrying out of his plans, except +such as may arise from the sense that he does so at the risk of his +country's welfare and his own reputation—he is seized with a strange +diffidence, a new-born modesty, a mistrust of his own judgment which he +never felt before; he re-examines, he hesitates, he delays; he brings to +bear upon the investigation all the new light which official knowledge +has revealed to him; and finds at last that he scruples to do himself +what he had not scrupled to insist upon before. So deep-rooted is this +sense of responsibility with our countrymen, that whatever parties a +crisis of popular feeling might carry into power, we should have +comparatively little dread of rash, and no dread of corrupt, conduct on +their part; we scarcely know the public man who, when his country's +destinies were committed to his charge, could for a moment dream of +acting otherwise than with scrupulous integrity, and to the best of his +utmost diligence and most cautious judgment,—at all events till the +dullness of daily custom had laid his self-vigilance asleep. We are +convinced that were Lord Stanhope and Mr. Disraeli to be borne into +office by some grotesque freak of fortune, even they would become +sobered as by magic, and would astonish all beholders, not by their +vagaries, but by their steadiness and discretion. Now, of this wholesome +sense of awful responsibility, we see no indications among public men in +France. Dumont says, in his "Recollections of Mirabeau," "I have +sometimes thought that if you were to stop a hundred men +indiscriminately in the streets of Paris and London, and propose to each +to undertake the government, ninety-nine of the Londoners would refuse, +and ninety-nine of the Parisians would accept. In fact, we find it is +only one or two of the more experienced <i>habitués</i> of office who in +France ever seem to feel any hesitation. Ordinary deputies, military +men, journalists, men of science, accept, with a <i>naive</i> and simple +courage, posts for which, except that courage, they possess no single +qualification. But this is not the worst; they never hesitate, at their +country's risk and cost, to carry out their own favorite schemes to an +experiment; in fact, they often seem to value office mainly for that +purpose, and to regard their country chiefly as the <i>corpus vile</i> on +which the experiment is to be made. To make way for their theories, they +relentlessly sweep out of sight the whole past, and never appear to +contemplate either the possibility or the parricidal guilt of failure.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> +<div class="center">[From the New Monthly Magazine.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">THE COW TREE OF SOUTH AMERICA.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>R. Higson met with two species of cow tree, which he states to be +abundant in the deep and humid woods of the provinces of Chocó and +Popayán. In an extract from his diary, dated Ysconde, May 7, 1822, he +gives an account of an excursion he made, about twelve miles up the +river, in company with the alcaide and two other gentlemen, in quest of +some of these milk trees, one species of which, known to the inhabitants +by the name of Popa, yields, during the ascent of the sap, a redundance +of a nutritive milky juice, obtained by incisions made into the thick +bark which clothes the trunk, and which he describes as of an ash color +externally, while the interior is of a clay red. Instinct, or some +natural power closely approaching to the reasoning principle, has taught +the jaguars, and other wild beasts of the forest, the value of this +milk, which they obtain by lacerating the bark with their claws and +catching the milk as it flows from the incisions. A similar instinct +prevails amongst the hogs that have become wild in the forests of +Jamaica, where a species of Rhus, the <i>Rhus Metopium</i> of botanists, +grows, the bark of which, on being wounded, yields a resinous juice, +possessing many valuable medicinal properties, and among them that of +rapidly cicatrizing wounds. How this valuable property was first +discovered by the hogs, or by what peculiar interchange of ideas the +knowledge of it was communicated by the happy individual who made it to +his fellow hogs, is a problem which, in the absence of some porcine +historiographer, we have little prospect of solving. But, however this +may be, the fact is sufficiently notorious in Jamaica, where the wild +hogs, when wounded, seek out one of these trees, which, from the first +discoverers of its sanative properties, have been named "Hog Gum Trees," +and, abrading the bark with their teeth, rub the wounded part of their +bodies against it, so as to coat the wound with a covering of the gummy, +or rather gum-resinous fluid, that exudes from the bark. In like manner, +as Mr. Higson informs us, the jaguars, instructed in the nutritious +properties of the potable juice of the Popa, jump up against the stem, +and lacerating the bark with their claws greedily catch the liquid +nectar as it issues from the wound. By a strange perverseness of his +nature, man, in the pride of his heart and the intoxication of his +vanity, spurns this delicious beverage, which speedily fattens all who +feed on it, and contents himself with using it, when inspissated by the +sun, as a bird-lime to catch parrots; or converting it into a glue, +which withstands humidity, by boiling it with the gum of the mangle-tree +(<i>Sapium aucuparium?</i>), tempered with wood ashes. Mr. Higson states that +they caught plenty of the milk, which was of the consistence of cream, +of a bland and sweetish taste, and a somewhat aromatic flavor, and so +white as to communicate a tolerably permanent stain wherever it fell; it +mixed with spirit, as readily as cow's milk, and made, with the addition +of water, a very agreeable and refreshing beverage, of which they drank +several tutumos full. They cut down a tree, one of the tallest of the +forest, in order to procure specimens, and found the timber white, of a +fine grain, and well adapted for boards or shingles. They were about a +month too late to obtain the blossoms, which were said to be very showy, +but found abundance of fruit, disposed on short foot-stalks in the alć +of the leaves; these were scabrous, and about the size of a nutmeg. The +leaves he describes as having very short petioles, hearted at the base, +and of a coriaceous consistence, and covered with large semi-globular +glands.</p> + +<p>Besides the Popa, he speaks of another lactescent tree, called Sandé, +the milk of which, though more abundant, is thinner, bluish, like +skimmed milk, and not so palatable.</p> + +<p>This, inspissated in the sun, acquires the appearance of a black gum, +and is so highly valued for its medicinal properties, especially as a +topical application in inflammatory affections of the spleen, pleura, +and liver, that it fetches a dollar the ounce in the Valle del Cauca. +The leaves are described as resembling those of the <i>Chrysophyllum +cainito</i>, or broad-leaved star apple, springing from short petioles, ten +or twelve inches long, oblong, ovate, pointed, with alternate veins, and +ferruginous on the under surface. The locality of the Sandé he does not +point out, but says that a third kind of milk tree, the juice of which +is potable, grows in the same forests, where it is known by the name of +Lyria. This he regards as identical with the cow tree of Caracas, of +which Humboldt has given so graphic a description.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From the Illustrated London News.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">SONG OF THE SEASONS.</span></div> + +<div class="c75">BY CHARLES MACKAY.<br /></div> + +<div class="poem2"><br /> +<span class="dropcap">I</span> HEARD the language of the trees,<br /> +<span class="p215">In the noons of the early summer;<br /></span> +As the leaves were moved like rippling seas<br /> +<span class="p21">By the wind—a constant comer.<br /></span> +It came and it went at its wanton will;<br /> +<span class="p21">And evermore loved to dally,<br /></span> +With branch and flower, from the cope of the hill<br /> +<span class="p21">To the warm depths of the valley.<br /></span> +The sunlight glow'd; the waters flow'd;<br /> +<span class="p21">The birds their music chanted,<br /></span> +And the words of the trees on my senses fell—<br /> +<span class="p21">By a spirit of Beauty haunted:—<br /></span> +Said each to each, in mystic speech:—<br /> +<span class="p21">"The skies our branches nourish;—<br /></span> +The world is good,—the world is fair,—<br /> +<span class="p21">Let us <i>enjoy</i> and flourish!"<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again I heard the steadfast trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The wintry winds were blowing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There seem'd a roar as of stormy seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And of ships to the depths down-going<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever a moan through the woods were blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As the branches snapp'd asunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the long boughs swung like the frantic arms<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of a crowd in affright and wonder.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavily rattled the driving hail!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And storm and flood combining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid bare the roots of mighty oaks<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Under the shingle twining.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said tree to tree, "These tempests free<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our sap and strength shall nourish;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the world be hard, though the world be cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We can endure and flourish!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> +<div class="center">[From Eliza Cook's Journal.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">THE WANE OF THE YEAR.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">B</span>UT autumn wanes, and with it fade the golden tints, and burning hues, +and the warm breezes; for winter, with chilling clasp and frosty breath, +hurries like a destroyer over the fields to bury their beauties in his +snow, and to blanch and wither up with his frozen breath, the remnants +of the blooming year. The harvests are gathered, the seeds are sown, the +meadow becomes once more green and velvet-like as in the days of spring: +the weeds and flowers run to seed, and stand laden with cups, and urns, +and bells, each containing the unborn germs of another summer's beauty, +and only waiting for the winter winds to scatter them, and the spring +sunshine to fall upon them, where they fall to break into bud and leaf +and flower, and to whisper to the passing wind that the soul of beauty +dies not. It is now upon the waning of the sunshine and the falling of +the leaf that the bleak winds rise angrily, and the gloom of the dying +year deepens in the woods and fields. We hear the plying of the constant +flail mingling with the clatter of the farm-yard; we are visited by fogs +and moving mists, and heavy rains that last for days together; upon the +hill the horn of the hunter is heard, and in the mountain solitudes the +eagle's scream; up among craggy rifts the red deer bound, and the +waterfall keeps up its peals of thunder; and although the autumn, having +ripened the fruits of summer, and gathered into the garnery the yellow +fruitage of the field, must hie away to sunbright shores and islands in +the glittering seas of fairy lands, she leaves the spirits of the +flowers to hover hither and thither amid the leafless bowers to bewail +in midnight dirges the loss of leaves and blossoms and the joyful tide +of song. It is one of these of whom the poet speaks; for he, having been +caught up by the divine ether into the regions of eternal beauty, has +seen, as mortals seldom see, the shadows of created things, and has +spoken with the angel spirits of the world:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A spirit haunts the year's last hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To himself he talks:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For at eventide, listening earnestly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At his work you may hear him sob and sigh.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the walks<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Earthward he boweth the heavy stalks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the mouldering flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heavily hangs the broad sunflower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over its grave i' the earth so chilly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heavily hangs the hollyhock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The air is damp, and hush'd and close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a sick man's room when he taketh repose<br /></span> +<span class="i1">An hour before death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My very heart faints, and my whole soul grieves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the rich moist smell of the rotting leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the breath<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of the fading edges of box beneath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the year's last rose.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heavily hangs the broad sunflower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over its grave i' the earth so chilly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heavily hangs the hollyhock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.—<i>Tennyson.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The black clouds are even now gathering upon the fringes of the sky, and +the mellow season of the fruitage ends. Thus all the changes of the +earth pass round, each imprinting its semblance on the brow of man, and +writing its lessons on his soul; that like the green earth beneath his +feet, he may, through cold and heat, through storm and sun, be ever +blossoming with fragrant flowers, and yielding refreshing fruit from the +inexhaustible soil of a regenerated heart.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From Slack's Ministry of the Beautiful, just published by A. Hart, Philadelphia.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">THE FOUNTAIN IN THE WOOD.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> LITTLE way apart from a great city was a fountain in a wood. The water +gushed from a rock and ran in a little crystal stream to a mossy basin +below; the wildflowers nodded their heads to catch its tiny spray; tall +trees overarched it; and through the interspaces of their moving leaves +the sunlight came and danced with rainbow feet upon its sparkling +surface.</p> + +<p>There was a young girl who managed every day to escape a little while +from the turmoil of the city, and went like a pilgrim to the fountain in +the wood. The water was sparkling, the moss and fern looked very lovely +in the gentle moisture which the fountain cast upon them, and the trees +waved their branches and rustled their green leaves in happy concert +with the summer breeze. The girl loved the beauty of the scene and it +grew upon her. Every day the fountain had a fresh tale to tell, and the +whispering murmur of the leaves was ever new. By-and-by she came to know +something of the language in which the fountain, the ferns, the mosses, +and the trees held converse. She listened very patiently, full of wonder +and of love. She heard them often regret that man would not learn their +language, that they might tell him the beautiful things they had to say. +At last the maiden ventured to tell them that she knew their tongue, and +with what exquisite delight she heard them talk. The fountain flowed +faster, more sunbeams danced on its waters, the leaves sang a new song, +and the ferns and mosses grew greener before her eyes. They all told her +what joy thrilled through them at her words. Human beings had passed +them in abundance, they said, and as there was a tradition among the +flowers that men once spoke, they hoped one day to hear them do so +again. The maiden told them that all men spoke, at which they were +astonished, but said that making articulate noises was not speaking, +many such they had heard, but never till now real human speech; for +that, they said, could come alone from the mind and heart. It was the +voice of the body which men usually talked with, and that they did not +understand, but only the voice of the soul, which was rare to hear. Then +there was great joy through all the wood, and there went forth a report +that at length a maiden was found whose soul could speak, and who knew +the language of the flowers and the fountain. And the trees and the +stream said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> one to another, "Even so did our old prophets teach, and +now hath it been fulfilled." Then the maiden tried to tell her friends +in the city what she had heard at the fountain, but could explain very +little, for although they knew her words, they felt not her meaning. And +certain young men came and begged her to take them to the wood that they +might hear the voices. So she took one after another, but nothing came +of it, for to them the fountain and the trees were mute. Many thought +the maiden mad, and laughed at her belief, but they could not take the +sweet voices away from her. Now the maidens wished her to take them +also, and she did, but with little better success. A few thought they +heard something, but knew not what, and on their return to the city its +bustle obliterated the small remembrance they had carried away. At +length a young man begged the maiden to give him a trial, and she did +so. They went hand in hand to the fountain, and he heard the language, +although not so well as the maiden; but she helped him, and found that +when both heard the words together they were more beautiful than ever. +She let go his hand, and much of the beauty was gone; the fountain told +them to join hands and lips also, and they did it. Then arose sweeter +sounds than they had ever heard, and soft voices encompassed them +saying, "Henceforth be united; for the spirit of truth and beauty hath +made you one."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From Dr. Marcy's Homeopathic Theory and Practice of Medicine.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">WEARING THE BEARD.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>NE great cause of the frequent occurrence of chronic bronchitis may be +found in the reprehensible fashion of shaving the beard. That this +ornament was given by the Creator for some useful purpose, there can be +no doubt, for in fashioning the human body, he gave nothing unbecoming a +perfect man, nothing useless, nothing superfluous. Hair being an +imperfect conductor of caloric, is admirably calculated to retain the +animal warmth of that part of the body which is so constantly and +necessarily exposed to the weather, and thus to protect this important +portion of the respiratory passage from the injurious effects of sudden +checks of perspiration.</p> + +<p>When one exercises for hours his vocal organs, with the unremitted +activity of a public declamation, the pores of the skin in the vicinity +of the throat and chest become relaxed, so that when he enters the open +air, the whole force of the atmosphere bears upon these parts, and he +sooner or later contracts a bronchitis; while, had he the flowing beard +with which his Maker has endowed him, uncut, to protect these important +parts, he would escape any degree of exposure unharmed.</p> + +<p>The fact that Jews and other people who wear the beard long, are but +rarely afflicted with bronchitis and analogous disorders, suggests a +powerful argument in support of these views.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">[From "Ada Greville," by Peter Leicester.]<br /> + +<span class="simh3">A VIEW OF BOMBAY.</span></div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HEY had soon reached the Apollo Bunder, where they were to land, and +where Ada's attention was promptly engaged by the bustle awaiting her +there; and where, from among numbers of carriages, and palanquins, and +carts in waiting—many of them of such extraordinary shapes—some moved +by horses, some by bullocks, and some by men, and all looking strange; +from their odd commixture, Mr. McGregor's phaeton promptly drew up, and +he placed the ladies in it, himself driving, and the two maids following +in a palanquin carriage. This latter amused Ada exceedingly; a +<i>vis-ŕ-vis</i>, in fact, very long, and very low, drawn by bullocks, whose +ungainly and uneven paces were very unlike any other motion to which, so +far, her experience had been subjected; but they went well enough, and +quickly too, and Ada soon forgot their eccentricities in her surprise at +the many strange things she saw by the way. The airy appearance of the +houses, full of windows and doors, and all cased round by verandahs; the +native mud bazaars, so rude and uncouth in their shapes, and daubed over +with all kinds of glaring colours; with the women sitting in the open +verandahs, their broad brooms in hand, whisking off from their +food-wares the flies, myriads of which seem to contend with them for +ownership; the native women in the streets carrying water, in their +graceful dress, their scanty little jackets and short garments +exhibiting to advantage their beautiful limbs and elegant motion, the +very poorest of them covered with jewels—the wonted mode, indeed, in +which they keep what little property they have—the women, too, working +with the men, and undertaking all kinds of labor; the black, naked +coolies running here and there to snatch at any little employment that +would bring them but an <i>anna</i>. Contrasting with these, and mixed up +pell mell with them, the smart young officers cantering about, the +carriages of every shape and grade, from the pompous hackery, with its +gaudy, umbrella-like top, and no less pompous occupant, in his turban +and jewels, his bullocks covered with bells making more noise than the +jumbling vehicle itself, down to the meager bullock cart, at hire, for +the merest trifle. Here and there, too, some other great native, on his +sumptuously caparisoned horse, with arched neck and long flowing tail +sweeping the ground, and feeling as important as his rider; and the +popish priests, in their long, black gowns, and long beards; and the +civilians, of almost every rank, in their light, white jackets; and the +umbrellas; and the universal tomtoms, incessantly going; and above all, +the numbers of palanquins, each with its eight bearers, running here, +there, and everywhere; everything, indeed, so unlike dear old England; +everything, even did not the burning sun of itself tell the fact, too +sensibly to be mistaken, reminding the stranger that she was in the +Indian land.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> +<div class="center">From "The Memorial:"</div> + +<div class="c75">[The most brilliant and altogether attractive gift-book of the season, +edited by Mrs. Hewitt, and published by Putnam.]</div> + +<div class="center"><span class="simh3">FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD.</span></div> + +<div class="c75">BY RUFUS WILMOT GRISWOLD.</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">F</span>ROM the beginning of our intellectual history women have done far more +than their share in both creation and construction. The worshipful Mrs. +Bradstreet, who two hundred years ago held her court of wit among the +classic groves of Harvard, was in her day—the day in which Spenser, +Shakspeare, and Milton sung—the finest poet of her sex whose verse was +in the English language; and there was little extravagance in the title +bestowed by her London admirers, when they printed her works as those +"of the Tenth Muse, recently sprung up in America." In the beginning of +the present century we had no bard to dispute the crown with Elizabeth +Townsend, whose "Ode to Liberty" commanded the applause of Southey and +Wordsworth in their best days; whose "Omnipresence of the Deity" is +declared by Dr. Cheever to be worthy of those great poets or of +Coleridge; and who still lives, beloved and reverenced, in venerable +years, the last of one of the most distinguished families of New +England.</p> + +<p>More recently, Maria Brooks, called in "The Doctor" <i>Maria del +Occidente</i>, burst upon the world with "Zophiel," that splendid piece of +imagination and passion which stands, the vindication of the subtlety, +power and comprehension of the genius of woman, justifying by +comparison, the skepticism of Lamb when he suggested, to the author of +"The Excursion," whether the sex had "ever produced any thing so great." +Of our living and more strictly contemporary female poets, we mention +with unhesitating pride Mrs. Sigourney, Mrs. Oakes Smith, Mrs. Hewett, +Mrs. Whitman, Mrs. Welby, Alice Carey, "Edith May," Miss Lynch, and Miss +Clarke, as poets of a genuine inspiration, displaying native powers and +capacities in art such as in all periods have been held sufficient to +insure to their possessors lasting fame, and to the nations which they +adorned, the most desirable glory.</p> + +<p>It is Longfellow who says,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">——"What we admire in a woman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is her affection, not her intellect."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The sentiment is unworthy a poet, the mind as well as the heart claims +sympathy, and there is no sympathy but in equality; we need in woman the +completion of our own natures; that her finer, clearer, and purer vision +should pierce for us the mysteries that are hidden from our own senses, +strengthened, but dulled, in the rude shocks of the out-door world, from +which she is screened, by her pursuits, to be the minister of God to us: +to win us by the beautiful to whatever in the present life or the +immortal is deserving a great ambition. We care little for any of the +mathematicians, metaphysicians, or politicians, who, as shamelessly as +Helen, quit their sphere. Intellect in woman, so directed, we do not +admire, and of affection such women are incapable. There is something +divine in woman, and she whose true vocation it is to write, has some +sort of inspiration, which relieves her from the processes and accidents +of knowledge, to display only wisdom in all the range of gentleness, and +all the forms of grace. The equality of the sexes is one of the absurd +questions which have arisen from a denial of the <i>distinctions</i> of their +faculties and duties—of the masculine energy from the feminine +refinement. The ruder sort of women cannot comprehend that there is a +distinction, not of dignity, but of kind; and so, casting aside their +own eminence, for which they are too base, and seeking after ours, for +which they are too weak, they are hermaphroditish disturbers of the +peace of both. In the main our American women are free from this +reproach; they have known their mission, and have carried on the threads +of civility through the years, so strained that they have been +melodiously vocal with every breath of passion from the common heart. We +turn from the jar of senates, from politics, theologies, philosophies, +and all forms of intellectual trial and conflict, to that portion of our +literature which they have given us, coming like dews and flowers after +glaciers and rocks, the hush of music after the tragedy, silence and +rest after turmoil of action. The home where love is refined and +elevated by intellect, and woman, by her separate and never-superfluous +or clashing mental activity, sustains her part in the life-harmony, is +the vestibule of heaven to us; and there we hear the poetesses repeat +the songs to which they have listened, when wandering nearer than we may +go to the world in which humanity shall be perfect again, by the union +in all of all power and goodness and beauty.</p> + +<p>The finest intelligence that woman has in our time brought to the +ministry of the beautiful, is no longer with us. <span class="smcap">Frances Sargent Osgood</span> +died in New-York, at fifteen minutes before three o'clock, in the +afternoon of Sunday, the twelfth of May, 1850. These words swept like a +surge of sadness wherever there was grace and gentleness, and sweet +affections. All that was in her life was womanly, "pure womanly," and so +is all in the undying words she left us. This is her distinction.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Osgood was of a family of poets. Mrs. Anna Maria Wells, whose +abilities are illustrated in a volume of "Poems and Juvenile Sketches" +published in 1830, is a daughter of her mother; Mrs. E.D. Harrington, +the author of various graceful compositions in verse and prose, is her +youngest sister; and Mr. A.A. Locke, a brilliant and elegant writer, for +many years connected with the public journals, was her brother. She was +a native of Boston, where her father, Mr. Joseph Locke, was a highly +accomplished merchant. Her earlier life, however, was passed principally +in Hingham, a village of peculiar beauty, well calculated to arouse the +dormant poetry of the soul; and here, even in childhood, she became +noted for her poetical powers. In their exercise she was rather aided +than discouraged by her parents, who were proud of her genius and +sympathized with all her aspirations. The unusual merit of some of her +first productions attracted the notice of Mrs. Child, who was then +editing a Juvenile Miscellany, and who foresaw the reputation which her +young contributor afterwards acquired. Employing the <i>nomme de plume</i> of +"Florence," she made it widely familiar by her numerous contributions in +the Miscellany, as well as, subsequently, for other periodicals.</p> + +<p>In 1834, she became acquainted with Mr. S.S. Osgood, the painter—a man +of genius in his profession—whose life of various adventure is full of +romantic interest; and while, soon after, she was sitting for a +portrait, the artist told her his strange vicissitudes by sea and land; +how as a sailor-boy he had climbed the dizzy maintop in the storm; how, +in Europe he followed with his palette in the track of the flute-playing +Goldsmith: and among the</p> + +<div class="center"> +Antres vast and deserts idle,<br /> +Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven,<br /> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>of South America, had found in pictures of the crucifixion, and of the +Liberator Bolivar—the rude productions of his untaught +pencil—passports to the hearts of the peasant, the partizan, and the +robber. She listened, like the fair Venetian; they were married, and +soon after went to London, where Mr. Osgood had sometime before been a +pupil of the Royal Academy.</p> + +<p>During this residence in the Great Metropolis, which lasted four years, +Mr. Osgood was successful in his art—painting portraits of Lord +Lyndhurst, Thomas Campbell, Mrs. Norton, and many other distinguished +characters, which secured for him an enviable reputation—and Mrs. +Osgood made herself known by her contributions to the magazines, by a +miniature volume, entitled "The Casket of Fate," and by the collection +of her poems published by Edward Churton, in 1839, under the title of "A +Wreath of Wild Flowers from New England." She was now about twenty-seven +years of age, and this volume contained all her early compositions which +then met the approval of her judgment. Among them are many pieces of +grace and beauty, such as belong to joyous and hopeful girlhood, and +one, of a more ambitious character, under the name of "Elfrida"—a +dramatic poem, founded upon incidents in early English history—in which +there are signs of more strength and tenderness, and promise of greater +achievement, though it is without the unity and proportion necessary to +eminent success in this kind of writing.</p> + +<p>Among her attached friends here—a circle that included the Hon. Mrs. +Norton, Mrs. Hofland, the Rev. Hobart Caunter, Archdeacon Wrangham, the +late W. Cooke Taylor, LL.D., and many others known in the various +departments of literature—was the most successful dramatist of the age, +James Sheridan Knowles, who was so much pleased with "Elfrida," and so +confident that her abilities in this line, if duly cultivated, would +enable her to win distinction, that he urged upon her the composition of +a comedy, promising himself to superintend its production on the stage. +She accordingly wrote "The Happy Release, or The Triumphs of Love," a +play in three acts, which was accepted, and was to have been brought out +as soon as she could change slightly one of the scenes, to suit the +views of the manager as to effect, when intelligence of the death of her +father suddenly recalled her to the United States, and thoughts of +writing for the stage were abandoned for new interests and new pursuits.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Osgood arrived in Boston early in 1840, and they soon after +came to New-York, where they afterward resided; though occasionally +absent, as the pursuit of his profession, or ill health, called Mr. +Osgood to other parts of the country. Mrs. Osgood was engaged in various +literary occupations. She edited, among other books, "The Poetry of +Flowers, and Flowers of Poetry," (New-York, 1841,) and "The Floral +Offering," (Philadelphia, 1847,) two richly embellished souvenirs; and +she was an industrious and very popular writer for the literary +magazines and other miscellanies.</p> + +<p>She was always of a fragile constitution, easily acted upon by whatever +affects health, and in her latter years, except in the more genial +seasons of the spring and autumn, was frequently an invalid. In the +winter of 1847-8, she suffered more than ever previously, but the next +winter she was better, and her husband, who was advised by his +physicians to discontinue, for a while, the practice of his profession, +availed himself of the opportunity to go in pursuit of health and riches +to the mines of the Pacific. He left New-York on the fifth of February, +1849, and was absent one year. Mrs. Osgood's health was variable during +the summer, which she passed chiefly at Saratoga Springs, in the company +of a family of intimate friends; and as the colder months came on, her +strength decayed, so that before the close of November, she was confined +to her apartments. She bore her sufferings with resignation, and her +natural hopefulness cheered her all the while, with remembrances that +she had before come out with the flowers and the embracing airs, and +dreams that she would again be in the world with nature. Two or three +weeks before her death, her husband carried her in his arms, like a +child, to a new home, and she was happier than she had been for months, +in the excitement of selecting its furniture, brought in specimens or +patterns to her bedside. "<i>We shall be so happy!</i>" was her salutation to +the few friends who were admitted to see her; but they saw, and her +physicians saw, that her life was ebbing fast, and that she would never +never again see the brooks and greens fields for which she pined, nor +even any of the apartments but the one she occupied of her own house. I +wrote the terrible truth to her, in studiously gentle words, reminding +her that in heaven there is richer and more delicious beauty, that there +is no discord in the sweet sounds there, no poison in the perfume of the +flowers there, and that they know not any sorrow who are with Our +Father. She read the brief note almost to the end silently, and then +turned upon her pillow like a child, and wept the last tears that were +in a fountain which had flowed for every grief but hers she ever knew. +"I cannot leave my beautiful home," she said, looking about upon the +souvenirs of many an affectionate recollection; "and my noble husband, +and Lily and May!" These last are her children. But the sentence was +confirmed by other friends, and she resigned herself to the will of God. +The next evening but one, a young girl went to amuse her, by making +paper flowers for her, and teaching her to make them: and she wrote to +her these verses—her dying song:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You've woven roses round my way,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And gladdened all my being;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How much I thank you none can say<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Save only the All-seeing....<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>I'm going through the Eternal gates</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>Ere June's sweet roses blow</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Death's lovely angel leads me there</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>And it is sweet to go.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">May 7th, 1850.</span></p> + +<p>At the end of five days, in the afternoon of Sunday, the twelfth of May, +as gently as one goes to sleep, she withdrew into a better world.</p> + +<p>On Tuesday, her remains were removed to Boston, to be interred in the +cemetery of Mount Auburn. It was a beautiful day, in the fulness of the +spring, mild and calm, and clouded to a solemn shadow. In the morning, +as the company of the dead and living started, the birds were singing +what seemed to her friends a sadder song than they were wont to sing; +and, as the cars flew fast on the long way, the trees bowed their +luxuriant foliage, and the flowers in the verdant fields were swung +slowly on their stems, filling the air with the gentlest fragrance; and +the streams, it was fancied, checked their turbulent speed to move in +sympathy, as from the heart of Nature tears might flow for a dead +worshipper. God was thanked that all the elements were ordered so, that +sweetest in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>cense, and such natural music, and reverent aspect of the +silent world, should wait upon her, as so many hearts did, in this last +journey. She slept all the while, nor waked when, in the evening, in her +native city, a few familiar faces bent above her, with difficult looks +through tears, and scarcely audible words, to bid farewell to her. On +Wednesday she was buried, with some dear ones who had gone before +her—beside her mother and her daughter—in that City of Rest, more +sacred now than all before had made it, to those whose spirits are +attuned to Beauty or to Sorrow—those twin sisters, so rarely parted, +until the last has led the first to Heaven.</p> + +<p>The character of Mrs. Osgood, to those who were admitted to its more +minute observance, illustrated the finest and highest qualities of +intelligence and virtue. In her manners, there was an almost infantile +gaiety and vivacity, with the utmost simplicity and gentleness, and an +unfailing and indefectable grace, that seemed an especial gift of +nature, unattainable, and possessed only by her and the creatures of our +imaginations whom we call the angels. The delicacy of her organization +was such that she had always the quick sensibility of childhood. The +magnetism of life was round about her, and her astonishingly impressible +faculties were vital in every part, with a polarity toward beauty, all +the various and changing rays of which entered into her consciousness, +and were refracted in her conversation and action. Though, from the +generosity of her nature, exquisitely sensible to applause, she had none +of those immoralities of the intellect, which impair the nobleness of +impulse—no unworthy pride, or vanity, or selfishness—nor was her will +ever swayed from the line of truth, except as the action of the judgment +may sometimes have been irregular from the feverish play of feeling. Her +friendships were quickly formed, but limited by the number of genial +hearts brought within the sphere of her knowledge and sympathy. Probably +there was never a woman of whom it might be said more truly that to her +own sex she was an object almost of worship. She was looked upon for her +simplicity, purity, and childlike want of worldly tact or feeling, with +involuntary affection; listened to, for her freshness, grace, and +brilliancy, with admiration; and remembered, for her unselfishness, +quick sympathy, devotedness, capacity of suffering, and high +aspirations, with a sentiment approaching reverence. This regard which +she inspired in women was not only shown by the most constant and +delicate attentions in society, where she was always the most loved and +honored guest, but it is recorded in the letters and other writings of +many of her most eminent contemporaries, who saw in her an angel, haply +in exile, the sweetness and natural wisdom of whose life elevated her +far above all jealousies, and made her the pride and boast and glory of +womanhood. Many pages might be filled with their tributes, which seem +surely the most heartfelt that mortal ever gave to mortal, but the +limits of this sketch of her will suffer only a few and very brief +quotations from her correspondence. Unquestionably one of the most +brilliant literary women of our time is Miss Clarke, so well known as +"Grace Greenwood." She wrote of Mrs. Osgood with no more earnestness +than others wrote of her, yet in a letter to the "Home Journal," in +1846, she says:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"And how are the critical Cćsars, one after another, 'giving in' to +the graces, and fascinations, and soft enchantments of this +Cleopatra of song. She charms <i>lions</i> to sleep, with her silver +lute, and then throws around them the delicate net-work of her +exquisite fancy, and lo! when they wake, they are well content in +their silken prison.</p> + +<blockquote><p> +'From the tips of her pen a melody flows,<br /> +Sweet as the nightingale sings to the rose.'<br /> +</p></blockquote> + + +<p>"With her beautiful Italian soul—with her impulse, and wild +energy, and exuberant fancy, and glowing passionateness—and with +the wonderful facility with which, like an almond-tree casting off +its blossoms, she flings abroad her heart-tinted and love-perfumed +lays, she has, I must believe, more of the improvisatrice than has +yet been revealed by any of our gifted countrywomen now before the +people. Heaven bless her, and grant her ever, as now, to have +laurels on her brows, and to browse on her laurels! Were I the +President of these United States, I would immortalize my brief term +of office by the crowning of our Corinna, at the Capitol."</p></blockquote> + +<p>And about the same period, having been introduced to her, she referred +to the event:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"It seems like a 'pleasant vision of the night' that I have indeed +seen 'the idol of my early dreams,' that I have been within the +charmed circle of her real presence, sat by her very side, and +lovingly watched the shadow of each feeling that moved her soul, +glance o'er that radiant face!'"</p></blockquote> + +<p>And writing to her:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Mrs. Osgood, let me lay this sweet weight off my heart—look +down into my eyes—believe me—long, long before we met, I loved +you, with a strange, almost passionate love. You were my literary +idol: I repeated some of your poems so often, that their echo never +had time to die away; your earlier, bird-like warblings so chimed +in with the joyous beatings of my heart, that it seemed it could +not throb without them; and when you raised 'your lightning glance +to heaven,' and sang your loftiest song, the liquid notes fell upon +my soul like baptismal waters. With an 'intense and burning,' +almost unwomanly ambition, I have still joyed in <i>your</i> success, +and gloried in your glory; and all because Love laid its reproving +finger on the lip of Envy. I cannot tell you how much this romantic +interest has deepened,</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now I have looked upon thy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have felt thy twining arms' embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy very bosom's swell;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One moment leaned this brow of mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On song's sweet source, and love's pure shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And music's 'magic cell!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Another friend of hers, Miss Hunter, whose pleasing contributions to our +literature are well known, probably on account of some misapprehension, +had not visited her for several months, but hearing of her illness she +wrote:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Learning this, by chance, I have summoned courage once more to +address you—overcoming my fear of being intrusive, and offering as +my apology the simple assertion that it is my <i>heart</i> prompts me. +Till to-day pride has checked me: but you are 'very ill,' and I can +no longer resist the impulse. With the assurance that I will never +again trouble you, that now I neither ask nor expect the slightest +response, suffer me thus to steal to your presence, to sit beside +your bed, and for the last time to speak of a love that has +followed you through months of separation, rejoicing when you have +rejoiced, and mourning when you have mourned. You know how, from +childhood, I have worshipped you, that since our first meeting you +have been my idol, the realization of my dreams; and do not suppose +that because I have failed to inspire you with a lasting interest, +I shall ever feel for you a less deep or less fervent devotion. The +blame or misfortune of our estrangement I have always regarded as +only mine. I know I have seemed indifferent when I panted for +expression. You have thought me unsympathizing when my every nerve +thrilled to your words. I have lived in comparative seclusion; I +have an unconquerable reserve, induced by such an experience; and +when I have been with you my soul has had no voice.</p> + +<p>"The time has been when I could not bear the thought of never +regaining your friendship in this world—when I would say 'The +years! oh, the years of this earth-life, that must pass so slowly!' +And when I saw any new poem of yours, I experienced the most sad +emotions,—every word I read was so like you, it seemed as if you +had passed through the room, speaking to others near me kindly, but +regarding me coldly, or not seeing me. But one day I read in a book +by Miss Bremer, 'It is a sad experience, who can describe its +bitterness! when we see the friend, on whom we have built for +eternity, grow cold, and become lost to us. But believe it not, +thou loving, sorrowing soul—believe it not! continue thyself only, +and the moment will come when thy friend will return to thee.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> Yes, +<i>there</i>, where all delusions cease, thy friend will find thee gain, +in a higher light,—will acknowledge thee and unite herself to thee +forever.' And I took this assurance to my heart.... We may meet in +heaven, if not here. I shall not go see you, though my heart is +wrung by this intelligence of your illness. So good-bye, darling! +May good angels who have power to bless you, linger around your +pillow with as much love as I shall feel for you forever.</p> + +<p>"March 6, 1850."</p></blockquote> + +<p>I have been permitted to transcribe this letter, and among Mrs. Osgood's +papers that have been confided to me are very many such, evincing a +devotion from women that could have been won only by the most angelic +qualities of intellect and feeling.</p> + +<p>It was the custom in the last century, when there was among authors more +of the <i>esprit du corps</i> than now, for poets to greet each other's +appearance in print with complimental verses, celebrating the qualities +for which the seeker after bays was most distinguished. Thus in 1729, we +find the <i>Omnium Opera</i> of John Duke of Buckingham prefaced by +"testimonials of authors concerning His Grace and his writings;" and the +names of Garth, Roscommon, Dryden, and Prior, are among his endorsers. +There have been a few instances of the kind in this country, of which +the most noticeable is that of Cotton Mather, in whose <i>Magnalia</i> there +is a curious display of erudition and poetical ingenuity, in gratulatory +odes. The literary journals of the last few years furnish many such +tributes to Mrs. Osgood, which are interesting to her friends for their +illustration of the personal regard in which she was held. I cannot +quote them here; they alone would fill a volume, as others might be +filled with the copies of verses privately addressed to her, all through +her life, from the period when, like a lovely vision, she first beamed +upon society, till that last season, in which the salutations in +assemblies she had frequented were followed by saddest inquiries for the +absent and dying poetess. They but repeat, with more or less felicity, +the graceful praise of Mrs. Hewitt, in a poem upon her portrait:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She dwells amid the world's dark ways<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pure as in childhood's hours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all her thoughts are poetry,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And all her words are flowers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Or that of another, addressed to her:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou wouldst be loved? then let thy heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From its present pathway part not!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Being everything, which now thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Be nothing which thou art not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So with the world thy gentle ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy grace, thy more than beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be an endless theme of praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And love—a simple duty.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Among men, generally, such gentleness and sweetness of temper, joined to +such grace and wit, could not fail of making her equally beloved and +admired. She was the keeper of secrets, the counsellor in difficulties, +the ever wise missionary and industrious toiler, for all her friends. +She would brave any privation to alleviate another's sufferings; she +never spoke ill of any one; and when others assailed, she was the most +prompt of all in generous argument. An eminent statesman having casually +met her in Philadelphia, afterward described her to a niece of his who +was visiting that city:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"If you have opportunity do not fail to become acquainted with Mrs. +Osgood. I have never known such a woman. She continually surprised +me by the strength and subtlety of her understanding, in which I +looked for only sportiveness and delicacy. She is entirely a child +of nature and Mrs. ——, who introduced me to her, and who has +known her many years I believe, very intimately, declares that she +is an angel. Persuade her to Washington, and promise her everything +you and all of us can do for her pleasure here."</p></blockquote> + +<p>For her natural gaiety, her want of a certain worldly tact, and other +reasons, the determinations she sometimes formed that she would be a +housekeeper, were regarded as fit occasions of jesting, and among the +letters sent to her when once she ventured upon the ambitious office, is +one by her early and always devoted friend, Governor ——, in which we +have glimpses of her domestic qualities:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"It is not often that I waste fine paper in writing to people who +do not think me worth answering. I generally reserve my 'ornamental +hand' for those who return two letters for my one. But you are an +exception to all rules,—and when I heard that you were about to +commence <i>housekeeping</i>, I could not forbear sending a word of +congratulation and encouragement. I have long thought that your +eminently <i>practical</i> turn of mind, my dear friend, would find +congenial employment in superintending an 'establishment.' What a +house you will keep! nothing out of place, from garret to +cellar—dinner always on the table at the regular hour—everything +like clock-work—and wo to the servant who attempts to steal +anything from your store-room! wo to the butcher who attempts to +impose upon you a bad joint, or the grocer who attempts to cheat +you in the weight of sugar! Such things never will do with you! +When I first heard of your project, I thought it must be Ellen or +May going to play housekeeping with their baby-things, but on a +moment's reflection I was convinced that you knew more about +managing for a family than either of them—certainly more than May, +and I think, upon the whole, more than even Ellen! Let Mr. Osgood +paint you with a bunch of keys in your belt, and do send me a +daguerreotype of yourself the day after you are installed."</p></blockquote> + +<p>She was not indeed fitted for such cares, or for any routine, and ill +health and the desire of freedom prevented her again making such an +attempt until she finally entered "her own home" to die.</p> + +<p>There was a very intimate relation between Mrs. Osgood's personal and +her literary characteristics. She has frequently failed of justice, from +critics but superficially acquainted with her works, because they have +not been able to understand how a mind capable of the sparkling and +graceful trifles, illustrating an exhaustless fancy and a natural melody +of language, with which she amused society in moments of half capricious +gaiety or tenderness, could produce a class of compositions which demand +imagination and passion. In considering this subject, it should not be +forgotten that these attributes are here to be regarded as in their +feminine development.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Osgood was, perhaps, as deserving as any one of whom we read in +literary history, of the title of improvisatrice. Her beautiful songs, +displaying so truly the most delicate lights and shadows of woman's +heart, and surprising by their unity, completeness, and rhythmical +perfection, were written with almost the fluency of conversation. The +secret of this was in the wonderful sympathy between her emotions and +faculties, both of exquisite sensibility, and subject to the influences +of whatever has power upon the subtler and diviner qualities of human +nature. Her facility in invention, in the use of poetical language, and +in giving form to every airy dream or breath of passion, was +astonishing. It is most true of men, that no one has ever attained to +the highest reach of his capacities in any art—and least of all in +poetry—without labor—without the application of the "second thought," +after the frenzy of the divine afflatus is passed—in giving polish and +shapely grace. The imagination is the servant of the reason; the +creative faculties present their triumphs to the constructive—and the +seal to the attainable is set, by every one, in repose and meditation. +But this is scarcely a law of the feminine intelli<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>gence, which, when +really endowed with genius, is apt to move spontaneously, and at once, +with its greatest perfection. Certainly, Mrs. Osgood disclaimed the +wrestling of thought with expression. For the most part her poems cost +her as little effort or reflection, as the epigram or touching sentiment +that summoned laughter or tears to the group about her in the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>She was indifferent to fame; she sung simply in conformity to a law of +her existence; and perhaps this want of interest was the cause not only +of the most striking faults in her compositions, but likewise of the +common ignorance of their variety and extent. Accustomed from childhood +to the use of the pen—resorting to it through a life continually +exposed to the excitements of gaiety and change, or the depressions of +affliction and care, she strewed along her way with a prodigality almost +unexampled the choicest flowers of feeling: left them unconsidered and +unclaimed in the repositories of friendship, or under fanciful names, +which she herself had forgotten, in newspapers and magazines,—in which +they were sure to be recognised by some one, and so the purpose of their +creation fulfilled. It was therefore very difficult to make any such +collection of her works as justly to display her powers and their +activity; and the more so, that those effusions of hers which were +likely to be most characteristic, and of the rarest excellence, were +least liable to exposure in printed forms, by the friends, widely +scattered in Europe and America, for whom they were written. But +notwithstanding these disadvantages, the works of Mrs. Osgood with which +we are acquainted, are more voluminous than those of Mrs. Hemans or Mrs. +Norton.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> Besides the "Wreath of Wild Flowers from New England," which +appeared during her residence in London, a collection of her poems in +one volume was published in New York in 1846; and in 1849, Mr. Hart, of +Philadelphia, gave to the public, in a large octavo illustrated by our +best artists and equalling or surpassing in its tasteful and costly +style any work before issued from the press of this country, the most +complete and judiciously edited collection of them that has appeared. +This edition, however, contains less than half of her printed pieces +which she acknowledged; and among those which are omitted are a tragedy, +a comedy, a great number of piquant and ingenious <i>vers de societe</i>, and +several sacred pieces, which strike us as among the best writings of +their kind in our literature, which in this department, we may admit, is +more distinguishable for the profusion than for the quality of its +fruits.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Besides the books by her which have been referred to, she +published <i>The Language of Gems</i>, (London); <i>The Snow Drop</i>, +(Providence); <i>Puss in Boots</i>, (New York); <i>Cries of New York</i>, (New +York); <i>The Flower Alphabet</i>, (Boston); <i>The Rose: Sketches in Verse</i>, +(Providence); <i>A Letter About the Lions, addressed to Mabel in the +Country</i>, (New York). The following list of her prose tales, sketches, +and essays, is probably very incomplete: A Day in New England; A +Crumpled Rose Leaf; Florence Howard; Ida Gray; Florence Errington; A +Match for the Matchmaker; Mary Evelyn; Once More; Athenais; The Wife; +The Little Lost Shoe; The Magic Lute; Feeling <i>vs.</i> Beauty; The Doom; +The Flower and Gem; The Coquette; The Soul Awakened; Glimpses of a Soul, +(in three parts); Lizzie Lincoln; Dora's Reward; Waste Paper; Newport +Tableaux; Daguerreotype Pictures; Carry Carlisle; Valentine's Day; The +Lady's Shadow; Truth; Virginia; The Waltz and the Wager; The Poet's +Metamorphosis; Pride and Penitence; Mabel; Pictures from a Painter's +Life; Georgiana Hazleton; A Sketch; Kate Melbourne; Life in New York; +Leonora L'Estrange; The Magic Mirror; The Blue Belle; and Letters of +Kate Carol, (a series of sketches of men, women and books;) contributed +for the most part to Mr. Labree's <i>Illustrated Magazine</i>.</p></div> + +<p>Mrs. Osgood's definition of poetry, that it is the rhythmical creation of +beauty, is as old as Sydney; and though on some grounds objectionable, +it is, perhaps, on the whole, as just as any that the critics have given +us. An intelligent examination, in the light of this principle, of what +she accomplished, will, it is believed, show that she was, in the +general, of the first rank of female poets; while in her special domain, +of the Poetry of the Affections, she had scarcely a rival among women or +men. As Pinckney said,</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +Affections were as thoughts to her, the measure of her hours—<br /> +Her feelings had the fragrancy and freshness of young flowers.<br /> +</div> + +<p>Of love, she sung with tenderness and delicacy, a wonderful richness of +fancy, and rhythms that echo all the cadences of feeling. From the arch +mockery of the triumphant and careless conqueror, to the most passionate +prayer of the despairing, every variety and height and depth of hope and +fear and bliss and pain is sounded, in words that move us to a solitary +lute or a full orchestra of a thousand voices; and with an <i>abandon</i>, as +suggestive of genuineness as that which sometimes made the elder Kean +seem "every inch a king." It is not to be supposed that all these +caprices are illustrations of the experiences of the artist, in the case +of the poet any more than in that of the actor: by an effort of the +will, they pass with the liberties of genius into their selected realms, +assume their guises, and discourse their language. If ever there were</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—Depths of tenderness which showed when woke,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That <i>woman</i> there as well as angel spoke,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>they are not to be looked for in the printed specimens of woman's +genius. Mrs. Osgood guarded herself against such criticism, by a +statement in her preface, that many of her songs and other verses were +written to appear in prose sketches and stories, and were expressions of +feeling suitable to the persons and incidents with which they were at +first connected.</p> + +<p>In this last edition, to which only reference will be made in these +paragraphs, her works are arranged under the divisions of <i>Miscellaneous +Poems</i>—embracing, with such as do not readily admit another +classification, her most ambitious and sustained compositions; <i>Sacred +Poems</i>—among which, "The Daughter of Herodias," the longest, is +remarkable for melodious versification and distinct painting: <i>Tales and +Ballads</i>—all distinguished for a happy play of fancy, and two or three +for the fruits of such creative energy as belongs to the first order of +poetical intelligences; <i>Floral Fancies</i>—which display a gaiety and +grace, an ingenuity of allegory, and elegant refinement of language, +that illustrate her fairy-like delicacy of mind and purity of feeling; +and <i>Songs</i>—of which we shall offer some particular observations in +their appropriate order. Scattered through the book we have a few poems +for children, so perfect in their way as to induce regret that she gave +so little attention to a kind of writing in which few are really +successful, and in which she is scarcely equalled.</p> + +<p>The volume opens with a brief voluntary, which is followed by a +beautiful and touching address to The Spirit of Poetry, displaying the +perfection of her powers, and her consciousness that they had been too +much neglected while ministering more than all things else to her +happiness. If ever from her heart she poured a passionate song, it was +this, and these concluding lines of it admit us to the sacredest +experiences of her life:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leave me not yet! Leave me not cold and lonely,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou star of promise o'er my clouded path!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave not the life that borrows from thee only<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All of delight and beauty that it hath!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou that, when others knew not how to love me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor cared to fathom half my yearning soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Didst wreathe thy flowers of light around, above me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To woo and win me from my grief's control:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By all my dreams, the passionate and holy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When thou hast sung love's lullaby to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By all the childlike worship, fond and lowly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which I have lavish'd upon thine and thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By all the lays my simple lute was learning<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To echo from thy voice, stay with me still!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once flown—alas! for thee there's no returning!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The charm will die o'er valley, wood and hill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell me not Time, whose wing my brow has shaded,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Has wither'd Spring's sweet bloom within my heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, no! the rose of love is yet unfaded,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though hope and joy, its sister flowers, depart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well do I know that I have wrong'd thine altar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With the light offerings of an idler's mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus, with shame, my pleading prayer I falter,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Leave me not, spirit! deaf, and dumb, and blind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deaf to the mystic harmony of nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Blind to the beauty of her stars and flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave me not, heavenly yet human teacher,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lonely and lost in this cold world of ours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven knows I need thy music and thy beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Still to beguile me on my dreary way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lighten to my soul the cares of duty,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And bless with radiant dreams the darken'd day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To charm my wild heart in the worldly revel,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lest I, too, join the aimless, false and vain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me not lower to the soulless level<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of those whom now I pity and disdain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave me not yet!—Leave me not cold and pining,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou bird of Paradise, whose plumes of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er they rested, left a glory shining—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fly not to heaven, or let me share thy flight!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>After this comes one of her most poetical compositions, "Ermengarde's +Awakening," in which, with even more than her usual felicity of diction, +she has invested with mortal passion a group from the Pantheon. It is +too long to be quoted here, but as an example of her manner upon a +similar subject, and in the same rhythm, we copy the poem of "Eurydice:"</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">With heart that thrill'd to every earnest line,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I had been reading o'er that antique story,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wherein the youth, half human, half divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all love-lore the Eidolon and glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Child of the Sun, with music's pleading spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Pluto's palace swept, for love, his golden shell!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">And in the wild, sweet legend, dimly traced,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My own heart's history unfolded seem'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah! lost one! by thy lover-minstrel graced<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With homage pure as ever woman dreamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Too fondly worshipp'd, since such fate befell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was it not sweet to die—because beloved too well!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">The scene is round me! Throned amid the gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As a flower smiles on Etna's fatal breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Young Proserpine beside her lord doth bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And near—of Orpheus' soul, oh, idol blest!—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While low for thee he tunes his lyre of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see <i>thy</i> meek, fair form dawn through that lurid night!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">I see the glorious boy—his dark locks wreathing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wildly the wan and spiritual brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His sweet, curved lip the soul of music breathing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His blue Greek eyes, that speak Love's loyal vow;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I see him bend on <i>thee</i> that eloquent glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The while those wondrous notes the realm of terror trance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">I see his face with more than mortal beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kindling, as, armed with that sweet lyre alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pledged to a holy and heroic duty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He stands serene before the awful throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And looks on Hades' horrors with clear eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since thou, his own adored Eurydice, art nigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Now soft and low a prelude sweet uprings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if a prison'd angel—pleading there<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For life and love—were fetter'd 'neath the strings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And poured his passionate soul upon the air!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Anon it clangs with wild, exulting swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the full pćan peals triumphantly through Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">And thou, thy pale hands meekly lock'd before thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy sad eyes drinking <i>life</i> from <i>his</i> dear gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy lips apart, thy hair a halo o'er thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trailing around thy throat its golden maze;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thus, with all words in passionate silence dying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within thy <i>soul</i> I hear Love's eager voice replying:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Play on, mine Orpheus! Lo! while these are gazing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Charm'd into statues by the god-taught strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I, I alone—to thy dear face upraising<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My tearful glance—the life of life regain!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For every tone that steals into my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth to its worn weak pulse a mighty power impart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Play on, mine Orpheus! while thy music floats<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the dread realm, divine with truth and grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">See, dear one! how the chain of linked notes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has fetter'd every spirit in its place!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Even Death, beside me, still and helpless lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strives in vain to chill my frame with his cold eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Still, my own Orpheus, sweep the golden lyre!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! dost thou mark how gentle Proserpine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With clasped hands and eyes whose azure fire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gleams thro' quick tears, thrilled by thy lay, doth lean<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her graceful head upon her stern lord's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like an o'erwearied child, whom music lulls to rest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Play, my proud minstrel! strike the chords again!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lo, Victory crowns at last thy heavenly skill!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For Pluto turns relenting to the strain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He waves his hand—he speaks his awful will!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My glorious Greek, lead on! but ah, <i>still</i> lend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soul to thy sweet lyre, lest yet thou lose thy friend!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Think not of me! Think rather of the time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, moved by thy resistless melody<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the strange magic of a song sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy argo grandly glided to the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And in the majesty Minerva gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The graceful galley swept, with joy, the sounding wave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Or see, in Fancy's dream, thy Thracian trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their proud heads bent submissive to the sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sway'd by a tuneful and enchanted breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">March to slow music o'er the astonished ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Grove after grove descending from the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While round thee weave their dance, the glad harmonious rills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">"Think not of me! Ha! by thy mighty sire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lord, my king, recall the dread behest!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Turn not, ah! turn not back those eyes of fire!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! lost, forever lost! undone! unblest!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I faint, I die!—the serpent's fang once more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is here!—nay, grieve not thus! Life, but <i>not Love</i>, is o'er!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This is a noble poem, with too many interjections, and occasional +redundancies of imagery and epithet, betraying the author's customary +haste: but with unquestionable signs of that genuineness which is the +best attraction of the literature of sentiment. The longest and more +sustained of Mrs. Osgood's compositions is one entitled "Fragments of an +Unfinished Story" in which she has exhibited such a skill in blank +verse—frequently regarded as the easiest, but really the most difficult +of any—as induces regret that she so seldom made use of it. We have +here a masterly contrast of character in the equally natural expressions +of feeling by the two principal persons, both of whom are women: the +haughty Ida, and the impulsive child of passion, Imogen. It displays in +eminent perfection, that dramatic faculty which Sheridan Knowles and the +late William Cooke Taylor recognised as the most striking in the +composition of her genius. She had long meditated, and in her mind had +perfectly arranged, a more extended poem than she has left to us, upon +Music. It was to be in this measure, except some lyrical interludes, and +she was so confident of succeeding in it, that she deemed all she had +written of comparatively little worth. "These," she said to me one day, +pointing to the proof-leaves of the new edition of her poems, "these are +my 'Miscellaneous Verses:' let us get them out of the way, and never +think of them again, as the public never will when they have <span class="smcap">my poem</span>!" +And her friends who heard the splendid scheme of her imagination, did +not doubt that when it should be clothed with the rich tissues of her +fancy, it would be all she dreamed of, and vindicate all that they +themselves were fond of saying of her powers. It was while her life was +fading; and no one else can grasp the shining threads, or weave them +into song, such as she heard lips, touched with divinest fire, far along +in the ages, repeating with her name. This was not vanity, or a low +ambition. She lingered, with subdued and tearful joy, when all the +living and the present seemed to fail her, upon the pages of the elect +of genius, and was happiest when she thought some words of hers might +lift a sad soul from a sea of sorrow.</p> + +<p>It was perhaps the key-note of that unwritten poem, which she sounded in +these verses upon its subject, composed while the design most occupied +her attention:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Father spake! In grand reverberations<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through space roll'd on the mighty music-tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While to its low, majestic modulations,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The clouds of chaos slowly swept aside.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Father spake: a dream that had been lying<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hush'd, from eternity, in silence there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard the pure melody, and low replying,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Grew to that music in the wondering air<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Grew to that music—slowly, grandly waking—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till, bathed in beauty, it became a world!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led by his voice, its spheric pathway taking,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While glorious clouds their wings around it furl'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor yet has ceased that sound, his love revealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though, in response, a universe moves by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throughout eternity its echo pealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">World after world awakes in glad reply.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wheresoever, in his grand creation,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet music breathes—in wave, or bird, or soul—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but the faint and far reverberation<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of that great tune to which the planets roll.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mrs. Osgood produced something in almost every form of poetical +composition, but the necessary limits of this article permit but few +illustrations of the variety or perfectness of her capacities. The +examples given here, even if familiar, will possess a new interest now; +and no one will read them without a feeling of sadness that she who +wrote them died so young, just as the fairest flowers of her genius were +unfolding. One of the most exquisite pieces she had written in the last +few years, is entitled "Calumny," and we know not where to turn for +anything more delicately beautiful than the manner in which the subject +is treated.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A whisper woke the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A soft, light tone, and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet barbed with shame and wo.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! might it only perish there,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nor farther go!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But no! a quick and eager ear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Caught up the little, meaning sound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another voice has breathed it clear;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And so it wandered round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From ear to lip, and lip to ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until it reached a gentle heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That throbbed from all the world apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And that—it broke!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was the only <i>heart</i> it found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only heart 't was meant to find,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When first its accents woke.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It reached that gentle heart at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And that—it broke!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Low as it seemed to other ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It came a thunder-crash to <i>hers</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That fragile girl, so fair and gay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis said a lovely humming bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That dreaming in a lily lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was killed but by the gun's <i>report</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some idle boy had fired in sport—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So exquisitely frail its frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very <i>sound</i> a death-blow came—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus her heart, unused to shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shrined in <i>its</i> lily too,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(For who the maid that knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But owned the delicate, flower-like grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her young form and face!)—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her light and happy heart, that beat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With love and hope so fast and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first that cruel word it heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It fluttered like a frightened bird—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then shut its wings and sighed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, with a silent shudder, died!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In some countries this would, perhaps, be the most frequently quoted of +the author's effusions; but here, the terse and forcible piece under the +title of "Laborare est Orare," will be admitted to all collections of +poetical specimens; and it deserves such popularity, for a combination +as rare as it is successful of common sense with the form and spirit of +poetry:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pause not to dream of the future before us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hark, how Creation's deep musical chorus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unintermitting, goes up into heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never the ocean-wave falters in flowing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never the little seed stops in its growing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Labor is worship!"—the robin is singing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Labor is worship!"—the wild bee is ringing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listen! that eloquent whisper upspringing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Speaks to thy soul from out nature's great heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the rough sod blows the soft-breathing flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the small insect, the rich coral bower;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Labor is life! 'Tis the still water faileth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Labor is glory!—the flying cloud lightens;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the waving wing changes and brightens;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Idle hearts only the dark future frightens;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Labor is rest—from the sorrows that greet us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest from all petty vexations that meet us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rest from world-syrens that lure us to ill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Work—and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Work—thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Work with a stout heart and resolute will!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Labor is health! Lo! the husbandman reaping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How through his veins goes the life current leaping!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How his strong arm, in its stalwart pride sweeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">True as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Labor is wealth—in the sea the pearl groweth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich the queen's robe from the frail cocoon floweth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Temple and statue the marble block hides.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Droop not, tho' shame, sin, and anguish are round thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look to yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rest not content in they darkness—a clod!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Work—for some good, be it ever so slowly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Labor!—all labor is noble and holy;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In fine contrast with this is the description of a "Dancing Girl," +written in a longer poem, addressed to her sister soon after her arrival +in London, in the autumn of 1834. It is as graceful as the vision it +brings so magically before us:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She comes—the spirit of the dance!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And but for those large, eloquent eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where passion speaks in every glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She'd seem a wanderer from the skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So light that, gazing breathless there,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lest the celestial dream should go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'd think the music in the air<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Waved the fair vision to and fro!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or that the melody's sweet flow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Within the radiant creature play'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those soft wreathing arms of snow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And white sylph feet the music made.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now gliding slow with dreamy grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her eyes beneath their lashes lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now motionless, with lifted face,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And small hands on her bosom cross'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now with flashing eyes she springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her whole bright figure raised in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if her soul had spread its wings<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And poised her one wild instant there!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She spoke not; but, so richly fraught<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With language are her glance and smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, when the curtain fell, I thought<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She had been talking all the while.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In illustration of what we have said of Mrs. Osgood's delineations of +refined sentiment, we refer to the poems from pages one hundred and +eleven to one hundred and thirty-one, willing to rest upon them our +praises of her genius. It may be accidental, but they seem to have an +epic relation, and to constitute one continuous history, finished with +uncommon elegance and glowing with a beauty which has its inspiration in +a deeper profound than was ever penetrated by messengers of the brain. +The third of these glimpses of heart-life—all having the same air of +sad reality—exhibits, with a fidelity and a peculiar power which is +never attained in such descriptions by men, the struggle of a pure and +passionate nature with a hopeless affection:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Had we but met in life's delicious spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When young romance made Eden of the world;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When bird-like Hope was ever on the wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(In <i>thy</i> dear breast how soon had it been furled!)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Had we but met when both our hearts were beating<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With the wild joy, the guileless love of youth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou a proud boy, with frank and ardent greeting,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I a timid girl, all trust and truth!—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere yet my pulse's light, elastic play<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Had learn'd the weary weight of grief to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere from these eyes had passed the morning ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And from my cheek the early rose's glow;—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Had we but met in life's delicious spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ere wrong and falsehood taught me doubt and fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere Hope came back with worn and wounded wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To die upon the heart it could not cheer;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere I love's precious pearl had vainly lavish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pledging an idol deaf to my despair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere one by one the buds and blooms were ravish'd<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From life's rich garland by the clasp of Care.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! had we <i>then</i> but met!—I dare not listen<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the wild whispers of my fancy now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My full heart beats—my sad, droop'd lashes glisten—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I hear the music of thy <i>boyhood's</i> vow!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see thy dark eyes lustrous with love's meaning,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I feel thy dear hand softly clasp mine own—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy noble form is fondly o'er me leaning—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It is too much—but ah! the dream has flown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How had I pour'd this passionate heart's devotion<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In voiceless rapture on thy manly breast!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How had I hush'd each sorrowful emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lull'd by thy love to sweet, untroubled rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How had I knelt hour after hour beside thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When from thy lips the rare scholastic lore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell on the soul that all but deified thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While at each pause I, childlike, pray'd for more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How had I watch'd the shadow of each feeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That mov'd thy soul-glance o'er that radiant face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Taming my wild heart" to that dear revealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And glorifying in thy genius and thy grace!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then hadst thou loved me with a love abiding,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I had now been less unworthy thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I was generous, guileless, and confiding,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A frank enthusiast, buoyant, fresh, and free!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But <i>now</i>—my loftiest aspirations perish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My holiest hopes a jest for lips profane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tenderest yearnings of my soul uncherish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A soul-worn slave in Custom's iron chain:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Check'd by these ties that make my lightest sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My faintest blush, at thought of thee, a crime—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How must I still my heart, and school my eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And count in vain the slow dull steps of Time!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou come back? Ah! what avails to ask thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since honor, faith, forbid thee to return!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet to forgetfulness I dare not task thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lest thou too soon that <i>easy lesson</i> learn!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! come not back, love! even through Memory's ear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy tone's melodious murmur thrills my heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come not with that fond smile, so frank, so dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While yet we may, let us for ever part!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The passages commencing, "Thank God, I glory in thy love;" "Ah, let our +love be still a folded flower;" "Believe me, 'tis no pang of jealous +pride;" "We part forever: silent be our parting;" are in the same +measure, and in perfect keeping, but evince a still deeper emotion and +greater pathos and power. We copy the closing cantatas, "To Sleep," and +"A Weed"—a prayer and a prophecy—in which the profoundest sorrow is +displayed with touching simplicity and unaffected earnestness. First, to +Death's gentle sister:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come to me, angel of the weary hearted;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since they, my loved ones, breathed upon by thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto thy realms unreal have departed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I, too, may rest—even I; ah! haste to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dare not bid thy darker, colder brother<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With his more welcome offering, appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For these sweet lips, at morn, will murmur, "Mother,"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And who shall soothe them if I be not near?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bring me no dream, dear Sleep, though visions glowing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With hues of heaven thy wand enchanted shows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask no glorious boon of thy bestowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Save that most true, most beautiful—repose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have no heart to rove in realms of Faery—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To follow Fancy at her elfin call;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am too wretched—too soul-worn and weary;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Give me but rest, for rest to me is all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Paint not the future to my fainting spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though it were starr'd with glory like the skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no gift that mortals may inherit<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That could rekindle hope in these cold eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And for the Past—the fearful Past—ah! never<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Be Memory's downcast gaze unveil'd by thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would thou couldst bring oblivion forever<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of all that is, that has been, and will be!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And more mournful still, the dream of the after days:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When from our northern woods pale summer flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Breathes her last fragrant sigh—her low farewell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While her sad wild flowers' dewy eyes, in dying,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Plead for her stay, in every nook and dell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A heart that loved too tenderly and truly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Will break at last; and in some dim, sweet shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'll smooth the sod o'er her you prized unduly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And leave her to the rest for which she pray'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! trustfully, not mournfully, they'll leave her,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Assured that deep repose is welcomed well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pure, glad breeze can whisper naught to grieve her;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The brook's low voice no wrongful tale can tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They'll hide her where no false one's footsteps, stealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Can mar the chasten'd meekness of her sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only to Love and Grief her grave revealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And they will hush their chiding <i>then</i>—to weep!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And some, (for though too oft she err'd, too blindly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She was beloved—how fondly and how well!)—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some few, with faltering feet, will linger kindly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And plant dear flowers within that silent dell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know whose fragile hand will bring the bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Best loved by both—the violet's—to that bower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one will bid white lilies bless the gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And one, perchance, will plant the passion flower;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then do <i>thou</i> come, when all the rest have parted—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou, who alone dost know her soul's deep gloom!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wreathe above the lost, the broken-hearted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some idle <i>weed</i>, that <i>knew not how to bloom</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We pass from these painful but exquisitely beautiful displays of +sensitive feeling and romantic fancy, to pieces exhibiting Mrs. Osgood's +more habitual spirit of arch playfulness and graceful invention, +scattered through the volume, and constituting a class of compositions +in which she is scarcely approachable. The "Lover's List," is one of her +shorter ballads:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come sit on this bank so shady,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet Evelyn, sit with me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And count me your loves, fair lady—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How many may they be?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The maiden smiled on her lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And traced with her dimpled hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of names a dozen and over<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Down in the shining sand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And now," said Evelyn, rising,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Sir Knight! your own, if you please;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if there be no disguising,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The list will outnumber these;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then count me them truly, rover!"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the noble knight obeyed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of names a dozen and over<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He traced within the shade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Evelyn pouted proudly;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She sighed "Will he never have done?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at last she murmur'd loudly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"I thought he would write but <i>one</i>!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now read," said the gay youth, rising;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"The scroll—it is fair and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In truth, there is no disguising<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That list is the world to me!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She read it with joy and wonder,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For the first was her own sweet name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And again and again written under,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It was still—it was still the same!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It began with—"My Evelyn fairest!"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It ended with—"Evelyn best!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And epithets fondest and dearest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Were lavished between on the rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There were tears in the eyes of the lady<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As she swept with her delicate hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the river-bank cool and shady,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The list she had traced in the sand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There were smiles on the lip of the maiden<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As she turned to her knight once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the heart was with joy o'erladen<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That was heavy with doubt before!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And for its lively movement and buoyant feeling—equally characteristic +of her genius—the following song, upon "Lady Jane," a favorite horse:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! saw ye e'er creature so queenly, so fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As this dainty, aerial darling of mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a toss of her mane, that is glossy as jet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a dance and a prance, and a frolic curvet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is off! she is stepping superbly away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her dark, speaking eye full of pride and of play.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! she spurns the dull earth with a graceful disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fearless, my peerless, my loved Lady Jane!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her silken ears lifted when danger is nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How kindles the night in her resolute eye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now stately she paces, as if to the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a proud, martial melody playing around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now pauses at once, 'mid a light caracole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To turn her mild glance on me beaming with soul;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now fleet as a fairy, she speeds o'er the plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My darling, my treasure, my own Lady Jane!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give her rein! let her go! Like a shaft from a bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a bird on the wing, she is speeding, I trow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light of heart, lithe of limb, with a spirit all fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet sway'd and subdued by my idlest desire—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though daring, yet docile, and sportive but true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her nature's the noblest that ever I knew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How she flings back her head, in her dainty disdain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My beauty, my graceful, my gay Lady Jane!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It is among the one hundred and thirteen songs, of which this is one, +and which form the last division of her poems, that we have the greatest +varieties of rhythm, cadence, and expression; and it is here too that we +have, perhaps, the most clear and natural exhibitions of that class of +emotions which she conceives with such wonderful truth. The prevailing +characteristic of these pieces is a native and delicate raillery, +piquant by wit, and poetical by the freshest and gracefullest fancies; +but they are frequently marked by much tenderness of sentiment, and by +boldness and beauty of imagination. They are in some instances without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +that singleness of purpose, that unity and completeness, which ought +invariably to distinguish this sort of compositions, but upon the whole +it must be considered that Mrs. Osgood was remarkably successful in the +song. The fulness of our extracts from other parts of the volume will +prevent that liberal illustration of her excellence in this which would +be as gratifying to the reader as to us; and we shall transcribe but a +few specimens, which, by various felicities of language, and a pleasing +delicacy of sentiment, will detain the admiration:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! would I were only a spirit of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'd float forever around, above you:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I were a spirit, it wouldn't be wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It couldn't be wrong, to love you!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'd hide in the light of a moonbeam bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'd sing Love's lullaby softly o'er you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd bring rare visions of pure delight<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From the land of dreams before you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! if I were only a spirit of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'd float forever around, above you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a musical spirit could never do wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And it wouldn't be wrong to love you!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The next, an exquisitely beautiful song, suggests its own music:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">She loves him yet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know by the blush that rises<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the curls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shadow her soul-lit cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She loves him yet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all Love's sweet disguises<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In timid girls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blush will be sure to speak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But deeper signs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the radiant blush of beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The maiden finds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whenever his name is heard;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her young heart thrills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgetting herself—her duty—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her dark eye fills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her pulse with hope is stirr'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">She loves him yet!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flower the false one gave her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When last he came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is still with her wild tears wet.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She'll ne'er forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Howe'er his faith may waver,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through grief and shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Believe it—she loves him yet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">His favorite songs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She will sing—she heeds no other;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With all her wrongs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her life on his love is set.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! doubt no more!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She never can wed another;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till life be o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She loves—she will love him yet!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And this is not less remarkable for a happy adaptation of sentiment to +the sound:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Low, my lute—breathe low!—She sleeps!—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Eulalie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While his watch her lover keeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft and dewy slumber steeps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Golden tress and fringed lid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the blue heaven 'neath it hid—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Eulalie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low my lute—breathe low!—She sleeps!—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Eulalie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let thy music, light and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through her pure dream come and go.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lute on Love! with silver flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All my passion, all my wo,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Speak for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask her in her balmy rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom her holy heart loves best!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask her if she thinks of me!—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Eulalie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low, my lute!—breathe low!—She sleeps!—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Eulalie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slumber while thy lover keeps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fondest watch and ward for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Eulalie!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The following evinces a deeper feeling, and has a corresponding force +and dignity in its elegance:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Yes, "lower to the level"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of those who laud thee now!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Go, join the joyous revel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pledge the heartless vow!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Go, dim the soul-born beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lights that lofty brow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill, fill the bowl! let burning wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drown in thy soul Love's dream divine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Yet when the laugh is lightest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When wildest goes the jest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When gleams the goblet brightest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And proudest heaves thy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And thou art madly pledging<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each gay and jovial guest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A ghost shall glide amid the flowers—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shade of Love's departed hours!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">And thou shalt shrink in sadness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From all the splendor there,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And curse the revel's gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hate the banquet's glare;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And pine, 'mid Passion's madness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For true love's purer air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feel thou'dst give their wildest glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For one unsullied sigh from me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Yet deem not this my prayer, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! no, if I could keep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy alter'd heart from care, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And charm its griefs to sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mine only should despair, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I—I alone would weep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I—I alone would mourn the flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fade in Love's deserted bowers!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Among her poems are many which admit us to the sacredest recesses of the +mother's heart: "To a Child Playing with a Watch," "To Little May +Vincent," "To Ellen, Learning to Walk," and many others, show the almost +wild tenderness with which she loved her two surviving daughters—one +thirteen, and the other eleven years of age now;—and a "Prayer in +Illness," in which she besought God to "take them first," and suffer her +to lie at their feet in death, lest, deprived of her love, they should +be subjected to all the sorrow she herself had known in the world, is +exquisitely beautiful and touching. Her parents, her brothers, her +sisters, her husband, her children, were the deities of her tranquil and +spiritual worship, and she turned to them in every vicissitude of +feeling, for hope and strength and repose. "Lilly" and "May," were +objects of a devotion too sacred for any idols beyond the threshold, and +we witness it not as something obtruded upon the outer world, but as a +display of beautified and dignified humanity which is among the +ministries appointed to be received for the elevation of our natures. +With these holy and beautiful songs is intertwined one, which under the +title of "Ashes of Roses," breathes the solemnest requiem that ever was +sung for a child, and in reading it we feel that in the subject was +removed into the Unknown a portion of the mother's heart and life. The +poems of Mrs. Osgood are not a laborious balancing of syllables, but a +spontaneous gushing of thoughts, fancies and feelings, which fall +naturally into harmonious measures; and so perfectly is the sense echoed +in the sound, that it seems as if many of her compositions might be +intelligibly written in the characters of music. It is a pervading +excellence of her works, whether in prose or verse, that they are +graceful beyond those of any other author who has written in this +country; and the delicacy of her taste was such that it would probably +be impossible to find in all of them a fancy, a thought, or a word +offensive to that fine instinct in its highest cultivation or subtlest +sensibility. It is one of her great merits that she attempted nothing +foreign to her own affluent but not various genius.</p> + +<p>There is a stilted ambition, common lately to literary women, which is +among the fatalest diseases to reputation. She was never betrayed into +it; she was always simple and natural, singing in no falsetto key, even +when she entered the temples of old mythologies. With an extraordinary +susceptibility of impressions, she had not only the finest and quickest +discernment of those peculiarities of character which give variety to +the surface of society, but of certain kinds and conditions of life she +perceived the slightest undulations and the deepest movements. She had +no need to travel beyond the legitimate sphere of woman's observa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>tion, +to seize upon the upturnings and overthrows which serve best for +rounding periods in the senate or in courts of criminal justice—trying +everything to see if poetry could be made of it. Nor did she ever demand +audience for rude or ignoble passion, or admit the moral shade beyond +the degree in which it must appear in all pictures of life. She lingered +with her keen insight and quick sensibilities among the associations, +influences, the fine sense, brave perseverance, earnest +affectionateness, and unfailing truth, which, when seen from the +romantic point of view, are suggestive of all the poetry which it is +within the province of woman to write.</p> + +<p>I have not chosen to dwell upon the faults in her works; such labor is +more fit for other hands, and other days; and so many who attempt +criticism seem to think the whole art lies in the detection of +blemishes, that one may sometimes be pardoned for lingering as fondly as +I have done, upon an author's finer qualities. It must be confessed, +that in her poems there is evinced a too unrestrained partiality for +particular forms of expression, and that—it could scarcely be otherwise +in a collection so composed—thoughts and fancies are occasionally +repeated. In some instances too, her verse is diffuse, but generally, +where this objection is made, it will be found that what seems most +careless and redundant is only delicate shading: she but turns her +diamonds to the various rays; she rings no changes till they are not +music; she addresses an eye more sensitive to beauty and a finer ear +than belong to her critics. The collection of her works is one of the +most charming volumes that woman has contributed to literature; of all +that we are acquainted with the most womanly; and destined, for that it +addresses with truest sympathy and most natural eloquence the commonest +and noblest affections, to be always among the most fondly cherished +Books of the Heart.</p> + +<p>Reluctantly I bring to a close these paragraphs—a hasty and imperfect +tribute, from my feelings and my judgment, to one whom many will +remember long as an impersonation of the rarest intellectual and moral +endowments, as one of the loveliest characters in literary or social +history. Hereafter, unless the office fall to some one worthier, I may +attempt from the records of our friendship, and my own and others' +recollections, to do such justice to her life and nature, that a larger +audience and other times shall feel how much of beauty with her spirit +left us.</p> + +<p>This requiem she wrote for another, little thinking that her friends +would so soon sing it with hearts saddened for her own departure.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hand that swept the sounding lyre<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With more than mortal skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lightning eye, the heart of fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fervent lip are still:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more in rapture or in wo,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With melody to thrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ah! nevermore!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! bring the flowers she cherish'd so,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With eager child-like care:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For o'er her grave they'll love to grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sigh their sorrow there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me! no more their balmy glow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May soothe her heart's despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No! nevermore!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But angel hands shall bring her balm<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For every grief she knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heaven's soft harps her soul shall calm<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With music sweet and true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teach to her the holy charm<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of Israfel anew.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For evermore!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love's silver lyre she played so well,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lies shattered on her tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still in air its music-spell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Floats on through light and gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the hearts where soft they fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her words of beauty bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For evermore!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Recent Deaths.</h2> + + +<h3>SAMUEL YOUNG.</h3> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE <span class="smcap">Hon. Samuel Young</span>, long one of the most eminent politicians of the +democratic party in the State of New-York, died of apoplexy, at his home +at Ballston Spa, on the night of the third of November. Col. Young was +born in Berkshire county, Massachusetts, in 1778. Soon after he +completed his legal studies he emigrated to Ballston Spa, in this State. +The following facts respecting his subsequent career are condensed from +the <i>Tribune</i>.</p> + +<p>"He was first chosen to the Legislature in 1814, and was reëlected next +year on a split ticket, which for a time clouded his prospects. In 1824, +he was again in the Assembly, was Speaker of the House in that memorable +year, and helped remove De Witt Clinton from the office of Canal +Commissioner. The Fall Election found him a candidate for Governor on +the 'Caucus' interest opposed to the 'People's' demand that the choice +of Presidential Electors be relinquished by the Legislature to the +Voters of the State. Col. Young professed to be personally a 'Peoples' +man, and in favor of Henry Clay for President; the 'Caucus' candidate +being Wm. H. Crawford. De Witt Clinton was the opposing candidate for +Governor, and was elected by 16,000 majority. Col. Young's political +fortunes never recovered from the blow thus inflicted. He had already +been chosen a Canal Commissioner by the Legislature, and he continued to +hold the office till the Political revolution of 1838-9, when he was +superseded by a Whig. He was afterwards twice a State Senator for four +years, and for three years Secretary of State. He carried into all the +stations he has filled signal ability and unquestioned rectitude. He was +a man of strong prejudices, violent temper and implacable resentments, +but a Patriot and a determined foe of time-serving, corruption, +prodigality, and debt. He was a warm friend of Educational Improvement, +and did the cause good service while Secretary of State. For the last +three years he has held no office, but lived in that peaceful retirement +to which his years and his services fairly entitled him. He leaves +behind him many who have attained more exalted positions on a smaller +capital of talent and aptitude for public service. We have passed +lightly over his vehement denunciations of the Internal Improvement +policy during the latter years of his public life. We attribute the +earnestness of his hostility to a temper soured by disappointment, and +especially to his great defeat in '24, at the hands of the illustrious +champion of the Canals. But, though his vision was jaundiced, his +purpose was honest. He thought he was struggling to save the State from +imminent bankruptcy and ruin."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Henry T. Robinson</span>, for many years an active maker of political and other +caricatures, by which he made a fortune, here and in Washington, and of +nude and other indecent prints, by the seizure of a large quantity of +which, with other causes, he was impoverished, died at Newark, +New-Jersey, on the third of November. He was born on Bethnal Common in +England, in 1785, and about 1810 emigrated to this country, where he was +one of the first to practise lithography.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joseph Hardy</span> died a few weeks ago at Rathmines, aged ninety-three years. +When twenty years old he invented a machine for doubling and twisting +cotton yarn, for which the Dublin Society awarded him a premium of +twenty guineas. Four years after he invented a scribbling machine for +carding wool, to be worked by horse or water power, for which the same +society awarded him one hundred guineas. He next invented a machine for +measuring and sealing linen, and was in consequence appointed by the +linen board seals-master for all the linen markets in the county of +Derry, but the slightest benefit from this he never derived, as the +rebellion of '98 broke out about the time he had all his machines +completed, and political opponents having represented by memorials to +the board that by giving so much to one man, hundreds who then were +employed would be thrown out of work, the board changed the seal from +the spinning wheel to the harp and crown, thereby rendering his seals +useless, merely giving him 100<i>l.</i> by way of remuneration for his loss. +About the year 1810 he demonstrated by an apparatus attached to one of +the boats of the Grand Canal Company at Portobello the practicability of +propelling vessels on the water by paddle wheels; but having placed the +paddles on the bow of the boat, the action of the backwater on the boat +was so great as to prevent its movement at a higher speed than three +miles per hour. This appearing not to answer, without further experiment +he broke up the machinery, and allowed others to profit by the ideas he +gave on the subject, and to complete on the open sea what he had +attempted within the narrow limits of a canal. He also invented a +machine for sawing timber; but the result of all his inventions during a +long life was very considerable loss of time and property without the +slightest recompense from Government, or the country benefited by his +talents.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Major-General Slessor</span> died at Sidmouth, Devonshire, on the 11th October, +aged seventy-three. He entered the army in 1794, and served in Ireland +during the rebellion, and subsequently against the French force +commanded by General Humbert, on which last occasion he was wounded. In +1806 he accompanied his regiment (the 35th) to Sicily, and the next year +he served in the second expedition to Egypt, and was wounded in the +retreat from Rosetta to Alexandria. He then served with Sir J. Oswald +against the Greek Islands, and was employed in the Mediterranean. He +also served in the Austrian army, under Count Nugent, and in the +Waterloo campaign.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Joseph Signay</span>, Roman Catholic Archbishop of the Ecclesiastical Province +of Quebec, died on the 3d of October. He was born at Quebec November 8, +1778, appointed Coadjutor of Quebec and Bishop of Fussala the 15th of +December, 1826, and was consecrated under that title the 20th of May, +1827. He succeeded to the See of Quebec the 19th of February, 1833, and +was elevated to the dignity of Archbishop by His Holiness Pope Gregory +XVI., on the 12th of July, 1844, and received the "Pallium" during the +ensuing month.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Fouquier</span>, one of the most celebrated physicians of Paris, who was +<i>le medecin</i> of the ex-king Louis Philippe, and Professor of <i>clinique +interne</i> at the Academy, died on the 1st of October. His loss is much +felt among the <i>savants</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Lieut.-Colonel Cross, K.H.</span>, a distinguished Peninsular officer, died +near London on the 27th of October. He served in the Peninsular war from +1808 until its close in 1814, and was at the battle of Waterloo, where +he received a severe contusion.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas Amyot, F.R.S.</span>, &c.—whose life, extended to the age of +seventy-six, was passed in close intercourse with the literary and +antiquarian circles of London, participating in their pursuits and +aiding their exertions—died on the 28th of September. He was an active +and respected member of almost every metropolitan association which had +for its object the advancement of literature. He was a constant and +valuable contributor to the <i>Archćologia</i>, the private secretary of Mr. +Windham, the editor of Windham's speeches, and for many years treasurer +to the Society of Antiquaries of London, and a director of the Camden +Society. He was a native of Norwich, and obtained the friendship and +patronage of Windham while actively engaged in canvassing in favor of an +opponent of that gentleman for the representation of Norwich in the +House of Commons. A Life of Windham was one of his long-promised and +long-looked-for contributions to the biographies of English statesmen; +but no such work has been published, and there is reason to believe that +very little, if indeed any portion of it, was ever completed for +publication. The journals of Mr. Windham were in the possession of Mr. +Amyot; and if we may judge of the whole by the account of Johnson's +conversation and last illness, printed by Croker in his edition of +Boswell, we may assert that whenever they may be published they will +constitute a work of real value in illustration of political events and +private character,—a model in respect of fullness and yet succinctness, +which future journalists may copy with advantage. Whatever Windham +preserved of Johnson's conversation well merited preservation. Mr. +Amyot's most valuable literary production is, his refutation of Mr. +Tytler's supposition that Richard the Second was alive and in Scotland +in the reign of Henry the Fourth.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame Branchu</span>, so famous in the opera in the last century, is dead. The +first distinct idea which many have entertained respecting the <i>Grande +Opera</i> of Paris may have been derived from a note in Moore's <i>Fudge +Family</i> in which the "shrill screams of Madame Branchu" were mentioned. +She retired from the theater in 1826, after twenty-five years of <i>prima +donna</i>ship—having succeeded to the scepter and crown of Mdlle. Maillard +and Madame St. Huberty. She died at Passy, having almost entirely passed +out of the memory of the present opera-going generation. She must have +been a forcible and impassioned rather than an elegant or irreproachable +vocalist—and will be best remembered perhaps as the original <i>Julia</i> in +"La Vestale" of Spontini.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Major-General Wingrove</span>, of the Royal Marines, died on the 7th October, +aged seventy years. He entered the Royal Marines in 1793, served at the +surrender of the Cape of Good Hope in 1795, the battle of Trafalgar, the +taking of Genoa in 1814, was on board the Boyne when that ship singly +engaged three French ships of the line and three frigates, off Toulon, +in 1814, and on board the Hercules in a single action, off Cape Nichola +Mole. In 1841 he was promoted to the rank of a major-general.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Duke of Palmella</span>, long eminent in the affairs of Portugal, died at +Lisbon on the 12th of October. He was born on the 8th of May, 1781, and +had, consequently, completed his sixty ninth year. A very considerable +part of his life was dedicated to the diplomatic service of Portugal, +which he represented at the Congress of Vienna, in 1814; and he was one +of the General Committee of the eight powers who signed the Peace of +Paris. When the debate respecting the slave-trade took place in the +Congress, he warmly opposed the immediate abolition by Portugal, which +had been demanded by Lord Castlereagh. He was also one of the foreign +ministers who signed the declaration of the 13th of March, 1815, against +Napoleon; immediately after which he was nominated representative of +Portugal at the British Court. In 1816, however, he was recalled to fill +the office of Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in Brazil. In +February, 1818, he visited Paris, for the purpose of making some +arrangements relative to Monte Video, with the Spanish Ambassador, Count +Fernan Nunez. After the Portuguese Revolution, he retired for a time +from active life. He was next selected to attend at the coronation of +Queen Victoria; and his great wealth enabled him to vie, on that +occasion, with the representatives of the other courts of Europe. He was +several times called to preside over the councils of his Sovereign, but +only held office for a limited period. Though a member of the ancient +nobility, all his titles were honorably acquired by his own exertions, +and were the rewards of distinguished abilities and meritorious +services. No Portuguese statesman acquired greater celebrity abroad, and +no man acted a more consistent part in all the political vicissitudes of +the last thirty years, throughout which he was a most prominent +character. It is related of the Duke, when Count de Palmella, that +during the contest in Spain and Portugal, Napoleon one day hastily +addressed him with—"Well, are you Portuguese willing to become +Spanish?" "No," replied the Count, in a firm tone. Far from being +displeased with this frank and laconic reply, Napoleon said next day to +one of his officers, "The Count de Palmella gave me yesterday a noble +'No.'"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Carl Rottmann</span>, the distinguished Bavarian artist and painter to the +King, died near the end of October. He had been sent by King Ludwig to +Italy and to Greece to depict the scenery and monuments of those +countries. His pictures of the Temple of Juno Lucina, Girgenti, the +theater of Taormina, &c., have never been excelled, and the king had +characterized them by illustrative poems. The Grecian monuments which +Rottmann sketched in 1835 and 1836 are destined for the new Pinakothek; +and the Battle-Field of Marathon is spoken of as a wonderful +composition. The frescoes of Herr Rottmann adorn the ceiling of the upper +story of the palace at Munich.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">François de Villeneuve-Bargemont</span>, Marquis de Trans, a member of the +French Academy of Inscriptions of Belles-Lettres, and author, amongst +other works, of the Histories of King Réné of Anjou, of St. Louis, and +of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, is named in the late Paris +obituaries.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> <i>Augsburg Gazette</i> announces the death of the celebrated Bavarian +painter <span class="smcap">Ch. Schorn</span>, Professor at the Academy of Fine Arts at Munich, on +the 7th October, aged forty-seven.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Richard M. Johnson</span>, Ex-Vice-President of the United States, died at +Frankfort, Ky., on the morning of November 19, having for some time been +deprived of his reason. He was about seventy years of age. In 1807 he +was chosen a member of the House of Representatives, which post he held +twelve years. In 1813 he raised 1,000 men, to fight the British and +Indians in the North-west. In the campaign which followed he served +gallantly under Gen. Harrison as Colonel of his regiment. At the battle +of the Thames he distinguished himself by breaking the line of the +British infantry. The fame of killing Tecumseh, in this battle, has been +given to Colonel J., but the act has other claimants. In 1819 he was +transferred from the House of Representatives to the Senate, to serve +out an unexpired term. When that expired he was re-chosen, and thus +remained in the Senate till 1829. Then, another re-election being +impossible, he went back into the House, where he remained till 1839, +when he became Vice-President under Mr. Van Buren. In 1829 the Sunday +Mail agitation being brought before the House, he, as Chairman of the +Committee on Post-Offices and Post-Roads, presented a report against the +suspension of mails on Sunday. It was able, though its ability was much +exaggerated; it disposed of the subject, and Col. J. received what never +belonged to him, the credit of having written it. From 1837 to 1841 he +presided over the Senate. From that time he did not hold any office.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">William Blacker, Esq</span>., the distinguished agricultural writer and +economist, died on the 20th of October, at his residence in Armagh, in +the seventy-fifth year of his age. Engaged extensively, in early life, +in mercantile pursuits, he devoted himself at a maturer period to the +development of the agricultural and economic resources of Ireland. By +his popularly-written "Hints to Small Farmers," annual reports of +experimental results, essays, &c. he managed to spread, not only a +spirit of inquiry into matters of such vital importance to his country, +but to point out and urge into the best and most advantageous course of +action, the well-inclined and the energetic.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bell Martin</span>, the author of a very clever novel, lately reprinted by +the Harpers, entitled "Julia Howard" and originally published under the +name of Mrs. Martin Bell, died in this city on the 7th of November. Mrs. +Martin was the daughter of one of the wealthiest commoners of England. +She came to this country it is said entirely for purposes connected with +literature. She was the author of several other works, most of which +were written in French.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> <i>Patria</i>, of Corfu mentions the death by cholera of Signor <span class="smcap">Niccolo +Delviniotti Baptistide</span>, a distinguished literary character, and author +of several very interesting works.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">General du Chastel</span>, one of the remains of the French Imperial Army, died +at Saumur, in October, in the seventy-eighth year of his age.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Among</span> the other recent deaths in Europe, we notice that of Mr. <span class="smcap">Watkyns</span>, +the son-in-law and biographer of Ebenezer Elliot; <span class="smcap">Dr. Medicus</span>, Professor +of Botany at Munich, and a member of the Academy of Sciences in that +capital; <span class="smcap">M. Ferdinand Laloue</span>, a dramatic author of some reputation in +Paris; and <span class="smcap">Dr. C.F. Becker</span>, eminent for his philosophical works on +grammar and the structure of language.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 290px;"> +<img src="images/i_155i.jpg" alt="" title="NICHOLAS WISEMAN, D.D., LL.D., CARDINAL ARCHBISHOP OF WESTMINSTER." /><br /> +<span class="caption">NICHOLAS WISEMAN, D.D., LL.D., CARDINAL ARCHBISHOP OF WESTMINSTER.</span><br /><br /> +</div> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE topic of the month in Europe has been the public and formal +resumption of jurisdiction by the Pope in England, and the appointment +of the ablest and most illustrious person in the Catholic Church to be +Archbishop of Westminster. Dr. Wiseman is known and respected by all +Christian scholars for his abilities, and their devotion to the +vindication of our common faith. His admirable work on <i>The Connection +between Science and Revealed Religion</i> is a text-book in Protestant as +well as in Roman Catholic seminaries. Cardinal Wiseman is now in his +forty-ninth year, having been born at Seville, on the second of August, +1802. He is descended from an Irish family, long settled in Spain. At an +early age he was carried to England, and sent for his education to St. +Cuthbert's Catholic College, near Durham. Thence he was removed to the +English College at Rome, where he distinguished himself by an +extraordinary attachment to learning. At eighteen he published in Latin +a work on the Oriental languages; and he bore off the gold medal at +every competition of the colleges of Rome. His merit recommended him to +his superiors; he obtained several honors, was ordained a priest, and +made a Doctor of Divinity. He was several years a Professor in the Roman +University, and then Rector of the English College, where he achieved +his earliest success. He went to England in 1835, and immediately became +a conspicuous teacher and writer on the side of the Catholics. In 1836 +he vindicated in a course of lectures the doctrines of the Catholic +Church, and gave so much satisfaction to his party that they presented +him with a gold medal, to express their esteem and gratitude. He +returned to Rome, and seems to have been instrumental in inducing Pope +Gregory XVI. to increase the vicars apostolic in England. The number was +doubled, and Dr. Wiseman went back as coadjutor to Bishop Walsh, of the +Midland district. He was appointed President of St. Mary's College, +Oscott, and contributed, by his teaching, his preaching, and his +writings, very much to promote the spread of Catholicism in England. He +was a contributor to the <i>Dublin Review</i>, and the author of some +controversial pamphlets. In 1847 he again repaired to Rome on the +affairs of the Catholics, and no doubt prepared the way for the present +change. His second visit to Rome led to further preferment. He was made +Pro-Vicar Apostolic of the London district; subsequently appointed +coadjutor to Dr. Walsh, and in 1849, on the death of Dr. Walsh, Vicar +Apostolic of the London district. Last August he went again to Rome, +"not expecting," as he says, "to return;" but "delighted to be +commissioned to come back" clothed in his new dignity. In a Consistory +held September 30, Nicholas Wiseman was elected to the dignity of +Cardinal, by the title of Saint Prudentiani, and appointed Archbishop of +Westminster. Under the Pope, he is the head of the Roman Catholic Church +in England, and a Prince of the Church of Rome.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 309px;"> +<img src="images/i_156i.jpg" alt="Ladies' Fashions" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h2>Ladies' Fashions for December.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Fig. I.</span> <i>Promenade Costume.</i>—Robe of striped silk: the ground a richly +shaded brown, and the stripes of the same color, but of darker hue. The +skirt of the dress is quite plain, the corsage high, and the sleeves not +very wide at the ends, showing white under-sleeves of very moderate +size. Mantle of dark green satin. The upper part or body is shaped like +a pardessus, with a small basque at the back. Attached to this body is a +double skirt, both the upper and lower parts of which are set on in +slight fullness, and nearly meeting in front. The body of the mantle, as +well as the two skirts, is edged with quilling of satin ribbon of the +color of the cloak. Loose Chinese sleeves, edged with the same trimming. +Drawn bonnet of brown velvet; under trimming small red flowers; strings +of brown therry velvet ribbon.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fig. II.</span>—Back view of dress of claret-colored broché silk; the pattern +large detached sprigs. Cloak of rich black satin. The upper part is a +deep cape, cut so as to fit closely to the figure, and pointed at the +back. By being fastened down at each side of the arms, this cape +presents the effect of sleeves. Round the back, and on that part which +falls over the arms, the cape is edged with a very broad and rich +fringe, composed of twisted silk chenille, and headed by passementerie. +The skirt of the cloak is cut bias way and nearly circular, so that it +hangs round the figure in easy fullness. The fronts are trimmed with +ornaments of passementerie in the form of large flowers. The bonnet is +of green therry velvet, trimmed with black lace, two rows of which are +laid across the front. Under trimming of pale pink roses.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="notes"> +<h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> + +<p><b>Page vi:</b> Transcribed "Bronte" as "Brontë". As originally printed: +"Bronte and her Sisters".</p> + +<p>Transcribed "in" as "on". As originally printed: "Herr Kielhau, in +Geology".</p> + +<p><b>Pages vi & 142:</b> Transcribed "Charles Rottman" as "Carl Rottmann".</p> + +<p><b>Page vii:</b> Transcribed "this" as "his". As originally printed: "Swift, +Dean, and this Amours."</p> + +<p><b>Page 13:</b>Supplied "from" in the following phrase (shown here in +brackets): "It caused Richard Steele to be expelled [from] the House of +Commons".</p> + +<p>Transcribed "colleague's" as "colleagues". As originally +printed: "triumphed over his colleague's".</p> + +<p><b>Page 16:</b> Transcribed "Smollet" as "Smollett". As originally printed: +"the best productions of Mendoza, Smollet, or Dickens" (presumably, +Tobias Smollett).</p> + +<p><b>Page 20:</b> Transcribed "Uniersberg" as "Untersberg". As originally +printed: "Charlemagne in the Uniersberg at Salzburg".</p> + +<p><b>Pages 18-22:</b> Alternate spellings of Leipzig/Leipzic left as printed in the +original publication.</p> + +<p><b>Page 24:</b> A closing quotation is missing in the original publication for +material commencing: "we shall see him as he was, both adventurous and +patient....</p> + +<p><b>Page 27:</b> Transcribed "Cosmo" as "Cosimo". As originally printed: "but of +Cosmo de Medici, Lorenzo his great descendant".</p> + +<p><b>Page 28:</b> Transcribed "Eoratii" as "Horatii". As originally printed: "The +Eoratii, one of the master pieces of David".</p> + +<p><b>Page 73:</b> Transcribed "bonhommie" as "bonhomie". As originally printed: +"the Visconte, with equal <i>bonhommie</i>".</p> + +<p><b>Page 113:</b> Transcribed "vacilliating" as "vacillating". As originally +printed: "made a blind vacilliating attack".</p> + +<p><b>Page 127:</b> A closing quotation is missing in the original publication for +material commencing: "I have sometimes thought that if you were to stop +a hundred men....</p> + +<p>Transcribed "habitučs" as "habitués". As originally printed: "the more +experienced <i>habitučs</i> of office".</p> + +<p><b>Page 128:</b> Transcribed "Chocň and Popayan" as "Chocó and Popayán". As +originally printed: "deep and humid woods of the provinces of Chocň and +Popayan".</p> + +<p>Transcribed "Caraccas" as "Caracas". As originally printed: "as +identical with the cow tree of Caraccas".</p> + +<p><b>Page 129:</b> "garnery" in "gathered into the garnery" has been left as +printed in the original publication. Likely misspelling of "granary".</p> + +<p><b>Page 136:</b> Transcribed "paen" as "pćan". As originally printed: "Till the +full paen".</p> + +<p><b>Page 139:</b> Transcribed "singleness that of purpose" as "that singleness +of purpose". As originally printed: "They are in some instances without +singleness that of purpose".</p> + +<p>Transcribed "waiver" as "waver". As originally printed: "Howe'er his +faith may waiver".</p> + +<p><b>Page 142:</b> Transcribed "Pinakotheka" as "Pinakothek". As originally +printed: "destined for the new Pinakotheka".</p> + +<p>Transcribed "François de Villenueve-Bargemont" as "François de +Villeneuve-Bargemont".</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The International Monthly, Vol. II, +No. I, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, DEC 1, 1850 *** + +***** This file should be named 37872-h.htm or 37872-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/8/7/37872/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Gary Rees and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by Cornell University Digital Collections) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The International Monthly, Vol. II, No. I + December 1, 1850 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: October 28, 2011 [EBook #37872] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, DEC 1, 1850 *** + + + + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Gary Rees and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by Cornell University Digital Collections) + + + + + + + + + +THE + +INTERNATIONAL + +MONTHLY + +MAGAZINE + +Of Literature, Science, and Art. + + +VOLUME II. + +DECEMBER TO MARCH, 1850-51. + + + NEW-YORK: + STRINGER & TOWNSEND, 222 BROADWAY. + FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. + BY THE NUMBER, 25 CTS.; THE VOLUME, $1; THE YEAR, $3. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +On completing the second volume of the International Magazine, the +publishers appeal to its pages with confidence for confirmation of all +the promises that have been made with regard to its character. They +believe the verdict of the American journals has been unanimous upon the +point that the _International_ has been the best journal of literary +intelligence in the world, keeping its readers constantly advised of the +intellectual activity of Great Britain, Germany, France, the other +European nations, and our own country. As a journal of the fine arts, it +has been the aim of the editor to render it in all respects just, and as +particular as the space allotted to this department would allow. And its +reproductions of the best contemporary foreign literature bear the names +of Walter Savage Landor, Mazzini, Bulwer, Dickens, Thackeray, Barry +Cornwall, Alfred Tennyson, R.M. Milnes, Charles Mackay, Mrs. Browning, +Miss Mitford, Miss Martineau, Mrs. Hall, and others; its original +translations the names of several of the leading authors of the +Continent, and its anonymous selections the titles of the great Reviews, +Magazines, and Journals, as well as of many of the most important new +books in all departments of literature. But the _International_ is not +merely a compilation; it has embraced in the two volumes already issued, +original papers, by Bishop Spencer of Jamaica, Henry Austen Layard, +LL.D., the most illustrious of living travellers and antiquaries, G.P.R. +James, Alfred B. Street, Bayard Taylor, A.O. Hall, R.H. Stoddard, +Richard B. Kimball, Parke Godwin, William C. Richards, John E. Warren, +Elizabeth Oakes Smith, Mary E. Hewitt, Alice Carey, and other authors of +eminence, whose compositions have entitled it to a place in the first +class of original literary periodicals. Besides the writers hitherto +engaged for the _International_, many of distinguished reputations are +pledged to contribute to its pages hereafter; and the publishers have +taken measures for securing at the earliest possible day the chief +productions of the European press, so that to American readers the +entire Magazine will be as new and fresh as if it were all composed +expressly for their pleasure. + +The style of illustration which has thus far been so much approved by +the readers of the _International_, will be continued, and among the +attractions of future numbers will be admirable portraits of Irving, +Cooper, Bryant, Halleck, Prescott, Ticknor, Francis, Hawthorne, Willis, +Kennedy, Mitchell, Mayo, Melville, Whipple, Taylor, Dewey, Stoddard, and +other authors, accompanied as frequently as may be with views of their +residences, and sketches of their literary and personal character. + +Indeed, every means possible will be used to render the _International +Magazine_ to every description of persons the most valuable as well as +the most entertaining miscellany in the English language. + + + CONTENTS: + + VOLUME II. DECEMBER TO MARCH, 1850-51. + + Adams, John, upon Riches, 426 + + Ambitious Brooklet, The.--_By A.O. Hall_, 477 + + Accidents will Happen.--_By C. Astor Bristed_, 81 + + Anima Mundi.--_By R.M. Milnes_, 393 + + Astor Library, The. (Illustrated,) 436 + + Attempts to Discover the Northwest Passage, On the, 166 + + Audubon, John James.--_By Rufus W. Griswold_, 469 + + Age, Old.--_By Alfred B. Street_, 474 + + _Arts, The Fine._--Munich and Schwanthaler's "Bavaria," 26.--Art in + Florence, 27.--W.W. Story's Return from Italy, 27.--Les Beautes de la + France, 27.--History of Art Exhibitions, 28.--Enamel Painting at + Berlin, 28.--Portrait of Sir Francis Drake, 28.--The Vernets, + 28.--Leutze, Powers, &c., 28.--Kaulbach, 28.--Illustrations of Homer, + 28.--Old Pictures, 29.--Michael Angelo, 29.--Conversations by the + Academy of Design, 29.--David's Napoleon Crossing the Alps, 29.--Gift + from the Bavarian Artists to the King, 190.--Charles Eastlake, + 190.--New Picture by Kaulbach, 190.--Russian Porcelain, 190.--Mr. + Healey, 191.--Von Kestner on Art, 191.--Russian Music in Paris, + 191.--The Goethe Inheritance, 191.--Art Unions; their True Character + Considered, 191.--Waagner's "Art in the Future," 313.--Thorwaldsen, + 313.--Heidel's "Illustrations of Goethe," 313.--A New Art, + 313.--Albert Durer's Illustrations of the Prayer Book, 313.--Moritz + Rugendus, and his Sketches of American Scenery, 314.--An Art Union in + Vienna, 314.--New Picture by Kaulbach, 314.--Powers's "America," + 314.--Dr. Baun's Essay on the two Chief Groups of the Friese of the + Parthenon, 314.--Victor Orsel's Paintings in the Church of Notre Dame + de Lorelle, 314.--Ehninger's Illustrations of Irving, 314.--Wolff's + Paris, 314.--M. Leutze's "Washington Crossing the Delaware," + 460.--Discovery of a Picture by Michael Angelo, 460.--The Munich Art + Union, 460. + + _Authors and Books._--A Visit to Henry Heine, 15.--Dr. Zirckel's + "Sketches from and concerning the United States," 16.--Aerostation, + 17.--New Works by M. Guizot, 17.--Works on the German Revolution, + 18.--Dr. Zimmer's Universal History, 18.--Schlosser, 18.--MS. of Le + Bel Discovered, 19.--M. Bastiat alive, and plagiarizing, + 19.--Caesarism, 19.--Songs of Carinthia, 20.--Mr. Bryant, 20.--Dr. + Laing, 20.--French Reviewal of Mr. Elliot's History of Liberty, + 20.--Dr. Bowring, 21.--Henry Rogers and Reviews, 21.--Rabbi Schwartz + on the Holy Land, 21.--Mr. John R. Thompson, 21.--German Reviewal of + "Fashion," 22.--Ruskin's New Work, 21.--Oehlenschlager's Memoirs, + 22.--Planche on Lamartine, 22.--Prosper Merimee, his Book on America, + &c., 22.--Hawthorne, 22.--Matthews, the American Traveller, + 23.--Professor Adler's Translation of the Iphigenia in Taurus, + 23.--The Pekin Gazette, 23.--New Book by the author of "Shakespeare + and his Friends," 23.--Vaulabelle's French History, 23.--Sir Edward + Belcher, 23.--Guizot an Editor again, 23.--Life of Southey, + 23.--Bulwer's _Ears_, 23.--The Count de Castelnau on South America, + 23.--Diplomatic and Literary Studies of Alexis de Saint Priest, + 24.--Mrs. Putnam's Review of Bowen, 24.--Herr Thaer, 24.--New Work + announced in England, 24.--"Sir Roger de Coverley; by the Spectator," + 25.--Memoir of Judge Story, 25.--Garland's Life of John Randolph, + 25.--Sir Edgerton Brydges's edition of Milton's Poems, 25.--The + Keepsake, 25.--Gray's Poems, 25.--Rev. Professor Weir, 25.--Douglas + Jerrold's Complete Works, 25.--Memoirs of the Poet Wordsworth, by his + Nephew, 25.--New German books on Hungary, 173.--"Polish Population in + Galicia," 173.--Travels and Ethnological works of Professor Reguly, + 174.--Works on Ethnology, published by the Austrian Government, + 174.--Karl Gutzlow, 174.--Neandar's Library, 174.--Karl Simrock's + Popular Songs, 175.--Belgian Literature, 175.--Prof. Johnston's Work + on America, 175.--Literary and Scientific Works at Giessen, + 175.--Beranger, 175.--The House of the "Wandering Jew," 176.--The + Count de Tocqueville upon Dr. Franklin, &c., 176.--Audubon's Last + Work, 176.--Book Fair at Leipsic, 176.--Baroness von Beck, + 177.--Berghaus's Magazine, Albert Gallatin, &c., 177.--Auerback's + Tales, 177.--Baron Sternberg, 177.--"The New Faith Taught in Art," + 177.--Freiligrath, 177.--New Adventure and Discovery in Africa, + 178.--French Almanacs, 178.--The _Algemeine Zeitung_ on Literary + Women, 178.--Cormenin on War, 178.--Writers of "Young France," + 179.--George Sand's Last Works, 179.--New Books on the French + Revolution, Mirabeau, Massena, &c., 179.--Cousin, 179.--Tomb of + Godfrey of Bouillon, 179.--Maxims of Frederic the Great, 179.--New + Poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 180.--Rectorship of Glasgow + University, 180.--Tennyson, 180.--Mayhew, D'Israeli, Leigh Hunt, The + Earl of Carlisle, &c., 180.--New Work by Joseph Balmes, 180.--The late + Mrs. Bell Martin, 181.--The _Athenaeum_ on Mrs. Mowatt's Novels, + 181.--New work by Mrs. Southworth, 181.--Charles Mackay, sent to + India, 182.--Pensions to Literary Men, 182.--German Translation of + Ticknor's History of Spanish Literature, 182.--David Copperfield, + 183.--D.D. Field and the English Lawyers, 183.--Louisiana Historical + Collections, 183.--Elihu Burritt's Absurdities, 184.--John Mills, + 184.--Dr. Latham's "Races of Men," 184.--Homoeopathic Review, + 184.--Bohn's Publications, 184.--Professor Reed's Rhetoric, 185.--Mr. + Bancroft's forthcoming History, 185.--Dr. Schoolcraft, 185.--MS. of + Dr. Johnson's Memoirs, 185.--Literary "Discoveries," 185.--M. + Girardin, 185.--Vulgar Lying of the last English Traveller in America, + 186.--The Real Peace Congress, 186.--Milton, Burke, Mazzini, Webster, + 187.--Sir Francis Head, 187.--Dr. Bloomfield, 187.--New Book by Mr. + Cooper, 187.--Mr. Judd's "Richard Edney," 187.--E.G. Squier, + Hawthorne, &c., 187.--The Author of "Olive," on the Sphere of Woman, + 188.--Flemish Poems, 188.--"Lives of the Queens of Scotland," + 188.--John S. Dwight, 188.--History of the Greek Revolution, 188.--New + Edition of the Works of Goethe, 188.--W.G. Simms, Dr. Holmes, &c., + 188.--The Songs of Pierre Dupont, 189.--Arago and Prudhon, + 189.--Charles Sumner, 189.--"The Manhattaner in New Orleans," + 189.--"Reveries of a Bachelor," "Vala," &c., 189.--Of Personalities, + 297.--Last Work of Oersted, 298.--New Dramas, 299.--German Novels, + 300.--Hungarian Literature, 301.--New German Book on America, + 301.--Ruckert's "Annals of German History," 301.--Zschokke's Private + Letters, 301.--Works by Bender and Burmeister, 301.--The Countess + Hahn-Hahn, 302.--"Value of Goethe as a Poet," 302.--Hagen's History of + Recent Times, 302.--Cotta's Illustrated Bible, 302.--Wallon's History + of Slavery, 302.--Translation of the Journal of the U.S. Exploring + Expedition into German, 302.--Richter's Translation of Mrs. Barbauld, + 302.--Bodenstet's New Book on the East, 302.--Third Part of Humboldt's + "Cosmos," &c., 303.--Dr. Espe, 303.--The Works of Neander, 303.--Works + of Luther, 303.--_L'Universe Pittoresque_, 303.--M. Nisard, + 303.--French Documentary Publications, 303.--M. Ginoux, 303.--M. + Veron, 304.--Eugene Sue's New Books, 304.--George Sand in the Theatre, + 304.--Alphonse Karr, 304.--Various new Publications in Paris, + 304.--The Catholic Church and Pius IX., 305.--Notices of Hayti, + 305.--Work on Architecture, by Gailhabaud, 305.--Italian Monthly + Review, 305.--Discovery of Letters by Pope, 305.--Lord Brougham, + 305.--Alice Carey, 305.--Mrs. Robinson ("Talvi"), 306.--New Life of + Hannah More, 306.--Professor Hackett on the Alps, 306.--Mrs. Anita + George, 307.--Life and Works of Henry Wheaton, 308.--R.R. Madden, + 308.--Rev. E.H. Chapin on "Woman," 308.--Discovery of Historical + Documents of Quebec, 308.--Professor Andrews's Latin Lexicon, + 309.--"Salander," by Mr. Shelton, 309.--Prof. Bush on Pneumatology, + 309.--Satire on the Rappers, by J.R. Lowell, 309.--Henry C. Phillips + on the Scenery of the Central Regions of America, 310.--Sam. Adams no + Defaulter, 310.--Mr. Willis, 310.--Life of Calvin, 310.--Notes of a + Howadje, 310.--Mr. Putnam's "World's Progress," 310.--Mr. Whittier, + 310.--New Volume of Hildreth's History of the United States, 311.--The + Memorial of Mrs. Osgood, 311.--Fortune Telling in Paris, + 311.--Writings of Hartley Coleridge, 311.--New Books forthcoming in + London, 312.--Mr. Cheever's "Island World of the Pacific," 312.--Works + of Bishop Onderdonk, 312.--Moreau's _Imitatio Christi_, 312.--New + German Poems, 312.--Schroeder on the Jews, 312.--Arago on Ballooning, + 312.--Books prohibited at Naples, 312.--Notices of Mazzini, + 313.--Charles Augustus Murray, 313.--New History of Woman, + 313.--Letters on Humboldt's Cosmos, 446.--German Version of the + "Vestiges of Creation," 447.--Hegel's _Aesthetik_, 447.--New Work in + France on the Origin of the Human Race, 448.--Lelewel on the Geography + of the Middle Ages, 448.--More German Novels, 448.--"Man in the Mirror + of Nature," 449.--Herr Kielhau, on Geology, 449.--Proposed Prize for a + Defence of Absolutism, 449.--Werner's Christian Ethics, 449.--William + Meinhold, 449.--Prize History of the Jews, 449.--English Version of + Mrs. Robinson's Work on America, 449.--Poems by Jeanne Marie, + 449.--General Gordon's Memoirs, 449.--George Sand's New Drama, + 449.--Other New French Plays, 451.--M. Cobet's History of France, + 451.--Rev. G.R. Gleig, 451.--Ranke's Discovery of MSS. by Richelieu, + 451.--George Sand on Bad Spelling, 451.--Lola Montes, + 451.--Montalembert, 451.--Glossary of the Middle Ages, 451.--A Coptic + Grammar, 451.--The Italian Revolution, 452.--Italian Archaeological + Society, 452.--Abaddie, the French Traveller, 452.--The Vatican + Library, 452.--New Ode by Piron, 452.--Posthumous Works of Rossi, + 452.--Bailey, the Author of "Festus," 453.--Clinton's _Fasti_, + 453.--Captain Cunningham, 453.--Dixon's Life of Penn, 453.--Literary + Women in England, 453.--Miss Martineau's History of the Last Half + Century, 453.--The Lexington Papers, 453.--Captain Medwin, 453.--John + Clare, 454.--De Quincy's Writings, 454.--Bulwer's Poems, + 454.--Episodes of Insect Life, 454.--Dr. Achilli, 454.--Samuel Bailey, + 454.--Major Poussin, and his Work on the United States, 454.--French + Collections in Political Economy, 455.--Joseph Gales, 456.--Rev. Henry + T. Cheever, 456.--Job R. Tyson on Colonial History, 456.--Henry James, + 456.--Torrey and Neander, 457.--Works of John C. Calhoun, + 457.--Historic Certainties respecting Early America, 457.--Mr. + Schoolcraft, 457.--Dr. Robert Knox, 458.--Mr. Boker's Plays, 458.--The + _Literary World_ upon a supposed Letter of Washington, 458.--Dr. + Ducachet's Dictionary of the Church, 458.--Edith May's Poems, + 458.--The American Philosophical Society, 458.--Professor Hows, + 458.--Mr. Redfield's Publications, 458.--Rev. William W. Lord's New + Poem, 450. + + Battle of the Churches in England, 327 + + Ballad of Jessie Carol.--_By Alice Carey_, 230 + + Barry Cornwall's Last Song, 392 + + Bereaved Mother, To a.--_By Hermann_, 476 + + Biographies, Memoirs, &c., 425 + + Black Pocket-Book, The, 89 + + Bombay, A View of.--_By Peter Leicester_, 130 + + Boswell, The Killing of Sir Alexander, 329 + + Bronte and her Sisters, Sketches of Miss, 315 + + Burke, Edmund, His Residences and Grave.--_By Mrs. S.C. Hall._ + (Illustrated.) 145 + + Bunjaras, The, 377 + + Burlesques and Parodies, 426 + + Byron, Scott, and Carlyle, Goethe's Opinions of, 461 + + Camille Desmoulins, 326 + + Carey, Henry C.--_By Rufus W. Griswold_, 402 + + Castle in the Air, The.--_By R.H. Stoddard_, 474 + + Chatterton, Thomas. (Illustrated.) 289 + + Classical Novels, 161 + + Count Monte-Leone. Book Second, 45 + " " " Third, 216 + " " " Third, concluded, 349 + " " " Fourth, 495 + + Cow-Tree of South America, The, 128 + + Correspondence, Original: A Letter from Paris, 170 + + Cyprus and the Life Led There, 216 + + Davis on the Half Century: Etherization, 317 + + Dacier, Madame, 332 + + Dante.--_By Walter Savage Landor_, 421 + + Death, Phenomena of, 425 + + _Deaths, Recent._--Hon. Samuel Young, 141.--Robinson, the + Caricaturist, 141.--The Duke of Palmella, 142.--Carl Rottmann, + 142.--The Marquis de Trans, 142.--Ch. Schorn, 142.--Hon. Richard M. + Johnson, 142.--Wm. Blacker, 142.--Mrs. Martin Bell, 142.--Signor + Baptistide, 142.--Gen. Chastel, 142.--Dr. Medicus, and others, + 142.--Rev. Dr. Dwight, 195.--Count Brandenburgh, 196.--Lord Nugent, + 196.--M. Fragonard, 196.--M. Droz, 197.--Professor Schorn, + 197.--Gustave Schwab, 197.--Francis Xavier Michael Tomie, + 427.--Governors Bell and Plumer, 427.--Birch, the Painter, + 427.--Professor Sverdrup, W. Seguin, Mrs. Ogilvy, 427.--W. Howison, + 428.--H. Royer-Collard, 428.--Col. Williams, 428.--William Sturgeon, + 428.--J.B. Anthony, 428.--Mr. Osbaldiston, 428.--Professor Mau, + 428.--Madame Junot, Mrs. Wallack, &c., 428.--Herman Kriege, + 429.--Madame Schmalz, 429.--George Spence, 429.--General Lumley, + 429.--Robert Roscoe, 429.--Richie, the Sculptor, 429.--Martin d'Auch, + 429.--Rev. Walter Colton, 568.--Major d'Avezac, 569.--M. Asser, + 569.--M. Lapie, 569.--Professor Link, 569.--General St. Martin, + 570.--Frederick Bastiat, 570.--Benjamin W. Crowninshield, + 571.--Professor Anstey, 571.--Donald McKenzie, 572.--Horace Everett, + LL.D., 572.--James Harfield, 572.--Wm. Wilson, 572.--Professor James + Wallace, 572.--Joshua Milne, 572.--General Bem, 573.--T.S. Davies, + F.R.S., 573.--H.C. Schumacher, 573.--W.H. Maxwell, 573.--Alexander + McDonald, 573. + + Dickens, To Charles.--_By Walter Savage Landor_, 75 + + Drive Round our Neighborhood, in 1850, A.--_By Miss Milford_, 270 + + Duty.--_By Alfred B. Street_, 332 + + Duchess, A Peasant, 169 + + Edward Layton's Reward.--_By Mrs. S.C. Hall_, 201 + + Editorial Visit, An, 421 + + Egypt under the Pharaohs.--_By John Kinrick_, 322 + + Encouragement of Literature by Governments, 160 + + Exclusion of Love from the Greek Drama, 123 + + Fountain in the Wood, The, 129 + + French Generals of To-Day, 334 + + Gateway of the Oceans, 124 + + Ghetto of Rome, 393 + + Gleanings from the Journals, 285 + + Grief of the Weeping Willow, 31 + + Haddock, Charles B., Charge d'Affaires to Portugal. (With a + Portrait on steel.) 1 + + Hecker, Herr, described by Madame Blaze de Bury, 30 + + _Historical Review._--The United States, 560.--Europe, 564.--Mexico, + 565.--British America, 566.--The West Indies, 566.--Central America, + the Isthmus, 566.--South America, 567.--Africa, 567. + + Hunt, Leigh, upon G.P.R. James, 30 + + Ireland in the Last Age: Curran, 519 + + Journals of Louis Philippe, 377 + + Kellogg's, Mr., Exploration of Mt. Sinai, 462 + + Kimball, Richard B., the Author of "St. Leger." (Illustrated.) 156 + + Layard's Recent Gifts from Nimroud. (Illustrated.) 4 + + Layard, Austen Henry, LL.D. (With a Portrait,) 433 + + Lafayette, Talleyrand, Metternich, and Napoleon.--_Sketched + by Lord Holland_, 465 + + Last Case of the Supernatural, 481 + + Lectures, Popular, 319 + + Life at a Watering Place.--_By C. Astor Bristed_, 240 + + Lionne at a Watering Place, The, 533 + + Lost Letter, The, 522 + + Mazzini on Italy, 265 + + Mackay, Charles, Last Poems by, 348 + + Marvel, Andrew. (Illustrated.) 438 + + Mother's Last Song, The.--_By Barry Cornwall_, 270 + + _Music and the Drama.--The Astor Place Opera, Parodi, 29.--Mrs. Oake + Smith's New Tragedy, 30. + + Mystic Vial, The, Part i. 61 + " " Part ii. 249 + " " Part iii. 378 + + My Novel, Or Varieties in English Life.--_By Sir Edward + Bulwer Lytton_, Book II. Chapters i. to vi. 109 + Book II. Chapters vii. to xii. 273 + Book III. Chapters i. to xii. 407 + Book III. Chapters xiii. to xxvii. 542 + + Murder Market, The, 126 + + New Tales by Miss Martineau--The Old Governess, 163 + + Novelist's Appeal for the Canadas, A, 443 + + Old Times in New-York, 320 + + Osgood, The late Mrs.--_By Rufus W. Griswold_, 131 + + Paris Fashions for December. (Illustrated.) 144 + " " January. (Illustrated.) 286 + " " February. (Illustrated.) 431 + " " March. (Illustrated.) 567 + + Peace Society, The First, 321 + + Penn, (William,) and Macaulay, 336 + + Pleasant Story of a Swallow, 123 + + Poet's Lot, The.--_By the author of "Festus,"_ 45 + + Power's, Hiram, Greek Slave.--_By Elizabeth Barret Browning_, 88 + + Poems by S.G. Goodrich, A Biographical Review. (Illustrated.) 153 + + Public Libraries, Ancient and Modern, 359 + + Recent Deaths in the Family of Orleans, 122 + + Reminiscences of Paganini, 167 + + Responsibility of Statesmen, 127 + + Rossini in the Kitchen, 321 + + Scandalous French Dances in American Parlors, 333 + + _Scientific Miscellany._--Hydraulic Experiments in Paris, + 430.--French Populations, 430.--African Exploring Expedition, + 430.--The Hungarian Academy, 430.--Gas from Water, &c., 430.--The + French "Annuaire," 573.--Sittings of the Academy of Sciences, + 573.--New Scientific Publications, 574.--Sir David Brewster, 574. + + Sir Nicholas at Marston Moor.--_By Winthrop M. Praed_, 80 + + Sliding Scale of Inconsolables. From the French, 162 + + Smiths, The Two Miss.--_By Mrs. Crowe_, 76 + + Song of the Season.--_By Charles Mackay_, 128 + + Sounds from Home.--_By Alice G. Neal_, 332 + + Spencer, Aubrey George, LL.D., Bishop of Jamaica, 157 + + Spirit of the English Annuals for 1851, 197 + + Stanzas.--_By Alfred Tennyson_, 273 + + Statues.--_By Walter Savage Landor_, 126 + + Story Without a Name, A.--_By G.P.R. James_, 32 + " " Chapters vi. to ix. 205 + " " Chapters x. to xiii. 337 + " " Chapters xiv. to xvii. 482 + + Story of Calais, A.--_By Richard B. Kimball_, 231 + + Story of a Poet, 88 + + Swift, Dean, and his Amours. (Illustrated.) 7 + + Temper of Women, 437 + + Theatrical Criticism in the Last Age, 334 + + To a Celebrated Singer.--_By R.H. Stoddard_, 86 + + To one in Affliction.--_By G.R. Thompson_, 541 + + Troost, of Tennessee, The Late Dr. 332 + + Twickenham Ghost, The, 60 + + Valetudinarian, The Confirmed.--_By Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton_, 203 + + Vampire, The Last.--_By Mrs. Crowe_, 107 + + Voltigeur.--_By W.H. Thackeray_, 197 + + Voisenen, The Abbe de, and his Times, 511 + + Wane of the Year, The, 129 + + Webster, LL.D., Horace, and the Free Academy. (Portrait.) 444 + + Wearing the Beard.--_Dr. Marcy_, 130 + + Wiseman, Dr., Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster (Illustrated.) 143 + + Wild Sports in Algeria.--_By Jules Gerard_, 121 + + Wolf Chase, The.--_By C. Whitehead_, 86 + + +[Illustration: _C.B. Haddock_] + + +THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE + +of Literature, Art, and Science. + + +Vol. II. NEW YORK, DECEMBER 1, 1850. No. I. + + + + +OUR DIPLOMATIC SERVANTS. + +CHARLES B. HADDOCK, + +CHARGE D'AFFAIRES FOR PORTUGAL. + +[With a Portrait, Engraved by J. Andrews.] + + +Old notions of diplomacy are obsolete. The plain, straightforward, and +masterly manner in which Daniel Webster and Lord Ashburton managed the +difficult affairs which a few years ago threatened war between this +country and England have taught mankind a useful lesson on this subject. +We perceive that the London _Times_ has been engaged in a controversy +whether there should be diplomatists or no diplomatists, whether, in +fact, the profession should survive; arguing from this case conducted by +our illustrious Secretary and Lord Ashburton, that negotiation in +foreign countries is plain sailing for great men, and that common agents +would do the necessary business on ordinary occasions. We are not +prepared to accept the doctrine of the _Times_, though ready enough to +admit that it is to be preferred to the employment of such persons as +many whom we have sent abroad in the last twenty years--many who now in +various capacities represent the United States in foreign countries. +Upon this question however we do not propose now to enter. It is one +which may be deferred still a long time--until the means of +intercommunication shall be greater than steam and electricity have yet +made them, or until the evils of unworthy representation shall have +driven people to the possible dangers of an abandonment of the system +without such a reason. We design in this and future numbers of the +_International_ simply to give a few brief personal sketches of the most +honorably distinguished of the diplomatic servants of the United States +now abroad, and we commence with the newly-appointed _Charge d'Affaires_ +to Lisbon. + +Charles Brickett Haddock was born at Salisbury (now Franklin), New +Hampshire, on the 20th of June, 1796. His father, William Haddock, was a +native of Haverhill, Massachusetts. His paternal grandfather removed +from Boston to Haverhill, and married a sister of Dr. Charles Brickett, +an eminent physician of that town. The family, according to a tradition +among them, are descended from Admiral Sir Richard Haddocke, one of ten +sons and eleven daughters of Mr. Haddocke, of Lee, in England. Richard +Haddocke was an eminent officer in the Royal Navy. He was knighted +before 1678, and returned a member of Parliament the same year, and +again in 1685. He died in 1713, and was buried in the family vault at +Lee, where there is a gravestone, with brass plates on which are +engraved portraits of his father, his father's three wives, and thirteen +sons and eleven daughters. + +The mother of Dr. Haddock was Abigail Webster, a favorite sister of +Ezekiel and Daniel Webster, who, with Sarah, were the only children of +the Hon. Ebenezer Webster by his second wife, Abigail Eastman, who +survived her husband and all her daughters. Mrs. Haddock was a woman of +strong character, and greatly beloved in society. She died in December, +1805, at the age of twenty-seven, leaving two sons, Charles and William, +one about nine and the other seven years of age. Her last words to her +husband were, "I leave you two beautiful boys: my wish is that you +should educate them both." The injunction was not forgotten; both were +in due time placed at a preparatory school in Salisbury, both entered +Dartmouth College, and without an academic censure or reproof graduated +with distinction. + +The younger, having studied the profession of the law, married a +daughter of Mills Olcott, of Hanover, and after a few years, rich in +promise of professional eminence, died of consumption at Hanover, in +1835. + +The elder, Charles B. Haddock, was born in the house in which his +grandfather first lived, after he removed to the river, in Franklin; +though his childhood was chiefly spent at Elms Farms, in the mansion +built by his father, and now the favorite residence of his uncle, Daniel +Webster,--a spot hardly equaled for picturesque and tranquil beauty in +that part of New England. How much of his rural tastes and gentle +feelings the professor owes to the place of his nativity it is not for +us to determine. It is certain that a fitter scene to inspire the +sentiments for which he is distinguished, and which he delights to +refresh by frequent visits to these scenes, could not well be imagined. +Every hill and valley, every rock and eddy, seem to be familiar to him, +and to have a legend for his heart. His earliest distinct recollections, +he has often been heard to say, are the burial of a sister younger than +himself, his own baptism at the bedside of his dying mother, and the +death of his grandfather; and the first things that awakened a romantic +emotion were the flight of the night-hawk and the note of the +whippoorwill, both uncommonly numerous and noticeable there in summer +evenings. + +From 1807 he was in the academy during the summer months, and attended +the common school in winter, until 1811, when, in his sixteenth year, he +taught his own first winter school. It had been his fortune to have as +instructors persons destined to unusual eminence: Mr. Richard Fletcher, +now one of the justices of the Superior Court of Massachusetts; Justice +Willard, of Springfield; the Rev. Edward L. Parker, of Londonderry; and +Nathaniel H. Carter, the well-known poet and general writer. It was +under Mr. Carter that he first felt a genuine love of learning; and he +has always ascribed more of his literary tastes, to his insensible +influence, as he read to him Virgil and Cicero, than to any other living +teacher. His earliest Latin book was the AEneid, over the first half of +which he had, summer after summer, fatigued and vexed himself, before +the idea occurred to him that it was an epic poem; and that idea came to +him at length not from his teachers, but from a question of his uncle, +Daniel Webster, about the descent of the hero into the infernal regions. +When a proper impression of its design was once formed, and some +familiarity with the language was acquired, Virgil was run through with +great rapidity: half a book in a day. So also with Cicero: an oration at +a lesson. There was no verbal accuracy acquired or attempted; but a +ready mastery of the current of discourse--a familiarity with the point +and spirit of the work. In August, 1812, he was admitted a freshman in +Dartmouth College. It was a small class, but remarkable from having +produced a large number of eminent men, among whom we may mention George +A. Simmons, a distinguished lawyer in northern New York, and one of the +profoundest philosophers in this country; Dr. Absalom Peters; President +Wheeler, of the University of Vermont; Governor Hubbard, of Maine; and +Professor Joseph Torrey, of the University of Vermont, since so +honorably known as the learned translator of Neander, and as being +without a superior among American scholars in a knowledge of the +profounder German literature. The late illustrious and venerated Dr. +James Marsh, the editor of Coleridge, and the only pupil of that great +metaphysician who was the peer of his master, was of the class below +his, and was an intimate companion in study. + +From the beginning of his college life it was his ambition to +distinguish himself. By the general consent of his classmates, and by +the appointment of the faculty, he held the first place at each public +exhibition through the four years in which he was a student, and at the +last commencement was complimented with having the order of the parts, +according to which the Latin salutatory had hitherto been first, so +changed that he might still have precedence and yet have the English +valedictory. During his junior year, his mind was first decidedly turned +toward religion, and with Wheeler, Torrey, Marsh, and some forty others, +he made a public profession. The two years after he left college were +spent at Andover, in the study of divinity. While here, with Torrey, +Wheeler, Marsh, and one or two more, he joined in a critical reading of +Virgil--an exercise of great value in enlarging a command of his own +language, as well as his knowledge of Latin. At the close of the second +year he was attacked with hemorrhage of the lungs, and advised to try a +southern climate for the winter. He sailed in October, 1818, for +Charleston, and spent the winter in that city and in Savannah, with +occasional visits into the surrounding country. The following summer he +traveled, chiefly on horseback, and in company with the Rev. Pliny Fisk, +from Charleston home. To this tour he ascribes his recovery. He soon +after took his master's degree, and was appointed the first Professor of +Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres in Dartmouth College. From that time a +change was obvious in the literary spirit of the instruction given at +the institution. The department to which he was called became very soon +the most attractive in the college, and some of the most distinguished +orators of our country are pleased to admit that they obtained their +first impressions of true eloquence and a correct style from the +youthful professor. He introduced readings in the Scriptures, and in +Shakspeare, Milton, and Young, with original criticisms by his pupils on +particular features of the principal works of genius, as the hell of +Virgil, Dante, and Milton; and the prominent characters of the best +tragedies, as the Jew of Cumberland and of Shakspeare; and +extemporaneous discussions of aesthetical and political questions, as +upon the authenticity of Ossian, the authorship of Homer, the sincerity +of Cromwell, or the expediency of the execution of Charles. He also +exerted his influence in founding an association for familiar written +and oral discussions in literature, in which Dr. Edward Oliver, Dr. +James Marsh, Professor Fiske, Mr. Rufus Choate, Professor Chamberlain, +and others, acted a prominent part. + +He retained this chair until August, 1838, when he was appointed to that +of Intellectual Philosophy and Political Economy, which he now holds, +but, which, of course, will be occupied by another during his absence in +the public service--the faculty having declined on any account to accept +his resignation or to appoint a successor. + +Dr. Haddock has been invited to the professorship of rhetoric in +Hamilton College, and to the presidency of that institution, the +presidency and a professorship in the Auburn Theological Seminary, the +presidency of Bowdoin College, and, less formally, to that of several +other colleges in New England. + +In public affairs, he has for four successive years been a +representative in the New Hampshire Legislature, and in this period was +active in introducing the present common school system of the State, and +was the first commissioner of common schools, originating the course of +action in that important office which has since been pursued. He was one +of the fathers of the railroad system in New Hampshire, and his various +speeches had the effect to change the policy of the State on this +subject. He addressed the first convention called at Lebanon to consider +the practicability of a road across the State, and afterward a similar +convention at Montpelier. For two years he lectured every Sabbath +evening to the students and to the people of the village, on the +historical portions of the New Testament. For several years he held +weekly meetings for the interpretation of Scripture, in which the ladies +of the village met at his house. And for twenty years he has constantly +preached to vacant parishes in the vicinity. He has delivered +anniversary orations before the Phi Beta Kappa Societies of Dartmouth +and Yale, the Rhetorical Societies of Andover and Bangor, the Religious +Society of the University of Vermont, the New Hampshire Historical +Society, and the New England Society of New York; numerous lyceum +lectures, in Boston, Lowell, Salem, Portsmouth, Manchester, New Bedford, +and other places; and of the New Hampshire Education Society he was +twelve or fifteen years secretary, publishing annual reports. The +principal periodicals to which he has contributed are the _Biblical +Repository_ and the _Bibliotheca Sacra_. A volume of his _Addresses and +Miscellaneous Writings_ was published in 1846, and he has now a work on +rhetoric in preparation. + +He has been twice married--the last time to a sister of Mr. Kimball, the +author of "St. Leger," &c. He has three children living, and has buried +seven. + +In agriculture, gardening, and public improvements of all kinds, he has +taken a lively interest. The rural ornaments of the town in which he +lives owe much to him. He may be said to have introduced the fruit and +horticulture which are now becoming so abundant as luxuries, and so +remarkable as ornaments of the village. + +In 1843 he received the degree of D.D. from Bowdoin College. Of +Dartmouth College nearly half the graduates are his pupils. While +commissioner of common schools, he published a series of letters to +teachers and students which were more generally republished in the +various papers of the country than anything else of the kind ever before +written. Perhaps no one in this country has discussed so great a variety +of subjects. His essays upon the proper standard of education for the +pulpit, addresses on the utility of certain proposed lines of railway, +orations on the duties of the citizen to the state, lectures before +various medical societies, speeches in the New Hampshire House of +Representatives, letters written while commissioner of common schools, +contributions to periodicals, addresses before a great variety of +literary associations, writings on agriculture and gardening, yearly +reports on education, lectures on classical learning, rhetoric and +belles-lettres, and sermons, delivered weekly for more than twenty +years, illustrate a life of remarkable activity, and dedicated to the +best interests of mankind. Unmoved by the calls of ambition, which might +have tempted him to some one great and engrossing effort, his aim has +been the general good of the people. + +The following extract from the dedication, to his pupils, of his +_Addresses and Miscellaneous Writings_, evinces something of his +purpose: + +"It is now five-and-twenty years since I adopted the resolution never to +refuse to attempt anything consistent with my professional duties, in +the cause of learning, or religion, which I might be invited to do. This +resolution I have not at any time regretted, and perhaps I may say, I +have not essentially violated it. However this may be, I have never +suffered from want of something to do." + +Professor Haddock's style is remarkable for purity and correctness. His +sentences are all finished sentences, never subject to an injurious +verbal criticism, without a mistake of any kind, or a grammatical error. + +We have not written of Dr. Haddock as a politician; but he is a +thoroughly informed statesman, profoundly versed in public law, and +familiar with all the policy and aims of the American government. He is +of course a Whig. He has been educated, politically, in the school of +his illustrious uncle, and probably no man living is more thoroughly +acquainted with Mr. Webster's views, or more capable of their +application in affairs. It is therefore eminently suitable that he +should be on the list of our representatives abroad, while the foreign +department is under Mr. Webster's administration. The Whig party in New +Hampshire have not been insensible of Dr. Haddock's surpassing +abilities, of his sagacity, or his merits. Could they have done so, they +would have made him Governor, or a senator in Congress, on any of the +occasions in many years in which such officers have been chosen. +Considered without reference to party, we can think of no gentleman in +the country who would be likely to represent the United States more +worthily at foreign courts, or who by his capacities, suavity of manner, +or honorable nature, would make a more pleasing and desirable impression +upon the most highly cultivated society. Those who know him well will +assent to the justness of a classification which places him in the same +list of intellectual diplomats which embraces Bunsen, Guizot, and our +own Everett, Irving, Bancroft and Marsh. + + +[Illustration: No. I.--WINGED HUMAN-HEADED BULL.] + +DR. LAYARD'S RECENT GIFTS FROM NIMROUD. + +The researches of no antiquary or traveler in modern times have excited +so profound an interest as those of Austen Henry Layard, who has +summoned the kings and people of Nineveh through three thousand years to +give their testimony against the skeptics of our age in support of the +divine revelation. In a former number of _The International_ we +presented an original and very interesting letter from Dr. Layard +himself, upon the nature and bearing of his discoveries. Since then he +has sent to London, where they have arrived in safety, several of the +most important sculptures described in his work republished here last +year by Mr. Putnam. Among them are the massive and imposing statues of a +human-headed bull and a human-headed lion, of which we have engravings +in some of the London journals. The _Illustrated London News_ describes +these specimens of ancient art as follows: + +"No. I. is the Human-Headed and Eagle-Winged Bull. This animal would +seem to bear some analogy to the Egyptian sphynx, which represents the +head of the King upon the body of the lion, and is held by some to be +typical of the union of intellectual power with physical strength. The +sphynx of the Egyptians, however, is invariably sitting, whereas the +Nimroud figure is always represented standing. The apparent resemblance +being so great, it is at least worthy of consideration whether the head +on the winged animals of the Ninevites may not be that of the King, and +the intention identical with that of the sphynx; though we think it more +probable that there is no such connection, and that the intention of the +Ninevites was to typify their god under the common emblems of +intelligence, strength and swiftness, as signified by the additional +attributes of the bird. The specimen immediately before us is of gypsum, +and of colossal dimensions, the slab being ten feet square by two feet +in thickness. It was situated at the entrance of a chamber, being built +into the side of the door, so that one side and a front view only could +be seen by the spectator. Accordingly, the Ninevite sculptor, in order +to make both views perfect, has given the animal five legs. The four +seen in the side view show the animal in the act of walking; while, to +render the representation complete in the front view, he has repeated +the right fore leg again, but in the act of standing motionless. The +countenance is noble and benevolent in expression; the features are of +true Persian type; he wears an egg-shaped cap, with three horns and a +cord round the base of it. The hair at the back of the head has seven +ranges of curls; and the beard, as in the portraits of the King, is +divided into three ranges of curls, with intervals of wavy hair. In the +ears, which are those of a bull, are pendent ear-rings. The whole of the +dewlap is covered with tiers of curls, and four rows are continued +beneath the ribs along the whole flank; on the back are six rows of +curls, and upon the haunch a square bunch, ranged successively, and down +the back of the thigh four rows. The hair at the end of the tail is +curled like the beard, with intervals of wavy hair. The hair at the knee +joints is likewise curled, terminating in the profile views of the limbs +in a single curl of the kind (if we may use the term) called _croche +coeur_. The elaborately sculptured wings extend over the back of the +animal to the very verge of the slab. All the flat surface of the slab +is covered with cuneiform inscription; there being twenty-two lines +between the fore legs, twenty-one lines in the middle, nineteen lines +between the hind legs, and forty-seven lines between the tail and the +edge of the slab. The whole of this slab is unbroken, with the exception +of the fore-feet, which arrived in a former importation, but which are +now restored to their proper place. + +[Illustration: No. II.--WINGED HUMAN-HEADED LION.] + +"No. II. represents the Human-Headed and Winged Lion--nine feet long, +and the same in height; and in purpose and position the same as the +preceding, which, however, it does not quite equal in execution. In this +relievo we have the same head, with the egg-shaped three-horned +head-dress, exactly like that of the bull; but the ear is human, and not +that of a lion. The beard and hair of the head are even yet more +elaborately curled than the last; but the hair on the legs and sides of +the animal represents that shaggy appendage of the animal. Round the +loins is a succession of numerous cords, which are drawn into four +separate knots; at the extremities are fringes, forming as many distinct +tassels. At the end of the tail, the claw--on which we commented in a +former article--is distinctly visible. The strength of both animals is +admirably and characteristically conveyed. Upon the flat surface of this +slab, as in the last, is a cuneiform inscription; twenty lines being +between the fore legs, twenty-six in the middle, eighteen between the +hind legs, and seventy-one at the back." + +On the subject of Eastern languages, an understanding of which is +necessary to the just apprehension of these inscriptions, that most +acute antiquary, Major Rawlinson, remarks: + +"My own impression is that hundreds of the languages at one time current +through Asia are now utterly lost; and it is not, therefore, to be +expected that philologists or ethnologists will ever succeed in making +out a genealogical table of language, and in affiliating all the various +dialects. Coming to the Assyrian and Babylonian languages, we were first +made acquainted with them as translations of the Persian and Parthian +documents in the trilingual inscriptions of Persia; but lately we have +had an enormous amount of historical matter brought to light in tablets +of stone written in these languages alone. The languages in question I +certainly consider to be Semitic. I doubt whether we could trace at +present in any of the buildings or inscriptions of Assyria and Babylonia +the original primitive civilization of man--that civilization which took +place in the very earliest ages. I am of opinion that civilization first +showed itself in Egypt after the immigration of the early tribes from +Asia. I think that the human intellect first germinated on the Nile, and +that then there was, in a later age, a reflux of civilization from the +Nile back to Asia. I am quite satisfied that the system of writing in +use on the Tigris and Euphrates was taken from the Nile; but I admit +that it was carried to a much higher state of perfection in Assyria than +it had ever reached in Egypt. The earliest Assyrian inscriptions were +those lately discovered by Mr. Layard in the north-west Palace at +Nimroud, being much earlier than anything found at Babylon. Now, the +great question is the date of these inscriptions. Mr. Layard himself, +when he published his book on Nineveh, believed them to be 2500 years +before the Christian era; but others, and Dr. Hincks among the number, +brought them down to a much later date, supposing the historical tablets +to refer to the Assyrian kings mentioned in Scripture--(Shalmaneser, +Sennacherib, &c.). I do not agree with either one of these calculations +or the other. I am inclined to place the earliest inscriptions from +Nimroud between 1350 and 1200 before the Christian era; because, in the +first place, they had a limit to antiquity; for in the earliest +inscriptions there was a notice of the seaports of Phoenicia, of Tyre +and Sidon, of Byblus, Arcidus, &c.; and it was well known that these +cities were not founded more than 1500 years before the Christian era. +We have every prospect of a most important accession to our materials, +for every letter I get from the countries now being explored announces +fresh discoveries of the utmost importance. In Lower Chaldea, Mr. +Loftus, the geologist to the commission appointed to fix the boundaries +between Turkey and Persia, has visited many cities which no European had +ever reached before, and has everywhere found the most extraordinary +remains. At one place (Senkereh) he had come on a pavement, extending +from half an acre to an acre, entirely covered with writing, which was +engraved upon baked tiles, &c. At Wurka (or Ur of the Chaldees), whence +Abraham came out, he had found innumerable inscriptions; they were of no +great extent, but they were exceedingly interesting, giving many royal +names previously unknown. Wurka (Ur or Orchoe) seemed to be a holy city, +for the whole country, for miles upon miles, was nothing but a huge +necropolis. In none of the excavations of Assyria had coffins ever been +found, but in this city of Chaldea there were thousands upon thousands. +The story of Abraham's birth at Wurka did not originate with the Arabs, +as had sometimes been conjectured, but with the Jews; and the Orientals +had numberless fables about Abraham and Nimroud. Mr. Layard in +excavating beneath the great pyramid at Nimroud, had penetrated a mass +of masonry, within which he _had discovered the tomb and statue of_ +Sardanapalus, accompanied by full annals of the monarch's reign engraved +on the walls! He had also found tablets of all sorts, all of them being +historical; but the crowning discovery he had yet to describe. The +palace at Nineveh, or Koynupih, had evidently been destroyed by fire, +but one portion of the building seemed to have escaped its influence; +and Mr. Layard, in excavating in this part of the palace, had found a +large room filled with what appeared to be the archives of the empire, +ranged in successive tablets of terra cotta, the writings being as +perfect as when the tablets were first stamped. They were piled in huge +heaps from the floor to the ceiling. From the progress already made in +reading the inscriptions, I believe we shall be able pretty well to +understand the contents of these tablets; at all events, we shall +ascertain their general purport, and thus gain much valuable +information. A passage might be remembered in the book of Ezra where the +Jews, having been disturbed in building the Temple, prayed that search +might be made in the house of records for the edict of Cyrus permitting +them to return to Jerusalem. The chamber recently found there might be +presumed to be the house of records of the Assyrian kings, where copies +of the royal edicts were duly deposited. When these tablets have been +examined and deciphered, I believe that we shall have a better +acquaintance with the history, the religion, the philosophy, and the +jurisprudence of Assyria, 1500 years before the Christian era, than we +have of Greece or Rome during any period of their respective histories." + +Besides the gigantic figures of which we have copied engravings in the +preceding pages, Dr. Layard has sent to the British Museum a large +number of other sculptures, some of which are still more interesting for +the light they reflect upon ancient Assyrian history. For these, as for +the Grecian marbles and Egyptian antiquities, a special gallery is being +fitted up. + + +[Illustration: JONATHAN SWIFT.] + +DEAN SWIFT'S CHARACTER AND HIS AMOURS. + +The name of Swift is one of the most familiar in English history. Of the +twenty octavo volumes in which his works are printed, only a part of one +volume is read; but this part of a volume is read by everybody, and +admired by everybody, though singularly enough not one in a thousand +ever thinks of its real import, or appreciates it for what are and what +were meant to be its highest excellences. As the author of "Gulliver's +Travels," Swift is a subject of general interest; and this interest is +deepened, but scarcely diffused, by the chain of enigmas which has +puzzled so many of his biographers. + +The most popular life of Dean Swift is Mr. Roscoe's, but since that was +written several works have appeared, either upon his whole history or in +elucidation of particular portions of it: one of which was a careful +investigation and discussion of his madness, published about two years +ago. In the last number of _The International_ we mentioned the curious +novel of "Stella and Vanessa," in which a Frenchman has this year +essayed his defense against the common judgment in the matter of his +amours, and we copy in the following pages an article from the London +_Times_, which was suggested by this performance. + +M. De Wailly's "Stella and Vanessa" is unquestionably a very ingenious +and brilliant fiction--in every sense only a fiction--for its hypotheses +are all entirely erroneous. Even Mr. Roscoe, whose Memoir has been +called an elaborate apology, and who, as might have been expected from a +man of so amiable and charitable a character, labors to put the best +construction upon all Swift's actions,--even he shrinks from the +vindication of the Dean's conduct toward Miss Vanhomrigh and Mrs. +Johnson. In treating of the charges which are brought against Swift +while he was alive, or that have since been urged against his +reputation, the elegant historian calls to his aid every palliating +circumstance; and where no palliating circumstances are to be found, +seeks to enlist our benevolent feelings in behalf of a man deeply +unfortunate, persecuted by his enemies, neglected by his friends, and +haunted all his life by the presentiment of a fearful calamity, by which +at length in his extreme old age he was assaulted and overwhelmed. On +some points Mr. Roscoe must be said to have succeeded in this advocacy, +so honorable alike to him and to its subject; but the more serious +charges against Swift remain untouched, and probably will forever remain +so, by whatever ability, or eloquence, or generous partiality, combated. +To speak plainly, Swift was an irredeemably bad man, devoured by vanity +and selfishness, and so completely dead to every elevated and manly +feeling, that he was always ready to sacrifice those most devotedly +attached to him for the gratification of his unworthy passion for power +and notoriety. + +Swift's life, though dark and turbulent, was nevertheless romantic. He +concealed the repulsive odiousness of an unfeeling heart under manners +peculiarly fascinating, which conciliated not only the admiration and +attachment of more than one woman, but likewise the friendship of +several eminent men, who were too much dazzled by the splendor of his +conversation to detect the base qualities which existed in the +background. But these circumstances only enhance the interest of his +life. At every page there is some discussion which strongly interests +our feelings: some difficulty to be removed, some mystery to keep alive +curiosity. We neither know, strictly speaking, who Swift was, what were +the influences which raised him to the position he occupied, by what +intricate ties he was connected with Stella, or what was the nature of +that singular grief, which, in addition to the sources of sorrow to +which we have alluded, preyed on him continually, and at last +contributed largely to the overthrow of his reason. On this account it +is not possible to proceed with indifference through the circumstances +of his life, though very few careful examiners will be able to interpret +them in a lenient and charitable spirit. + +Mr. Roscoe appears to believe that everybody who regards unfavorably +Swift's genius and morals, must be actuated by envy or party spirit, but +very few of the later or earlier critics are of his opinion. In the +first place, most honorable men would rather remain unknown through +eternity than accept the Dean's reputation. As Savage Landor says, he +was "irreverential to the great and to God: an ill-tempered, sour, +supercilious man, who flattered some of the worst and maligned some of +the best men that ever lived." Whatever services he performed for the +party from which he apostatized, there is nothing in his more permanent +writings which can be of the slightest advantage to English toryism. +Indeed, in politics and in morals, he appears never to have had any +fixed principles. He served the party which he thought most likely to +make him a bishop, and deserted it when he discovered that it was losing +ground. He studied government not as a statesman but as a partisan, as a +hardy, active, and unscrupulous Swiss, who could and would do much dirty +work for a minister, if he saw reason to anticipate a liberal +compensation. He however always extravagantly exaggerated his own +powers, and so have his biographers, and so has the writer of the +following article from _The Times_, who seems to have accepted with too +little scrutiny the estimate he made of himself. The complacency with +which he frequently refers to his supposed influence over the ministers +is simply ludicrous. He entirely loses sight of both his own position +and theirs. Shrewd as he shows himself under other circumstances, he is +here as verdant as the greenest peasant from the forest. "I use the +ministers like dogs," he says in a letter to Stella, but in reality the +ministers made a dog of him, employing him to fetch and carry, and bark, +and growl, and show his sharp teeth to their enemies; and when the noise +he had made had served their purpose,--when he had frightened away many +of their assailants, and by the dirt and stench he had raised had +compelled even their friends to stand aloof, they cashiered him, as they +would a mastiff grown toothless and incapable of barking. With no more +dirty work for him to do, they sent him over to Dublin, to be rid of his +presence. + +When fairly settled down in a country which he had always hitherto +affected at least to detest, he began to feel perhaps some genuine +attachment for its people, and on many occasions he exerted himself +vigorously for their advantage; though it is possible that the real +impulse was a desire to vex and embarrass the administration, which had +so galled his self-conceit. Whatever the motive, however, he undoubtedly +worked industriously and with great effect, for the benefit of Ireland. +His style was calculated to be popular: it was simple, transparent, and +though copious, pointed and energetic. His pamphlets, in the midst of +their reasoning, sarcasm, and solemn banter, displayed an extent, a +variety and profundity of knowledge altogether unequaled in the case of +any other writer of that time. But the action of his extraordinary +powers was never guided by a spark of honorable principle. The giant was +as unscrupulous as the puniest and basest demagogue who coined and +scattered lies for our own last election. He would seem to be the model +whom half a dozen of our city editors were striving with weaker wing to +imitate. He never acknowledged any merit in his antagonists, he +scattered his libels right and left without mercy, threw out of sight +all the charities and even decencies of private life, and affirmed the +most monstrous propositions with so cool, calm and solemn an air, that +in nine cases out of ten they were sure to be believed. + +Without further observation we proceed with the interesting article of +_The Times_, occasioned by M. Leon de Wailly's curious and very clever +romance of "Stella and Vanessa." + + +[Illustration: "VANESSA." (MISS VANHOMRIGH.)] + +[From the London Times.] + +THE AMOURS OF DEAN SWIFT. + +Greater men than Dean Swift may have lived. A more remarkable man never +left his impress upon the age immortalized by his genius. To say that +English history supplies no narrative more singular and original than +the career of Jonathan Swift is to assert little. We doubt whether the +histories of the world can furnish, for example and instruction, for +wonder and pity, for admiration and scorn, for approval and +condemnation, a specimen of humanity at once so illustrious and so +small. Before the eyes of his contemporaries Swift stood a living +enigma. To posterity he must continue forever a distressing puzzle. One +hypothesis--and one alone--gathered from a close and candid perusal of +all that has been transmitted to us upon this interesting subject, helps +us to account for a whole life of anomaly, but not to clear up the +mystery in which it is shrouded. From the beginning to the end of his +days Jonathan Swift was more or less MAD. + +Intellectually and morally, physically and religiously, Dean Swift was a +mass of contradictions. His career yields ample materials both for the +biographer who would pronounce a panegyric over his tomb and for the +censor whose business it is to improve one generation at the expense of +another. Look at Swift with the light of intelligence shining on his +brow, and you note qualities that might become an angel. Survey him +under the dark cloud, and every feature is distorted into that of a +fiend. If we tell the reader what he was, in the same breath we shall +communicate all that he was not. His virtues were exaggerated into +vices, and his vices were not without the savour of virtue. The +originality of his writings is of a piece with the singularity of his +character. He copied no man who preceded him. He has not been +successfully imitated by any who have followed him. The compositions of +Swift reveal the brilliancy of sharpened wit, yet it is recorded of the +man that he was never known to laugh. His friendships were strong and +his antipathies vehement and unrelenting, yet he illustrated friendship +by roundly abusing his familiars and expressed hatred by bantering his +foes. He was economical and saving to a fault, yet he made sacrifices to +the indigent and poor sternly denied to himself. He could begrudge the +food and wine consumed by a guest, yet throughout his life refuse to +derive the smallest pecuniary advantage from his published works, and at +his death bequeath the whole of his fortune to a charitable institution. +From his youth Swift was a sufferer in body, yet his frame was vigorous, +capable of great endurance, and maintained its power and vitality from +the time of Charles II. until far on in the reign of the second George. +No man hated Ireland more than Swift, yet he was Ireland's first and +greatest patriot, bravely standing up for the rights of that kingdom +when his chivalry might have cost him his head. He was eager for reward, +yet he refused payment with disdain. Impatient of advancement, he +preferred to the highest honors the State could confer the obscurity and +ignominy of the political associates with whom he had affectionately +labored until they fell disgraced. None knew better than he the stinging +force of a successful lampoon, yet such missiles were hurled by hundreds +at his head without in any way disturbing his bodily tranquillity. +Sincerely religious, scrupulously attentive to the duties of his holy +office, vigorously defending the position and privileges of his order, +he positively played into the hands of infidelity by the steps he took, +both in his conduct and writings, to expose the cant and hypocrisy which +he detested as heartily as he admired and practiced unaffected piety. To +say that Swift lacked tenderness would be to forget many passages of his +unaccountable history that overflow with gentleness of spirit and mild +humanity; but to deny that he exhibited inexcusable brutality where the +softness of his nature ought to have been chiefly evoked--where the want +of tenderness, indeed, left him a naked and irreclaimable savage--is +equally impossible. If we decline to pursue the contradictory series +further, it is in pity to the reader, not for want of materials at +command. There is, in truth, no end to such materials. + +Swift was born in the year 1667. His father, who was steward to the +Society of the King's Inn, Dublin, died before his birth and left his +widow penniless. The child, named Jonathan after his father, was brought +up on charity. The obligation due to an uncle was one that Swift would +never forget, or remember without inexcusable indignation. Because he +had not been left to starve by his relatives, or because his uncle would +not do more than he could, Swift conceived an eternal dislike to all who +bore his name and a haughty contempt for all who partook of his nature. +He struggled into active life and presented himself to his fellow-men in +the temper of a foe. At the age of fourteen he was admitted into Trinity +College, Dublin, and four years afterward as _a special grace_--for his +acquisitions apparently failed to earn the distinction--the degree of +Bachelor of Arts was conferred upon him. In 1688, the year in which the +war broke out in Ireland, Swift, in his twenty-first year, and without a +sixpence in his pocket, left college. Fortunately for him, the wife of +Sir William Temple was related to his mother, and upon her application +to that statesman the friendless youth was provided with a home. He took +up his abode with Sir William in England, and for the space of two years +labored hard at his own improvement and for the amusement of his patron. +How far Swift succeeded in winning the good opinion of Sir William may +be learnt from the fact that when King William honored Moor Park with +his presence he was permitted to take part in the interviews, and that +when Sir William was unable to visit the King his _protege_ was +commissioned to wait upon His Majesty, and to speak on the patron's +authority and behalf. The lad's future promised better things than his +beginning. He resolved to go into the church, since preferment stared +him in the face. In 1692 he proceeded to Oxford, where he obtained his +Master's degree, and in 1694, quarreling with Sir William Temple, who +coldly offered him a situation worth L100 a year, he quitted his patron +in disgust and went at once to Ireland to take holy orders. He was +ordained, and almost immediately afterward received the living of +Kilroot in the diocese of Connor, the value of the living being about +equal to that of the appointment offered by Sir William Temple. + +Swift, miserable in his exile, sighed for the advantages he had +abandoned. Sir William Temple, lonely without his clever and keen-witted +companion, pined for his return. The prebend of Kilroot was speedily +resigned in favor of a poor curate for whom Swift had taken great pains +to procure the presentation; and with L80 in his purse the independent +clergyman proceeded once more to Moor Park. Sir William welcomed him +with open arms. They resided together until 1699, when the great +statesman died, leaving to Swift, in testimony of his regard, the sum of +L100 and his literary remains. The remains were duly published and +humbly dedicated to the King. They might have been inscribed to His +Majesty's cook for any advantage that accrued to the editor. Swift was a +Whig, but his politics suffered severely by the neglect of His Majesty, +who derived no particular advantage from Sir William Temple's "remains." + +Weary with long and vain attendance upon Court, Swift finally accepted +at the hands of Lord Berkeley, one of the Lords Justices of Ireland, the +rectory of Agher and the vicarages of Laracor and Rathbeggan. In the +year 1700 he took possession of the living at Laracor, and his mode of +entering upon his duty was thoroughly characteristic of the man. He +walked down to Laracor, entered the curate's house, and announced +himself "as his master." In his usual style he affected brutality, and +having sufficiently alarmed his victims, gradually soothed and consoled +them by evidences of undoubted friendliness and good will. "This," says +Sir Walter Scott, "was the ruling trait of Swift's character to others; +his praise assumed the appearance and language of complaint; his +benefits were often prefaced by a prologue of a threatening nature." +"The ruling trait" of Swift's character was morbid eccentricity. Much +less eccentricity has saved many a murderer in our days from the +gallows. We approach a period of Swift's history when we must accept +this conclusion or revolt from the cold-blooded doings of a monster. + +During Swift's second residence with Sir William Temple he had become +acquainted with an inmate of Moor Park very different to the +accomplished man to whose intellectual pleasures he so largely +ministered. A young and lovely girl--half ward, half dependent in the +establishment--engaged the attention and commanded the untiring services +of the newly-made minister. Esther Johnson had need of education, and +Swift became her tutor. He entered upon his task with avidity, +condescended to the humblest instruction, and inspired his pupil with +unbounded gratitude and regard. Swift was not more insensible to the +simplicity and beauty of the lady than she to the kind offices of her +master; but Swift would not have been Swift had he, like other men, +returned everyday love with ordinary affection. Swift had felt tender +impressions in his own fashion before. Once in Leicestershire he was +accused by a friend of having formed an imprudent attachment, on which +occasion he returned for answer, that his "cold temper and unconfined +humor" would prevent all serious consequences, even if it were not true +that the conduct which his friend had mistaken for gallantry had been +merely the evidence "of an active and restless temper, incapable of +enduring idleness, and catching at such opportunities of amusement as +most readily occurred." Upon another occasion, and within four years of +the Leicestershire pastime, Swift made an absolute offer of his hand to +one Miss Waryng, vowing in his declaratory epistle that he would forego +every prospect of interest for the sake of his "Varina," and that "the +lady's love was far more fatal than her cruelty." After much and long +consideration Varina consented to the suit. That was enough for Swift. +He met the capitulation by charging his Varina with want of affection, +by stipulating for unheard-of sacrifices, and concluding with an +expression of his willingness to wed, "_though she had neither fortune_ +_nor beauty_," provided every article of his letter was ungrudgingly +agreed to. We may well tremble for Esther Johnson, with her young heart +given into such wild keeping. + +[Illustration: "STELLA." (ESTHER JOHNSON.)] + +As soon as Swift was established at Laracor it was arranged that Esther, +who possessed a small property in Ireland, should take up her abode near +to her old preceptor. She came, and scandal was silenced by a +stipulation insisted upon by Swift, that his lovely charge should have a +matron for a constant companion, and never see him except in the +presence of a third party. Esther was in her seventeenth year. The vicar +of Laracor was on his road to forty. What wonder that even in Laracor +the former should receive an offer of marriage, and that the latter, +wayward and inconsistent from first to last, should deny another the +happiness he had resolved never to enjoy himself? Esther found a lover +whom Swift repulsed, to the infinite joy of the devoted girl, whose fate +was already linked for good or evil to that of her teacher and friend. + +Obscurity and idleness were not for Swift. Love, that gradually consumed +the unoccupied girl, was not even this man's recreation. Impatient of +banishment, he went to London and mixed with the wits of the age. +Addison, Steele, and Arbuthnot became his friends, and he quickly proved +himself worthy of their intimacy by the publication in 1704 of his _Tale +of a Tub_. The success of the work, given to the world anonymously, was +decisive. Its singular merit obtained for its author everlasting renown, +and effectually prevented his rising to the highest dignity in the very +church which his book labored to exalt. None but an inspired madman +would have attempted to do honor to religion in a spirit which none but +the infidel could heartily approve. + +Politicians are not squeamish. The Whigs could see no fault in raillery +and wit that might serve temporal interests with greater advantage than +they had advanced interests ecclesiastical; and the friends of the +Revolution welcomed so rare an adherent to their principles. With an +affected ardor that subsequent events proved to be as premature as it +was hollow, Swift's pen was put in harness for his allies, and worked +vigorously enough until 1709, when, having assisted Steele in the +establishment of the _Tatler_, the vicar of Laracor returned to Ireland +and to the duties of a rural pastor. Not to remain, however! A change +suddenly came over the spirit of the nation. Sacheverell was about to +pull down by a single sermon all the popularity that Marlborough and his +friends had built up by their glorious campaigns. Swift had waited in +vain for promotion from the Whigs, and his suspicions were roused when +the Lord-Lieutenant unexpectedly began to caress him. Escaping the +damage which the marked attentions of the old Government might do him +with the new, Swift started for England in 1710, in order to survey the +turning of the political wheel with his own eyes, and to try his fortune +in the game. The progress of events was rapid. Swift reached London on +the 9th of September; on the 1st of October he had already written a +lampoon upon an ancient associate; and on the 4th he was presented to +Harley, the new Minister. + +The career of Swift from this moment, and so long as the government of +Harley lasted, was magnificent and mighty. Had he not been crotchety +from his very boyhood, his head would have been turned now. Swift +reigned; Swift was the Government; Swift was Queen, Lords, and Commons. +There was tremendous work to do, and Swift did it all. The Tories had +thrown out the Whigs and had brought in a Government in their place +quite as Whiggish to do Tory work. To moderate the wishes of the people, +if not to blind their eyes, was the preliminary and essential work of +the Ministry. They could not perform it themselves. Swift undertook the +task and accomplished it. He had intellect and courage enough for that, +and more. Moreover, he had vehement passions to gratify, and they might +all partake of the glory of his success; he was proud, and his pride +reveled in authority; he was ambitious, and his ambition could attain no +higher pitch than it found at the right hand of the Prime Minister; he +was revengeful, and revenge could wish no sweeter gratification than the +contortions of the great who had neglected genius and desert, when they +looked to them for advancement and obtained nothing but cold neglect. +Swift, single-handed, fought the Whigs. For seven months he conducted a +periodical paper, in which he mercilessly assailed, as none but himself +could attack, all who were odious to the Government and distasteful to +himself. Not an individual was spared whose sufferings could add to the +tranquillity and permanence of the Government. Resistance was in vain; +it was attempted, but invariably with one effect--the first wound +grazed, the second killed. + +The public were in ecstasies. The laughers were all on the side of the +satirist, and how vast a portion of the community these are, needs not +be said. But it was not in the _Examiner_ alone that Swift offered up +his victims at the shrine of universal mirth. He could write verses for +the rough heart of a nation to chuckle over and delight in. +Personalities to-day fly wide of the mark; then they went right home. +The habits, the foibles, the moral and physical imperfections of +humanity, were all fair game, provided the shaft were tipped with gall +as well as venom. Short poems, longer pamphlets--whatever could help the +Government and cover their foes with ridicule and scorn, Swift poured +upon the town with an industry and skill that set eulogy at defiance. +And because they did defy praise, Jonathan Swift never asked, and was +ever too grand to accept it. + +But he claimed much more. His disordered yet exquisite intellect +acknowledged no superiority. He asked no thanks for his labor, he +disdained pecuniary reward for his matchless and incalculable +services--he did not care for fame, but he imperiously demanded to be +treated by the greatest as an equal. Mr. Harley offered him money, and +he quarreled with the Minister for his boldness. "If we let these great +Ministers," he said, "pretend too much, _there will be no governing +them_." The same Minister desired to make Swift his chaplain. One +mistake was as great as the other. "My Lord Oxford, by a second hand, +proposed my being his chaplain, which I, by a second hand, refused. I +will be no man's chaplain alive." The assumption of the man was more +than regal. At a later period of his life he drew up a list of his +friends, ranking them respectively under the heads "Ungrateful," +"Grateful," "Indifferent," and "Doubtful." Pope appears among the +grateful. Queen Caroline among the ungrateful. The audacity of these +distinctions is very edifying. What autocrat is here for whose mere +countenance the whole world is to bow down and be "grateful!" + +It is due to Swift's imperiousness, however, to state that, once +acknowledged as an equal, he was prepared to make every sacrifice that +could be looked for in a friend. Concede his position, and for fortune +or disgrace he was equally prepared. Harley and Bolingbroke, quick to +discern the weakness, called their invulnerable ally by his Christian +name, but stopped short of conferring upon him any benefit whatever. The +neglect made no difference to the haughty scribe, who contented himself +with pulling down the barriers that had been impertinently set up to +separate him from rank and worldly greatness. But, if Swift shrank from +the treatment of a client, he performed no part so willingly as that of +a patron. He took literature under his wing and compelled the Government +to do it homage. He quarreled with Steele when he deserted the Whigs, +and pursued his former friend with unflinching sarcasm and banter, but +at his request Steele was maintained by the Government in an office of +which he was about to be deprived. Congreve was a Whig, but Swift +insisted that he should find honor at the hands of the Tories, and +Harley honored him accordingly. Swift introduced Gay to Lord +Bolingbroke, and secured that nobleman's weighty patronage for the poet. +Rowe was recommended for office, Pope for aid. The well-to-do, by +Swift's personal interest, found respect, the indigent, money for the +mitigation of their pains. At Court, at Swift's instigation, the Lord +Treasurer made the first advances to men of letters, and by the act made +tacit confession of the power which Swift so liberally exercised, for +the advantage of everybody but himself. But what worldly distinction, in +truth, could add to the importance of a personage who made it a point +for a Duke to pay him the first visit, and who, on one occasion, +publicly sent the Prime Minister into the House of Commons to call out +the First Secretary of State, whom Swift wished to inform that he would +not dine with him if he meant to dine late? + +A lampoon directed against the Queen's favorite, upon whose red hair +Swift had been facetious, prevented the satirist's advancement in +England. The see of Hereford fell vacant in 1712. Bolingbroke would now +have paid the debt due from his Government to Swift, but the Duchess of +Somerset, upon her knees, implored the Queen to withhold her consent +from the appointment, and Swift was pronounced by Her Majesty as "too +violent in party" for promotion. The most important man in the kingdom +found himself in a moment the most feeble. The fountain of so much honor +could not retain a drop of the precious waters for itself. Swift, it is +said, laid the foundations of fortune for upward of forty families who +rose to distinction by a word from his lips. What a satire upon power +was the satirist's own fate! He could not advance himself in England one +inch. Promotion in Ireland began and ended with his appointment to the +Deanery of St. Patrick, of which he took possession, much to his disgust +and vexation, in the summer of 1713. + +The summer, however, was not over before Swift was in England again. The +wheels of government had come to a dead lock, and of course none but he +could right them. The Ministry was at sixes and sevens. Its very +existence depended upon the good understanding of the chiefs, +Bolingbroke and Harley, and the wily ambition of the latter, jarring +against the vehement desires of the former, had produced jealousy, +suspicion, and now threatened immediate disorganization. A thousand +voices called the Dean to the scene of action, and he came full of the +importance of his mission. He plunged at once into the vexed sea of +political controversy, and whilst straining every effort to court his +friends, let no opportunity slip of galling their foes. His pen was as +damaging and industrious as ever. It set the town in a fever. It caused +Richard Steele to be expelled from the House of Commons, and it sent the +whole body of Scotch peers, headed by the Duke of Argyle, to the Queen, +with the prayer that a proclamation might be issued for the discovery of +their libeller. Swift was more successful in his assaults than in its +mediation. The Ministers were irreconcilable. Vexed at heart with +disappointment, the Dean, after his manner, suddenly quitted London, and +shut himself up in Berkshire. One attempt he made in his strict +seclusion to uphold the Government and save the country, and the +composition is a curiosity in its way. He published a proposition for +the exclusion of all Dissenters from power of every kind, for +disqualifying Whigs and Low Churchmen for every possible office, and for +compelling the presumptive heir to the throne to declare his abomination +of Whigs, and his perfect satisfaction with Her Majesty's present +advisers. Matters must have been near a crisis when this modest pamphlet +was put forth; and so they were. By his intrigues Bolingbroke had +triumphed over his colleagues, and Oxford was disgraced. The latter, +about to retire into obscurity, addressed a letter to Swift, entreating +him, if he were not tired of his former prosperous friend, "to throw +away so much time on one who loved him as to attend him upon his +melancholy journey." The same post brought him word that his own victory +was won. Bolingbroke triumphant besought his Jonathan, as he loved his +Queen, to stand by her Minister, and to aid him in his perilous +adventure. Nothing should be wanting to do justice to his loyalty. The +Duchess of Somerset would be reconciled, the Queen would be gracious, +the path of honor should lie broad, open, and unimpeded before him. +Bolingbroke and Harley were equally the friends of Swift. What could he +do in his extremity? What would a million men, taken at random from the +multitude, have done, had they been so situated, so tempted? Not that +upon which Swift in his chivalrous magnanimity, at once decided. He +abandoned the prosperous to follow and console the unfortunate. "I +meddle not with Lord Oxford's faults," is his noble language, "as he was +a Minister of State, but his personal kindness to me was excessive. He +distinguished and chose me above all men when he was great." Within a +few days of Swift's self-denying decision Queen Anne was a corpse, +Bolingbroke and Oxford both flying for their lives, and Swift himself +hiding his unprotected head in Ireland amidst a people who at once +feared and hated him. + +During Swift's visit to London in 1710 he had regularly transmitted to +Stella, by which name Esther Johnson is made known to posterity, an +account of his daily doings with the new Government. The journal +exhibits the view of the writer that his conduct invariably presents. It +is full of tenderness and confidence, and not without coarseness that +startles and shocks. It contains a detailed and minute account, not only +of all that passed between Swift and the Government, but of his +changeful feelings as they arose from day to day, and of his physical +infirmities, that are commonly whispered into the ear of a physician. If +Swift loved Stella in the ordinary acceptation of the term, he took +small pains in his diary to elevate the sentiments with which she +regarded her hero. The journal is not in harmony throughout. Toward the +close it lacks the tenderness and warmth, the minuteness and +confidential utterance, that are so visible at the beginning. We are +enabled to account for the difference. Swift had enlarged the circle of +his female acquaintance whilst fighting for his friends in London. He +had become a constant visitor, especially, at the house of a Mrs. +Vanhomrigh, who had two daughters, the eldest of whom was about twenty +years of age, and had the same Christian name as Stella. Esther +Vanhomrigh had great taste for reading, and Swift, who seems to have +delighted in such occupation, condescended, for the second time in his +life, to become a young lady's instructor. The great man's tuition had +always one effect upon his pupils. Before Miss Vanhomrigh had made much +progress in her studies she was over head and ears in love, and, to the +astonishment of her master, she one day declared the passionate and +undying character of her attachment. Swift met the confession with a +weapon far more potent when opposed to a political foe than when +directed against the weak heart of a doting woman. He had recourse to +raillery, but, finding his banter of no avail, endeavored to appease the +unhappy girl by "an offer of devoted and everlasting friendship, founded +on the basis of virtuous esteem." He might with equal success have +attempted to put out a conflagration with a bucket of cold water. There +was no help for the miserable man. He returned to his deanery at the +death of Queen Anne with two love affairs upon his hands, but with the +stern resolution of encouraging neither, and overcoming both. + +Before quitting England he wrote to Esther Vanhomrigh, or Vanessa, as he +styles her in his correspondence, intimating his intention to forget +everything in England and to write to her as seldom as possible. So far +the claims of Vanessa were disposed of. As soon as he reached his +deanery he secured lodgings for Stella and her companion, and reiterated +his determination to pursue his intercourse with the young lady upon the +prudent terms originally established. So far his mind was set at rest in +respect of Stella. But Swift had scarcely time to congratulate himself +upon his plans before Vanessa presented herself in Dublin, and made +known to the Dean her resolution to take up her abode permanently in +Ireland. Her mother was dead, so were her two brothers; she and her +sister were alone in the world, and they had a small property near +Dublin, to which it suited them to retire. Swift, alarmed by the +proceeding, remonstrated, threatened, denounced--all in vain. Vanessa +met his reproaches with complaints of cruelty and neglect, and warned +him of the consequences of leaving her without the solace of his +friendship and presence. Perplexed and distressed, the Dean had no other +resource than to leave events to their own development. He trusted that +time would mitigate and show the hopelessness of Vanessa's passion, and +in the meanwhile he sought, by occasional communication with her, to +prevent any catastrophe that might result from actual despair. But his +thoughts for Vanessa's safety were inimical to Stella's repose. She +pined and gradually sunk under the alteration that had taken place in +Swift's deportment toward her since his acquaintance with Vanessa. +Swift, really anxious for the safety of his ward, requested a friend to +ascertain the cause of her malady. It was not difficult to ascertain it. +His indifference and public scandal, which spoke freely of their +unaccountable connection, were alone to blame for her sufferings. It was +enough for Swift. He had passed the age at which he had resolved to +marry, but he was ready to wed Stella provided the marriage were kept +secret and she was content to live apart. Poor Stella was more than +content, but she overestimated her strength. The marriage took place, +and immediately afterward the husband withdrew himself in a fit of +madness, which threw him into gloom and misery for days. What the +motives may have been for the inexplicable stipulations of this wayward +man it is impossible to ascertain. That they were the motives of a +diseased, and at times utterly irresponsible, judgment, we think cannot +be questioned. Of love, as a tender passion, Swift had no conception. +His writings prove it. The coarseness that pervades his compositions has +nothing in common with the susceptibility that shrinks from disgusting +and loathsome images in which Swift reveled. In all his prose and +poetical addresses to his mistresses there is not one expression to +prove the weakness of his heart. He writes as a guardian--he writes as a +friend--he writes as a father, but not a syllable escapes him that can +be attributed to the pangs and delights of the lover. + +Married to Stella, Swift proved himself more eager than ever to give to +his intercourse with Vanessa the character of mere friendship. He went +so far as to endeavor to engage her affections for another man, but his +attempts were rejected with indignation and scorn. In the August of the +year 1717 Vanessa retired from Dublin to her house and property near +Cellbridge. Swift exhorted her to leave Ireland altogether, but she was +not to be persuaded. In 1720 it would appear that the Dean frequently +visited the recluse in her retirement, and upon such occasions Vanessa +would plant a laurel or two in honor of her guest, who passed his time +with the lady reading and writing verses in a rural bower built in a +sequestered part of her garden. Some of the verses composed by Vanessa +have been preserved. They breathe the fond ardor of the suffering maid, +and testify to the imperturbable coldness of the man. Of the innocence +of their intercourse there cannot be a doubt. In 1720 Vanessa lost her +last remaining relative--her sister died in her arms. Thrown back upon +herself by this bereavement, the intensity of her love for the Dean +became insupportable. Jealous and suspicious, and eager to put an end to +a terror that possessed her, she resolved to address herself to Stella, +and to ascertain from her own lips the exact nature of her relations +with her so-called guardian. The momentous question was asked in a +letter, to which Stella calmly replied by informing her interrogator +that she was the Dean's wife. Vanessa's letter was forwarded by Stella +to Swift himself, and it roused him to fury. He rode off at once to +Cellbridge, he entered the apartment in which Vanessa was seated, and +glared upon her like a tiger. The trembling creature asked her visitor +to sit down. He answered the invitation by flinging a packet on the +table, and riding instantly away. The packet was opened; it contained +nothing but Vanessa's letter to Stella. Her doom was pronounced. The +fond heart snapped. In a few weeks the hopeless, desolate Vanessa was in +her grave. + +Swift, agonized, rushed from the world. For two months subsequently to +the death of Vanessa his place of abode was unknown. But at the end of +that period he returned to Dublin calmer for the conflict he had +undergone. He devoted himself industriously again to affairs of State. +His pen had now a nobler office than to sustain unworthy men in +unmerited power. We can but indicate the course of his labors. Ireland, +the country not of his love, but of his birth and adoption, treated as a +conquered province, owed her rescue from absolute thraldom to Swift's +great and unconquerable exertions on her behalf. He resisted the English +Government with his single hand, and overcame them in the fight. His +popularity in Ireland was unparalleled even in that excited and +generous-hearted land. Rewards were offered to betray him, but a million +lives would have been sacrificed in his place before one would have +profited by the patriot's downfall. He was worshiped, and every hair of +his head was precious and sacred to the people who adored him. + +In 1726 Swift revisited England, for the first time since the death of +Queen Anne, and published, anonymously as usual, the famous satire of +_Gulliver's Travels_. Its immediate success heralded the universal fame +that masterly and singular work has since achieved. Swift mingled once +more with his literary friends, and lived almost entirely with Pope. +Yet courted on all sides he was doomed again to bitter sorrow. News +reached him that Stella was ill. Alarmed and full of self-reproaches, he +hastened home to be received by the people of Ireland in triumph, and to +meet--and he was grateful for the sight--the improved and welcoming +looks of the woman for whose dissolution he had been prepared. In March, +1727, Stella being sufficiently recovered, the Dean ventured once more +to England, but soon to be resummoned to the hapless couch of his +exhausted and most miserable wife. Afflicted in body and soul, Swift +suddenly quitted Pope, with whom he was residing at Twickenham, and +reaching his home, was doomed to find his Stella upon the verge of the +grave. Till the last moment he continued at her bedside, evincing the +tenderest consideration, and performing what consolatory tasks he might +in the sick chamber. Shortly before her death part of a conversation +between the melancholy pair was overheard. "Well, my dear," said the +Dean, "if you wish it, it shall be owned." Stella's reply was given in +fewer words. "_It is too late._" "On the 28th of January," writes one of +the biographers of Swift, "Mrs. Johnson closed her weary pilgrimage, and +passed to that land where they neither marry nor are given in marriage," +the second victim of one and the same hopeless and consuming passion. + +Swift stood alone in the world, and for his punishment was doomed to +endure the crushing solitude for the space of seventeen years. The +interval was gloomy indeed. From his youth the Dean had been subject to +painful fits of giddiness and deafness. From 1736 these fits became more +frequent and severe. In 1740 he went raving mad, and frenzy ceased only +to leave him a more pitiable idiot. During the space of three years the +poor creature was unconscious of all that passed around him, and spoke +but twice. Upon the 19th of October, 1745, God mercifully removed the +terrible spectacle from the sight of man, and released the sufferer from +his misery, degradation, and shame. + +The volumes, whose title is found below,[1] and which have given +occasion to these remarks, are a singular comment upon a singular +history. It is the work of a Frenchman who has ventured to deduce a +theory from the _data_ we have submitted to the reader's notice. With +that theory we cannot agree: it may be reconcilable to the romance which +M. de Wailly has invented, but it is altogether opposed to veritable +records that cannot be impugned. M. de Wailly would have it that Swift's +marriage with Stella was a deliberate and rational sacrifice of love to +principle, and that Swift compensated his sacrificed love by granting +his principle no human indulgences; that his love for Vanessa, in fact, +was sincere and ardent, and that his duty to Stella alone prevented a +union with Vanessa. To prove his case M. de Wailly widely departs from +history, and makes his hypothesis of no value whatever, except to the +novel reader. As a romance, written by a Frenchman, _Stella and Vanessa_ +is worthy of great commendation. It indicates a familiar knowledge of +English manners and character, and never betrays, except here and there +in the construction of the plot, the hand of a foreigner. It is quite +free from exaggeration, and inasmuch as it exhibits no glaring +anachronism or absurd caricature, is a literary curiosity. We accept it +as such, though bound to reject its higher claims. The mystery of +Swift's amours has yet to be cleared up. We explain his otherwise +unaccountable behavior by attributing his cruelty to prevailing +insanity. The career of Swift was brilliant, but not less wild than +dazzling. The sickly hue of a distempered brain gave a color to his acts +in all the relations of life. The storm was brewing from his childhood; +it burst forth terribly in his age, and only a moment before all was +wreck and devastation, the half-distracted man sat down and made a will, +by which he left the whole of his worldly possessions for the foundation +of a lunatic asylum. + + [1: _Stella and Vanessa: A Romance from the French. By Lady Duff + Gordon. In two vols. Bentley. 1850.] + + + + +AUTHORS AND BOOKS. + + +We find in the _Deutsche Zeitung aus Boehmen_, an account of a visit to +the great German satirist and poet Henry Heine, who lives at Paris, +where, as is known, he has long been confined to his bed with a +lingering illness. We translate the following for the _International_:-- + +"It is indeed a painful or rather a terrible condition in which Heine +now is and has been for the past year; though the paralysis has made no +progress, it has at least experienced no alleviation. He has now lain +near two years in bed, and during that time has not seen a tree nor a +speck of the blue sky. He cannot raise himself, and scarcely moves. His +left eye is blind, his right can just perceive objects, but cannot bear +the light of day. His nights are disturbed by fearful torments, and only +morphine can produce him the least repose. Hope of recovery has long +been given up, and he himself entertains no illusions on that subject. +He knows that his sufferings can end only with death. He speaks of this +with the utmost composure." + +The writer goes on to contradict, as calumnious, the report that Heine +had become religious, saying, that he bears his tortures without "the +assistance of saints of any color, and by the inward power of the free +man." He does not regard himself as a sinner, and has nothing to repent +of, since he has but rejoiced like a child, in everything +beautiful--chasing butterflies, finding flowers by the way-side, and +making a holiday of his whole life. He has, however, often called +himself religious, by way of contradiction, and from antipathy to a +certain clique who openly proclaim themselves atheists, and under that +sonorous title seek to exercise a certain terror on others. + +It seems that Heine has lost a great deal of property through various +speculators who have persuaded him to join in their schemes. The writer +says: "Heine's friends are enraged at many of these individuals, and +urge him to attack them publicly, and show them up in their true light. +He owes this satisfaction to himself and to us; at the same time it +would conciliate many who have not pardoned him the cavalier air with +which he has turned off the most respectable notabilities of literature +and patriotism, in order to amuse himself in the company of some +adventurer." By this love for out-of-the-way characters, the writer +thinks that Heine must have collected the materials for a humorous +novel, which could equal the best productions of Mendoza, Smollett, or +Dickens; his experiences in this line have cost him a great deal of +money. We translate the conclusion of the article:-- + +"We shall be asked if Heine really continues to write? Yes; he writes, +he works, he dictates poems without cessation; perhaps he was never in +his whole life as active as now. Several hours a day he devotes to the +composition of his memoirs which are rapidly advancing under the hand of +his secretary. His mind still resembles, in its wonderful fullness and +vigor, those fantastic ball-nights of Paris, which, under the open sky, +unfold an endless life and variety. There rings the music, there rushes +the dance, and the loveliest and grotesquest forms flit hither and +thither. There are silent arbors for tears of happiness and sorrow, and +places for dancing, with light, full of loud bold laughter. Rockets +after rockets mount skyward, scattering millions of stars, and endless +extravagance of art, fire, poesy, passion, flames up, showing the world +now in green, now in purple light, till at last the clear silver stars +come out, and fill us with infinite delight, and the still consciousness +of life's beauty. Yes, Heine lives and writes incessantly. His body is +broken, but not his mind, which, on the sick bed rises to Promethean +power and courage. His arm is impotent; not so his satire, which still +in its velvet covering bears the fearful knife that has flayed alive so +many a Maryas. Yes, his frame is worn away, but not the grace in every +movement of his youthful spirit. Along with his memoirs, a complete +volume of poems has been written in these two years. They will not +appear till after the death of the poet; but I can say of them that they +unite in full perfection all the admirable gifts which have rendered his +former poems so brilliant. So struggles this extraordinary man against a +terrible destiny, with all the weapons of the soul, never despairing in +this vehement suffering, never descending to tears--bidding defiance to +the worst. As I stood before that sick bed, it seemed as if I saw the +sufferer of the Caucasus bound in iron chains, tortured by the vulture, +but still confronting fate unappalled, and there alone on the sea-shore +caressed by sea-nymphs. Yes, this is the sick-bed and the death-bed of a +great and free man; and to have come near him is not only a great +happiness but a great instruction." + +Heine has never been well known in this country. The only work +by him we have seen in English is his _Beitrage zur Deutschen +Literatur-Geschichte_, translated by Mr. G.W. Haven, and published in +Boston, in 1846. It is remarkably clever, and audacious, as the +productions of this German-Frenchman generally are. He is now +fifty-three years of age, having been born at Dusseldorff, in 1797. As +several wealthy bankers, and other persons of substance, in Paris, are +related to him, and he has a pension from the French Government, he is +not likely to suffer very much from the losses of property referred to +in the _Zeitung aus Boehmen_. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Otto Zirckel has just published at Berlin a volume called "Sketches +from and concerning the United States," which has some curious +peculiarities to the eyes of an American. It is intended as a guide for +Germans who wish either to emigrate to this country or to send their +money here for investment. It begins with a description of the voyage to +America and of the East, West and South of the Union; next it describes +the position of the farmer, physician, clergyman, teacher, jurist, +merchant, and editor, and the chance of the emigrant in each of these +professions. It is written with spirit and humor, and a good deal of +practical judgment and wisdom are concisely and clearly expressed. The +curious part is the advice given to speculators who wish to invest their +money here at a high rate of interest. The author seems to think America +a perfect Eldorado for money lenders, and his book cannot fail to +produce a considerable increase in the amount of German capital employed +in this country. The various state and national loans are described +correctly, showing that Dr. Zirckel might venture safely into the mazes +of Wall Street. The history of repudiation he has studied with care, and +the necessity of final resumption of payments even in Mississippi he +estimates with justice. He suggests as the safest means of managing +matters, that a number of wealthy families should combine their funds +and send over a special agent in whom they can confide, to manage the +same in shaving notes, speculating in land, lending on bond and +mortgage, and making money generally. Thus they can get a high return +and live comfortably in Europe on the toil of Americans, all of which +will be much more grateful to the capitalists than useful to this +country. Better for us to have no foreign capital at all than to have +the interest thereon carried away and consumed in Europe. + + * * * * * + +Emile Silvestre has sent forth a new volume, _Un Philosophe sous les +Toits_. + + * * * * * + +The work on Aerostation, by Mr. Green, recently published in +Philadelphia, has been much noticed in Europe, where--particularly in +France--the subject has attracted large attention, in consequence of the +death of Gale, (formerly a player at our Bowery Theater,) near Bordeaux, +and the recent wicked and ridiculous ascents with horses, ostriches, &c. +from the Hippodrome in Paris, and some experiments in ballooning at +Madrid. In an interesting paper in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, for the +fifteenth of October, we have an account of numerous theories, +experiments, and accidents, constituting an entertaining _resume_ of the +whole matter. Few instances of intrepidity, danger, and escape, excite +livelier emotion than the crossing from England to France by Blanchard, +and Dr. Jeffries, an American, on the seventh of January, 1785. When, by +the loss of gas, the balloon descended rapidly over the channel, and +approached near the surface of the sea, after everything had been thrown +out, even to their clothes, Jeffries offered to leap into the sea, and +by thus lightening the balloon further, afford Blanchard a chance of +safety. "We must both be lost as the case is," said he; "if you think +your preservation is possible, I am ready to sacrifice my life." The +French military ascents are particularly described. Companies of +aeronauts were formed and trained, and Bonaparte took one of them with +him to Egypt, but the British captured all the apparatus for the +generation of gas. The First Consul caused ascents in picturesque +balloons to be made on occasions of public rejoicing for victories, in +order to strike the imaginations of the Egyptians, and an aerostatic +academy was established near Paris. The writer mentions that Lieutenant +Gale, like poor Sam Patch, so famous for a similar absurdity, and for a +similar and not less miserable end, had drank too much brandy for +self-possession in a dangerous predicament. He thinks that the problem +of the direction or government of balloons cannot possibly be solved +with the mechanical means which science now commands; and that, as they +may be usefully employed for the study of the great physical laws of the +globe, all experiments should be restricted to the object of advancing +science. He dwells on what might be accomplished toward ascertaining the +true laws of the decrease of temperature in the elevated regions of the +air, of the decrease of density of the atmosphere, of the decrease of +humidity according to atmospheric heights, and of the celerity of sound. +After all the experiments, and all that has been written upon the +subject, we are confident that the direction of a balloon is quite +impossible, except by a process which we have never yet seen suggested; +that is, by the rapid decomposition of the air in its way, so that a +tube extended in the direction in which it is desired to move, shall +open continually a vacuum into which the pressure of the common +atmosphere shall impel the carriage. + + * * * * * + +The _Journal des Debats_ announces for publication two works from the +pen of Guizot. The hero of the first is General Monk. Its title is _The +Downfall of the Republic in England in 1660, and the Reestablishment of +the Monarchy: A Historic Study_. It may be regarded as new, though part +has been published before in the form of articles in the _Revue +Francaise_. These articles appeared in 1837. M. Guizot has carefully +revised them, and added a great deal of new matter. The work is also to +be enriched with a number of curious documents never before published, +such as a letter from Richard Cromwell to General Monk, and seventy +dispatches from M. de Bordeaux, then French Ambassador at London, to +Cardinal Mazarin. These dispatches have been found in the archives of +the Foreign Office at Paris. The work has a new preface, which the +_Debats_ says will prove to be no less important in a political than a +historical point of view. The second book is that so well known in this +country upon Washington. We do not understand that anything new is added +to it. It was in the first place issued as the introduction of the +translation into French of Sparks's _Life of Washington_, which the +French journalist says is the most exact and complete work yet published +on the war of independence and the foundation of the United States. +"Monk and Washington," adds the _Debats_: "on the one side a republic +falling and a monarchy rising again into existence, on the other a +monarchy giving birth to a republic; and M. Guizot, formerly the prime +minister of our monarchy, now amid the perplexities of our own republic +the historian of these two great men and these two great events! Were +contrasts ever seen more striking, and more likely to excite a powerful +interest?" + +This is very well for the _Debats_. But the omissions by Mr. +Sparks--sometimes from carelessness, sometimes from ignorance, and +sometimes from an indisposition to revive memories of old feuds, or to +cover with disgrace names which should be dishonored; and his occasional +verbal alterations of Washington's letters prevent that general +satisfaction with which his edition of Washington would otherwise be +regarded. We are soon to have histories of the Revolution, from both +Sparks and Bancroft, in proper form. The best documentary history is +not, as the _Debats_ fancies, this collection of Washington's letters, +but Mr. Force's "Archives,"--of which, with its usual want of sagacity +or regard for duty, Congress is publishing but one tenth of the edition +necessary, since every statesman in our own country, and every writer on +American history at home or abroad, needs a copy of it, and from its +extent and costliness it will never be reprinted. + + * * * * * + +The Rabbi Cahen has published at Paris the Book of Job, which concludes +his learned version of the Hebrew Bible. + + * * * * * + +Works on the German Revolution and German Politics.--An excellent book +on the Prussian revolution is now being published at Oldenburg. It is +from the pen of Adolf Stahr, a writer of remarkable force and clearness. +He belongs to the party most bitterly disappointed by the turn affairs +have taken in Germany. We mean the democratic monarchists, who labored +under the illusion that they might see Prussia converted into a sort of +republic with a hereditary chief, like Belgium. They desired a monarchy, +with a parliament elected by universal suffrage, and democratic +institutions of every kind. Stahr's book breathes all the bitterness of +their rage at the success of absolutism in snatching from them every +slightest vestige of hope. His book is published serially, four parts +having already been issued. As a record of facts it deserves the praise +of great industry and lucidity in collection and arrangement, while on +every page there glows in suppressed eloquence the indignation of a +generous and manly heart. Of course Stahr cannot be called a historian +in the usual sense of the term. He is rather a political pamphleteer, +maintaining at length the ideas and chastising the foes of his party. + +Another and a more permanently valuable work on this subject is the +_Revolutions-Chronik_ (Revolutionary Chronicle) of Dr. Adolf Wolff, +published by Hempel of Berlin. This is a collection of authentic +documents, such as proclamations, placards, letters, legislative acts, +&c., connected with the revolution. They are not only arranged in due +order, but are combined with a clear and succinct narrative of the +events and circumstances to which they relate. We know of no man more +competent than Dr. Wolff to the successful execution of so important an +undertaking. Without being a partisan, his sympathies are decidedly on +the popular side, and the clearness of his judgment cannot be blinded by +any of the feints and stratagems in which the period abounded. He is now +engaged upon the revolution in Prussia, but intends to treat all the +manifestations of the time throughout Germany in the same thorough and +reliable manner. His work will be invaluable to future historians of +this eventful period; at the same time it reads like a romance, not only +from the nature of the events, but from the spirit and keenness of the +style. + +Two other striking contributions to the history of this stormy epoch +have been made by Bruno Bauer, the well known rationalist. Bauer treats +the political and religious parties of modern Germany with the same +scornful satire and destructive analysis which appear in his theological +writings. He delights in pitting one side against the other and making +them consume each other. His first book is called the _Buergerliche +Revolution in Deutschland_, (the Burghers' Revolution in Germany); it +was published above a year ago, and attracted a great deal of attention +from the fact that it took neither side, but with a sort of +Mephistophelian superiority, showed that every party had been alike +weak, timid, hesitating, short-sighted, and useless. The New-Catholics +of Ronge's school were especially treated with unsparing severity. Bauer +has now just brought out his second book, which is particularly devoted +to the Frankfort Parliament. In this also the Hegelian Logic is applied +with the same result. The author proves that all that was done in that +body was worth nothing and produced nothing. There is not a particle of +sympathetic feeling in the whole book; but only cold and contemptuous +analysis. It has not made very much of an impression in Germany. Both +these works, and, indeed, the whole school of ultra-Hegelian skeptics +generally, are a singular reaction upon the usual warmth and +sentimentality of German character and literature. They are the very +opposite extreme, and so a very natural product of the times. For our +part we like them quite as well as the other side of the contrast. + + * * * * * + +Germany is the richest of all countries in historical literature. +Nowhere have all the events of human experience been so variously, +profoundly, or industriously investigated. Ancient history especially +has been most exhaustively treated by the Germans. One of the best and +most comprehensive works in this category is that of Dr. Zimmer, the +seventh edition of which, revised and enlarged, has just been published +at Leipzic. Dr. Zimmer does not proceed upon the hypotheses of Niebuhr +and others, but conceives that the writing of history and romance ought +to be essentially different. The whole work is in one volume of some 450 +pages, and of course greatly condensed. It discusses the history of +India, China, and Japan; the western Asiatic States, Assyria, Babylonia, +Syria, Phoenicia, India, down to the fall of Jerusalem; the other +parts of Asia; Egypt to the battle of Actium, with a dissertation on +Egyptian culture; Carthage; Greece to the fall of Corinth; Rome under +the emperors down to the year 476; and concludes with an account of the +literature of classical antiquity. + +As we have no manual of this sort in English, that is written up to the +latest results of scholarship, we hope to see some American undertaking +a version of Dr. Zimmer's book. There is considerable learning and +talent in the two octavos on the same subject by Dr. Hebbe, and +published last year by Dewitt & Davenport; but we strongly dislike some +of the doctrines of the work, which are _not_ derived from a thorough +study. + + * * * * * + +The seventh volume of Professor Schlosser's History of the Eighteenth +Century, and of the Nineteenth till the overthrow of the French Empire, +appeared, in translation, in London, on the first of November. Volume +eighth, completing the work, with a copious index, is preparing for +early publication. + + * * * * * + +The Discovery of a lost MS. of Jean Le Bel is mentioned in the Paris +papers, as having been made by M. Polain, keeper of the Archives at +Liege, among the MSS. in the _Bibliotheque de Bourgogne_, at Brussels. +It is on the eve of publication, and will be comprised in an octavo +volume, in black letter. This work was supposed to be irretrievably +lost. It was found by M. Polain, transcribed and incorporated into a +prose _Chronicle de Liege_, by Jean des Pres, dit _d'Ontremeuse_. It +comprises a period between 1325 and 1340, which are embraced in one +hundred and forty-six chapters of the first book of _Froissart_. It +therefore contains only the first part of Le Bel's Chronicle: +nevertheless it is a fragment of much importance. Froissart cannot be +considered as a contemporary historian of the events recorded in his +first book, but Le Bel was connected with the greater portion of them, +and was acquainted with them either from personal knowledge or through +those who had authentic sources of information. + + * * * * * + +Monsieur Bastiat, the political economist, (who has shown more economy +in the matter of credit for the best ideas in his books, than in +anything else we know of,) is not dead, as in the last _International_ +was stated. The _Courier and Enquirer_ correspondent says: + + "I am glad to say that the report which reached Paris from Italy, + of the death of F. Bastiat, a noted writer on political economy, is + unfounded. That gentleman is recovering his health, and it is now + believed will be able, at the opening of the session, to resume his + seat in the Assembly." + +Since his return from Italy he has published at Paris a new edition of +his latest production, the _Harmonies Economiques_, in which he has +availed himself in so large a degree and in so discreditable a manner of +the ideas of Mr. Henry C. Carey, of New Jersey, who, since he first gave +to the public the essentials of M. Bastiat's performance, has himself, +in a volume, entitled _The Harmony of Interests_, published some three +or four months ago in Philadelphia, largely and forcibly illustrated his +just and admirable doctrines. In the _Harmonies Economiques_ M. Bastiat +seeks to prove that the interests of classes and individuals in society, +as now constituted, are harmonious, and not antagonistic as certain +schools of thinkers maintain. Commercial freedom he avers, instead of +urging society toward a state of general misery, tends constantly to the +progressive increase of the general abundance and well being. In +sustaining this proposition M. Bastiat teaches the optimism of the +socialists, and holds that injustice is not a necessary thing in human +relations, that monopoly and pauperism are only temporary, and that +things must come right at last. The powers of nature, the soil, +vegetation, gravitation, heat, electricity, chemical forces, waters, +seas, in short the globe and all the endowments with which God has +enriched it, are the common property of the entire race of man, and in +proportion as society advances this common property is more equally +distributed and enjoyed. Capital assists men in their efforts to improve +this magnificent inheritance; competition is a powerful lever with which +they set in movement and render useful the gratuitous gifts of God; the +social instinct leads them to make a continual exchange of services; and +even now, though the powers of nature enter into these services, those +who receive them pay only for the labor of their fellows, not for +natural products; and the accumulation of capital constantly diminishes +the rate of interest and enables the laborer to derive a greater return +from his toil. M. Bastiat also gives a new definition of value, which he +says is _the relation of two services exchanged_. This is all, we +believe, that he _claims_ to offer as perfectly new,--the main part of +his book appearing as a clearer exposition of the doctrine of Adam +Smith. It will be seen that the theory of the book is infinitely +superior to that of Ricardo or Malthus; it has borrowed truths from the +advanced thinkers of the age; but he would be a bold critic who should +affirm that it had not mingled far-reaching errors with them. + + * * * * * + +M. Romieu's book in defense of despotism, (lately published in France,) +sounds as if it had been written for the _North American Review_, but it +never could have been sent to its editor, or it would have been adopted +and published by him. It is entitled "The Era of the Caesars," and its +argument is, that history, ancient and modern, and the situation of the +contemporary world, prove that force, the sword, or _Caesarism_, has +ultimately decided, and will prevail, in the affairs of the nations. +Representative assemblies, Monsieur Romieu considers ridiculous, and +mischievous, and in the end fatal: such, at least, he contends, is the +experience of France; and as for the liberty of the press, it means a +form of tyranny which destroys all other liberty. At the beginning of +the century, M. de Fontanes said what (he thinks) multitudes of the +soundest minds would reecho, "I shall never deem myself free in a +country where freedom of the press exists." He would convert all +journals into mere chronicles, and have them strictly watched. Force, he +says, is the only principle, even in governments styled free. He +includes Switzerland and the United States. The condition and destinies +of France he handles with special hardihood. Caesarism is here already +desired and inaugurated--not monarchy, which requires faith in it, nor +constitutional government, which is an expedient and an illusion, but a +supreme authority capable of maintaining itself, and _commanding_ +respect and submission. Mr. Walsh reviews the work in one of his letters +to the _Journal of Commerce_; and judging from Mr. Walsh's +correspondence on the recent attempts to establish free institutions in +Europe, we might suspect him of a hearty sympathy with M. Romieu, whom +he describes as an erudite, conscientious personage, formerly a prefect +of a department, and a member of the Assembly. + + * * * * * + +The German poet, Anastasius Gruen, has just published, at Leipzic a +collection of the _popular songs of Carinthia_, translated from the +original. Carinthia, as, perhaps, all our readers are not aware, is one +of the southerly provinces of the Austrian empire, on the borders of +Turkey; and, during all the wars of Austria with the Moslems, had to +bear the brunt of the fighting. And even after peace was concluded the +Carinthians kept up a sort of minor war on their own account, being +constantly exposed to incursions from the other side of the frontier. +Thus for centuries their country was one extended fortification, and the +whole population in constant readiness to rush to arms when the signal +fires blazed upon the hills. Then every house was a fortress, and even +the churches were surrounded with palisades and ditches, behind which +the women and children sought refuge with their movables when the alarm +came too near. From this period of constant and savage warfare the +popular songs of the country date their origin. Curious to say, many of +their heroes are borrowed from the traditions and history of neighboring +lands. Thus the Servian champion Marko figures a good deal in this +poetry, while the figure which has more importance than all the others +is a foreign and almost fabulous being, called King Mathias; wherever +this mystic personage can be laid hold of and historically identified, +he appears to be Mathias Corvin, king of Hungary. The Carinthians +attribute to him not only all the exploits of a variety of notable +characters, but also the vices of some celebrated illustrations of +immorality. Nor is his career accomplished; according to the tradition +of the southern Slavonians, King Mathias is not yet dead, but sleeps in +a grotto in the interior of Hungary, waiting for the hour of waking, +like Frederick the Redbeard in the Kyffhaeuser, Charlemagne in the +Untersberg at Salzburg, Holger the Dane near Kronburg, and King Arthur +in a mountain of his native country. There sits King Mathias with his +warriors, by a table under a linden tree. Another song makes him, like +Orpheus with Eurydice, go down to hell with his fiddle in his hand to +bring thence his departed bride. But he has no better luck than Orpheus; +on the way out she breaks the commanded silence by saying a word to her +companion, and so is lost forever. These songs are still sung by the +Carinthian soldiers at night, around their watch-fires. There are others +of more modern origin, but they are weak and colorless compared with +these relics of the old heroic time. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Bryant's delightful "Letters of a Traveler," of which we have +heretofore spoken, has been issued by Mr. Putnam in a new and very +beautiful edition, enriched with many exquisite engravings, under the +title of "The Picturesque Souvenir." It is a work of permanent value, +and in the style of its publication is hardly surpassed by any of the +splendid volumes of the season. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Laing, one of those restless English travelers who have printed +books about the United States, is now a prominent personage in +Australia, where he has been elected a member of the newly instituted +Legislature, for the city of Sidney. Upon the conclusion of the canvass +he made a speech, after which he was dragged home in his carriage by +some of the more energetic of his partisans, the horses having been +removed by them for that purpose. He is opposed to the Government. + + * * * * * + +The History of Liberty, by Mr. Samuel Elliot, of Boston, is examined at +considerable length and in a very genial spirit, in the last number of +the _Revue des Deux Mondes_--a review, by the way, in which much more +attention appears to be paid to our literature than it receives in the +_North American_. The writer observes, in the beginning, that the two +initial volumes of Mr. Elliot's great work, now published, in which the +_Liberty of Rome_ is treated, would be a superhuman performance, if +Niebuhr, Muller, Heeren, Grote, and Thirlwall, had not written, and +compares the work of our countryman with the poem on the same subject by +Thomson, the author of "The Seasons." He says: + + "Mr. Elliot's work breathes a lofty morality; a grave and masculine + reserve; a deep and constant fear of not having done the best. He + may be subject,--like other Americans more or less _ideologists_ + and system-mongers,--to illusions; but he has the true remedy: his + _ideal_ is well placed; he can sympathize fervently with all the + pursuits and employments of human activity; he cherishes a profound + respect for prudence, and moderation; for an enlarging survey and + indulgence of human necessities; for that generosity and virtue + which is tender above all of what has life, and seeks to conciliate + a complete transformation in the ideas of men. Until now, it would + have been difficult to find a thinker who, in judging the Romans, + would not have celebrated their inordinate patriotism, as their + chief glory. Their heroes were admired precisely for the ardor with + which they sacrificed everything--even their children or their + conscience--to the interests of country or party. Mr. Elliot, on + the contrary, discovers in this heroism only a lamentable + deficiency of true virtue and honor; of a sound moral sense and + equitable liberality. To our apprehension, a great reform--an + historical event--is to be recognized in this new moral + repugnance--this new tendency to deem the spirit of _party_ an evil + and a danger. Formerly, nothing was conceived to be nobler than to + serve your party, without stint or reservation;--nothing more + disgraceful than to abandon it even when you could not entertain + the same opinions. The condemnation and reversal of this doctrine + would be a moral advancement more important for human futurity, + than many of the occurrences or the revolutions of the last sixty + years, that have made the most noise." + +We believe Mr. Elliot's leisure is not to be seriously interrupted by +public employments, and trust, therefore, that he will proceed, with as +much rapidity as possible, with his grand survey of the advance of +Liberty, down even to our own day--which it is not unlikely will +conclude a very important era of his subject. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Bowring, who is now, we believe, British Consul at Canton, was the +editor of the last and only complete edition of Jeremy Bentham's works; +he has been one of the most voluminous contributors to the Westminster +Review, and he is eminent as a linguist, though if we may judge by some +of his performances, not very justly so. He translated and edited +specimens of the poetry of several northern nations, and it has often +been charged as an illustration of his dishonesty, that he omitted a +stanza of the sublime hymn of Derzhaven, a Russian, to the Deity, +because it recognized the divinity of Christ, as it is held by +Trinitarians--the Doctor being a Unitarian. He is sharply satirized, and +treated frequently with extreme and probably quite undeserved contempt, +in the Diaries and Correspondence of the late Hugh Swinton Legare. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Henry Rogers, of Birmingham, has published in London two stout +volumes of his contributions to the _Edinburgh Review_. They are not the +best things that ever appeared under the old "buff and blue," though +they are neat and very readable. Hitherto Professor Rogers has not been +known in literature, except by an edition of the works of Burke. The +reviewals or essays in this collection are divided into biographical, +critical, theological, and political. The first volume consists +principally of a series of sketches of great minds,--in the style, +half-biographical, half-critical, of which so many admirable specimens +have adorned the literature of this age. Indeed, such _demonstrations_ +in mental anatomy have been a favorite study in all ages. Among Mr. +Rogers's subjects, are Pascal, Luther, Leibnitz, and Plato, and he +promises sketches of Descartes, Malabranche, Hobbes, Berkeley, and +Locke. The first article, on Thomas Fuller, may look rather dry at +first; but the interest increases, we admire the quaintness of old +Fuller, and not less the fine, accurate, and complete picture given of +his life, character, and works. In this, as in the other biographical +articles, Mr. Rogers tells his story fluently. If he has not the wit of +Sydney Smith, nor the brilliance of Macaulay, he has not the prosiness +of Alison, nor the bitterness of Gifford. He is witty with Fuller, +sarcastic with Marvell, energetic with Luther, philosophical and precise +with Leibnitz, quietly satirical with Pascal, and reflective and +intellectual with Plato. "Dead as a last year's reviewal" is no longer +among the proverbs. Books are too numerous to be read, and people make +libraries of the quarterlies,--thanks to the facilities afforded by Mr. +Leonard Scott! And reviews, properly written,--evincing some knowledge +of the books which furnish their titles, are very delightful and useful +reading, frequently more so than the productions which suggest them, of +which they ought always to give an intelligible description. And this +condition is fulfilled almost always by the reviews published in London +and Edinburgh. Our _North American_ sometimes gives us tolerably +faithful abstracts, and its readers would be glad if its writers would +confine themselves to such labors. But we read an article in it not long +ago, under the title of Mr. Carey's "Past and Present," which contained +no further allusion to this book, nor the slightest evidence that the +"reviewer" had ever seen it. On the other hand, the last number contains +a paper on the Homeric question, purporting to have been occasioned by +Mr. Grote's History of Greece, but deriving its learning, we understand, +altogether from Mr. Mure's History of Greek Literature, a work so +extensive that it is not likely to be reprinted, or largely imported. + +This custom which now obtains, of reprinting reviewals, we believe was +begun in this country, where Mr. Emerson brought out a collection of +Carlyle's Essays, Andrews Norton one of Macaulay's, Dr. Furness one of +Professor Wilson's, Mr. Edward Carey one of Lord Jeffrey's, &c. several +years before any such collections appeared in England. + + * * * * * + +Respecting the Holy Land, no work of so much absolute value has appeared +since Dr. Robinson's, as the Historical and Geographical Sketch by Rabbi +Joseph Schwartz, in a large and thick octavo, with numerous +illustrations, lately published in Philadelphia by Mr. Hart. Rabbi +Schwartz resided in Palestine sixteen years, and he is the only Jew of +eminence who has written of the country from actual observation, since +the time of Benjamin of Tudela. The learned author wrote his work in +Hebrew, and it has been translated by Rabbi Isaac Leeser, one of the +ablest divines in Philadelphia. It is addressed particularly to Jewish +readers, to whom the translator remarks in his preface, "It is hoped +that it may contribute to extend the knowledge of Palestine, and rouse +many to study the rich treasures which our ancient literature affords, +and also to enkindle sympathy and kind acts for those of our brothers +who still cling to the soil of our ancestors and love the dust in which +many of our saints sleep in death, awaiting a glorious resurrection and +immortality." + + * * * * * + +Mr. John R. Thompson, the accomplished and much esteemed editor of the +_Southern Literary Messenger_, whose genuine and intelligent love of +literature is illustrated in every number of his excellent magazine, has +just published a wise and eloquent address on the present state of +education in Virginia, which was delivered before the literary societies +of Washington College, at Lexington. It discloses the causes of the +ignorance of reading and writing by seventy thousand adults in Virginia, +and forcibly and impressively urges the necessity of a thorough literary +culture to the common prosperity. + + * * * * * + +A New Play by Mr. Marston, founded on the story of Philip Augustus of +France and Marie de Meranie, has been put into rehearsal at the Olympic +Theater in London. + + * * * * * + +The Leipzic _Grenzboten_ notices Mrs. Maberly's new romance of "Fashion" +(which we believe has not yet been republished in America) with great +praise, as a work of striking power and artistic management. +Nevertheless, says the critic, this romance has excited in England as +much anger as attention, and this he attributes to the truth with which +the authoress has depicted the aristocratic world. He then makes the +following remarks, which are curious enough to be translated: "The +meaning of the word 'fashion' cannot be rendered in a foreign language. +_La mode_ and its tyranny approach somewhat to the sense, but still it +remains unintelligible to us Germans, because we have no idea of the +capricious, silly, and despotic laws of fashion in England. They do not +relate, as with us, to mere outward things, as clothes and furniture, +but especially to position and estimation in high society. In order to +play a part on that stage it is necessary to understand the mysterious +conditions and requirements which the goddess Fashion prescribes. High +birth and riches, wit and beauty, find no mercy with her if her +whimsical laws are not obeyed. In what these laws consist no living soul +can say: they are double, yes three-fold, the _je ne sais quoi_ of the +French. The exclusiveness of English society is well known, a +peculiarity in which it is only excelled by its copyist the American +society of New York and Boston. But it is not enough to have obtained +admission into the magic circle: there, too, fashion implacably demands +its victims, and to her as to Moloch earthly and heavenly goods, wealth, +and peace of soul, are offered up." + + * * * * * + +John Ruskin, who has written of painting, sculpture and architecture, in +a manner more attractive to mere amateurs than any other author, will +soon publish his elaborate work, "The Authors of Venice." +Notwithstanding his almost blind idolatry of Turner, and his other +heresies, Ruskin is one of the few writers on art who open new vistas to +the mind; vehement, paradoxical, and one-sided he may be, but no other +writer _clears_ the subject in the same masterly manner--no other writer +suggests more even to those of opposite opinions. + + * * * * * + +The first two volumes of Oehlenschlager's _Lebens Erinnerungen_ have +appeared at Vienna, and attract more observation than anything else in +the late movements in the German literature. The poet's early struggles +give one kind of interest to this work, and his friendship with +illustrious litterateurs another. Madame de Stael, Goethe, Schiller, the +Schlegels, Steffens, Hegel, and other representatives of German thought, +pass in succession through these pages, mingled with pictures of Danish +life, and criticisms on the Danish drama. Like most German biographies, +this deals as much with German literature as with German life. + + * * * * * + +Gustave Planche, a clever Parisian critic, has in the last number of _La +Revue des Deux Mondes_, an article on Lamartine's novels and +Confessions, issued within the year. He spares neither the prose nor +poetry of the romantic statesman. He classes the _History of the +Girondists_ with the novels. On the whole he thinks there is less of +fact, or more of transmutation of fact, than in Sir Walter Scott's +Waverley series: as in Scott's Life of Napoleon there was less of +veracity than in any even of his professed fictions founded upon +history. These romancists are never to be trusted, except in their own +domains. + + * * * * * + +Prosper Merimee, known among the poets by his _Theatre de Clara Gazul_, +and who by his _Chronique du Temps de Charles IX._ and _Colomba_, was +entitled to honorable mention in literature, has written a very clever +book about the United States--the fruit of a visit to this country last +year--which an accomplished New-Yorker is engaged in translating. His +last previous performance was a Life of Pedro the Cruel, which has been +translated and published in London, and is thus spoken of in the +_Literary Gazette_:-- + + "The subject hardly yields in romantic variety, strange turns of + fortune, characters of strong expression, and tragedies of the + deepest pathos, to anything created by the imagination. Within the + period and in the land which was marked by the fortunes of Pedro of + Castile, the scene is crowded with figures over which both history + and song have thrown a lasting interest. The names of Planche of + France, Inez de Castro of Portugal, Du Guesclin,--the Black Prince, + the White Company--belong alike to romance and to reality. The very + 'Don Juan' of Mozart and Byron plays his part for an hour as no + fabulous gallant at the court of Seville; Moors and Christians join + in the council or in the field here, as well as in the strains of + the Romancero; and the desperate game played for a crown by the + rival brothers whose more than Theban strife was surrounded by such + various objects of pity, admiration or terror, wants no incident, + from its commencement to its climax, to fill the just measure of a + tragic theme. One more striking could scarcely have been desired by + a poet; yet M. Merimee, who claims that character, has handled it + with the judgment and diligence of an historian." + + * * * * * + +Nathaniel Hawthorne, the greatest living American writer born in the +present century, has just published, through Ticknor, Reed and Fields, a +volume for juvenile readers, in the preface to which he says: + + "It has not been composed without a deep sense of responsibility. + The author regards children as sacred, and would not for the world + cast anything into the fountain of a young heart that might + embitter and pollute its waters. And even in point of the literary + reputation to be aimed at, juvenile literature is as well worth + cultivating as any other. The writer, if he succeed in pleasing his + little readers, may hope to be remembered by them till their own + old age--a far longer period of literary existence than is + generally attained by those who seek immortality from the judgments + of full grown men." + + * * * * * + +An attentive correspondent of the _International_, at Vienna, mentions +that letters have been received there from the eccentric but daring and +intelligent American, Dr. Mathews, formerly of Baltimore, who, some +years since, assumed the style of the Arabs, with a view to discovery in +Northern and Central Africa. We hope to obtain further information of +Dr. Mathews, respecting whose adventures there has not hitherto been +anything in the journals for several years. + + * * * * * + +Professor G.J. Adler, of the New York University, the learned author of +the German and English Dictionary, is now printing a translation which +he has just completed, of the _Iphigenia in Taurus_, by Goethe. Of the +eighteen that remain of the sixty to ninety plays of Euripides, the +_Iphigenia at Tauri_ is one of the most remarkable. When Goethe returned +from Italy, his spirit was infused with the love of ancient art, and his +ambition tempting him to a rivalry of its masters, he selected this +subject, to which he brought, if not his finest powers, his severest +labor; and the drama of Iphigenia--which is in many respects very +different from that of Euripides,--is, next to Faust, perhaps the +noblest of his works. We are not aware that it has hitherto appeared in +English. The forthcoming translation, (which is in the press of the +Appletons,) strikes us very favorably. It is exact, and is generally +flowing and elegant. + + * * * * * + +The Official Paper of China has a name which means the _Pekin Gazette_. +It is impossible to ascertain when its publication was first commenced, +but it seems to be the oldest newspaper in the world. There is a +tradition that it began under the Sung dynasty in the latter part of the +tenth century. It is originally a sort of handbill, containing official +notices, posted up on the walls of the Capital and sent in manuscript to +provincial officers. At Canton it is printed for the public at large and +sold. It appears every other day in the form of a pamphlet of ten or +twelve pages. It consists of three parts; the first is devoted to Court +news, such as the health and other doings of the Imperial family; the +second gives the decrees of the Sovereign; the third contains the +reports and memorials of public functionaries made to the imperial +government on all subjects concerning the interests of the country. The +decrees are concise in style; the reports and memorials are the +perfection of verbiage. The former have the force of laws, the Emperor +being both legislative and executive. As a record of materials for +history the _Gazette_ is of little value, for a little study shows that +lies are abundant in it, and that its statements are designed as much to +conceal as to make known the facts. Since the English war the number of +documents published relating to affairs with foreign nations is very +small. Something is given respecting the finances, but that too, is of +very little value. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Williams, who wrote "Shakspeare and his Friends," &c., has just +published a novel entitled "The Luttrells." It was very high praise of +his earlier works that they were by many sagacious critics attributed to +Savage Landor. His novels on the literature of the Elizabethan age +evince taste and feeling, and his sketches of the Chesterfield and +Walpole period in "Maids of Honor," are happily and gracefully done. +"The Luttrells" has passages occasionally more powerful but hardly so +pleasing as some in the books we have named. In mere style it is an +improvement on his former efforts. In the early passages of the story +there is nice handling of character, and frequent touches of genuine +feeling. + + * * * * * + +The fifth volume of Vaulabelle's _Histoire de la Restauration_, a +conscientious and carefully written history of France and the Bourbon +family, from the restoration in 1815 down to the overthrow of Charles +X., has just been published at Paris. It receives the same praise as the +preceding volumes. M. Vaulabelle it may be remembered was for a brief +period, in 1848, General Cavaignac's Minister of Education and Public +Worship. + + * * * * * + +Captain Sir Edward Belcher, C.B., R.N., &c., whose presence in New York +we noted recently, is now in Texas, superintending the settlement of a +large party of first class English emigrants. A volume supplemental to +his "Voyage of H.M.S. Samarang," illustrative of the zoology of the +expedition, has been published in London by Arthur Adams, F.L.S. + + * * * * * + +M. Guizot, it is said, is going back to his old profession of editor. He +is to participate in the conduct of the _Journal des Debats_, in which, +of course, he will sign his articles. We do not always agree with M. +Guizot, but we cannot help thinking him, upon the whole, the most +respectable man who for a long time has been conspicuous in affairs in +France. + + * * * * * + +The sixth and concluding volume of the life and correspondence of Robert +Southey, edited by C.C. Southey--illustrated with a view of Southey's +Monument in Crosthwaite Church, and a view of Crosthwaite, from Greta +Hill--was published in London, early in November, and will soon be +reissued by Harpers. + + * * * * * + +Somebody having said that Bulwer had lost his hearing, and was in a very +desponding way in consequence, he has written to the _Morning Post_ to +say he is by no means deaf, but that if he were he should not much +despond on that account, "for the quality and material of the talk +that's going is not calculated to cause any great regret for the +deprivation of one's ears." + + * * * * * + +The second volume of the Count de Castelnau's Expedition into the +Central Regions of South America, under the auspices of the French +government, has just been published in Paris. + + * * * * * + +An eminent diplomatist of France has just published two volumes of most +interesting revelations drawn from his own note-books and personal +knowledge. We allude to the _Etudes Diplomatiques et Litteraires_ of +Count Alexis de Saint Priest. On the partition of Poland especially, it +casts an entirely new and conclusive light. M. Saint Priest shows that +apart from the internal anarchy and weakness of Poland, the catastrophe +was the work not of Russia as has been commonly supposed, but of +Frederic the Great of Prussia. Russia had no interest in dividing +Poland; in fact she was already supreme in that country; and besides, +her policy has never been that of an active initiative,--she waits for +the fruit to fall, and does not take the trouble of shaking the tree +herself. The great criminal then in this Polish affair was Prussia, and +the cause was the historic antagonism between Germany and Poland. M. +Saint Priest sketches the character of Frederic with the hand of a +master. "We shall see him," he says in approaching that part of his +subject, "we shall see him as he was, both adventurous and patient, +ardent and calm, full of passion yet perfectly self-possessed, capable +of embracing the vastest horizon and of shutting himself up for the +moment in the most limited detail, his eyes reaching to the farthest +distance, his hand active in the nearest vicinity, approaching his aim +step by step through by-paths, but always gaining it at last by a single +bound. We shall see him employing the most indefatigable, the most +tenacious, the most persevering will in the service of his idea, +preparing it, maturing it by long and skillful reparation, and imposing +it on Europe not by sudden violence, but by the successive and cunning +employment of flattery and intimidation. And finally, when all is +consummated, we shall see him succeed in avoiding the responsibility and +throwing it altogether upon his coadjutors, with an art all the more +profound for the simplicity under which its hardihood was concealed, and +the indifference which masked its avidity. To crown so audacious a +maneuver, he will not hesitate to declare, that "since he has never +deceived any one, he will still less deceive posterity! And in fact he +has treated them with a perfect equality: he made a mock of posterity as +well as of his contemporaries." With regard to the part of France in the +division of Poland, M. Saint Priest attempts to prove that the French +monarchy could not prevent the catastrophe; but that it was in the +revolutionary elements then fermenting in France and opposed to the +monarchy, that Frederic found his most powerful allies. Of course he +defends the monarchy from blame in the matter, and we shall not +undertake to say that he is wrong in so doing. Certainly the downfall of +Poland cannot be regarded as an isolated event, but as a part of the +great series of movements belonging to the age, in which causes the most +antagonistic in their nature often cooperated in producing the same +effect. M. Saint Priest further reasons that the providential mission of +Poland was to oppose Turkey and Islamism, and when the latter ceased to +rise the former necessarily declined. But our space will not permit us +to follow this interesting work any farther. The careful students of +history will not fail to consult it for themselves. + + * * * * * + +Mary Lowell Putnam, a daughter of the Rev. Dr. Lowell of Boston, and +sister of James Russell Lowell, the poet, is the author of an +annihilating reviewal, in the last _Christian Examiner_, of Mr. Bowen on +the Hungarian Struggle for Independence. The _Tribune_ contains a +_resume_ of the controversy, in which it had itself been honorably +distinguished, and furnishes the following sketch of Professor Bowen's +antagonist: + + "Without any ambition for literary distinction, leading a life of + domestic duties and retirement, and pursuing the most profound and + various studies from an insatiate thirst for knowledge, this + admirable person has shown herself qualified to cope with the + difficulties of a complicated historical question, and to vanquish + a notorious Professor on his own ground. The manner in which she + has executed her task (and her victim) is as remarkable for its + unpretending modesty as for its singular acuteness and logical + ability. She writes with the graceful facility of one who is + entirely at home on the subject, conversant from long familiarity + with its leading points, and possessing a large surplus of + information in regard to it for which she has no present use. If + she exhibits a generous sympathy with the cause of the oppressed, + she does not permit the warmth of her feelings to cloud the + serenity of her judgment. She conducts the argument with an almost + legal precision, and compels her opponent to submit to the force of + her intellect." + +Harvard would certainly be a large gainer if Mrs. Putnam could succeed +Mr. Bowen as professor of _History_, or,--as the libeller of Kossuth +_fills_ so small a portion of the chair,--if she could be made associate +professor; but to this she would have objections. + + * * * * * + +In Leipsic a monument has been erected by the German agriculturists to +Herr Thaer, who has done so much amongst them for agricultural science. +It consists of a marble column nine feet high, on which stands the +statue of Thaer, life size. It is surrounded by granite steps and an +iron balustrade. The column bears the inscription, "To their respected +teacher, Albert Thaer, the German Agriculturists--1850." + + * * * * * + +A New Novel by Bulwer Lytton is announced by Bentley, to appear in three +volumes. Dickens, having completed his "David Copperfield," will +immediately commence a new serial story. Thackeray, it is rumored, has a +new work in preparation altogether different from anything he has yet +published. The Lives of Shakspeare's Heroines are announced to appear in +a series of volumes. + + * * * * * + +"Sir Roger de Coverly: By the Spectator," is one of the newest and most +beautiful books from the English press. It is illustrated by Thompson, +from designs by Frederick Tayler, and edited with much judgment by Mr. +Henry Wills. The idea of the book is an extremely happy one. It is not +always easy to pick out of the eight volumes of the _Spectator_ the +papers which relate to _Sir Roger de Coverley_, when we happen to want +them. Here we have them all, following close upon each other, forming so +many chapters of the Coverley Chronicle, telling a succinct and charming +story, with just so much pleasing extract from other papers as to throw +light upon the doings of Sir Roger, and enough graceful talk about the +London of Queen Anne's time (by way of annotation) to adapt one's mind +completely to the de Coverley tone of sentiment. The _Spectator_--we +mean the modern gazette of that name--says of it:-- + + "The character of Sir Roger de Coverley is a creation which, in its + way, has never been surpassed; never perhaps equaled except by the + _Vicar of Wakefield_. The de Coverley establishment and the Vicar's + family have a strong general likeness. They are the same + simple-minded, kind-hearted English souls, in different spheres of + society. The thirty papers of the _Spectator_ devoted to Sir Roger + and his associates, now that we have them together, form a perfect + little novel in themselves, from the reading of which we rise as we + rise from that of Goldsmith, healthier and happier. There never was + so beautiful an illustration of how far mere genuine heartiness of + disposition and rectitude of purpose can impart true dignity to a + character, as Sir Roger de Coverley. He is rather beloved than + esteemed. He talks all the way up stairs on a visit. He is a + walking epitome of as many vulgar errors as Sir Thomas Browne + collected in his book. He has grave doubts as to the propriety of + not having an old woman indicted for a witch. He is brimful of the + prejudices of his caste. He has grown old with the simplicity of a + child. Captain Sentry must keep him in talk lest he expose himself + at the play. And yet about all he does there is an unassuming + dignity that commands respect; and for strength and consistency in + the tender passion Petrarch himself does not excel him. Sir Roger's + unvarying devotion to his widow, his incessant recurrence to the + memory of his affection to her, the remarks relating to her which + the character of Andromache elicits from him at the play, and the + little incident of her message to him on his death-bed, form as + choice a record of passionate fidelity as the sonnets of the + Italian. How beautiful, too, is that death-scene--how quietly + sublime! Let us add that the good Sir Roger is surrounded by people + worthy of him. Will. Wimble, with his good-natured, useless + services; Captain Sentry, brave and stainless as his own sword, and + nearly as taciturn; the servant who saved him from drowning; the + good clergyman who is contented to read the sermons of others; the + innkeeper who must needs have his landlord's head for a sign; the + _Spectator_ and his cronies: and then, and still, the Widow!" + + * * * * * + +Mr. William W. Story, to whose sculptures we have referred elsewhere, is +engaged in the preparation of a memoir of his father, the great jurist. + + * * * * * + +The Life of John Randolph, by Hugh A. Garland, has been published by the +Appletons in two octavos. It is interesting--as much so perhaps as any +political biography ever written in this country--but the subject was so +remarkable, and the materiel so rich and various, that it might have +been made very much more attractive than it is. Mr. Garland's style is +decidedly bad--ambitious, meretricious and vulgar--but it was impossible +to make a dull work upon John Randolph's history and character. + + * * * * * + +The Best Edition of Milton's Poems ever published in America--a reprint +of the best ever published in England--that of Sir Edgerton Brydges, has +just been printed by George S. Appleton of Philadelphia, and the +Appletons of New York. It is everything that can be desired in an +edition of the great poet, and must take the place, we think, of all +others that have been in the market. We are also indebted to the same +publishers for an admirable edition of Burns, which if not as +judiciously edited as the Milton of Sir Edgerton Brydges, is certainly +very much better than any we have hitherto possessed. + + * * * * * + +The Keepsake: a Gift for the Holidays, is one of the most +splendid--indeed is the _most_ richly executed annual of the season. We +have not had leisure to examine its literary contents, but they are for +the most part by eminent writers. In unique and variously beautiful +bindings, "The Keepsake" is desirable to all the lovers of fine art. + + * * * * * + +Gray's Poems, with a Life of the author by Professor Henry Reed, has +been published by Mr. Henry C. Baird, of Philadelphia, in a volume the +most elegant that has been issued this year from the press of that city. +The engravings are specimens of genuine art, and the typography is as +perfect as we have ever seen from the printers of Paris or London. + + * * * * * + +The Rev. Duncan Harkness Weir, a distinguished _alumnus_ of the +university and author of an essay "On the tenses of the Hebrew verb," +which appeared in "Kitto's Journal of Sacred Literature" for October +last, has been elected Professor of Oriental Languages, in the College +and University of Glasgow, in room of the late Dr. Gray. + + * * * * * + +Douglass Jerrold announces a republication of all his writings for the +last fifteen years, in weekly numbers, commencing on the first of +January next--"a most becoming contribution to the Industry of Nations +Congress of 1851." + + * * * * * + +The Rev. Christopher Wordsworth, a nephew of William Wordsworth, has +nearly completed the memoirs of the poet, which will be reprinted, with +a preface by Professor Henry Reed, by Ticknor, Reed and Fields, of +Boston. + + + + +The Fine Arts. + + +Schwanthaler's Bavaria, and the Theresienwiese at Munich.--On the +western side of Munich several streets converge in a plain which is the +arena of the great popular festival that takes place every October. +Around this plain, which is called the Theresienwiese, as well as around +the whole district in which the city is placed, the land rises some +thirty or forty feet. Near the spot where the green waters of the Iser +break through this ridge, King Louis founded the Hall of Fame, which is +to transmit to posterity the busts of renowned natives of the country. +This edifice is in Doric style, and with its two wings forms a +court-yard, opening toward the city. In the center of this court is +placed upon a granite pedestal, thirty feet high, a colossal statue of +bronze, fifty-four feet high, representing Bavaria, to which we have +several times referred in _The International_--our European +correspondence enabling us to anticipate in regard to subjects of +literature and art generally even the best-informed foreign journals. + +The Hall of Fame will not be completed for some years, but the statue is +finished, and was first exposed to view on the 9th of October. The +execution of this statue was committed by King Louis to Schwanthaler, +who began by making a model of thirteen feet in height. In order to +carry out the work a wooden house was erected at the royal foundry, and +a skeleton was built by masons, carpenters, and smiths, to sustain the +earth used in the mould for the full-sized model. This was begun in +1838, and ere long the figure stood erect. The subsequent work on the +model occupied two years. The result was greatly praised by the critics, +who wondered at the skill which had been able to give beauty as well as +dignity to a statue of so large dimensions. It holds up a crown of +oak-leaves in the left hand, while the right, resting upon the hip, +grasps an unsheathed sword twined with laurel, beneath which rests a +lion. The breast is covered with a lion's skin which falls as low as the +hips; under it is a simple but admirably managed robe extending to the +feet. The hair is wreathed with oak-leaves, and is disposed in rich +masses about the forehead and temples, giving spirit to the face and +dignity to the form. Such was the model, and such is the now finished +statue. But the subsequent steps in its completion are worthy of a +particular description. + +The model was in gypsum, and the first thing done was to take a mould +from it in earth peculiarly prepared for the reception of the melted +metal. The first piece, the head, was cast September 11th, 1844. It +weighs one hundred and twenty hundred-weight, and is five or six feet in +diameter: the remainder was cast at five separate times. When the head +was brought successful out of the mould, King Louis and many of the +magnates of Germany were present. The occasion was in fact a festival, +which Mueller, the inspector of the royal bronze foundry and probably the +first living master of the art of casting in bronze, rendered still more +brilliant by illuminations and garlands of flowers. Vocal music also was +not wanting, as the artists of Munich were present in force, and their +singing is noted throughout Germany. Since last July workmen have been +constantly engaged in transporting the pieces of bronze weighing from +200 to 300 cwt. to the place where the statue was to be erected. For +this purpose a wagon of peculiar construction was used, with from +sixteen to twenty horses to draw it. On the 7th of August the last +piece, the head, was conveyed; it was attended by a festal procession. +The space within the head is so great that some twenty-eight men can +stand together in it. The body, the main portions of which were made in +five castings, weighs from 1300 to 1500 cwt., and has a diameter of +twelve feet; the left arm, which is extended to hold the wreaths, from +125 to 130 cwt.; its diameter is five feet, and the diameter of its +index finger six inches. The nail of the great toe can hardly be covered +with both a man's hands. A door in the pedestal leads to a cast-iron +winding stairway which ascends to the head, within which benches have +been arranged for the comfort of visitors, several of whom can sit there +together with ease. The light enters through openings arranged in the +hair, whence also the eye can enjoy the view of the city and the +surrounding country with the magical Alps in the background. The entire +mass of bronze, weighing about 2600 cwt., was obtained from Turkish +cannon lost in the sea at Navarino and recovered by Greek divers. The +value of the bronze is about sixty thousand dollars. The sitting lion +has a height of near thirty feet. It was cast in three pieces, and +completes the composition in the most felicitous manner. + +The statue having been completed, the final removing of the scaffolding +around it and its full exposure to the public took place on the 9th of +October. This was a day of great festivity at Munich and its vicinity. A +platform had been erected directly in front of the statue for the +accommodation of King Maximilian and his suite. The festivities began +with an enormous procession of carriages, led by bands of music and +bearing the representatives of the different industrial and agricultural +trades, with symbols of their respective occupations. As they passed +before the King's platform each carriage stopped, saluted his majesty, +and received a few kindly words in reply. The procession was closed by +the artists of Munich. The carriages took their station in a half circle +around the platform. Soon after, accompanied by the thunder of cannon, +the board walls surrounding the scaffold were gradually lowered to the +ground. The admiration of the statue (which by the way is exactly +fifty-four feet high), was universal and enthusiastic. All beholders +were delighted with the harmony of its parts and the loveliness of its +expression notwithstanding its colossal size. The ceremonies of the day +were closed with speeches and music; the painter Tischlein made a speech +lauding King Louis as the creator of a new era for German art. A very +numerous chorus sung several festive hymns composed for the occasion, +after which the multitude dispersed. + + * * * * * + +The Dominican Monastery of San Marco at Florence has for centuries been +regarded with special interest by the lovers of art for the share it has +had in the history of their favorite pursuit. Nor has its part been of +less importance in the sphere of politics. The wanderer through its +halls is reminded not only of Fra Angelico da Fiesole and Fra +Bartolommeo, to whose artistic genius the monastery is indebted for the +treasures which adorn its halls, refectory, corridors, and cells, but of +Cosimo de Medici, Lorenzo his great descendant, of Savonarola, and the +long series of contests here waged against temporal and spiritual +tyranny. The works of Giotto and Domenico Ghirlandajo are likewise to be +found in the monastery, and there also miniature pictures of the most +flourishing period of art may be seen ornamenting the books of the +choir. Every historian who has written upon Florence has taken care not +to omit San Marco and its inhabitants. + +We are glad to announce that a society of artists at Florence has +undertaken to give as wide a publicity as possible to the noblest +productions of art in this monastery. A former work by the same men is a +good indication of what may now be expected from them. Some years since +they published copies of the most important pictures from the collection +of the Florentine Academy of Art. They gave sixty prints with +explanations. Among engravings from galleries this was one of the best, +containing in moderate compass a history of Tuscan art from Cimabue to +Andrea del Sarto. The new work, which has long been in preparation but +has been delayed by unfavorable circumstances, will now be carried +through the press without delay. Its title is, _San Marco Convento dei +Padri Predicatori in Firenze illustrato e inciso principalmente nei +dipinti del B. Giovanni Angelico_. Antonio Parfetti, the successor of +Morghen and Garavaglia as professor of the art of engraving on copper at +the Florentine Academy, has the artistic supervision of the enterprise. +Father Vincenzo Marchese, to whom the public are indebted for the work +well known to all students, on the artists of the Dominican order, is to +furnish a history of the monastery, a biography of Fra Angelico, +together with explanations of the engravings. Everything is thus in the +most capable hands. The execution of the copperplates leaves nothing to +be desired. The draughtsmen and engravers having had the best +preparatory practice in the above-mentioned series from the Academy, +have fully entered into the spirit of the originals; both outlines and +shading are said by the best critics to combine the greatest delicacy +with exactness, and to reproduce the expression of feeling which is the +difficulty in these Florentine works, with tact and truth. As yet they +have finished only the smaller frescoes which adorn almost every cell; +but they will soon have ready the larger ones, which will show how this +painter, whose sphere was mainly the pious emotions of the soul, was +also master of the most thrilling effects. The same is proved by the +powerful picture of the Crucifixion in the chapter hall, with its heads +so full of expression, a selection from which has just been published by +G.B. Nocchi, who some years since issued the well-known collection of +drawings from the Life of Jesus in the Academy. The impression of the +frescoes on Chinese paper has been done with the greatest care. Forty +plates and forty printed folio sheets will complete the work, which is +to be put at a moderate price. These illustrations of San Marco will be +universally welcomed with delight by the admirers of the beautiful, for +there the painter who most purely represented Christian art passed the +greater part of his life, leaving behind him an incomparable mass of the +most characteristic and charming creations. + + * * * * * + +Mr. William W. Story, who some time since abandoned a lucrative +profession to devote himself to art, has recently returned from Rome, +where he had been practicing sculpture during the past three years. Mr. +Story, we understand, has brought home with him to Boston several models +of classical subjects, the fruits of his labors abroad, which are spoken +of in the highest terms by those who have had the privilege of +inspecting them. Mr. Story is the only son of the late Justice Story of +Massachusetts. Before going abroad he had distinguished himself by some +of his attempts at sculpture, one of which was a bust of his father, +which he executed in marble. A copy of this work has been purchased or +ordered by some of his father's admirers in London, to be placed in one +of the Inns of Court. Mr. Story also made himself known by a volume of +miscellaneous poems, published in 1845. It is his intention, we learn, +to return to Italy in the spring. + + * * * * * + +Les Beautes de la France is the title of a splendid new work now +publishing at Paris. It consists of a collection of engravings on steel, +representing the principal cities, cathedrals, public monuments, +chateaux, and picturesque landscapes of France. Each engraving is +accompanied by four pages of text, giving the complete history of the +edifice or locality represented. What is curious about it is that the +engravings are made in London, for what reason we are not informed. + + * * * * * + +The first exhibition of paintings, such as is now given annually by our +academies, was at Paris in the year 1699. In September of that year, at +the suggestion of Mansart, the first was held in the Louvre. It +consisted of two hundred and fifty-three paintings, twenty-four pieces +of sculpture, and twenty-nine engravings. The second and last during the +reign of Louis XIV. was opened in 1704. That was composed of five +hundred and twenty specimens. During the reign of Louis XV., from 1737, +there were held twenty-four expositions. That of 1767 was remarkable for +the presence of several of the marine pieces of Claude Joseph Vernet. +During the reign of Louis XVI., from 1775 to 1791 there were nine +expositions. The _Horatii_, one of the master pieces of David, figured +in that of 1785. His first pieces had appeared in that of 1782. The +former Republic, too, upon stated occasions "exposed the works of the +artists forming the general commune of the arts." It was in these that +David acquired his celebrity as a painter which alone saved his head +from the revolutionary axe. The Paris exhibition will this year commence +on the fifteenth of December. + + * * * * * + +The largest specimen of Enamel Painting probably in the world, has +recently been completed by Kloeber and Martens at Berlin. It is four and +a half feet high, and eight feet broad, and it is intended for the +castle church at Wittenberg. The subject is Christ on the Cross, and at +his feet, on the right, stands Luther holding an open bible and looking +up to the Savior; and, on the left, Melancthon, the faithful cooperator +of the great reformer. The tombs of both are in this church, and it is +known that to those who, after the capture of the town, desired to +destroy these tombs, the emperor, Charles V., answered, "I war against +the living, not against the dead!" It was to the portal of this church +that Luther affixed the famous protest against indulgences which +occasioned the first movement of the Reformation. The king has caused +two doors to be cast in bronze, with this protest inscribed on them, so +that it will now be seen there in imperishable characters. + + * * * * * + +The original portrait of Sir Francis Drake wearing the jewel around his +neck which Queen Elizabeth gave him, is now in London for the purpose of +being copied for the United Service Club. Sir T.T.F.E. Drake, to whom it +belongs, carried to London at the same time, for the inspection of the +curious in such matters, the original jewel, which, beyond the interest +of its associations with Elizabeth and Drake, is valuable as a work of +art. On the outer case is a carving by Valerio Belli, called Valerio +Vincentino, of a black man kneeling to a white. This is not mentioned by +Walpole in his account of Vincentino. Within is a capital and +well-preserved miniature of Queen Elizabeth, by Isaac Oliver, set round +with diamonds and pearls. + + * * * * * + +The Family of Vernet--the "astonishing family of Vernet"--is thus +referred to by a Paris correspondent of the _Courier and Enquirer_: + + "History, probably, does not show another instance of so remarkable + a descent from father to son, through four generations, of the + possession, in an eminent degree, of a special and rare talent. + Claude Joseph was born in 1714, and was the son of a distinguished + painter of his day, Antoine Vernet. He excelled all his + contemporaries in sea pieces. His son, Antoine Charles Horace + Vernet, was, after David, one of the first painters of the empire, + excelling especially in battle scenes. His Rivoli, Marengo, + Austerlitz, Wagram, and his twenty-eight plates illustrative of the + campaign of Bonaparte in Italy, have secured a very high reputation + for A.C.H. Vernet. The greatest living French painter--perhaps it + may be truly said, the greatest painter of the day--is Horace + Vernet, son of the last named. He was born in 1789 _in the Louvre_. + He, like his father, excels in battle scenes and is remarkable for + the vivacity and boldness of his conceptions. He is now covering + the walls of the historic gallery at Versailles with canvas, which + will cause him to descend to posterity as the greatest of his + family. None of your readers who have visited Versailles, but have + stood before and admired till the picture seemed almost reality, + his living representations of recent military events in Africa. His + last admirable picture of Louis Napoleon on _horseback_ will, it is + stated, be one of the greatest attractions of the approaching + exposition." + + * * * * * + +M. Leutze is expected home from Germany in the spring. He left +Philadelphia, the last time, nearly ten years ago. He will accompany his +great picture of "Washington crossing the Delaware." Powers's statue of +Calhoun, with the left arm broken off by the incompetent persons who at +various times were engaged in attempting to recover it, upon being +removed from the sea under which it had lain nearly three months was +found as fresh in tone as when it came from the chisel of the sculptor. +It has been placed in the temple prepared for it in Charleston. Mr. +Ranney has completed a large picture representing Marion and his Men +crossing the Pedee. + + * * * * * + +Kaulbach, according to a letter from Berlin in the November _Art +Journal_, was to leave that city about the middle of October, in order +to resume for the winter his duties as Director of the Academy of +Munich. The sum which he will receive for his six great frescoes and the +ornamental frieze, will be 80,000 thalers (12,000_l._ sterling) and this +is secured to him, as the contract was made before the existence of a +constitutional budget. + + * * * * * + +Homer's Odyssey furnishes the subjects for a series of frescoes now +being executed in one of the royal palaces at Munich. Six halls are +devoted to the work; four of them are already finished, sixteen cantos +of the poem being illustrated on their walls. The designs are by +Schwanthaler, and executed by Hiltensperger. Between the different +frescoes are small landscapes representing natural scenes from the same +poem. + + * * * * * + +If we credit all the accounts of pictures by the old masters, we must +believe that they produced as many works as with ordinary energy they +could have printed had they lived till 1850. The _Journal de Lot et +Garonne_ states that in the church of the Mas-d'Agenais, Count Eugene de +Lonley has discovered, in the sacristy, concealed beneath dust and +spiders' webs, the 'Dying Christ,' painted by Rubens in 1631. The head +of Christ is said to be remarkable for the large style in which it is +painted, for drawing, color, and vigorous expression. + + * * * * * + +A picture painted on wood, and purchased in 1848 at a public sale in +London, where it was sold as the portrait of an Abbess by Le Brozino, +has been examined by the Academy of St. Luke at Rome, to whose judgment +it was submitted by the purchaser, and unanimously recognized as the +work of Michael Angelo, and as representing the illustrious Marchesa de +Pescara, Victoria Colonna. + + * * * * * + +The National Academy of Design has resolved, that the entire body of +artists in this city should be invited to assemble for social +intercourse, in the saloons of the Academy, on the first Wednesday +evening of every month, commencing in December, and continuing until the +season of the annual exhibition. + + * * * * * + +The French President has presented to the Museum of the Louvre David's +celebrated painting of Napoleon Bonaparte crossing the Alps. This work +was for many years at Bordentown, New Jersey, in possession of Joseph +Bonaparte. + + * * * * * + +The _Art Journal_ for November contains an engraving on steel of the +marble bust by Mr. Dunham of Jenny Lind. This bust, we believe, was +recently sold in New York, by Mr. Putnam, for four hundred dollars. + + * * * * * + +Herman's series of pictures called Illustrations of German History, +which gained great praise in Southern Germany some two years since, are +now being engraved on steel at Munich, and will soon be published. + + + + +Music and the Drama. + + +THE ASTOR PLACE OPERA + +We have watched with interest the attempts which have been made for +several years to establish permanently the Italian opera in New York. +Although we disapprove of some of the means which have been used to +accomplish this object, yet, upon the whole, those who have been +efficient in the matter, both amateurs and artists, are entitled to the +hearty commendation of our musical world. To the enterprising Maretzek +belongs the palm, for his energy, liberality, and discrimination, in +bringing forward, in succession, so many great works, and so many +artists of superior excellence. No man could have accomplished what has +been accomplished by Maretzek, without a combination of very rare +endowments. Let the public then see to it that one who has done so much +for the cultivation and gratification of a taste for the most refining +and delightful of the arts, does not remain unappreciated and +unrewarded. Of the last star which has been brought forward by M. +Maretzek, the musical critic of _The International_ (who has been many +years familiar with the performances of the most celebrated artists in +London, Paris, St. Petersburgh and Vienna, and who, it is pertinent to +mention, never saw M. Maretzek or Mlle. Parodi except in the orchestra +or upon the stage) gives these opinions. + +As an artist, Parodi ranks among the very best of Europe. +Notwithstanding so few years have elapsed since her first appearance +upon the stage, she has attained a reputation second only to that of +Grisi and Persiani. We have often had the pleasure of listening to both +of these last-named celebrities, in their principal roles, and have +dwelt with rapture upon their soul-stirring representations. We have +also listened to the Norma and the Lucrezia Borgia of Parodi, and have +been equally delighted and astonished. Her excellences may be briefly +summed up as follows: With an organ of very great compass and of perfect +register, she combines immense power and endurance, and a variety and +perfection of intonation unsurpassed by any living artist. When she +portrays the softer emotions--affection, love, or benevolence--nothing +can be more sweet, pure, and melodious, than her tones; when rage, +despair, hate, or jealousy, seize upon her, still is she true to nature, +and her notes thrill us to the very soul, by their perfect truthfulness, +power, and intensity of expression. If gayety is the theme, no bird +carols more blithely than the Italian warbler. What singer can sustain a +high or a low tone, or execute a prolonged and varied shake, with more +power and accuracy than Parodi? What prima donna can run through the +chromatic scale, or dally with difficult cadenzas, full of unique +intervals, with more ease and precision than our charming Italian? Who +can execute a musical tour de force with more effect than she has so +recently done in Norma and Lucrezia? + +Persiani has acquired her great reputation by husbanding her powers for +the purpose of making frequent points, and on this account she is not +uniform, but by turn electrifies and tires her audience. She passes +through the minor passages, undistinguished from those around her, but +in the concerted pieces, and wherever she can introduce a cadenza or a +_tour de force_, she carries all before her. Parodi is good +_everywhere_--in the dull recitative, and in the secondary and +unimportant passages. Her magnificent acting, combined with her superb +vocalization, enchain through the entire opera. + +Grisi, like Parodi, is always uniform and accurate in her +representations, and upon the whole should be regarded as the queen of +song; but with these exceptions we know of no person who deserves a +higher rank as a true artist than Parodi. As yet she is not sufficiently +understood. She electrifies her hearers, and secures their entire +sympathies, but they have still to learn that silvery and melodious +tones, and cool mechanical execution, do not alone constitute a genuine +artist or a faultless prima donna. When the public understand how +perfectly Parodi identifies herself with the emotions and passions she +has to portray,--when they appreciate the immense variety of intonations +with which she illustrates her characters, and the earnestness and +intensity with which she throws her whole nature into all she does--then +she will be hailed as the greatest artist ever on this continent, and +one of the greatest in the world. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. E. Oakes Smith's new tragedy called "The Roman Tribute," has been +produced in Philadelphia for several nights in succession, with very +decided success. The leading character in this play, a noble old Roman, +is quite an original creation. He is represented as a mixture of antique +patriotism, heroic valor, sublime fidelity, and stern resolution, tinged +with a beautiful coloring of romance which softens and relieves his more +commanding virtues. Several feminine characters of singular loveliness +are introduced. The play abounds in scenes of deep passion and thrilling +pathos, while its chaste elegance of language equally adapts it for the +closet or the stage. It was brought out with great splendor of costume, +scenery, proscenium, and the other usual accessories of stage effect, +and presented one of the most gorgeous spectacles of the season. We are +gratified to learn that the dramatic talent of this richly-gifted lady, +concerning which we have before expressed ourselves in terms of high +encomium, has received such a brilliant illustration from the test of +stage experiment. Mrs. Oakes Smith's admirable play of "Jacob Leisler" +will probably be acted in New York during the season. + + * * * * * + +LEIGH HUNT UPON G.P.R. JAMES. + +I hail every fresh publication of James, though I half know what he is +going to do with his lady, and his gentleman, and his landscape, and his +mystery, and his orthodoxy, and his criminal trial. But I am charmed +with the new amusement which he brings out of old materials. I look on +him as I look on a musician famous for "variations." I am grateful for +his vein of cheerfulness, for his singularly varied and vivid +landscapes, for his power of painting women at once lady-like and loving +(a rare talent,) for making lovers to match, at once beautiful and +well-bred, and for the solace which all this has afforded me, sometimes +over and over again, in illness and in convalescence, when I required +interest without violence, and entertainment at once animated and mild. + + * * * * * + +HERR HECKER DESCRIBED BY MADAME BLAZE DE BURY. + +We have heretofore given in the _International_ some account of Madame +Blaze de Bury, and have made some extracts from her piquant and +otherwise remarkable book, "Germania."[2] Looking it over we find +considerable information respecting Herr Hecker, who, since his +unfortunate attempt to revolutionize Germany, has lived in the United +States, being now, we believe, a farmer somewhere in the West. According +to the adventurous Baroness, Hecker was the first man in Germany to +declare for revolution. He was born, near Mannheim, in 1811; he took a +doctor's degree in the University of Heidelberg, followed the profession +of the law, and was elected a member of the Lower House in his 31st +year. Thenceforth he was active in opposition. He possessed all the +chief attributes of a popular leader, and his person was graceful and +commanding, his temperament ardent, his eloquence impassioned. Although +the Grand Duke Leopold was the "gentlest and most paternal of +sovereigns," according to Madame de Bury, still there were many radical +defects in the constitution of Baden. Against these defects Hecker waged +war, and with some success, which instigated him to further efforts +against the government. At length he was beaten on a motion to stop the +supplies, and he retired into France disgusted with his countrymen. +After some time he returned impregnated with the reddest republicanism. +He found sympathy in Baden, and when the revolution broke out in Paris, +he resolved to raise the standard of Republicism in Germany. In April, +1848, he set out for Constance, with four drummers and eight hundred +Badeners. He and they, extravagantly dressed and armed, proceeded +unopposed, singing "Hecker-songs," and comparing their progress to the +march of the French over the Simplon! They arrived at Constance, and +called the people to arms, but the people would not come. The slouched +hats and huge sabers of the patriots did not produce the desired +impression, and then _it rained_. In short, the movement failed. +Finally, having beaten up all the most disaffected parts of the country +for recruits, Hecker arrived at Kandern with twelve hundred men. Here +Gagern met him with a few hundred regular troops. Hecker attempted to +gain them over with the cry of "German brotherhood," but Gagern kept +them steady until he fell, mortally wounded, on the bridge. Then there +was a slight skirmish; both parties retreated, and act the first of the +drama closed. Meanwhile the _Vor Parlament_ had been summoned, and the +National Assembly of Frankfort had met in the Paulskircke, to the number +of four hundred deputies; their self-constituted task was simply to +reform all Germany. Frankfort was stirring and joyous upon this +occasion, as it had used to be in former days, when within its walls +was elected the Head of the Holy Roman Empire. Bells were rung, cannon +fired, triumphal arches raised, green boughs and rainbow-colored banners +waved, flowers strewn in the streets, tapestries hung from windows and +balconies, hands stretched forth in greeting, voices strained to call +down blessings; all that popular enthusiasm could invent was there, and +one immense cry of rejoicing saluted what was fondly termed the +"Regeneration of Germany." The tumults, the misery, the bloodshed, and +the disappointment that followed, until the Rump of this "magniloquent +Parliament" sought shelter at Stuttgardt, are fresh in our memory. + + [2: Germania: its Courts, Camps, and People. By the Baroness Blaze + de Bury. London: Colburn.] + +Hecker, having done his utmost to "agitate" his country, and having +failed "to inspire a dastard populace with the spirit of the ancient +Roman people," as Madame expresses it, he fled to America. But his name +was still a tower of strength to his Red brethren and the _Freicorps_ of +the Schwartzwald and the Rhine. In Western Germany a year ago last +summer his return was enthusiastically expected by the revolutionary +army. "When Hecker comes," said they, "we shall be invincible." He came: +his followers crowded round him and implored him at once to lead them on +to victory! "Victory be d--d," was the reply of the returned exile; "go +home to your plows and your vines and your wives and children, and leave +me to attend to mine." Hecker had only come to Europe for his family, +and he returned almost immediately to America. Meanwhile the war blazed +up for a little while and then expired, leaving behind it the _Deutsche +Verwirrung_[3] as it now presents itself in Germania.[4] + + [3: Literally, the _German entanglement_.] + + [4: Hecker seems to have been a sincere enthusiast; and it is + always observed by his friends that he renounced ease and comfort + for the cause that he espoused. We append a single verse from one + of the "Hecker songs" that were in 1849 in the mouth of every + Badish republican:-- + + "Look at Hecker wealth-renouncing, + O'er his head the red plume waves, + Th' awakening people's will announcing, + For the tyrant's blood he craves! + Mud boots thick and solid wears he, + All round Hecker's banner come, + And march at sound of Hecker's drum."] + + + + +Original Poetry. + + +THE GRIEF OF THE WEEPING WILLOW. + + Round my cottage porch are wreathing + Creeping vines, their perfume breathing + To the balmy breeze of Spring. + Near it is a streamlet flowing, + Where old shady trees are growing; + But of _one alone_ I sing. + + O'er the water sadly bending, + With the wave its leaflets blending, + Stands a lonely willow tree. + And the shadow seems e'erlasting, + That its boughs are always casting + O'er the tiny wavelets' glee. + + Oft I've wondered what the sorrow, + That ne'er know a gladsome morrow, + In the mourner's heart was sealed; + But no bitter wail of sadness, + Nor low tone of chastened gladness, + Had the willow tree revealed. + + When the breeze its leaves was lifting; + When the snows were round it drifting, + Seemed it still to grieve the same. + Round its trunk a vine is twining, + But its tendrils too seem pining + For a hand to tend and claim. + + Type of love that bears life's testing, + They earth's rudest storms are breasting; + Harmed not--so together borne; + And like girl to lover clinging, + Passing time is only bringing + Strength for every coming morn. + + Of one summer eve I ponder, + When I musing chanced to wander + By the streamlet's margin bright. + Moonbeams thro' the leaves were streaming, + And each leaping wave was gleaming + With a paly, astral light. + + O'er me hung the weeping willow; + Mossy bank was balmy pillow, + And in slumber sweet I dreamed: + Dreamed of music round me gushing, + That as winds o'er harp-strings rushing, + E'er like angel's whisper seemed. + + Oh, those low-breathed tones of sorrow; + Would that mortal tongue could borrow + Power to sing their sweetness o'er; + Here and there a sentence gleaming, + Soon my spirit caught the meaning + That the mournful numbers bore. + + Sleeper, who beneath my shade, + Hath thy couch of dreaming made; + Listen as I breathe to thee + All my mournful history. + Childhood, youth, and womanhood, + Have beneath my branches stood; + And of each as pass thy slumbers, + Speak my melancholy numbers. + + Of a fair-haired child I tell, + Who, one evening shadows fell, + Many a bright and gladsome hour + Passed mid haunt of bird and flower; + O'er the grassy meadow straying, + By the streamlet's margin playing, + Free from thoughts of care and sadness, + Full of life, and joy, and gladness. + Where my branches lowly hung + Oft her fairy form hath swung, + And methinks her laugh I hear, + Gaily ringing sweet and clear, + As with fading light of day, + Tripped her dancing feet away, + With many smiles and fewer tears, + Thus flew childhood's sunny years. + Soon she in my shadow stood, + On the verge of womanhood: + O'er her pale and thoughtful brow + Sunny tress was braided now; + Softer tones her lips were breathing, + Calmer smiles around them wreathing, + Than in childhood's gayer day, + Sported from those lips away. + Often with her came another; + But more tender than a brother + Seemed he in the care of her + Who was his perfect worshiper. + His the hand that trained the vine + Round my mossy trunk to twine; + 'Twas the parting gift of one, + Whom no more I looked upon. + Memories of bygone hours + Seemed to her its fragile flowers. + And each bursting, fragrant blossom + Wore she on her gentle bosom, + 'Till like them in sad decay, + Passed her maiden life away. + Once, and only once again, + To the trysting place she came: + Sad and tearful was her eye, + And I heard a mournful sigh, + Breathed from out the parted lips, + Whose smile seemed quenched by grief's eclipse. + Leaf and flower were fading fast, + 'Neath the autumn's chilling blast. + And all nature seemed to be + Kindred with her misery. + Winter passed--but spring's warm sun + Brought not back the long-missed one. + And though vainly, still I yearn + For that stricken one's return. + + HERMANN + +_Riverside, Nov. 10, 1850._ + + + + +A STORY WITHOUT A NAME.[5] + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE BY + +G.P.R. JAMES, ESQ. + + [5: Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by + G.P.R. James, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the + United States, for the Southern District of New York.] + + +CHAPTER I. + +Let me take you into an old-fashioned country house, built by architects +of the early reign of James the First. It had all the peculiarities--I +might almost say the oddities--of that particular epoch in the building +art. Chimneys innumerable had it. Heaven only knows what rooms they +ventilated; but their name must have been legion. The windows were not +fewer in number, and much more irregular: for the chimneys were gathered +together in some sort of symmetrical arrangement, while the windows were +scattered all over the various faces of the building, with no apparent +arrangement at all. Heaven knows, also, what rooms they lighted, or were +intended to light, for they very little served the purpose, being +narrow, and obstructed by the stone mullions of the Elizabethan age. +Each too had its label of stone superincumbent, and projecting from the +brick-work, which might leave the period of construction somewhat +doubtful--but the gables decided the fact. + +They, too, were manifold; for although the house had been built all at +once, it seemed, nevertheless, to have been erected in detached masses, +and joined together as best the builder could; so that there were no +less than six gables, turning north, south, east, and west, with four +right angles, and flat walls between them. These gables were +surmounted--topped, as it were, by a triangular wall, somewhat higher +than the acute roof, and this wall was constructed with a row of steps, +coped with freestone, on either side of the ascent, as if the architect +had fancied that some man or statue would, one day or another, have to +climb up to the top of the pyramid, and take his place upon the crowning +stone. + +It was a gloomy old edifice: the bricks had become discolored; the +livery of age, yellow and gray lichen, was upon it; daws hovered round +the chimney tops; rooks passed cawing over it, on the way to their +conventicle hard by; no swallow built under the eaves; and the trees, as +if repelled by its stern, cold aspect, retreated from it on three sides, +leaving it alone on its own flat ground, like a moody man amidst a gay +society. + +On the fourth side, indeed, an avenue--that is to say, two rows of old +elms--crept cautiously up to it in a winding and sinuous course, as if +afraid of approaching too rapidly; and at the distance of some five or +six hundred yards, clumps of old trees, beeches and evergreen oaks, and +things of somber foliage, dotted the park, only enlivened by here and +there a herd of deer. + +Now and then, a milk-maid, a country woman going to church or market, a +peasant, or a game-keeper, might be seen traversing the dry brown +expanse of grass, and but rarely deviating from a beaten path, which led +from one stile over the path wall to another. It was all somber and +monotonous: the very spirit of dullness seemed to hang over it; and the +clouds themselves--the rapid sportive clouds, free denizens of the sky, +and playmates of the wind and sunbeam--appeared to grow dull and tardy, +as they passed across the wide space open to the view, and to proceed +with awe and gravity, like timid youth in the presence of stern old age. + +Enough of the outside of the house. Let me take you into the interior, +reader, and into one particular room--not the largest and the finest; +but one of the highest. It was a little oblong chamber, with one window, +which was ornamented--the only ornament the chamber had--with a decent +curtain of red and white checked linen. On the side next the door, and +between it and the western wall, was a small bed. A walnut-tree table +and two or three chairs were near the window. In one corner stood a +washing-stand, not very tidily arranged, in another a chest of drawers; +and opposite the fire-place, hung from nails driven into the wall, two +or three shelves of the same material as the table, each supporting a +row of books, which by the dark black covers, brown edges, and thumbed +corners, seemed to have a right to boast of some antiquity and much use. + +At the table, as you perceive, there is seated a boy of some fifteen +years of age, with pen and ink and paper, and an open book. If you look +over his shoulder, you will perceive that the words are Latin. Yet he +reads it with ease and facility, and seeks no aid from the dictionary. +It is the "Cato Major" of Cicero. Heaven! what a book for a child like +that to read! Boyhood studying old age! + +But let us turn from the book, and examine the lad himself more closely. +See that pale face, with a manlike unnatural gravity upon it. Look at +that high broad brow, towering as a monument above the eyes. Remark +those eyes themselves, with their deep eager thought; and then the gleam +in them--something more than earnestness, and less than wildness--a +thirsty sort of expression, as if they drank in that they rested on, and +yet were unsated. + +The brow rests upon the pale fair hand, as if requiring something to +support the heavy weight of thought with which the brain is burdened. He +marks nothing but the lines of that old book. His whole soul is in the +eloquent words. He hears not the door open; he sees not that tall, +venerable, but somewhat stiff and gaunt figure, enter and approach him. +He reads on, till the old man's Geneva cloak brushes his arm, and his +hand is upon his shoulder. Then he starts up--looks around--but says +nothing. A faint smile, pleasant yet grave, crosses his finely cut lip; +but that is the only welcome, as he raises his eyes to the face that +bends over him. Can that boy in years be already aged in heart? + +It is clear that the old man--the old clergyman, for so he evidently +is--has no very tender nature. Every line of his face forbids the +supposition. The expression itself is grave, not to say stern. There is +powerful thought about it, but small gentleness. He seems one of those +who have been tried and hardened in some one of the many fiery furnaces +which the world provides for the test of men of strong minds and strong +hearts. There has been much persecution in the land; there have been +changes, from the rigid and severe to the light and frivolous--from the +light and frivolous to the bitter and cruel. There have been tyrants of +all shapes and all characters within the last forty years, and fools, +and knaves, and madmen, to cry them on in every course of evil. In all +these chances and changes, what fixed and rigid mind could escape the +fangs of persecution and wrong? He had known both; but they had changed +him little. His was originally an unbending spirit: it grew more tough +and stubborn by the habit of resistance; but its original bent was still +the same. + +Fortune--heaven's will--or his own inclination, had denied him wife or +child; and near relation he had none. A friend he had: that boy's +father, who had sheltered him in evil times, protected him as far as +possible against the rage of enemies, and bestowed upon him the small +living which afforded him support. He did his duty therein +conscientiously, but with a firm unyielding spirit, adhering to the +Calvinistic tenets which he had early received, in spite of the +universal falling off of companions and neighbors. He would not have +yielded an iota to have saved his head. + +With all his hardness, he had one object of affection, to which all that +was gentle in his nature was bent. That object was the boy by whom he +now stood, and for whom he had a great--an almost parental regard. +Perhaps it was that he thought the lad not very well treated; and, as +such had been his own case, there was sympathy in the matter. But +besides, he had been intrusted with his education from a very early +period, had taken a pleasure in the task, had found his scholar apt, +willing, and affectionate, with a sufficient touch of his own character +in the boy to make the sympathy strong, and yet sufficient diversity to +interest and to excite. + +The old man was tenderer toward him than toward any other being upon +earth; and he sometimes feared that his early injunctions to study and +perseverance were somewhat too strictly followed--even to the detriment +of health. He often looked with some anxiety at the increasing paleness +of the cheek, at the too vivid gleam of the eye, at the eager nervous +quivering of the lip, and said within himself, "This is overdone." + +He did not like to check, after he had encouraged--to draw the rein +where he had been using the spur. There is something of vanity in us +all, and the sternest is not without that share which makes man shrink +from the imputation of error, even when made by his own heart. He did +not choose to think that the lad had needed no urging forward; and yet +he would fain have had him relax a little more, and strove at times to +make him do so. But the impulse had been given: it had carried the youth +over the difficulties and obstacles in the way to knowledge, and now he +went on to acquire it, with an eagerness, a thirst, that had something +fearful in it. A bent, too, had been given to his mind--nay, to his +character, partly by the stern uncompromising character of him to whom +his education had been solely intrusted, partly by his own peculiar +situation, and partly by the subjects on which his reading had chiefly +turned. + +The stern old Roman of the early republic; the deeds of heroic +virtue--as virtue was understood by the Romans; the sacrifice of all +tender affections, all the sensibilities of our nature to the rigid +thought of what is right; the remorseless disregard of feelings +implanted by God, when opposed to the notion of duties of man's +creation, excited his wonder and his admiration, and would have hardened +and perverted his heart, had not that heart been naturally full of +kindlier affections. As it was, there often existed a struggle--a sort +of hypothetical struggle--in his bosom, between the mind and the heart. +He asked himself sometimes, if he could sacrifice any of those he knew +and loved--his father, his mother, his brother, to the good of his +country, to some grave duty; and he felt pained and roused to resistance +of his own affections when he perceived what a pang it would cost him. + +Yet his home was not a very happy one; the kindlier things of domestic +life had not gathered green around him. His father was varying and +uneven in temper, especially toward his second son; sometimes stern and +gloomy, sometimes irascible almost to a degree of insanity. Generous, +brave, and upright, he was; but every one said, that a wound he had +received on the head in the wars, had marvelously increased the +infirmities of his temper. + +The mother, indeed, was full of tenderness and gentleness; and doubtless +it was through her veins that the milk of human kindness had found its +way into that strange boy's heart. But yet she loved her eldest son +best, and unfortunately showed it. + +The brother was a wild, rash, reckless young man, some three years +older; fond of the other, yet often pleased to irritate--or at least to +try, for he seldom succeeded. He was the favorite, however, somewhat +spoiled, much indulged; and whatever was done, was done for him. He was +the person most considered in the house; his were the parties of +pleasure; his the advantages. Even now the family was absent, in order +to let him see the capital of his native land, to open his mind to the +general world, to show him life on a more extended scale than could be +done in the country; and his younger brother was left at home, to pursue +his studies in dull solitude. + +Yet he did not complain; there was not even a murmur at his heart. He +thought it all quite right. His destiny was before him. He was to form +his fortune for himself, by his own abilities, his own learning, his own +exertions. It was needful he should study, and his greatest ambition for +the time was to enter with distinction at the University; his brightest +thoughts of pleasure, the comparative freedom and independence of a +collegiate life. + +Not that he did not find it dull; that gloomy old house, inhabited by +none but himself and a few servants. Sometimes it seemed to oppress him +with a sense of terrible loneliness; sometimes it drove him to think of +the strange difference of human destinies, and why it should be +that--because it had pleased Heaven one man should be born a little +sooner or a little later than another, or in some other place--such a +wide interval should be placed between the different degrees of +happiness and fortune. + +He felt, however, that such speculations were not good; they led him +beyond his depth; he involved himself in subtilties more common in those +days than in ours; he lost his way; and with passionate eagerness flew +to his books, to drive the mists and shadows from his mind. Such had +been the case even now; and there he sat, unconscious that a complete +and total change was coming over his destiny. + +Oh, the dark workshop of Fate! what strange things go on therein, +affecting human misery and joy, repairing or breaking shackles for the +mind, the means of carrying us forward in a glorious cause, the +relentless weights which hurry us down to destruction! While you sit +there and read--while I sit here and write, who can say what strange +alterations, what combinations in the most discrepant things may be +going on around--without our will, without our knowledge--to alter the +whole course of our future existence? Doubtless, could man make his own +fate, he would mar it; and the impossibility of doing so is good. The +freedom of his own actions is sufficient, nay, somewhat too much; and it +is well for the world, aye, and for himself--that there is an overruling +Providence which so shapes circumstances around him, that he cannot go +beyond his limit, flutter as he will. + +There is something in that old man's face more than is common with +him--a deeper gravity even than ordinary, yet mingled with a tenderness +that is rare. There is something like hesitation, too--ay, hesitation +even in him who during a stormy life has seldom known what it is to +doubt or to deliberate: a man of strict and ready preparation, whose +fixed, clear, definite mind was always prompt and competent to act. + +"Come, Philip, my son," he said, laying his hand, as I have stated, on +the lad's shoulder, "enough of study for to-day. You read too hard. You +run before my precepts. The body must have thought as well as the mind; +and if you let the whole summer day pass without exercise, you will soon +find that under the weight of corporeal sickness the intellect will flag +and the spirit droop. I am going for a walk. Come with me; and we will +converse of high things by the way." + +"Study is my task and my duty, sir," replied the boy; "my father tells +me so, you have told me so often, and as for health I fear not. I seem +refreshed when I get up from reading, especially such books as this. It +is only when I have been out long, riding or walking, that I feel +tired." + +"A proof that you should ride and walk the more," replied the old man. +"Come, put on your hat and cloak. You shall read no more to-day. There +are other thoughts before you; you know, Philip," he continued, "that by +reading we get but materials, which we must use to build up an edifice +in our own minds. If all our thoughts are derived from others gone +before us, we are but robbers of the dead, and live upon labors not our +own." + +"Elder sons," replied the boy, with a laugh, "who take an inheritance +for which they toiled not." + +"Something worse than that," replied the clergyman, "for we gather what +we do not employ rightly--what we have every right to possess, but upon +the sole condition of using well. Each man possessed of intellect is +bound to make his own mind, not to have it made for him; to adapt it to +the times and circumstances in which he lives, squaring it by just +rules, and employing the best materials he can find." + +"Well, sir, I am ready," replied the youth, after a moment of deep +thought; and he and his old preceptor issued forth together down the +long staircase, with the slant sunshine pouring through the windows upon +the unequal steps, and illuminating the motes in the thick atmosphere we +breathe, like fancy brightening the idle floating things which surround +us in this world of vanity. + +They walked across the park toward the stile. The youth was silent, for +the old man's last words seemed to have awakened a train of thought +altogether new. + +His companion was silent also; for there was something working within +him which embarrassed and distressed him. He had something to tell that +young man, and he knew not how to tell it. For the first time in his +life he perceived, from the difficulty he experienced in deciding upon +his course, how little he really knew of his pupil's character. He had +dealt much with his mind, and that he comprehended well--its depth, its +clearness, its powers; but his heart and disposition he had not scanned +so accurately. He had a surmise, indeed, that there were feelings strong +and intense within; but he thought that the mind ruled them with +habitual sway that nothing could shake. Yet he paused and pondered; and +once he stopped, as if about to speak, but went on again and said +nothing. + +At length, as they approached the park wall, he laid his finger on his +temple, muttering to himself, "Yes, the quicker the better. 'Tis well to +mingle two passions. Surprise will share with grief--if much grief there +be." Then turning to the young man, he said, "Philip, I think you loved +your brother Arthur?" + +He spoke loudly, and in plain distinct tones; but the lad did not seem +to remark the past tense he used. "Certainly, sir," he said, "I love him +dearly. What of that?" + +"Then you will be very happy to hear," replied the old man, "that he has +been singularly fortunate--I mean that he has been removed from earth +and all its allurements--the vanities, the sins, the follies of the +world in which he seemed destined to move, before he could be corrupted +by its evils, or his spirit receive a taint from its vices." + +The young man turned and gazed on him with inquiring eyes, as if still +he did not comprehend what he meant. + +"He was drowned," said the clergyman, "on Saturday last, while sailing +with a party of pleasure on the Thames;" and Philip fell at his feet as +senseless as if he had shot him. + + +CHAPTER II. + +I must not dwell long upon the youthful scenes of the lad I have just +introduced to the reader; but as it is absolutely needful that his +peculiar character should be clearly understood, I must suffer it to +display itself a little farther before I step from his boyhood to his +maturity. + +We left Philip Hastings senseless upon the ground, at the feet of his +old preceptor, struck down by the sudden intelligence he had received, +without warning or preparation. + +The old man was immeasurably shocked at what he had done, and he +reproached himself bitterly; but he had been a man of action all his +life, who never suffered thought, whether pleasant or painful, to impede +him. He could think while he acted, and as he was a strong man too, he +had no great difficulty in taking the slight, pale youth up in his arms, +and carrying him over the park stile, which was close at hand, as the +reader may remember. He had made up his mind at once to bear his young +charge to a small cottage belonging to a laborer on the other side of +the road which ran under the park wall; but on reaching it, he found +that the whole family were out walking in the fields, and both doors and +windows were closed. + +This was a great disappointment to him, although there was a very +handsome house, in modern taste, not two hundred yards off. But there +were circumstances which made him unwilling to bear the son of Sir John +Hastings to the dwelling of his next neighbor. Next neighbors are not +always friends; and even the clergyman of the parish may have his +likings and dislikings. + +Colonel Marshal and Sir John Hastings were political opponents. The +latter was of the Calvinistic branch of the Church of England--not +absolutely a non-juror, but suspected even of having a tendency that +way. He was sturdy and stiff in his political opinions, too, and had but +small consideration for the conscientious views and sincere opinions of +others. To say the truth, he was but little inclined to believe that any +one who differed from him had conscientious views or sincere opinions at +all; and certainly the demeanor, if not the conduct, of the worthy +Colonel did not betoken any fixed notion or strong principles. He was a +man of the Court--gay, lively, even witty, making a jest of most things, +however grave and worthy of reverence. He played high, generally won, +was shrewd, complaisant, and particular in his deference to kings and +prime ministers. Moreover, he was of the very highest of the High Church +party--so high, indeed, that those who belonged to the Low Church party, +fancied he must soon topple over into Catholicism. + +In truth, I believe, had the heart of the Colonel been very strictly +examined, it would have been found very empty of anything like real +religion. But then the king was a Roman Catholic, and it was pleasant to +be as near him as possible. + +It may be asked, why then did not the Colonel go the same length as his +Majesty? The answer is very simple. Colonel Marshal was a shrewd +observer of the signs of the times. At the card table, after the three +first cards were played, he could tell where every other card in the +pack was placed. Now in politics he was nearly as discerning; and he +perceived that, although King James had a great number of honors in his +hand, he did not hold the trumps, and would eventually lose the game. +Had it been otherwise, there is no saying what sort of religion he might +have adopted. There is no reason to think that Transubstantiation would +have stood in the way at all; and as for the Council of Trent, he would +have swallowed it like a roll for his breakfast. + +For this man, then, Sir John Hastings had both a thorough hatred and a +profound contempt, and he extended the same sensations to every member +of the family. In the estimation of the worthy old clergyman the Colonel +did not stand much higher; but he was more liberal toward the Colonel's +family. Lady Annabella Marshal, his wife, was, when in the country, a +very regular attendant at his church. She had been exceedingly +beautiful, was still handsome, and she had, moreover, a sweet, +saint-like, placid expression, not untouched by melancholy, which was +very winning, even in an old man's eyes. She was known, too, to have +made a very good wife to a not very good husband; and, to say the truth, +Dr. Paulding both pitied and esteemed her. He went but little to the +house, indeed, for Colonel Marshal was odious to him; and the Colonel +returned the compliment by never going to the church. + +Such were the reasons which rendered the thought of carrying young +Philip Hastings up to The Court--as Colonel Marshal's house was +called--anything but agreeable to the good clergyman. But then, what +could he do? He looked in the boy's face. It was like that of a corpse. +Not a sign of returning animation showed itself. He had heard of +persons dying under such sudden affections of the mind; and so still, so +death-like, was the form and countenance before him, as he laid the lad +down for a moment on the bench at the cottage door, that his heart +misgave him, and a trembling feeling of dread came over his old frame. +He hesitated no longer, but after a moment's pause to gain breath, +caught young Hastings up in his arms again, and hurried away with him +toward Colonel Marshal's house. + +I have said that it was a modern mansion; that is to imply, that it was +modern in that day. Heaven only knows what has become of it now; but +Louis Quatorze, though he had no hand in the building of it, had many of +its sins to answer for--and the rest belonged to Mansard. It was the +strangest possible contrast to the old-fashioned country seat of Sir +John Hastings, who had his joke at it, and at the owner too--for he, +too, could jest in a bitter way--and he used to say that he wondered his +neighbor had not added his own name to the building, to distinguish it +from all other courts; and then it would have been Court Marshal. Many +were the windows of the house; many the ornaments; pilasters running up +between the casements, with sunken panels, covered over with quaint +wreaths of flowers, as if each had an embroidered waistcoat on; and a +large flight of steps running down from the great doorway, decorated +with Cupids and cornucopias running over with this most indigestible +kind of stone-fruit. + +The path from the gates up to the house was well graveled, and ran in +and out amongst sundry parterres, and basins of water, with the Tritons, +&c., of the age, all spouting away as hard as a large reservoir on the +top of the neighboring slope could make them. But for serviceable +purposes these basins were vain, as the water was never suffered to rise +nearly to the brim; and good Dr. Paulding gazed on them without hope, as +he passed on toward the broad flight of steps. + +There, however, he found something of a more comfortable aspect. The +path he had been obliged to take had one convenience to the dwellers in +the mansion. Every window in that side of the house commanded a view of +it, and the Doctor and his burden were seen by one pair of eyes at +least. + +Running down the steps without any of the frightful appendages of the +day upon her head, but her own bright beautiful hair curling wild like +the tendrils of a vine, came a lovely girl of fourteen or fifteen, just +past the ugly age, and blushing in the spring of womanhood. There was +eagerness and some alarm in her face: for the air and haste of the +worthy clergyman, as well as the form he carried in his arms, spoke as +plainly as words could have done that some accident had happened; and +she called to him, at some distance, to ask what was the matter. + +"Matter, child! matter!" cried the clergyman, "I believe I have half +killed this poor boy." + +"Killed him!" exclaimed the girl, with a look of doubt as well as +surprise. + +"Ay, Mistress Rachael," replied the old man, "killed him by unkindly and +rashly telling him of his brother's death, without preparation." + +"You intended it for kind, I am sure," murmured the girl in a sweet low +tone, coming down the steps, and gazing on his pale face, while the +clergyman carried the lad up the steps. + +"There, Miss Marshal, do not stay staring," said Dr. Paulding; "but pray +call some of the lackeys, and bid them bring water or hartshorn, or +something. Your lady-mother must have some essences to bring folks out +of swoons. There is nothing but swooning at Court, I am told--except +gaming, and drinking, and profanity." + +The girl was already on her way, but she looked back, saying, "My father +and mother are both out; but I will soon find help." + +When the lad opened his eyes, there was something very near, which +seemed to him exceedingly beautiful--rich, warm coloring, like that of a +sunny landscape; a pair of liquid, tender eyes, deeply fringed and full +of sympathy; and the while some sunny curls of bright brown hair played +about his cheek, moved by the hay-field breath of the sweet lips that +bent close over him. + +"Where am I?" he said. "What is the matter? What has happened? Ah! now I +recollect. My brother--my poor brother! Was it a dream?" + +"Hush, hush!" said a musical voice. "Talk to him, sir. Talk to him, and +make him still." + +"It is but too true, my dear Philip," said the old clergyman; "your +brother is lost to us. But recollect yourself, my son. It is weak to +give way in this manner. I announced your misfortune somewhat suddenly, +it is true, trusting that your philosophy was stronger than it is--your +Christian fortitude. Remember, all these dispensations are from the hand +of the most merciful God. He who gives the sunshine, shall he not bring +the clouds? Doubt not that all is merciful; and suffer not the +manifestations of His will to find you unprepared or unsubmissive." + +"I have been very weak," said the young man, "but it was so sudden! +Heaven! how full of health and strength he looked when he went away! He +was the picture of life--almost of immortality. I was but as a reed +beside him--a weak, feeble reed, beside a sapling oak." + +"'One shall be taken, and the other left,'" said the sweet voice of the +young girl; and the eyes both of the youth and the old clergyman turned +suddenly upon her. + +Philip Hastings raised himself upon his arm, and seemed to meditate for +a moment or two. His thoughts were confused and indistinct. He knew not +well where he was. The impression of what had happened was vague and +indefinite. As eyes which have been seared by the lightning, his mind, +which had lost the too vivid impression, now perceived everything in +mist and confusion. + +"I have been very weak," he said, "too weak. It is strange. I thought +myself firmer. What is the use of thought and example, if the mind +remains thus feeble? But I am better now. I will never yield thus +again;" and flinging himself off the sofa on which they had laid him, he +stood for a moment on his feet, gazing round upon the old clergyman and +that beautiful young girl, and two or three servants who had been called +to minister to him. + +We all know--at least, all who have dealt with the fiery things of +life--all who have felt and suffered, and struggled and conquered, and +yielded and grieved, and triumphed in the end--we all know how +short-lived are the first conquests of mind over body, and how much +strength and experience it requires to make the victory complete. To +render the soul the despot, the tyranny must be habitual. + +Philip Hastings rose, as I have said, and gazed around him. He struggled +against the shock which his mere animal nature had received, shattered +as it had been by long and intense study, and neglect of all that +contributes to corporeal power. But everything grew hazy to his eyes +again. He felt his limbs weak and powerless; even his mind feeble, and +his thoughts confused. Before he knew what was coming, he sunk fainting +on the sofa again, and when he woke from the dull sort of trance into +which he had fallen, there were other faces around him; he was stretched +quietly in bed in a strange room, a physician and a beautiful lady of +mature years were standing by his bedside, and he felt the oppressive +lassitude of fever in every nerve and in every limb. + +But we must turn to good Doctor Paulding. He went back to his rectory +discontented with himself, leaving the lad in the care of Lady Annabella +Marshal and her family. The ordinary--as the man who carried the letters +was frequently called in those days--was to depart in an hour, and he +knew that Sir John Hastings expected his only remaining son in London to +attend the body of his brother down to the family burying place. It was +impossible that the lad could go, and the old clergyman had to sit down +and write an account of what had occurred. + +There was nothing upon earth, or beyond the earth, which would have +induced him to tell a lie. True, his mind might be subject to such +self-deceptions as the mind of all other men. He might be induced to +find excuses to his own conscience for anything he did that was +wrong--for any mistake or error in judgment; for, willfully, he never +did what was wrong; and it was only by the results that he knew it. But +yet he was eagerly, painfully upon his guard against himself. He knew +the weakness of human nature--he had dealt with it often, and observed +it shrewdly, and applied the lesson with bitter severity to his own +heart, detecting its shrinking from candor, its hankering after +self-defense, its misty prejudices, its turnings and windings to escape +conviction; and he dealt with it as hardly as he would have done with a +spoiled child. + +Calmly and deliberately he sat down to write to Sir John Hastings a full +account of what had occurred, taking more blame to himself than was +really his due. I have called it a full account, though it occupied but +one page of paper, for the good doctor was anything but profuse of +words; and there are some men who can say much in small space. He blamed +himself greatly, anticipating reproach; but the thing which he feared +the most to communicate was the fact that the lad was left ill at the +house of Colonel Marshal, and at the house of a man so very much +disliked by Sir John Hastings. + +There are some men--men of strong mind and great abilities--who go +through life learning some of its lessons, and totally neglecting +others--pre-occupied by one branch of the great study, and seeing +nothing in the course of scholarship but that. Dr. Paulding had no +conception of the change which the loss of their eldest son had wrought +in the heart of Sir John and Lady Hastings. The second--the neglected +one--had now become not only the eldest, but the only one. His illness, +painfully as it affected them, was a blessing to them. It withdrew their +thoughts from their late bereavement. It occupied their mind with a new +anxiety. It withdrew it from grief and from disappointment. They thought +little or nothing of whose house he was at, or whose care he was under; +but leaving the body of their dead child to be brought down by slow and +solemn procession to the country, they hurried on before, to watch over +the one that was left. + +Sir John Hastings utterly forgot his ancient feelings toward Colonel +Marshal. He was at the house every day, and almost all day long, and +Lady Hastings was there day and night. + +Wonderful how--when barriers are broken down--we see the objects brought +into proximity under a totally different point of view from that in +which we beheld them at a distance. There might be some stiffness in the +first meeting of Colonel Marshal and Sir John Hastings, but it wore off +with exceeding rapidity. The Colonel's kindness and attention to the +sick youth were marked. Lady Annabella devoted herself to him as to one +of her own children. Rachael Marshal made herself a mere nurse. Hard +hearts could only withstand such things. Philip was now an only child, +and the parents were filled with gratitude and affection. + + +CHAPTER III. + +The stone which covered the vault of the Hastings family had been +raised, and light and air let into the cold, damp interior. A ray of +sunshine, streaming through the church window, found its way across the +mouldy velvet of the old coffins as they stood ranged along in solemn +order, containing the dust of many ancestors of the present possessors +of the manor. There, too, apart from the rest were the coffins of those +who had died childless; the small narrow resting-place of childhood, +where the guileless infant, the father's and mother's joy and hope, +slept its last sleep, leaving tearful eyes and sorrowing hearts behind, +with naught to comfort but the blessed thought that by calling such from +earth, God peoples heaven with angels; the coffins, too, of those cut +off in the early spring of manhood, whom the fell mower had struck down +in the flower before the fruit was ripe. Oh, how his scythe levels the +blossoming fields of hope! There, too, lay the stern old soldier, whose +life had been given up to his country's service, and who would not spare +one thought or moment to soften domestic joys; and many another who had +lived, perhaps and loved, and passed away without receiving love's +reward. + +Amongst these, close at the end of the line, stood two tressels, ready +for a fresh occupant of the tomb, and the church bell tolled heavily +above, while the old sexton looked forth from the door of the church +toward the gates of the park, and the heavy clouded sky seemed to menace +rain. + +"Happy the bride the sun shines upon; happy the corpse the heaven rains +upon!" said the old man to himself. But the rain did not come down; and +presently, from the spot where he stood, which overlooked the park-wall, +he saw come on in slow and solemn procession along the great road to the +gates, the funeral train of him who had been lately heir to all the fine +property around. The body had been brought from London after the career +of youth had been cut short in a moment of giddy pleasure, and father +and mother, as was then customary, with a long line of friends, +relations, and dependents, now conveyed the remains of him once so +dearly loved, to the cold grave. + +Only one of all the numerous connections of the family was wanting on +this occasion, and that was the brother of the dead; but he lay slowly +recovering from the shock he had received, and every one had been told +that it was impossible for him to attend. All the rest of the family had +hastened to the hall in answer to the summons they had received, for +though Sir John Hastings was not much loved, he was much respected and +somewhat feared--at least, the deference which was paid to him, no one +well knew why, savored somewhat of dread. + +It is a strange propensity in many old persons to hang about the grave +to which they are rapidly tending, when it is opened for another, and to +comment--sometimes even with a bitter pleasantry--upon an event which +must soon overtake themselves. As soon as it was known that the funeral +procession had set out from the hall door, a number of aged people, +principally women, but comprising one or two shriveled men, tottered +forth from the cottages, which lay scattered about the church, and made +their way into the churchyard, there to hold conference upon the dead +and upon the living. + +"Ay, ay!" said one old woman, "he has been taken at an early time; but +he was a fine lad, and better than most of those hard people." + +"Ay, Peggy would praise the devil himself if he were dead," said an old +man, leaning on a stick, "though she has never a good word for the +living. The boy is taken away from mischief, that is the truth of it. If +he had lived to come down here again, he would have broken the heart of +my niece's daughter Jane, or made a public shame of her. What business +had a gentleman's son like that to be always hanging about a poor +cottage girl, following her into the corn-fields, and luring her out in +the evenings?" + +"Faith! she might have been proud enough of his notice," said an old +crone; "and I dare say she was, too, in spite of all your conceit, +Matthew. She is not so dainty as you pretend to be; and we may see +something come of it yet." + +"At all events," said another, "he was better than this white-faced, +spiritless boy that is left, who is likely enough to be taken earlier +than his brother, for he looks as if breath would blow him away." + +"He will live to do something yet, that will make people talk of him;" +said a woman older than any of the rest, but taller and straighter; +"there is a spirit in him, be it angel or devil, that is not for death +so soon." + +"Ay! they're making a pomp of it I warrant," said another old woman, +fixing her eyes on the high road under the park wall, upon which the +procession now entered. "Marry, there are escutcheons enough, and coats +of arms! One would think he was a lord's son, with all this to do! But +there is a curse upon the race anyhow; this man was the last of eleven +brothers, and I have heard say, his father died a bad death. Now his +eldest son must die by drowning--saved the hangman something, +perchance--we shall see what comes of the one that is left. 'Tis a curse +upon them ever since Worcester fight, when the old man, who is dead and +gone, advised to send the poor fellows who were taken, to work as slaves +in the colonies." + +As she spoke, the funeral procession advanced up the road, and +approached that curious sort of gate with a penthouse over it, erected +probably to shelter the clergyman of the church while receiving the +corpse at the gate of the burial-ground, which was then universally to +be found at the entrance to all cemeteries. She broke off abruptly, as +if there was something still on her mind which she had not spoken, and +ranging themselves on each side of the church-yard path, the old men and +women formed a lane down which good Dr. Paulding speedily moved with +book in hand. The people assembled, whose numbers had been increased by +the arrival of some thirty or forty young and middle-aged, said not a +word as the clergymen marched on, but when the body had passed up +between them, and the bereaved father followed as chief-mourner, with a +fixed, stern, but tearless eye, betokening more intense affliction +perhaps, in a man of his character, than if his cheeks had been covered +with drops of womanly sorrow, several voices were heard saying aloud, +"God bless and comfort you, Sir John." + +Strange, marvelously strange it was, that these words should come from +tongues, and from those alone, which had been so busily engaged in +carping censure and unfeeling sneers but the moment before. It was the +old men and women alone who had just been commenting bitterly upon the +fate, history, and character of the family, who now uttered the unfelt +expressions of sympathy in a beggar-like, whining tone. It was those who +really felt compassion who said nothing. + +The coffin had been carried into the church, and the solemn rites, the +beautiful service of the Church of England, had proceeded some way, when +another person was added to the congregation who had not at first been +there. All eyes but those of the father of the dead and the lady who sat +weeping by his side, turned upon the new-comer, as with a face as pale +as death, and a faltering step, he took his place on one of the benches +somewhat remote from the rest. There was an expression of feeble +lassitude in the young man's countenance, but of strong resolution, +which overcame the weakness of the frame. He looked as if each moment he +would have fainted, but yet he sat out the whole service of the Church, +mingled with the crowd when the body was lowered into the vault, and saw +the handful of earth hurled out upon the velvet coffin, as if in mockery +of the empty pride of all the pomp and circumstance which attended the +burial of the rich and high. + +No tear came into his eyes--no sob escaped from his bosom; a slight +quivering of the lip alone betrayed that there was strong agitation +within. When all was over, and the father still gazing down into the +vault, the young lad crept quietly back into a pew, covered his face +with his hand, and wept. + +The last rite was over. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust were committed. Sir +John Hastings drew his wife's arm through his own, and walked with a +heavy, steadfast, and unwavering step down the aisle. Everybody drew +back respectfully as he passed; for generally, even in the hardest +hearts, true sorrow finds reverence. He had descended the steps from the +church into the burying ground, and had passed half way along the path +toward his carriage, when suddenly the tall upright old woman whom I +have mentioned thrust herself into his way, and addressed him with a +cold look and somewhat menacing tone-- + +"Now, Sir John Hastings," she said, "will you do me justice about that +bit of land? By your son's grave I ask it. The hand of heaven has +smitten you. It may, perhaps, have touched your heart. You know the land +is mine. It was taken from my husband by the usurper because he fought +for the king to whom he had pledged his faith. It was given to your +father because he broke his faith to his king and brought evil days upon +his country. Will you give me back the land, I say? Out man! It is but a +garden of herbs, but it is mine, and in God's sight I claim it." + +"Away out of my path," replied Sir John Hastings angrily. "Is this a +time to talk of such things? Get you gone, I say, and choose some better +hour. Do you suppose I can listen to you now?" + +"You have never listened, and you never will," replied the old woman, +and suffering him to pass without further opposition, she remained upon +the path behind him muttering to herself what seemed curses bitter and +deep, but the words of which were audible only to herself. + +The little crowd gathered round her, and listened eagerly to catch the +sense of what she said, but the moment after the old sexton laid his +hand upon her shoulder and pushed her from the path, saying, "Get along +with you, get along with you, Popish Beldam. What business have you here +scandalizing the congregation, and brawling at the church door? You +should be put in the stocks!" + +"I pity you, old worm," replied the old woman, "you will be soon among +those you feed upon," and with a hanging head and dejected air she +quitted the church-yard. + +In the meanwhile Dr. Paulding had remained gazing down into the vault, +while the stout young men who had come to assist the sexton withdrew the +broad hempen bands by which the coffin had been lowered, from beneath +it, arranged it properly upon the tressels in its orderly place among +the dead, and then mounted by a ladder into the body of the church, +again preparing to replace the stone over the mouth of the vault. He +then turned to the church door and looked out, and then quietly +approached a pew in the side aisle. + +"Philip, this is very wrong," he said; "your father never wished or +intended you should be here." + +"He did not forbid me," replied the young man. "Why should I only be +absent from my brother's funeral?" + +"Because you are sick. Because, by coming, you may have risked your +life," replied the old clergyman. + +"What is life to a duty?" replied the lad. "Have you not taught me, sir, +that there is no earthly thing--no interest of this life, no pleasure, +no happiness, no hope, that ought not to be sacrificed at once to that +which the heart says is right?" + +"True--true," replied the old clergyman, almost impatiently; "but in +following precept so severely, boy, you should use some discrimination. +You have a duty to a living father, which is of more weight than a mere +imaginary one to a dead brother. You could do no good to the latter; as +the Psalmist wisely said, 'You must go to him, but he can never come +back to you.' To your father, on the contrary, you have high duties to +perform; to console and cheer him in his present affliction; to comfort +and support his declining years. When a real duty presents itself, +Philip, to yourself, to your fellow men, to your country, or to your +God--I say again, as I have often said, do it in spite of every possible +affection. Let it cut through everything, break through every tie, +thrust aside every consideration. There, indeed, I would fain see you +act the old Roman, whom you are so fond of studying, and be a Cato or a +Brutus, if you will. But you must make very sure that you do not make +your fancy create unreal duties, and make them of greater importance in +your eyes than the true ones. But now I must get you back as speedily as +possible, for your mother, ere long, will be up to see you, and your +father, and they must not find you absent on this errand." + +The lad made no reply, but readily walked back toward the court with Dr. +Paulding, though his steps were slow and feeble. He took the old man's +arm, too, and leaned heavily upon it; for, to say the truth, he felt +already the consequences of the foolish act he had committed; and the +first excitement past, lassitude and fever took possession once more of +every limb, and his feet would hardly bear him to the gates. + +The beautiful girl who had been the first to receive him at that house, +met the eyes both of the young man and the old one, the moment they +entered the gardens. She looked wild and anxious, and was wandering +about with her head uncovered; but as soon as she beheld the youth, she +ran toward him, exclaiming, "Oh, Philip, Philip, this is very wrong and +cruel of you. I have been looking for you everywhere. You should not +have done this. How could you let him, Dr. Paulding?" + +"I did not let him, my dear child," replied the old man, "he came of his +own will, and would not be let. But take him in with you; send him to +bed as speedily as may be; give him a large glass of the fever-water he +was taking, and say as little as possible of this rash act to any one." + +The girl made the sick boy lean upon her rounded arm, led him away into +the house, and tended him like a sister. She kept the secret of his +rashness, too, from every one; and there were feelings sprang up in his +bosom toward her during the next few hours which were never to be +obliterated. She was so beautiful, so tender, so gentle, so full of all +womanly graces, that he fancied, with his strong imagination, that no +one perfection of body or mind could be wanting; and he continued to +think so for many a long year after. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Enough of boyhood and its faults and follies. I sought but to show the +reader, as in a glass, the back of a pageant that has past. Oh, how I +sometimes laugh at the fools--the critics. God save the mark! who see no +more in the slight sketch I choose to give, than a mere daub of paint +across the canvas, when that one touch gives effect to the whole +picture. Let them stand back, and view it as a whole; and if they can +find aught in it to make them say "Well done," let them look at the +frame. That is enough for them; their wits are only fitted to deal with +"leather and prunella." + +I have given you, reader--kind and judicious reader--a sketch of the +boy, that you may be enabled to judge rightly of the man. Now, take the +lad as I have moulded him--bake him well in the fiery furnace of strong +passion, remembering still that the form is of hard iron--quench and +harden him in the cold waters of opposition, and disappointment, and +anxiety--and bring him forth tempered, but too highly tempered for the +world he has to live in--not pliable--not elastic; no watchspring, but +like a graver's tool, which must cut into everything opposed to it, or +break under the pressure. + +Let us start upon our new course some fifteen years after the period at +which our tale began, and view Philip Hastings as that which he had now +become. + +Dr. Paulding had passed from this working day world to another and a +better--where we hope the virtues of the heart may be weighed against +vices of the head--a mode of dealing rare here below. Sir John Hastings +and his wife had gone whither their eldest son had gone before them; and +Philip Hastings was no longer the boy. Manhood had set its seal upon his +brow only too early; but what a change had come with manhood!--a change +not in the substance, but in its mode. + +Oh, Time! thy province is not only to destroy! Thou worker-out of human +destinies--thou new-fashioner of all things earthly--thou blender of +races--thou changer of institutions--thou discoverer--thou +concealer--thou builder up--thou dark destroyer; thy waters as they flow +have sometimes a petrifying, sometimes a solvent power, hardening the +soft, melting the strong, accumulating the sand, undermining the rock! +What had been thine effect upon Philip Hastings? + +All the thoughts had grown manly as well as the body. The slight youth +had been developed into the hardy and powerful man; somewhat +inactive--at least so it seemed to common eyes--more thoughtful than +brilliant, steady in resolution, though calm in expression, giving way +no more to bursts of boyish feeling, somewhat stern, men said somewhat +hard, but yet extremely just, and resolute for justice. The poetry of +life--I should have said the poetry of young life--the brilliancy of +fancy and hope, seemed somewhat dimmed in him--mark, I say seemed, for +that which seems too often is not; and he might perhaps have learnt to +rule and conceal feelings which he could not altogether conquer or +resist. + +Still there were many traces of his old self visible: the same love of +study, the same choice of books and subjects of thought, the same +subdued yet strong enthusiasms. The very fact of mingling with the +world, which had taught him to repress those enthusiasms, seemed to have +concentrated and rendered them more intense. + +The course of his studies; the habits of his mind; his fondness for the +school of the stoics, it might have been supposed, would rather have +disgusted him with the society in which he now habitually mingled, and +made him look upon mankind--for it was a very corrupt age--with +contempt, if not with horror. + +Such, however, was not the case. He had less of the cynic in him than +his father--indeed he had nothing of the cynic in him at all. He loved +mankind in his own peculiar way. He was a philanthropist of a certain +sort; and would willingly have put a considerable portion of his +fellow-creatures to death, in order to serve, and elevate, and improve +the rest. + +His was a remarkable character--not altogether fitted for the times in +which he lived; but one which in its wild and rugged strength, commanded +much respect and admiration even then. Weak things clung to it, as ivy +to an oak or a strong wall: and its power over them was increased by a +certain sort of tenderness--a protecting pity, which mingled strangely +with his harder and ruder qualities. He seemed to be sorry for +everything that was weak, and to seek to console and comfort it, under +the curse of feebleness. It seldom offended him--he rather loved it, it +rarely came in his way; and his feeling toward it might approach +contempt but never rose to anger. + +He was capable too of intense and strong affections, though he could not +extend them to many objects. All that was vigorous and powerful in him +concentrated itself in separate points here and there; and general +things were viewed with much indifference. + +See him as he walks up and down there before the old house, which I have +elsewhere described. He has grown tall and powerful in frame; and yet +his gait is somewhat slovenly and negligent, although his step is firm +and strong. He is not much more than thirty-one years of age; but he +looks forty at the least; and his hair is even thickly sprinkled with +gray. His face is pale, with some strong marked lines and indentations +in it; yet, on the whole, it is handsome, and the slight habitual frown, +thoughtful rather than stern, together with the massive jaw, and the +slight drawing down of the corners of the mouth, give it an expression +of resolute firmness, that is only contradicted by the frequent +variation of the eye, which is sometimes full of deep thought, sometimes +of tenderness; and sometimes is flashing with a wild and almost +unearthly fire. + +But there is a lady hanging on his arm which supports her somewhat +feeble steps. She seems recovering from illness; the rose in her cheek +is faint and delicate; and an air of languor is in her whole face and +form. Yet she is very beautiful, and seems fully ten years younger than +her husband, although, in truth, she is of the same age--or perhaps a +little older. It is Rachael Marshal, now become Lady Hastings. + +Their union did not take place without opposition; all Sir John +Hastings' prejudices against the Marshal family revived as soon as his +son's attachment to the daughter of the house became apparent. Like most +fathers, he saw too late; and then sought to prevent that which had +become inevitable. He sent his son to travel in foreign lands; he even +laid out a scheme for marrying him to another, younger, and as he +thought fairer. He contrived that the young man should fall into the +society of the lady he had selected, and he fancied that would be quite +sufficient; for he saw in her character, young as she was, traits, much +more harmonious, as he fancied, with those of his son, than could be +found in the softer, gentler, weaker Rachael Marshal. There was energy, +perseverance, resolution, keen and quick perceptions--perhaps a little +too much keenness. More, he did not stay to inquire; but, as is usual in +matters of the heart, Philip Hastings loved best the converse of +himself. The progress of the scheme was interrupted by the illness of +Sir John Hastings, which recalled his son from Rome. Philip returned, +found his father dead, and married Rachael Marshal. + +They had had several children; but only one remained; that gay, light, +gossamer girl, like a gleam darting along the path from sunny rays +piercing through wind-borne clouds. On she ran with a step of light and +careless air, yet every now and then she paused suddenly, gazed +earnestly at a flower, plucked it, pored into its very heart with her +deep eyes, and, after seeming to labor under thought for a moment, +sprang forward again as light as ever. + +The eyes of the father followed her with a look of grave, thoughtful, +intense affection. The mother's eyes looked up to him, and then glanced +onward to the child. + +She was between nine and ten years old--not very handsome, for it is not +a handsome age. Yet there were indications of future beauty--fine and +sparkling eyes, rich, waving, silky hair, long eyelashes, a fine +complexion, a light and graceful figure, though deformed by the stiff +fashions of the day. + +There was a sparkle too in her look--that bright outpouring of the heart +upon the face which is one of the most powerful charms of youth and +innocence. Ah! how soon gone by! How soon checked by the thousand loads +which this heavy laboring world casts upon the buoyancy of youthful +spirits--the chilling conventionality--the knowledge, and the fear of +wrong--the first taste of sorrow--the anxieties, cares, fears--even the +hopes of mature life, are all weights to bear down the pinions of young, +lark-like joy. After twenty, does the heart ever rise up from her green +sod and sing at Heaven's gate as in childhood? Never--ah, never! The +dust of earth is upon the wing of the sky songster, and will never let +her mount to her ancient pitch. + +That child was a strange combination of her father and her mother. She +was destined to be their only one; and it seemed as if nature had taken +a pleasure in blending the characters of both in one. Not that they were +intimately mingled, but that they seemed like the twins of Laconia, to +rise and set by turns. + +In her morning walk; in her hours of sportive play; when no subject of +deep thought, no matter that affected the heart or the imagination was +presented to her, she was light and gay as a butterfly; the child--the +happy child was in every look, and word, and movement. But call her for +a moment from this bright land of pleasantness--present something to her +mind or to her fancy which rouses sympathies, or sets the energetic +thoughts at work, and she was grave, meditative, studious, deep beyond +her years. + +She was a subject of much contemplation, some anxiety, some wonder to +her father. The brightness of her perceptions, her eagerness in the +pursuit of knowledge, her vigorous resolution even as a child, when +convinced that she was right, showed him his own mind reflected in hers. +Even her tenderness, her strong affections, he could comprehend; for the +same were in his own heart, and though he believed them to be +weaknesses, he could well understand their existence in a child and in a +woman. + +But that which he did not understand--that which made him marvel--was +her lightness, her gayety, her wild vivacity--I might almost say, her +trifling, when not moved by deep feeling or chained down by thought. + +This was beyond him. Yet strange! the same characteristics did not +surprise nor shock him in her mother--never had surprised or shocked +him; indeed he had rather loved her for those qualities, so unlike his +own. Perhaps it was that he thought it strange, his child should, in any +mood, be so unlike himself; or perhaps it was the contrast between the +two sides of the same character that moved his wonder when he saw it in +his child. He might forget that her mother was her parent as well as +himself; and that she had an inheritance from each. + +In his thoughtful, considering, theoretical way, he determined +studiously to seek a remedy for what he considered the defect in his +child--to cultivate with all the zeal and perseverance of paternal +affection, supported by his own force of character, those qualities +which were most like his own--those, in short, which were the least +womanly. But nature would not be baffled. You may divert her to a +certain degree; but you cannot turn her aside from her course +altogether. + +He found that he could not--by any means which his heart would let him +employ--conquer what he called the frivolity of the child. Frivolity! +Heaven save us! There were times when she showed no frivolity, but, on +the contrary, a depth and intensity far, far beyond her years. Indeed, +the ordinary current of her mind was calm and thoughtful. It was but +when a breeze rippled it that it sparkled on the surface. Her father, +too, saw that this was so; that the wild gayety was but occasional. But +still it surprised and pained him--perhaps the more because it was +occasional. It seemed to his eyes an anomaly in her nature. He would +have had her altogether like himself. He could not conceive any one +possessing so much of his own character, having room in heart and brain +for aught else. It was a subject of constant wonder to him; of +speculation, of anxious thought. + +He often asked himself if this was the only anomaly in his child--if +there were not other traits, yet undiscovered, as discrepant as this +light volatility with her general character: and he puzzled himself +sorely. + +Still he pursued her education upon his own principles; taught her many +things which women rarely learned in those days; imbued her mind with +thoughts and feelings of his own; and often thought, when a season of +peculiar gravity fell upon her, that he made progress in rendering her +character all that he could wish it. This impression never lasted long, +however; for sooner or later the bird-like spirit within her found the +cage door open, and fluttered forth upon some gay excursion, leaving all +his dreams vanished and his wishes disappointed. + +Nevertheless he loved her with all the strong affection of which his +nature was capable; and still he persevered in the course which he +thought for her benefit. At times, indeed, he would make efforts to +unravel the mystery of her double nature, not perceiving that the only +cause of mystery was in himself: that what seemed strange in his +daughter depended more upon his own want of power to comprehend her +variety than upon anything extraordinary in her. He would endeavor to go +along with her in her sportive moods--to let his mind run free beside +hers in its gay ramble; to find some motive for them which he could +understand; to reduce them to a system; to discover the rule by which +the problem was to be solved. But he made nothing of it, and wearied +conjecture in vain. + +Lady Hastings sometimes interposed a little; for in unimportant things +she had great influence with her husband. He let her have her own way +wherever he thought it not worth while to oppose her; and that was very +often. She perfectly comprehended the side of her daughter's character +which was all darkness to the father; and strange to say, with greater +penetration than his own, she comprehended the other side likewise. She +recognized easily the traits in her child which she knew and admired in +her husband, but wished them heartily away in her daughter's case, +thinking such strength of mind, joined with whatever grace and +sweetness, somewhat unfeminine. + +Though she was full of prejudices, and where her quickness of perception +failed her, altogether unteachable by reason, yet she was naturally too +virtuous and good to attempt even to thwart the objects of the father's +efforts in the education of his child. I have said that she interfered +at times, but it was only to remonstrate against too close study, to +obtain frequent and healthful relaxation, and to add all those womanly +accomplishments on which she set great value. In this she was not +opposed. Music, singing, dancing, and a knowledge of modern languages, +were added to other branches of education, and Lady Hastings was so far +satisfied. + + +CHAPTER V. + +The Italian singing-master was a peculiar man, and well worthy of a few +words in description. He was tall and thin, but well built; and his face +had probably once been very handsome, in that Italian style, which, by +the exaggeration of age, grows so soon into ugliness. The nose was now +large and conspicuous, the eyes bright, black, and twinkling, the mouth +good in shape, but with an animal expression about it, the ear very +voluminous. + +He was somewhat more than fifty years of age, and his hair was speckled +with gray; but age was not apparent in wrinkles and furrows, and in gait +he was firm and upright. + +At first Sir Philip Hastings did not like him at all. He did not like to +have him there. It was against the grain he admitted him into the house. +He did it, partly because he thought it right to yield in some degree to +the wishes of his wife; partly from a grudging deference to the customs +of society. + +But the Signor was a shrewd and world-taught man, accustomed to overcome +prejudices, and to make his way against disadvantages; and he soon +established himself well in the opinion of both father and mother. It +was done by a peculiar process, which is well worth the consideration of +all those who seek _les moyens de parvenir_. + +In his general and ordinary intercourse with his fellow-men, he had a +happy middle tone,--a grave, reticent manner, which never compromised +him to anything. A shrewd smile, without an elucidatory remark, served +to harmonize him with the gay and vivacious; a serious tranquillity, +unaccompanied by any public professions, was enough to make the sober +and the decent rank him amongst themselves. Perhaps that class of +men--whether pure at heart or not--have always overestimated decency of +exterior. + +All this was in public however. In private, in a _tete-a-tete_, Signor +Guardini was a very different man. Nay more, in each and every +_tete-a-tete_ he was a different man from what he appeared in the other. +Yet, with a marvelous art, he contrived to make both sides of his +apparent character harmonize with his public and open appearance. Or +rather perhaps I should say that his public demeanor was a middle tint +which served to harmonize the opposite extremes of coloring displayed by +his character. Nothing could exemplify this more strongly than the +different impressions he produced on Sir Philip and Lady Hastings. The +lady was soon won to his side. She was predisposed to favor him; and a +few light gay sallies, a great deal of conventional talk about the +fashionable life of London, and a cheerful bantering tone of persiflage, +completely charmed her. Sir Philip was more difficult to win. +Nevertheless, in a few short sentences, hardly longer than those which +Sterne's mendicant whispered in the ear of the passengers, he succeeded +in disarming many prejudices. With him, the Signor was a stoic; he had +some tincture of letters, though a singer, and had read sufficient of +the history of his own land, to have caught all the salient points of +the glorious past. + +Perhaps he might even feel a certain interest in the antecedents of his +decrepit land--not to influence his conduct, or to plant ambitious or +nourish pure and high hopes for its regeneration--but to waken a sort of +touch-wood enthusiasm, which glowed brightly when fanned by the stronger +powers of others. Yet before Sir Philip had had time to communicate to +him one spark of his own ardor, he had as I have said made great +progress in his esteem. In five minutes' conversation he had established +for himself the character of one of a higher and nobler character whose +lot had fallen in evil days. + +"In other years," thought the English gentleman, "this might have been a +great man--the defender unto death of his country's rights--the advocate +of all that is ennobling, stern, and grand." + +What was the secret of all this? Simply that he, a man almost without +character, had keen and well-nigh intuitive perceptions of the +characters of others; and that without difficulty his pliable nature and +easy principles would accommodate themselves to all. + +He made great progress then in the regard of Sir Philip, although their +conversations seldom lasted above five minutes. He made greater progress +still with the mother. But with the daughter he made none--worse than +none. + +What was the cause, it may be asked. What did he do or say--how did he +demean himself so as to produce in her bosom a feeling of horror and +disgust toward him that nothing could remove? + +I cannot tell. He was a man of strong passions and no principles: that +his after--perhaps his previous--life would evince. There is a +touchstone for pure gold in the heart of an innocent and highminded +woman that detects all baser metals: they are discovered in a moment: +they cannot stand the test. + +Now, whether his heart-cankering corruption, his want of faith, honesty, +and truth, made themselves felt, and were pointed out by the index of +that fine barometer, without any overt act at all--or whether he gave +actual cause of offense, I do not know--none has ever known. + +Suddenly, however, the gay, the apparently somewhat wayward girl, now +between fifteen and sixteen, assumed a new character in her father's and +mother's eyes. With a strange frank abruptness she told them she would +take no more singing lessons of the Italian; but she added no +explanation. + +Lady Hastings was angry, and expostulated warmly; but the girl was firm +and resolute. She heard her mother's argument, and answered in soft and +humble tones that she would not,--could not learn to sing any +longer--that she was very sorry to grieve or to offend her mother; but +she had learned long enough, and would learn no more. + +More angry than before, with the air of indignant pride in which +weakness so often takes refuge, the mother quitted the room; and the +father then, in a calmer spirit, inquired the cause of her resolution. + +She blushed like the early morning sky; but there was a sort of +bewildered look upon her face as she replied, "I know no cause--I can +give no reason, my dear father; but the man is hateful to me. I will +never see him again." + +Her father sought for farther explanation, but he could obtain none. +Guardini had not said anything nor done anything, she admitted, to give +her offense; but yet she firmly refused to be his pupil any longer. + +There are instincts in fine and delicate minds, which, by signs and +indications intangible to coarser natures, discover in others thoughts +and feelings, wishes and designs, discordant--repugnant to themselves. +They are instincts, I say, not amenable to reason, escaping analysis, +incapable of explanation--the warning voice of God in the heart, bidding +them beware of evil. + +Sir Philip Hastings was not a man to allow aught for such impulses--to +conceive or understand them in the least. He had been accustomed to +delude himself with reasons, some just, others very much the reverse, +but he had never done a deed or entertained a thought for which he could +not give some reason of convincing power to his own mind. + +He did not understand his daughter's conduct at all; but he would not +press her any farther. She was in some degree a mysterious being to him. +Indeed, as I have before shown, she had always been a mystery; for he +had no key to her character in his own. It was written in the unknown +language. + +Yet, did he love or cherish her the less? Oh no! Perhaps a deeper +interest gathered round his heart for her, the chief object of his +affections. More strongly than ever he determined to cultivate and form +her mind on his own model, in consequence of what he called a strange +caprice, although he could not but sometimes hope and fancy that her +resolute rejection of any farther lessons from Signor Guardini arose +from her distaste to what he himself considered one of the frivolous +pursuits of fashion. + +Yet she showed no distaste for singing; for somehow every day she would +practice eagerly, till her sweet voice, under a delicate taste, acquired +a flexibility and power which charmed and captivated her father, +notwithstanding his would-be cynicism. He was naturally fond of music; +his nature was a vehement one, though curbed by such strong restraints; +and all vehement natures are much moved by music. He would sit calmly, +with his eyes fixed upon a book, but listening all the time to that +sweet voice, with feelings working in him--emotions, thrilling, deep, +intense, which he would have felt ashamed to expose to any human eye. + +All this however made her conduct toward Guardini the more mysterious; +and her father often gazed upon her beautiful face with a look of +doubting inquiry, as one may look on the surface of a bright lake, and +ask, What is below? + +That face was now indeed becoming very beautiful. Every feature had been +refined and softened by time. There was soul in the eyes, and a gleam of +heaven upon the smile, besides the mere beauties of line and coloring. +The form too had nearly reached perfection. It was full of symmetry and +grace, and budding charms; and while the mother marked all these +attractions, and thought how powerful they would prove in the world, the +father felt their influence in a different manner: with a sort of +abstract admiration of her loveliness, which went no further than a +proud acknowledgment to his own heart that she was beautiful indeed. To +him her beauty was as a gem, a picture, a beautiful possession, which he +had no thought of ever parting with--something on which his eyes would +rest well pleased until they closed forever. How blessed he might have +been in the possession of such a child could he have comprehended +her--could he have divested his mind of the idea that there was +something strange and inharmonious in her character! Could he have made +his heart a woman's heart for but one hour, all mystery would have been +dispelled; but it was impossible, and it remained. + +No tangible effect did it produce at the time; but preconceptions of +another's character are very dangerous things. Everything is seen +through their medium, everything is colored and often distorted. That +which produced no fruit at the time, had very important results at an +after period. + +But I must turn now to other scenes and more stirring events, having I +trust made the reader well enough acquainted with father, mother, and +daughter, at least sufficiently for all the purposes of this tale. It is +upon the characters of two of them that all the interest if there be any +depends. Let them be marked then and remembered, if the reader would +derive pleasure from what follows. + +TO BE CONTINUED. + + +[From "The Album." Manchester, November, 1850.] + +THE POET'S LOT. + +BY PHILIP JAMES BAILEY, AUTHOR OF "FESTUS," ETC. + + Nature in the poet's heart is limned + In little, as in landscape stones we see + The swell of land, and groves, and running streams, + Fresh from the wolds of Chaos; or perchance + The imaged hint of antemundane life,-- + A photograph of preexistent light,-- + Or Paradisal sun. So, in his mind + The broad conditions of the world are graven, + Thoroughly and grandly; in accord wherewith + His life is ruled to be, and eke to bear. + Wisdom he wills not only for himself, + But undergoes the sacred rites whereby + The privilege he hath earned he may promulge, + And all men make the partners of his light. + Between the priestly and the laic powers + The poet stands, a bright and living link; + Now chanting odes divine and sacred spells-- + Now with fine magic, holy and austere, + Inviting angels or evoking fiends; + And now, in festive guise arrayed, his brow + With golden fillet bounden round--alone, + Earnest to charm the throng that celebrates + The games now--now the mysteries of life, + With truths ornate and Pleasure's choicest plea. + Thus he becomes the darling of mankind, + Armed with the instinct both of rule and right, + And the world's minion, privileged to speak + When all beside, the medley mass, are mute: + Distills his soul into a song--and dies. + + + + +THE COUNT MONTE-LEONE: OR, THE SPY IN SOCIETY.[6] + +TRANSLATED FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE FROM THE FRENCH OF +H. DE ST. GEORGES. + +_Continued from Page 512._ + + [6: Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by + Stringer & Townsend, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of + the United States, for the Southern District of New York.] + + +BOOK SECOND.--THE VIPER'S NEST. + +Rightly enough had the young girl been called "The White Rose of +Sorrento." Monte-Leone had based on her his most ardent hopes and +tenderest expectations. Nothing in fact could be more angelic than the +expression of her face. She seemed the _virgo immaculata_ of Rubens, the +_virgo_ of divine love. What would first attract attention at Aminta's +appearance was a marble pallor, the paleness of that beautiful marble of +Carara, in which when Canova had touched it the blood seemed to rush to +the surface and circulate beneath the transparent flesh of the great +master. + +We must however say that beneath the long lids of the young Neapolitan, +the observer would have discovered an expression of firmness and +decision rarely found in so young a girl. Any one who examined her +quickly saw that in her frail and delicate frame there was a soul full +of energy and courage, and that if it should ever be aroused, what she +wished must be, _God willing_. Nothing in nature is more persevering and +irresistible than woman's will, especially if the woman be an Italian. + +Antonia Rovero, the mother of Aminta and Taddeo, was the widow of a rich +banker of Naples, devoted to the cause of Murat, and had been created by +the late king one of his senators and then minister of finances. In this +last office M. Rovero died, and his widow, after having received every +kindness from Murat, retired to Sorrento. Taddeo then felt an interest +in everything which had a tendency to overturn the government of +Fernando IV. The restoration of the latter had crushed his ambition and +broken his fortunes. On that account he had become one of the Pulcinelli +whom we have described in the last book. + +While this well-beloved son of an affectionate mother, this brother so +idolized by an affectionate sister, languished perhaps like Monte-Leone, +Madame Rovero and her daughter in their quiet retreat fancied that +Taddeo was enjoying at Naples all the pleasures of the Carnival and +abandoning himself to all the follies of that day of pleasure. +Sometimes, however, as the sun set on the hills of Sorrento, Aminta said +to her mother, "Taddeo forgets us. It is not pleasant to enjoy this +beautiful day without him. Were we three together, how delicious it +would be!" Then Aminta would take a volume of Alfieri, her favorite +author, and wander alone amid the fields. + +The day on which the scene we are about to describe happened was one of +those burning ones, which make us even in winter fancy that an eternal +spring exists in that heaven-protected land. We may add that the winter +of 1816 was peculiar even in Italy, and that the sun was so warm and the +heat so genial that nature under their influence put on the most +luxuriant vegetation. The favorite haunt of Aminta was a green hill, +behind which was a pretty and simple house, the cradle of one of the +most wonderful geniuses of the world. This genius was Tasso. A bust of +the poet in _terra cotta_ yet adorned the facade of the house, which +though then in ruins has since been rebuilt. At that time the room of +the divine yet unfortunate lover of Leonora did not exist--the sea had +swept over it. Admirers of the poet yet however visited the remnants of +his habitation. The tender heart of Aminta yet paid a pious worship to +them, and "The White Rose of Sorrento" went toward "The House of Tasso." +Aminta's mother was always offended when she indulged in such distant +excursions. + +She did not however go alone. A singular being accompanied her. This +being was at once a man and a reptile. His features would have denoted +the age of sixteen. They were the most frightful imaginable. A forehead +over which spread a few reddish hairs; a mouth almost without teeth; +small eyes, sad and green, which were however insupportably bright when +they were lit up by anger; long and bony arms; legs horribly thin; a +short and square bust,--all united to make a being so utterly +ungraceful, so inhuman, that the children of the village had nicknamed +him _Scorpione_--so like that reptile's was his air. The _morale_ of +Scorpione was worthy of his _physique_. The true name of this child was +Tonio. Being the son of Aminta's nurse, he had never in his life been +separated from her, and seemed to grow daily more ugly as she became +more beautiful. He became so devoted to Aminta that he never left her. +This whimsical intimacy was not that of children, the attachment of +brother and sister, but that of the intellectual and brute being, of the +master and dog. He was the dog of Aminta. He accompanied and watched +over her in all her long walks. Did a dangerous pass occur, he took her +up and carried her across the pool or torrent, so that not a drop of +water touched her. If any one chanced to meet her and sought to speak to +her, he first growled, and then having looked at Aminta, made the bold +man understand that like a mastiff he would protect her against all +assailants. + +During the winter evenings when Aminta read to her mother, Tonio lying +at the fair reader's feet, warmed them in his bosom, where she suffered +them to remain with as much carelessness as she would have let them rest +on the back of a dog. She became so used to his horrid features, that +she no longer thought them repulsive. No contrast was stronger than that +these two presented. It was like the association of an angel and a +devil. + +The young girl had in vain attempted to impart some knowledge to +Scorpione: his nature did not admit of it. Had he been able to +comprehend anything, if the simple idea of right and wrong could have +reached his heart, Aminta would have accomplished much. This Cretin,[7] +however, knew but three things in the world, to love, to serve, and to +defend Aminta. Nothing more. + + [7: The Cretins are a miserable, feeble and almost idiotic race, + found not infrequently in the south of France. They have sometimes + been horribly persecuted.] + +Accompanied by her faithful dog one day, the fair creature had walked to +the house of Tasso. She had perhaps twenty times gone through those +magnificent ruins, and read over again and again the inscription every +tourist fancies himself obliged to engrave with his dagger's point on +the tesselated walls of the poet's home. One which seemed new attracted +her attention. Thus it read: + +"One must have suffered as much as the lover of Leonora, to be unhappy +in the paradise of Sorrento." + +These three lines were signed by the Marquis de Maulear. + +Aminta read the inscription two or three times, without fancying that it +related to her. The simple style touched her heart, and with no slight +emotion, she left the wall. + +At that moment the sun was at the height of its power, and shed its +burning rays over nature. Aminta's straw hat sheltered her from the +torrents of lava which seemed to fall from heaven and a few drops of +perspiration stood on her marble forehead. While she was seeking in the +ruined house for some shadowed nook, Scorpione amused himself behind a +wall in torturing a gray lizard he had found, and which had taken refuge +in a hole, from which it could not get out. The cruel child made +numerous blows at the timid animal whenever it attempted to escape. He +was perfectly delighted when he had beaten out the eyes of the animal, +and the poor creature, rushing out, surrendered himself. One thrust +completed the work, and it died in convulsions. Aminta found Scorpione +thus engaged. + +"Fie, fie," said she, "you deserve to suffer as much pain as you have +inflicted on this poor animal." + +"I am no lizard, but a scorpion, as the children of Sorrento say. I have +a sting always ready for those who seek to injure me." He showed his +dagger. + +Aminta left, and Tonio, glancing at his mistress like a dog which has +been punished, placed his back against the wall and pretended to sleep. +Before long he really did sleep. + +Not far from Tasso's house there was a grotto, beneath which ran a +little stream, overgrown with aquatic herbs, and which beyond doubt in +other days fed the fish-ponds of the house. It however had insensibly +dried up, and only a feeble thread could henceforth be traced. This was +the grotto which gave Aminta the refuge she sought. A mossy bench was +placed by the side of a stream. She sat on it, took her book, and +recited aloud the harmonious verses of her favorite bard. She gradually +felt the influence of the heat. For a while she contended against the +approach of sleep, which, however, ere long surrounded her with its +leaden wings. The sight of Aminta became clouded, and shadowy mists +passed before her eyes. Her brow bowed down, her head fell upon the +rustic pillow. She was in oblivion. It was noon. All at this hour in +Italy, and especially in Naples, slumber, "except," says the proverb, +certainly not complimentary to my countrymen, "_Frenchmen and dogs_." +The fact is, that Frenchmen, when they travel, pay no attention to the +customs of the country. A Frenchman who travels unfortunately insists +that everything should be done _a la Francaise_, in countries and +climates where such a life as ours is impossible. + +A profound silence covered all nature. The indistinct humming of insects +in the air for a while troubled him; then all was silent. The wind even +was voiceless, and the wave which beat on the rock seemed to repress +every sound to avoid interrupting the repose of earth and heaven. + +All at once, distant steps were heard. At first they were light, then +more positive and distinct as they resounded on the calcined rock which +led to Tasso's house. A young man of twenty-five approached. He was +almost overcome by the sultriness. A whip and spurs showed that he had +just dismounted. He had left his horse in an orange grove. Overcome, he +had sought a shelter, and remembering the ruins he had seen a few days +before, hoped to find freshness and repose there. The poet's mansion, +the roof of which had fallen in, did not answer his expectations. He +hurried toward the very place where Aminta slept. His eyes, dazzled by +the brilliant light, did not at first distinguish the young girl in the +darkness of the grotto. After a few moments, however, his sight became +stronger, and he was amazed at the white form which lay on the mossy +seat. Gradually the form became more distinct, and finally the young +stranger was able to distinguish a beautiful girl. Just then a brilliant +sunlight passed over the top of the crumbling wall and fell on her, +enwrapping her in golden light, and, as it were, framing her angelic +head like a glory round one of Raphael's pictures. + +Henri de Maulear, such was the young man's name, fancied that an angelic +vision stood before him. Had the princess Leonora's ghost visited the +scenes Tasso loved so well? Had a great sculptor, Canova, in one of his +charming deliriums reproduced the features of Tasso's mistress and +placed his work in the grotto where the great poet sighed? Marble alone +could compete with Aminta's whiteness. Her round and waxen arms seemed +to have been formed of the purest Carara marble. + +Aminta uttered a sigh and dissipated the illusion of the stranger. It +was not an admirable statue exhibited to him, but a work of nature. It +was such a woman as a poetic and tender heart dreams of--a woman not to +be loved, but adored. Love is earthly; adoration belongs to heaven. + +Henri de Maulear, fascinated by increasing admiration, did not dare to +advance. He held his breath and was afraid, so great was his excitement, +that this wonderful beauty would faint away. Another sentiment, however, +soon took possession of him. A mortal terror filled his soul--death and +sleep were united. A fearful danger menaced the maiden, whence it seemed +no human power could rescue her. In the folds of Aminta's dress, in her +very bosom, Henri saw a strange object, whose whimsical colors +contrasted strangely with the whiteness of her dress. It was one of +those strange things known in Italy as _pointed-headed_ vipers. Their +bite takes effect so rapidly, their poison becomes so soon infused in +the blood, that victims die within a few minutes. Aminta had lain down +near a nest of these dangerous reptiles. The warmth of her body had +gradually attracted them to her, and while she slept they had nestled in +her very bosom. She had been motionless. They had not as yet moved. Any +change of posture however would bring on a terrible catastrophe, a +compulsory witness of which Henri de Maulear would from necessity be. +What assistance could he render her? How could he arouse her without +awaking the reptiles also? With a pale face and icy sweat on his brow, +he thought in vain to contrive a means to save her. What however was his +terror as he saw her make a slight movement! She reached out one of her +arms, held it in the air, and then let it fall on her breast which was +covered with reptiles. Her motion aroused the vipers. For a moment they +became agitated, then uncoiled themselves, and hid their heads in the +folds of her dress. One of them again coiled himself up, passed his thin +tongue through his lips like a _gourmand_ after a feast: the head was +drawn back and the creature assumed the form of a spiral urn, exhibited +all its rings of ruby and _malachete_, and then drawing back in a line +full of grace, disappeared among its fellows, and sank to sleep as if it +were exhausted with its own efforts. + +During this terrible scene, Maulear could not breathe. The very +pulsation of his heart was stopped, his soul having left his body to +protect Aminta. For the nonce she was safe. But a terrible death yet +hung over her. Maulear did not lose sight of her. Ere long he saw her +bosom heave; he saw her gasp, and her face gradually become flushed. She +was dreaming. Should she make any motion, she would disturb the vipers. +This idea excited him so much that for a while he thought they were +awakened. Their hisses sounded in his ears, and he eagerly looked aside +to avoid the terrible spectacle. His glance however fell on an object +which as yet he had not perceived. So great was his joy that he could +with difficulty refrain from crying aloud. He saw an earthen vase full +of milk, in a dark portion of the cave, left there by some shepherd +anxious to preserve his evening meal from the heat of the summer sun. He +remembered what naturalists say of the passion entertained by reptiles +for milk. The well-known stories of cows, the dugs of whom had been +sucked dry by snakes, were recalled to his mind. Rushing toward the +vase, he seized it and bore it to the mossy rock. Just then Aminta +awoke. + + +II.--SCORPIONE. + +Having looked around her, Aminta saw Maulear, pale and with an excited +face. He could not restrain his terror and surprise. By a motion more +rapid than thought, he pointed out to her the terrible beings that +nestled in her bosom, and said earnestly and eagerly: "Do not move or +you will die!" He could make no choice as to the means of saving her. It +became necessary for him to rescue her at once, to confront her with +danger, and rely on her strength of mind to brave it, by remaining +motionless. He thought possibly she might succumb beneath its aspect. +This was the result. She looked toward the terrible reptiles Maulear +pointed out to her. Horror took possession of her. Her heart ceased to +beat, and her blood curdled. She fainted. Luckily, however, this +happened without any motion, without even a nervous vibration sufficient +to awake the serpents. Henri uttered a sigh of happiness and delight, +for beyond doubt Heaven protected Aminta and himself. Approaching the +vase of milk, he placed it near her. Dipping his fingers in it, he +scattered a few drops over the reptiles. + +They moved. The milk directly attracted their attention, and as soon as +they had tasted it they became aware of its presence. Lifting up their +pointed heads to receive what was offered them, they directed their eyes +toward the vase. When they had once seen it, they began to untwine their +coils and to crawl toward it, like young girls hurrying to the bath. The +mossy bench was near the rock. To remove her from the grotto Henri had +to displace the vase. He had courage enough to wait until the last viper +had gone into it. Seizing it then, he placed it gently on the ground. +Passing his arms under the inanimate body of the girl, he sought to +carry her away. Just then she recovered from her fainting. Aware that +she was in the arms of a strange man, she made a violent effort to get +away, and cast herself from her bed on the ground to escape from this +embrace. In her disorder and agitation, and contest with Maulear, who +sought to restrain her, in the half obscurity of the grotto her foot +touched the coil of vipers. + +She fell shrieking on his bosom. He left the grotto with his precious +burden. Her cry had revealed to him the new misfortune, to which at +first he paid no attention, but which now terrified him. The cry awoke +Scorpione. His ear being familiarized with all the tones of his +mistress, he would have recognized this amid a thousand. Quicker than +the thunderbolt he rushed from the house, and stood at the door just +when Maulear seized her. + +Scorpione fancied the stranger bore away his foster-sister, and rushed +on him as furiously as he would have done on a midnight robber. He +seized Maulear in the breast with his right hand, the nails of which +were trenchant as a needle, while with the left he sought to thrust the +dagger in his heart. Aminta herself was however a shield to his bosom, +and he clasped her closely. In the appearance of the horrid monster, +Maulear almost forgot the perilous situation from which he had just +extricated himself. For a time he fancied he was under the spell of some +terrible vision, being unable to believe one person could unite so many +deformities. With terror then he saw Scorpione seize on him and seek to +snatch the body of Aminta from him. A second cry of Aminta, less +distinct however than the first, changed the scene and recalled two of +the actors to their true interest. + +"Wretch!" said Maulear to Tonio, "if you wish gold I will give it you. +Wait however till I resuscitate this girl." + +"Aminta needs the care of none, when I am by!" said Scorpione. "She is +my mistress, my sister: I watch over her." + +"At all events you watch over her very badly," said Henri, placing +Aminta on a broken stone. "I found her asleep here, with the vipers +nestling in her bosom." + +A groan escaped from the throat of Scorpione as he heard these words. He +fell at Aminta's feet, with such an expression of grief, such cruel +despair, that Maulear despite of himself was moved. "Vipers! +pointed-headed! Have they stung her? tell me," said Tonio to Maulear. "I +will die if she does!" + +He sunk on the ground, mad with rage and terror. The eyes of Maulear +glittered with somber horror. A nervous terror seized him, and, +paralyzed by fright, he pointed out to Tonio the white leg of Aminta, +around which a viper had coiled itself. Scorpione sprang forward and +tore the reptile away, throwing it far from him. This took place in less +than a second. Maulear would have done precisely what Scorpione had +done, but thought was not more rapid than the movement of Aminta's +foster-brother. Above the buskin of the girl a spot of blood appeared on +her silk stocking. This came from the bite of the serpent. It was death. +Maulear, kneeling before Aminta, reached forth his hand to touch the +wound. Tonio rudely pushed him aside. "No one," said he in a sharp harsh +voice, mingled with which was an accent of indignation, "may touch +Aminta!" Tonio alone has that right, and Madame Rovero would drive him +away if he permitted it!" + +"But she will die unless I aid her!" + +"And how can you?" said Scorpione, looking impudently at him. "What do +you know about pointed-heads? You do not even know the only remedy. But +I do, and will cure her." + +There was such conviction in the words, that Maulear almost began to +entertain hope. What probability however was there that this kind of +brute would find means energetic and sure enough to restore the warmth +of life to one over whom the coldness of death had already begun to +settle, to stop the flow of poison which already permeated her frame? +Maulear doubted, trembled, and entertained again the most miserable +ideas. "If you would save her," said he to Scorpione, "there is but one +thing to do. Hurry to the nearest physician and bring him hither to +cauterize the wound and burn out the poison." + +"Physicians are fools!" said Scorpione. "When my mother was thirty years +of age, beautiful and full of life, they let her die. Though she was +only my mother, I would have strangled them. If they were not to save +Aminta, however, I would kill them as I would dogs!" Nothing can give an +idea of his expression as he pronounced the words, "_though she was only +my mother_." It betokened atrocious coldness and indifference. The +glance however he threw on the maiden at the very idea of her death was +full of intense affection. + +"Save her then!" said Maulear, seizing the idea that this half-savage +creature was perhaps aware of some secret means furnished by nature to +work a true miracle in favor of the victim. The features of Aminta began +to be disturbed; a livid pallor took possession of her; light +contractions agitated her features; her lids became convulsive, opening +and shutting rapidly. Scorpione observed all these symptoms. "Well," +said he, placing his hand on her heart, "it beats yet. The poison moves +on: let us stop it." + +Kneeling before her, he grasped the wounded limb, and took off the light +silk stocking. Then taking his dagger from his bosom, he made a slight +incision with the sharp point where the reptile had bitten her. She +uttered a cry of pain. "What are you about?" said Maulear, offended. + +"Do you not see," replied Scorpione, "that I am opening the door for the +escape of the poison?" + +Without speaking a word, he leaned over the wound, applied his lips, and +sucked the blood which ran from it. Twice or thrice he spat out the +blood and resumed the occupation of sublime courage. The ugliness of +Scorpione entirely disappeared from Maulear's eyes, and the monster +seemed to him a saving angel descended from heaven to rescue another +angel from death. A few seconds passed by in terrible and solemn +silence. Scorpione supported Aminta's head, and attempted to read in her +face the effect of his heroism. Henri de Maulear also knelt, and glanced +from heaven to the girl, invoking aid from one, and feeling profound +anxiety for the other. + +Aminta sighed, but not with pain. An internal relief was already +experienced by her. Scorpione seized her hand in his, and feeling her +pulse, laughed aloud. He said, "_The Scorpion has overcome the viper_: +Aminta will live!" + +"But you? you?" said Maulear, as he saw Scorpione's strength give way. + +"Me? oh, I perhaps will die--that however is a different matter." Though +he did not know it, Scorpione might have been right. Felix Fontana, the +great Italian, one of the most distinguished physicians of the +eighteenth century, in his celebrated _Riserche Chemiche Sopra il Veleno +della Vipera_, affirms that to suck out the poison of the viper, even +when it does not touch the vital organs, suffices to cause such an +inflammation of the organs of the mouth that death always results from +it. + +Boundless admiration and profound pity appeared in the heart of Maulear +when he heard the answer of Tonio. He even forgot Aminta, and hurried to +her generous liberator. He took him in his arms, and sustained his head, +which in nervous spasms he beat violently against the rock. This +deformed creature became really a friend and brother to Maulear; he had +saved one whom even Heaven abandoned. He had accomplished the most +admirable sacrifice, that equal almost to Christ, who gave his life to +ransom that of his fellows. + +Just then steps were heard in the distance, and many persons approached +the solitude where such terrible scenes were occurring. A woman of about +fifty years of age, with dignified and beautiful features and +distinguished tournure, advanced with an expression of intense terror. +Looking all around, she seemed much terrified. She soon saw the three +characters of our somber drama. Passing hurriedly and rapidly as if she +had been a girl toward Aminta, who lay extended on the ground, she +seized and convulsively clasped her to her heart, without however being +able to utter a word. Her tearful eyes declared however that she was +aware some great misfortune had befallen her child. This woman was +Madame Rovero. Those who accompanied her were old servants of the +family, and surrounded Aminta. They were ignorant as Madame Rovero was +of the danger the young girl had undergone. Aminta however had begun to +recover, and pointed to Tonio, who lay in convulsions in Maulear's arms. +"What, monsieur, has happened?" said Madame de Rovero to Maulear. +"Having become uneasy at my daughter's prolonged absence, I have come to +her usual resort and find her dying and this lad writhing in your arms." + +"Madame, excuse me," said Maulear, "if I do not now make explanation in +relation to the cruel events which have taken place. Time at present is +too precious. Your daughter I trust will live. But this poor fellow +demands all our care. He has sacrificed himself to rescue your child, +and to him you owe now all your happiness. Near this place I have two +horses. Suffer me to place your daughter on one, and do you return with +her to your house. I will on the other hurry with Tonio as fast as +possible to Sorrento." + +Henri took a silver whistle from his pocket and sounded it. A groom soon +appeared with two horses. What he had proposed was soon executed, not +however without difficulty, for Aminta was much enfeebled, and Scorpione +contended violently with those who sought to place him in front of +Maulear, who had already mounted. Madame Rovero went sadly toward +Sorrento, bearing pale and bloody the young girl who had gone on that +very morning from her mother's villa so joyous, happy, and beautiful. +Maulear hurried to the house of the physician which had been pointed out +to him. While they were bringing in Aminta's foster-brother, Henri told +the doctor what had taken place. He examined the lad, and his brow +became overcast. Scorpione was speechless, and but for the faint +pulsations of his heart one might have thought him lifeless. No external +symptom betrayed the effect of the poison except the head of the +patient, which was terribly swollen. His mouth and especially the lower +jaw appeared the seat of suffering, and with a sensation of horror +Maulear saw between the violet lips of the patient a green and tense +tongue, at the appearance of which the physician exhibited much emotion. + +"What do you think of his condition?" said Maulear. + +"The great Felix Fontana says, in such cases there is no safety. Lazarus +Spallanzini, however, another savant of the eighteenth century, +published at Venice, in 1767, in the Giornole D'Italia, an admirable +dissertation on wounds caused by the bite of reptiles, especially on +those of the vipers. Treating of suction and its consequences, he points +out a means of cure for it. It is however so terrible and dangerous that +I know not if I should use it." + +"Use it, sir. There is," said Maulear, "only the alternative of it and +death." + +"The man will live, but in all probability will never speak again." He +waited for Maulear's answer. + +"May I consult the family?" said the young man. "I will have returned in +an hour." + +"In ten minutes," said the doctor, "he will be dead." + +"Act quickly, then, monsieur: all his friends would act as I do." + +The physician left: in a few minutes he returned with one of his +assistants, bearing a red hot iron. Maulear shuddered. The physician +placed the patient in a great arm-chair, to which he fastened him with +strong straps of leather. Then, when he was satisfied that no spasm or +motion of the unfortunate man would interrupt the operation, he placed a +speculum in his mouth. The speculum in its expansion tore apart the jaws +of Tonio, and kept them distended, so that the interior orifice of the +throat could be seen. Seizing the hot iron, he plunged it into the +throat of the unhappy man, turned back the palate from the tongue, and +moved it several times about, while the agonizing guttural cries of the +patient were mingled with the sharp hissing of the iron. Torrents of +tears filled his eyes. At this terrible spectacle Maulear fainted. + + +III.--THE CONCERT. + +Henri Marquis de Maulear was scarcely twenty-six, and was what all would +have called a handsome man. A fine tall person, delicate features, and a +profusion of rich blond hair, curling naturally, justified the +appellation which the world, and especially the female portion of it, +conferred on him. To these external advantages, was united a brilliant +education, rather superficial than serious, and more graceful than +solid. He had dipped without examination in everything. He, however, +knew it to be essential to seem to understand all the subjects of French +conversation, in the saloons of Paris: nothing more. + +The Prince Maulear, the only son of whom Henri was, had accompanied the +Bourbons in their exile, and been one of the faithful at Mettau and +Hartwell. After having undergone banishment with the Princes, his +illustrious friends, he returned to France with Louis XVIII. and shared +with Messieurs de Blacas, Vitrolles, d'Escars and others, the favor and +confidence of the king. A widower, and the recipient of a large fortune +from the restoration of the unsold portion of his estates, cold and +harsh in behavior, the Prince returned from exile in 1815, with the same +ideas he had borne away in 1788. The Prince de Maulear was the true type +of those unchangeable prejudices which can neither learn nor forget. He +was educated in France by a sister of his mother, the Countess of +Grandnesnil, an ancient canoness, a noble lady, who was a second mother +to the young Marquis after death had borne away his own. The Countess +had not emigrated like her brother-in-law. The care demanded by the +delicate health of the heir of the family could not admit of the fatigue +of endless travel, made necessary by emigration. Therefore, the heir of +the Maulears remained under the charge of the Countess. When he grew up, +beneath the aegis of the Countess, he completed his education, and at a +later day entered society. She exercised over his mind and heart that +influence which affection and the usage of familiar intercourse confer. +Watching over him with maternal care, seeking to ascertain his wishes +that she might be able to gratify them, making him happy in every way in +her power, she was beloved by the Marquis with all his heart. He could +not have loved a mother more. + +The consequence of this education by a woman was that the moral had +somewhat stifled the intellectual. Besides, this kind of fanaticism of +the Countess for her nephew, her constant attention to gratify every +caprice, her readiness to excuse his faults, even when she should have +blamed them severely, made his education vicious as possible, and +brought out two faults with peculiar prominence. His character was very +weak; and he had great self-confidence. The Prince de Maulear found the +son he had left a child in the cradle, a man of twenty-six, and was +literally forced to make his acquaintance. + +The noble bearing and distinguished manners of the young man pleased him +especially. He was also graceful, gallant and brave, and the Prince saw +himself restored to youth in the person of his son. He did not make +himself uneasy about his sentiments, being satisfied that his son was +learned in stable lore, a good rider, skillful in the use of weapons, +heroic and enterprising. He rejoiced at his fortune, as it would make +Henri happy, and anticipated a brilliant and fortunate career for his +son. Henri had no profession, and the Prince procured for him the +appointment of secretary of legation to Naples. He had held this post +six months when he appears in our history. + +Henri had never loved. Much ephemeral gallantry, and many easy +conquests, which soon passed away, had occupied his time without +touching his heart, and this was his situation when for the first time +he saw the White Rose of Sorrento. As we have said, he became sick at +the terrible surgical operation. He did not revive until all was over. +The unfortunate Tonio had been placed in one of the rooms of the +doctor's house, and the latter declared, that in consideration of the +importance of the case, he would himself attend to the patient, and +would not leave him until he should have been completely restored, +unless, added he, death should remove the responsibility. The Marquis +being satisfied that the savior of Aminta would not be neglected, +hurried with the doctor to Madame Rovero's villa. Nothing could be more +simple and charming, and nothing in Italy had struck him so forcibly. +The very look of the house told how happy were its inhabitants. At the +extremity of Sorrento, it was surrounded by large trees, and winter +seemed never to inflict any severity upon it. + +An old servant admitted the strangers. He recognized Maulear, for he had +been with Madame when she recovered her daughter. + +"Madame expects you, gentlemen," said he, when he saw the young Marquis +and the Doctor. "I will accompany you to the room." He went before them +to a pretty room on the ground floor, where he left them a short time. + +Maulear carefully examined it. All betokened elegant tastes in its +occupants. In the middle was an elegant grand piano of Vienna; on the +desk the Don Giovanna of Mozart; and on a pedestal near the window an +exquisite model of Tasso's house. A round table of Florentine +workmanship, of immense value, stood near one side of the apartment. The +valuable Mosaics were, however, hidden by a collection of albums, +keepsakes, and engravings. There were also on it vases of alabaster, +filled with perfumed flowers, and the whole room was lit up by the rays +of the setting sun, the brilliancy of which were softened as they passed +across the park. Madame Rovero entered with a servant. "Take the +Doctor," said she, "to my daughter's room, whither I will come +immediately. You, sir," said she, pointing Maulear to a chair, "will +please to tell me for what I am your debtor. I am sure your claims are +large." He gave Madame Rovero a detailed account of what had happened +since he met Aminta in the grotto, until the cruel devotion of Tonio. + +"Tonio has told you the truth, Monsieur," said Madame Rovero; "the +terrible remedy he had the courage to employ is known in the country to +be infallible, though, as yet, few examples of such heroism have +occurred. The doctor alone can satisfy us of the safety of my daughter." +Madame Rovero moved toward the door to satisfy herself in relation to +this engrossing subject, when the doctor entered. She trembled before +him like a criminal before a judge, when he seeks to divine the nature +of a terrible sentence. "The young lady is in no danger. I have examined +the wound carefully; no trace of poison remains. The poor lad has +entirely exhausted it." The mother lifted her eyes to heaven in +inexpressible gratitude. + +"What hopes have you, doctor, of the poor lad?" + +"He will live, but that is all science can do." + +"Do not neglect one who has so absolute a right to my gratitude." + +Turning then to Maulear, she said, "In a few days, Monsieur, my daughter +and myself will expect you. She will soon be restored, and we will thank +you for your services." + +Maulear bade adieu to Mme. Rovero, not as a stranger or acquaintance of +a few minutes, but as a friend who leaves a family with whom he is +intimate. He left them with regret, as persons to whom he was devoted, +and with whom he was willing to pass his life. Within a few hours, a +strange change had been wrought in him. Struck with admiration at +Aminta, the danger with which he found her surrounded, the successive +agitations of the scene, the sweet influence exerted by her on his +heart, the alternations of hope and fear, everything combined to disturb +the placidity of his withered and somewhat _blaze_ soul which scarcely +seemed plastic enough to receive a profound and tender expression. He +then experienced for Aminta what he had not amid all that terrible.... +The features of the young girl he had borne in his memory, contracted as +they were by pain, did not seem to him less charming, and excited a +warmer interest than ever. Never before had the most beautiful in all +the eclat of dress and manners appeared so attractive as the pale Aminta +in her mortal agony. To sum up all, he was in love, and in love for the +first time. + +Henri left Sorrento with a painful sensation, and returned to Naples, +where pleasure and warm receptions awaited him, from the many beauties +on whom he expended the "small change" of his heart. As he said himself, +he never was ruined by sensitiveness, keeping all the wealth of his +heart for a good opportunity. That opportunity was come. He returned to +the palace of the embassy, far different in his condition from what he +was when he left. With the most perfect _sang-froid_ therefore he read +the following note which his valet had given him when he came in-- + +"The Duke de Palma, minister of police, requests the Marquis de Maulear +to pass the evening with him." + +Lower down in another hand was written-- + +_"Do not fail. La Felina will sing, and at two o'clock we will have a +supper of our intimate friends. You know whether or not you are one of +the number."_ + +The Duke of Palma, minister of police of the kingdom of Naples, was one +of the friends of Fernando IV. He was not a great minister, but was +young and intellectual. His principal merit was that he amused his +master, by recounting secret intrigues, whimsical adventures, and +delicate affairs, a knowledge of which he acquired by means of his +position. Thus he found favor with Fernando, who was not served, but +amused and satisfied. Sovereigns who are amused are indulgent. Maulear +hesitated a long time before he accepted the invitation. His soul was +occupied by new and delicious emotions. It seemed to him to be +profanity to transport them to such a different and dissipated scene. He +however shrunk from solitude, and the idea of living apart from Aminta +for whole days, made him desire the amusement and excitement promised by +the invitation. The entertainment was superb. All the noble, elegant and +rich of Naples were bidden. The concert began. The first pieces were +scarcely listened to, in consequence of the studiously late entries of +many distinguished personages, and of many pretty women, who would not +on any account enter _incognito_ either a drawing-room or a theater, and +were careful never to come thither until the moment when their presence +would attract attention or produce interruption. Silence however +pervaded in a short time all the assemblage. The crowd which a moment +before had been so agitated became at once calm and mute. A fairy spell +seemed to have transfixed them. A fairy was really come--that of +music.... The Queen of the theater of Italy, _La Bella Felina_--that +strange sibyl of the ball at San Carlo. The excitement to hear her was +great, and the prima donna had immense success. The young woman, by +coming to his soiree, did the minister of police a great favor: The +singer had during the whole year refused the most brilliant invitations +and the largest sums to sing any where but at San Carlo. Thrice she had +appeared on the concert gallery, and thrice descended amid immense +applause. + +Great is the triumph of song. Yet its success is fleeting and ephemeral, +and may be annihilated by the merest accident. The glory is frail, the +fortune uncertain, of all that emanates from the human throat. + +The concert was over and all left. Henri and the intimate friends alone, +of whom the Duke spoke, passed into an elegant and retired room into +which the minister led La Felina. "Messieurs," said he, "the Signora +honors me by partaking of our collation. Let us bow before the Queen of +Song and thank her for the honor she confers on us." The cantatrice +exhibited no embarrassment at being alone amid so many of another sex, +so notorious for the volatility of their manners. Her habitual calm and +dignity did not hide a kind of restraint from the observation of +Maulear. She replied by a few graceful words to the gallantries of which +she was the object. They then all sat down. Many witty remarks were made +by the guests. Champagne increased Neapolitan volubility, and heads were +beginning to grow light, when the minister seeing that La Felina was ill +at ease at the conversation, said, "The supper, Signora, of a minister +of police should be unique as that of a banker or senator. Where else +would one learn of piquant adventures, scandal, hidden crimes, but at my +house, for I am the keeper of all records and the compulsory confessor +of all. I wish then to give you another fruit and to tell you of a +strange adventure, the hero of which is a person all of you know. That +man is Count Monte-Leone." + +The name of Monte-Leone, so well known in Naples, created the greatest +sensation. All were silent and listened to the Duke of Palma. La Felina +became strangely pale. + + +IV.--THE DUKE OF PALMA. + +"You know," said the Duke to his friends, "that the Count Monte-Leone +has for a long time professed opinions entirely opposed to the +government of our sovereign king Fernando. The heir of the political +errors of his unfortunate father, he seems to travel fatally toward the +same sad fate. The king long ago bade us close our eyes to the guilty +conduct of the young Count. His Majesty was unwilling to continue on the +son the rigors to which his father had been subjected. A revelation of +great importance forced us to act, and we caused the offender to be +arrested for an offence of which he must make a defence before the +appointed tribunal. During many months the Count contrived to avoid all +efforts made to arrest him. At last, however, in consequence of a +youthful escapade in which he should by no means have indulged, his +retreat was revealed to us. The house which concealed him and his +accomplices was found out on the night of the last ball of San Carlo. +The countersign of his associates had been revealed to us by a traitor, +and our precautions were so skillfully taken, that the three friends of +Monte-Leone were arrested one after the other, at the very door of his +house, without in the least rendering the arrest of the Count doubtful. +Two hours after, Monte-Leone, arrested by our agents, was borne to the +_Castle del Uovo_, a safe and sure prison, whence as yet no prisoner +ever escaped. The report of the chief of the expedition," continued the +Duke, "states, that he saw a woman fainting on the floor. He adds, that +he thought he had nothing to do with it, his orders relating entirely to +the four of whom he obtained possession." + +During this preamble La Felina more than once inhaled the perfume of her +_bouquet_. When, however, she looked up, her face expressed no trouble +or change. + +"The three friends of Count Monte-Leone," said the Duke, "are a +Frenchman, a German, and an Italian. The first is the Count of Harcourt, +son of the Duke, one of the noblest and most powerful men of France. We +cannot fancy how the heir of so noble a family has become involved in +such a plot, where persons of his rank have all to lose and nothing to +gain. He is a brilliant young madcap, amiable and adventurous, like +almost all of his countrymen, and became a conspirator merely for +recreation and to while away the time he cannot occupy with love and +pleasure. The second is a graver character: the son of a Bohemian +pastor, imbued with the philosophic and political opinions of his +countrymen, Sand, Koerner, and the ideologists of his country, he dreams +of leveling ideas which would set all Europe in a blaze. He has become a +conspirator from conviction, is a madman full of genius, but one of +those who must be shut up, before they become furious. The fanatical +friendship of this young man to Monte-Leone involved him in the party of +which he is the shadow and the reflection. He is a conspirator, _ex +necessitate_, who will never act from his own motive, and who, +consequently, is a subject of no apprehension to us, as long as he has +no head, no chief to nerve his arm, and urge him onward. We have without +any difficulty exonerated Italy from the reproach of containing these +three men, without any scandal or violence.... The German on the very +night of his arrest was sent to the city of Elbogen, his native city, +with recommendations to the paternal care and surveillance of the +friendly governments through which he was to pass. The Count of Harcourt +has already seen the shores of France. When this brilliant gentleman +placed his foot on the deck of the vessel, he was informed that +henceforth he was forbidden ever to return to Naples, under penalty of +perpetual imprisonment. Young Rovero was confined in this identical +palace, until such time as the trial of Count Monte-Leone shall be +terminated. I am informed that he does nothing but sigh after a +mysterious beauty, the charms and voice of whom are incomparable." + +La Felina again put her bouquet to her face. + +"I am now come, Messieurs, to the true hero of this romance." + +Just then he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of one of his +secretaries, who whispered briefly to him, and placed before him a box +mysteriously sealed, with this superscription--_"To His Excellency +Monsignore the Duke of Palma, minister of police, and to him alone."_ + +The countenance of the minister expressed surprise, as his secretary +said, "Read, Monsignore, and verify the contents of the box." + +The Duke requested his guests' pardon, and unsealed the letter, which he +rapidly read. He then opened the box, examined it with curiosity, and +without taking out the objects it contained, said, "It is unheard of: it +is almost miraculous." + +The minister's exclamations put an end to all private conversations, and +every eye was turned upon him, "Messieurs," said he with emotion, "I +thought I was about to tell you a strange thing, but all that I know has +become complicated by so strange an accident, that I am myself +amazed--used as I am to mysterious and criminal events." + +At a signal, the secretary left, and the Duke continued: "The trial of +Count Monte-Leone was prepared. Vaguely accused of being the chief of +the secret society, the object of which was the overturning of the +monarchy, he might have been acquitted from want of proof of his +participation in this dark and guilty work, when three witnesses came +forward to charge him with having presided in their own sight over one +of the assemblages which in secret discuss of the death of kings by the +enemies of law and order. + +"On this formal declaration made by three well-known inhabitants of the +town of _Torre del Greco_, devoted to king Fernando, the Count was +sought for by the police, arrested as I have told you, and imprisoned in +the _Castle del Uovo_. Every means was taken to make sure of the person +of the prisoner. The garrison of the castle was increased, lest there +should be some daring _coup de main_ to deliver him. The charge of him +was intrusted to the most stern and incorruptible of the jailers, who +was however carefully watched by the agents of the government. This +excess of precaution had nearly cost the life of the prisoner, from the +fact that he was placed in a dungeon into which the sea broke. Judge of +my surprise when yesterday, two of the accusers of the Count, the +Salvatori, came to my hotel insisting that two days before, just as the +population of _Torre del Greco_ was leaving church, their eldest brother +Stenio Salvatori had been poignarded at his door by Count Monte-Leone. + +"'This evidence,' continued they, 'will be confirmed by all the +inhabitants of the town, in the presence of whom the affair happened.' I +refused to believe anything so improbable. I told them the Count had +been a prisoner several days, and assured them I would have been +informed of his escape. Overcome by their persuasions, shaken in my +conviction by their oaths, I determined to satisfy myself that the Count +was at the prison, and went thither." + +The Duke had not deceived the auditors by his promises, for the interest +had rapidly increased, and every one listened to his words with intense +curiosity. A single person only seemed listless and uninterested. This +was La Felina, whose eye never lost sight of the box which the secretary +had given the Duke, and which he had shut, so that no one knew the +nature of the contents. The Duke resumed his story: + +"The new governor of the Castle, whom I had appointed after the +inundation, was not informed of my visit. No one expected me, yet all +was calm and in good order. + +"'Signore,' said I to the governor, 'I am informed that the prisoner I +have confided to your charge, the Count Monte-Leone, has escaped from +the fortress. If this be so, you know the severity of military law, and +must expect its utmost rigor.' As he heard this menace, the governor +grew pale. I fancied his change of color came because he was aware of +some error, and I awaited his answer with anxiety. 'If the Count has +escaped, Monsignore,' he replied, 'it must have been within an hour, for +it is not more than twice that time since I saw him.' + +"I was amazed. Unwilling as I was to be face to face with the Count, the +violence and exasperation of whom I was aware of, I ordered myself to be +led to his cell. The jailer threw back the door on its hinges, and far +from finding the room unoccupied, I saw him stretched on a bed, and +reading a book, which seemed very much to interest him. He appeared +pale and thin. A year had passed since I had seen him, brilliantly and +carefully dressed, giving tone to the saloons, the cynosure of which he +was. Dignified and haughty, and always polite, even in the coarse dress +he wore, the Count rose, recognized, and bowed to me. 'I did not,' said +he, 'expect the honor of a visit from his excellency the minister of +police, and would have wished to receive him in my palace. As the state +of affairs is, however, he must be satisfied with the rude hospitality +of the humble room I occupy.' He offered me his only stool. I said, 'Not +I, Count, but yourself, have been the cause that you are thus situated. +If you had chosen, you might have lived happy, free, and esteemed, as +your rank and birth entitled you. Remember that all must be attributed +to yourself, if you exchange all these advantages for the solitude of a +prison and the dangers which your opinions have brought on you.' 'Shall +I dare to ask, Monsignore, is the visit I receive an act of benevolence, +or of official duty?' 'I am come hither, Count, from duty. The rumor of +your escape is spread everywhere. A crime committed on the day before +yesterday in the vicinity of Naples is attributed to you, and I am come +to ascertain here if there be any foundation for the accusation.' The +Count laughed. 'Monsignore,' said he, 'one never leaves this place +except under the charge of keepers. As for the new crime of which I am +accused, and of which I know nothing, I trust that the good sense of the +judges will think me innocent as of the imaginary offenses which brought +me hither.' + +"The calmness and sang-froid of Monte-Leone, the improbability of the +story told me, excited a trouble and confusion which did not escape the +observation of the prisoner. 'Monsignore,' said he, 'we have met under +happier circumstances. I expect and ask a favor from no one. I can +however ask an indulgence from so old an acquaintance as yourself. Hurry +on my trial! The preliminary captivity I undergo is one of the greatest +outrages of the law. While a man is uncondemned he should not be +punished. God does not send any one to hell untried and uncondemned. My +life is sad here. This book, the only one allowed me,' said he, +presenting me with it open at the page where he had been reading when I +entered, 'this great book, _De Consolatione Philosophiae_ of Anicius +Severinus Boethius, does not console but afflicts me; for in spite of +myself I remember that the author, imprisoned by a tyrant at Pavia, +terminated in torture a life of glory. If such be my fate, signore,--if +I am guilty, the punishment is great enough: if I am not guilty, it is +too great.' + +"I was touched by this logical reasoning. Far more influence however was +exerted on me by his noble tranquillity and the natural dignity +misfortune often kindles up in the noblest souls. 'Count,' said I, 'be +assured that within a few days you will be placed on trial,' and I +retired satisfied with the mistake or falsehood of Monte-Leone's +accusers. + +"I found the Salvatori at my palace. I told them that they played a +terrible game. I said, 'If you had brought a false charge against a +young man at liberty, and on the head of whom there lay no accusation, +your crime would be capital, and you would be vulgar calumniators, such +as are too often made infamous by our criminal records. This matter is +however so complicated by revenge that it will excite general horror, +and draw on you all the severity of the law. Count Monte-Leone, whom you +accused of having poignarded your brother, is now in the _Castle del +Uovo_, which I left a few minutes ago, and where I saw him.' + +"Nothing can describe the singular expression of the faces of the two +men as they listened. But they still persisted that they had spoken the +truth, and were sternly dismissed by me, affirming that they would prove +all they had said. They have kept their word, and here is the evidence," +said the Duke, opening the box and exhibiting a glittering ring, on +which was engraved the escutcheon of Monte-Leone. + +"This ring," said he, "is acknowledged to be one of the _chef +d'oeuvres_ of Benvenuto Cellini. It has an historical fame, and is +considered one of the most admirable works of that great artist. Twenty +times the government has sought to buy it, but the Monte-Leoni have +uniformly refused to part with it. This letter accompanied the precious +jewel: + +"_Monsignore_: Heaven has come to our aid. Since our evidence, +corroborated by that of all _Torre del Greco_, could not convince you of +the truth of our accusation--since you refuse to believe that Count +Monte-Leone, to avenge himself, wounded our brother, we send you this +ring, engraved with his arms, which he lost in his contest with Stenio +Salvatori, and which God has placed in our hands to confound and to +punish him. + +"Raphael and Paolo Salvatori." + +"All is lost!" said La Felina. + +"What now shall we believe?" said the Duke to his guests. + + +V.--THE VISIT. + +The story of the Duke of Palma was concluded by the last question. All +seemed wrapped in doubt in relation to this singular incident. The night +was far advanced, and the company separated. + +The Duke escorted La Felina to her carriage. Just however as the door +was about to close on him, he said: "Would you not like, beautiful +Felina, to know the name of the woman at Count Monte-Leone's on the +night of the ball?" + +"Why ask that question?" said she. + +"Because," he said, "I know no one more beautiful or more attractive." + +"Her name?" said the singer, with emotion. + +"Is La Felina!" said the Duke. "What surprises you?" he added; "a +minister of police, from his very office, knows everything." La Felina +said to herself, "But he does not!" + +The spirited horses bore the carriage rapidly away. + +In the story of Monte-Leone the name of Taddeo Rovero had especially +arrested the attention of Maulear. Was Taddeo a relation or connection +of Aminta? During the few minutes he had passed at Sorrento he had +learned nothing of the Roveri, and had asked no questions of Aminta. +Allied however by the heart to this family already, he naturally enough +took interest in the dangers its members incurred. He therefore +determined to return at once and ascertain this fact from the minister, +when a note handed to him drove the matter completely from his mind. +Thus ran the note: + +"_Monsieur_: My daughter now knows how much she is indebted to you, and +the efforts you made to rescue her from the fearful danger which menaced +her. The heroic remedy employed by Tonio has luckily succeeded. Aminta +is entirely recovered and is unwilling to delay any longer the tribute +of gratitude. Let me also, Monsieur, again offer you mine. If you will +deign to receive them in our poor villa, we will be delighted to see you +there to-day. + +Your grateful, + +Antonia Rovero." + +The heart of Maulear quivered with joy at these words. He would in the +course of a few hours see Aminta, the impression of whose beauty had so +deeply impressed his heart, and from whom he had fancied he would yet be +separated for days. He mounted his best horse and rapidly crossed the +distance which separated him from Sorrento. Two hours after the receipt +of the letter he knocked at the door of Signora Rovero. The old servant +again admitted him. + +"The Signorina is in no danger," said he to Maulear, as soon as he saw +him. Nothing is more graceful than this familiarity of old servants, who +as it were are become from devotion a portion of the family of their +masters. "We know," added the good man taking and kissing Maulear's hand +respectfully, "that we owe all to your Excellency, who drove away the +vipers which otherwise had stung her on the heart, and allowed Tonio no +time to rescue her." + +There was such an expression of gratitude in the features of the old +man, that Maulear was deeply moved. + +"The Signora and the Signorina expect you, Count, to thank you." The old +man let tears drop on the hand of the Marquis. + +"What noble hearts must the mistresses of such servants have," thought +Maulear as he stood in waiting. + +Signora Rovero hurried to meet him, but not with a cold ceremony. The +stranger who had contributed to the salvation of her daughter henceforth +was a friend to her. "Come, come," said Signora Rovero, "she expects +you." + +The door was opened, and they were in the presence of Aminta. The White +Rose of _Sorrento_ never vindicated more distinctly her right to the +name. + +Half reclining on a sofa of pearl velvet, Aminta was wrapped in a large +dressing-gown, the vaporous folds of which hung around her. Her face, +become yet more pale from suffering, was, as it were, enframed in light +clouds of gauze. One might have fancied her a beautiful alabaster +statue, but for the two beautiful bandeaus of black and lustrous hair +which were drawn around her charming face. + +"My child," said Signora Rovero, as she led Henri forward, "the Marquis +of Maulear proves that he is not insensible of the value of our thanks, +since he has come so promptly to receive them." + +"Alas! Signora," said Henri to the mother of Aminta, "the true savior of +your daughter is not myself, but the generous lad who risked his own +life for hers. God, however, is my witness, that had I been aware I +could have thus saved her, I would not have hesitated to employ the +means." + +The chivalric and impassioned tone with which these words were +pronounced, made both mother and daughter look at Henri. The latter, +however, immediately cast down her eyes, confused by the passionate +expression of his. + +"Monsieur," said Aminta, with emotion, "I might doubt such devotion from +you, to a person who was a stranger, were I not aware of the nobility +and generosity of the French character." + +For the first time Maulear heard Aminta speak. She had one of those +fresh and sweet voices, so full of melody and persuasion, that every +word she spoke had the air of a caress--one of those delicious voices +with which a few chosen natures alone are endowed, which are never heard +without emotion, and are always remembered with pleasure. If the head +and imagination of the Marquis were excited by her charms, his heart +submitted to the influence of her angelic voice, for it emanated from +her soul; and Maulear, as he heard her delicious notes, thought there +was in this young girl something to love besides beauty. + +The physician had ordered the patient to repose. He feared the wound +made by Tonio's dagger would re-open if she walked. By the side of her +sofa, therefore, the hours of Maulear rolled by like seconds. + +The father, an educated and dignified man, had superintended, in person, +the education of his two children. Wishing neither to separate nor to +leave them, for he loved them both alike, his cares were equally divided +between them, so that Aminta, profiting by the lessons given to her +brother, shared in his masculine and profound education, and acquired +information far surpassing that ordinarily received by her sex. The +seeds of science had fallen on fertile ground. A studious mind had +developed them in meditation and solitude, and this beautiful child +concealed serious merit under a frail and delicate form. These +treasures, vailed by modesty, revealed themselves by rare flashes, which +soon disappeared, leaving those lucky enough to witness them, dazzled +and amazed. + +A few brilliant remarks escaped the young girl during Maulear's visit. +He could not restrain the expression of his admiration, and Signora +Rovero, when she saw her daughter confused, told Maulear, who had been +her teacher. In spite of this attractive conversation, one thought was +ever present to the mind of Maulear, who was the Taddeo Rovero of whom +the minister had spoken? The tranquillity the ladies seemed to enjoy, +might be little consonant with the situation of the accomplice of +Monte-Leone. Perhaps they did not know his fate. He resolved to satisfy +himself. + +"Signora," said he to the mother, "there is in Naples a young man named +Taddeo Rovero." + +"My son--the brother of my daughter; one of the pleasantest men of +Naples, whom I regret that I cannot introduce to you. Though he loves us +tenderly, our seclusion has little to attract him. City festivities and +pleasures often take him from us. Naples is now very brilliant." + +The heart of Maulear beat when he heard the poor mother speak of her +son's pleasures. + +"My brother is the soul of honor and courage," said Aminta, "but his +head is easily turned. I fear he is too much under the influence of his +best friends." + +"My daughter means his best friends," said Signora Rovero, gaily, "the +brilliant Count Monte-Leone, one of the proudest nobles of Naples. +Taddeo loves him as a brother. But my Aminta has no sympathy with him." + +The Marquis was glad to hear Signora Rovero speak thus--and he admired +the quick perception of the young girl, who thus, almost by intuition, +foresaw the danger into which Monte-Leone had tempted Taddeo. + +The dislike of Aminta to Monte-Leone, thus referred to by the Signora +Rovero, brought the blood to her cheeks. She blushed to see one of her +sentiments thus displayed before a stranger. In the impenetrable +sanctuary of her soul, she wished to reserve for herself alone her +impressions of pain and sorrow, her antipathies and affections. Besides, +by means of one of those inspirations, the effect, but not the reason, +of which is perceived by us, Aminta was aware that Maulear was the last +man in the world before whom her internal thoughts should be referred +to. Maulear comprehended the cause of her embarrassment. He again spoke +of Taddeo. Once launched on this theme, Signora Rovero spoke of nothing +else but her adored son, of his youth, prospects, and of the hopes she +had formed of him. While she thus dreamed of glory and success for +Taddeo, the latter was a captive in a secret prison. + +"I am astonished," said the Signora, "that my son is so long absent +without suffering his sister and myself to hear from him. For fifteen +days we have not heard, and I beg you, Marquis, on your return to +Naples, to see him, and inform him of the accident which has befallen +Aminta. Tell him to come hither as soon as possible." + +"I will see him, Signora, and if possible will return him to you." + +As he made this reply, Henri promised to use every effort and all his +credit to restore the son and brother of these ladies. Just then a sigh +was heard in the saloon, and Maulear looked around, surprised, and +almost terrified at the agony expressed. Aminta arose, hurried toward +the portico, and lifting up the curtain in front of it, cried out, "It +is he--it is he! Mother, he calls me! I must go!" + +As soon, however, as her foot touched the floor, she uttered a cry of +agony. "It is nothing," said she, immediately. "I thought myself strong +enough, yet I suffer much; do not mind me, but attend to poor Tonio." +Signora Rovero passed into the next room. + +"It is he," said Aminta to Maulear, with the greatest emotion. "It is my +savior, my foster-brother, whom we have sent for hither, contrary even +to the advice of the Doctor. We were, however, unwilling to confide the +duty of attending on him to any one. Besides, he would die of despair +did he think we forgot him." + +Signora Rovero returned. "The sufferings of the poor lad are terrible," +said she; "his fever, however, is lessened, his delirium has passed +away, and the physician assures me that he will live. Thanks for it are +due to God, for if he died Aminta and I would die." + +The day was advancing, and Maulear would not leave without seeing Tonio. +His eyes were bloodshot, his lips livid and pendent, his cheeks swollen +by the cauterization he had undergone. All horror at his appearance, +however, disappeared when Maulear remembered what he had done. He looked +at him as the early Christians did at martyrs. His eyes were yet humid +when he returned to Aminta. The latter perceived his trouble, and gave +him her pretty hand with an expression of deep gratitude. + +"Thank you, Monsieur," said she, "for your compassion for Tonio. A heart +like yours exhibits itself in tears, and I shall not forget those you +have shed." These words, at once simple and affecting, touched the heart +of Maulear. A great effort was necessary to keep him from falling at the +feet of Aminta. Placing his lips respectfully on the hand offered to +him, he bade adieu to Signora Rovero, and set out for Naples, bearing +with him a precious treasury of memories, hope, anticipation, and +wishes--of everything, in fine, which composes the first and most +adorable pages of the history of our loves: the charming preface to the +yet unread book. + +On the next day Maulear visited the Duke of Palma. "Monsignore," said +he to the minister, "I am about to ask you a favor to which I attach +immense value. The pardon of young Rovero, who has been, your Excellency +tells me, rather imprudent than guilty." The Duke laughed. "His liberty! +On my word, Marquis, I would be much obliged if he would accept it." + +"What does this mean, Monsignore?" said Maulear. + +"That Rovero refuses liberty. The king, fancying that mildness would +cure his folly, ordered me to dismiss the _novice_ to his family. I told +Rovero. He replied, 'I refuse a pardon--I ask for justice: I am innocent +or guilty; if guilty, I deserve punishment; if innocent, let them acquit +me. I will not leave this prison except by force, as I entered it.' Thus +I have a prisoner in spite of my wish to release him." + +"I will see him," said the Marquis, "and will speak to him of his +mother." + + +VI.--THE PRISONER. + +The Hotel of the Minister of Police at Naples had been constructed on +the site and on the foundation of the old palace of the Dukes of Palma, +ancestors of the present Duke. Amid the vestiges of the old palace, +which still existed, was an ancient chapel, connected with the new +edifice. This chapel, abandoned long before, had been changed into a +prison, for the reception of persons arrested secretly by the Minister +of Police, into the offences of whom he wished to inquire personally, +before he turned them over to justice. Of this kind was young Rovero. +King Fernando wearied of foolish and ephemeral conspiracies which +disturbed, without endangering his monarchy, combated with all his power +the disposition of his ministers to be rigorous, and the Duke of Palma +to please his master suppressed the various plots which arose +everywhere. This indulgent and pacific system did not all comport with +the revolutionary ideas of Count Monte-Leone, and the deposition of the +brothers Salvatori, united to public rumor, made the arrest of the Count +unavoidably necessary beyond all doubt, much to the annoyance of +Fernando IV. and his minister. An example was needed. One criminal must +be severely punished to terrify all the apostles of dark sedition. The +more exalted the rank of the culprit, the greater the effect of the +example would be. Young Rovero, by refusing his pardon, subjected the +Duke of Palma to a new annoyance. His refusal made a trial necessary, or +he would be forced to release him, contrary to his own protestations, +and therefore subject the government to the odium of arbitrary injustice +and a criminal attack on the liberties of the people. This would be a +new theme of declamation for malcontents. The motives assigned by Taddeo +for insisting on a trial were specious and dignified. We will however, +soon see that they had no reality, and only masked the plans of the +prisoner. A strange event had taken place in the old chapel we have +mentioned, and in which Rovero was shut up. + +Before we relate what follows, we must acquaint the reader with the +secret sentiments of young Rovero. All had done justice to the seductive +grace, which attracted so many adorers to the feet of the singer. +Rovero, the youngest of the band of four, felt far more than admiration +for the prima donna. His soul, hitherto untouched by passion, became +aware of an emotion of which it had not been cognisant, at the sight of +the great artist, the fire and energetic bursts of whom gave so powerful +expression to her glances. Rovero had hitherto thought of women only +under ordinary conditions, adorned with that timid modesty and grace +which seem to call on the ruder sex for protection,--as charming +creatures whom God has formed to command in obeying, to triumph by +weakness. The young and chaste girl, the seraphic reverie of lovers of +twenty, was effaced by the radiant beauty presented him by chance. The +native nobility of Felina, her elegant habits, the ardent imagination +which had expanded the love of her art, the very practice of her +profession which ceaselessly familiarized her with the works of the +great masters, with the royal sovereigns she represented, had enhanced +her natural dignity, with an almost theatrical majesty, which so +perfectly harmonized with her person, so entirely consorted with her +habits, form and queenly bearing, that she might have been fancied a +Juno or a Semiramis disguised as a noble Neapolitan lady, rather than +the reverse, which really was the case. Glittering with these +attractions to which Taddeo had hitherto been insensible, she appeared +to him: like an enchantress and the modern Circe, dragging an +enthusiastic people in her train, and ruling in the morning in her +boudoir, which glittered with velvet and gold, and in the evening making +three thousand people fanatical with her voice and magic talent, it was +not unnatural that she subdued him. The impression produced on Taddeo by +La Felina on the evening they were at the Etruscan house, was so keen, +so new, so full of surprise and passion, that the young man left the +room, less to ascertain what had become of the two friends who had +preceded him, than to avoid the fascination exerted on him by the eyes +of La Felina. He had not seen her since. + +Like Von Apsberg and d'Harcourt, taken in the snare which had been set +for him by the police of Naples, Taddeo was captured after a brief but +violent contest. It seemed to him that his soul was torn from his body +when he was separated from La Felina. He had however previously heard +her at San Carlo. Though charmed by her talent and wonderful beauty, the +illusion was so perfect that he fancied he saw the Juliet of Zingarelli +or the Donna Anna of Mozart, but not a woman to be herself adored,--in +one word, the magnificent Felina. The fancy of the Neapolitan was +enkindled by the eyes of the Neapolitan. He did not love, but was +consumed. In the cold and solitary cell he had occupied for some days, +he forgot danger, his friends, and almost his mother and sister. Rovero +thought only of his love. Concentrating all power in his devotion, he +evoked La Felina, and in his mind contemplated her. Wild words wrested +from him by delirium declared to the phantom all his hopes and fears. In +his fancy he ran over all the perfections of this beautiful being. It +seemed to him that his idol hovered around the prison, shedding its rays +on him, and filling his heart and senses with an ardor the impotence of +which he cursed. Religious exaltation, like the enthusiasm of love, +assumes in solitude gigantic proportions unknown to the most pious man +and most devoted lover living in the world. Long days and endless nights +occupied with one idea, fixed and immutable, rising before us like the +ghost of Banquo in our dreams, and when we wake, are a sufficient +explanation of the martyrs of love, of the cloister, or of the Thebais. + +Many days had passed since the Duke of Palma had imprisoned young +Rovero. We have already spoken of the ideas which occupied his mind. +Ever under the influence of one thought, the life of the young prisoner +was but one dream of love, which so excited his imagination that he +could scarcely distinguish fiction from reality, and after a troubled +sleep he asked if he had addressed his burning declarations to the +phantom of the singer or to La Felina herself. + +Taddeo in his cell was not subjected to the malicious barbarities with +which Monte-Leone had been annoyed. The Duke of Palma wished the inmates +of his palace, though they might be prisoners, not to complain of their +fare. Taddeo had a bed and not a pallet. He could read and write, it is +true only by means of a doubtful light which reached him through the +stained windows of the antique chapel. This light however was mottled by +the blue cloak of St. Joseph and the purple robe of St. John. Sometimes +it fell on the pavement in golden checkers, after having passed through +the _glory_ of the Virgin. Still it was the light of day, which is half +the sustenance of a prisoner. + +On the fourth night after Rovero's arrest, he reposed rather than rested +on the only chair in his cell, soothed by the wind which beat on the +windows. The rays of the moon passed through the high windows of the old +chapel, and the long tresses of moss which overhung them assumed +fantastic forms as they swung to and fro at the caprice of the wind. A +faint murmur was heard. A white shadow which seemed to rush from the +wall passed over the marble pavement toward the prisoner, looked at him +carefully, and said, with an accent of joy, "It is either he, or I am +mistaken." + +The shadow moved on. + +After the lapse of a few seconds it was about to disappear, when it was +seized by a nervous arm which restrained it. A cry was heard. Rovero, +who had at first seen it but vaguely as it approached him, and who had +convulsively grasped it, was now thoroughly awakened, and seeing the +visitant about to disappear, seized it forcibly. A dense cloud just at +that moment vailed the moon, and the cell became as dark as night. + +"It is a woman!" said Taddeo, and his heart beat violently. A soft and +delicate hand was placed on his lips. + +"If you are heard, I am lost!" said his visitor, in a trembling voice. + +"Who are you? and what do you want?" said Taddeo, suffering his voice to +escape through the delicate fingers which sought to close his lips. + +"I am looking for you: what I wish you will know in four days: who I am +is a secret, and I rely on your honor not to seek to penetrate it." Then +by a rapid movement, the visitor pulled the vail again over her face. + +Just then the clouds passed away, and the moon shone brilliantly, +lighting up the old chapel, and exhibiting to Taddeo the tall and lithe +form of her who held him captive. + +One need not like Taddeo have retained the minutest peculiarities of La +Felina to render it possible to distinguish her lithe stature and +magnificent contour. But his reason could not be convinced, and had not +the singer's hand been pressed on his lips he would have fancied that a +new dream had evoked the phantom of one of whom he had never ceased to +think. "Lift up your vail, Felina," said he. But at the evidence of +terror which she exhibited, he resumed. "Do not attempt to deceive me. +In your presence my heart could not be mistaken, for it meditates by day +and dreams by night of you alone. I know not what good angel has guided +you hither, in pity of the torment I have endured since I left you. An +hour, Felina, in your presence, has sufficed to enslave my soul forever. +Through you have I learned that I have a soul, and by you has the void +in my heart been completely filled." + +"He loves me!" murmured Felina, with an accent of surprise and deep +pity. This however was uttered in so low a tone that the prisoner did +not hear her. + +"Hear me," said Rovero. "You told us at Monte-Leone's that you loved one +of the four." + +"True," said the singer, in a feeble voice. + +"You said that for him you would sacrifice your life." + +"True." + +"That like an invisible providence you would watch over his life and +fate: that this would be the sacred object of your life." + +"I also said," Felina answered, "that my love would ever be unknown, and +that the secret would die with me." + +"Well," said Rovero, "I know him. This man, the ardent passion of whom +you divined, to whom you are come as a minister of hope, is before you, +is at your feet." + +"How know you that I would not have done as much for each of your +friends?" + +Taddeo felt a hot iron pass through his soul. + +"Hear me," said she; "time is precious. Watched, and the object +everywhere of espionage, from motives of which you must ever be ignorant +I have penetrated hither, by means of a bold will and efforts which were +seconded by chance. I wished to satisfy myself that you were really the +person I sought for, and, hidden beneath this vail, and by a yet greater +concealment, that of your honor, to remain unknown, and accomplish my +purpose, with your cooperation, which otherwise must fail. I was +ignorant then of what I know now. I knew not your sentiments, or I would +have kept my secret." + +"Why fear my love?" said Rovero; "think you I sell my devotion? A love +which hesitates is not love. Mine will obey for the pleasure of obeying +you. But let your requests be great and difficult to be fulfilled, that +you may estimate me by my deeds." + +"You have a noble heart, Rovero, and in it I have confidence. God grant +your capacity fall not below your courage. In four days you will know +what I expect from you." + +"And will you," said he, in a voice stifled with emotion, "tell me which +of the four you love?" + +"You will then know. To you alone will I reveal the secret." + +"How can I live until then!" said Rovero, with a sigh. + +The sound of footsteps was heard. The sentinels were being relieved. It +was growing late, and while Rovero, at a motion from La Felina, went to +the door to listen to what was passing, she disappeared like a shadow +behind a column. Rovero looked around, and was alone. He examined the +walls, attempting to discover the secret issue. No fissure was visible, +there was no sign of the smallest opening, and a dumb sound only replied +to the blows of Rovero on the wall. He sunk on his chair, and covered +his face with his hands, that his thoughts might be distracted by no +external object. A few hours afterward the Duke of Palma caused him to +be informed of his pardon. + +The presence of La Felina had changed everything. The dark walls of the +chapel appeared more splendid than those of the palaces of the Doria, +Cavalcante, Carafa, or of the Pignatelli. He would not have exchanged +the humid walls of his cell for the rich mosaics of the _Museo +Borbonico_, the rival of that of the Vatican. The pavement had been +pressed by the feet of La Felina, and Rovero yet fancied that he saw the +prints of her footsteps. + +Two days after the nocturnal scene we have described, a stranger +appeared in the cell of the son of Signora Rovero. "Excuse me, sir," +said he to the prisoner, "that I have thus intruded without an +introduction. The motive, however, which conducts me hither will admit +of no delay, and I am sure you will excuse me when you shall have +learned it." + +Rovero bowed coldly, fancying that he had to do with some new police +agent. + +"I am come to appeal to you in behalf of two ladies who worship you, and +are inconsolable in your absence." + +"Two ladies!" said Rovero, with surprise. Yet, under the empire of +passion, he added--"Signor, I love but one." He paused and was much +confused by the avowal he had made. + +"At least," said the stranger, "you love three; for in a heart like +yours family affections and a deeper passion exist together. The ladies +of whom I speak, Signor, are your mother and sister." + +The prisoner blushed. His adored mother, his beautiful sister, were +exiled from his memory! In the presence of a stranger, too, this filial +crime was revealed; a despotic passion had made him thus guilty. +"Signor," said he, "you have thought correctly. Notwithstanding the +forgetfulness of my mind, with which though I protest my heart has +nothing to do, their names are dear to me, and I pray you tell me what +they expect from me." + +"They expect you to return," said the stranger. "A service I rendered +them has made me almost a friend, and my interest in them has induced me +to come without their consent to speak to you in their behalf." + +"Signor," said Rovero, "tell me to whom I have the honor to speak; not +that a knowledge of your name will enhance my gratitude, but that I may +know to whom I must utter it." + +"Signor, I am the Marquis de Maulear. Chance has revealed to me your +strange rejection of the liberty which other prisoners would so eagerly +grasp at. The minister has informed me of your motives, and, though +honorable, permit me to suggest that you do not forget your duty. Did +your mother know your condition, her life would be the sacrifice." + +Taddeo forgot all when he heard these words, admitting neither of +discussion nor of reply. + +"Signor," continued Maulear, "what principle, what opinions can combat +your desire to see your mother, and to rescue her from despair? Bid the +logic of passion and political hatred be still, and hearken only to +duty. Follow me, and by the side of your noble mother you will forget +every scruple which now retains you." + +Rovero for some moments was silent. He then fixed his large black eyes +on those of Maulear, and seemed to seek to read his thoughts. + +"Marquis," said he, "I scarcely know you, but there is such sincerity in +your expression that I have confidence in you, and am about to prove it. +Swear on your honor not to betray me, and I will tell you all." + +"I swear." + +"Well," said Taddeo, hurrying him as far as possible from the door that +he might be sure he was not overheard; "I accept the liberty offered +me; but for a reason which I can reveal to no one, I must remain a few +days in this cell. Suffer the minister and all to think that I persist +in this refusal. In two days I will have changed my plans, and before +sunset on the third, _I will have returned with you to Sorrento_." + +Henri, surprised, could not help looking at Rovero. + +"Do not question me, Signor, for I cannot reply. I have told you all I +can, and not one other word shall leave my mouth." + +"I may then tell Signora Rovero, that you will return." + +"Announce to her that in me you have found another friend, and that in +three days, _you will place me in her arms_." + +Taking Maulear's hand he clasped it firmly. + +"Thanks, Signor," said Maulear, "I accept your friendship. With people +like you, this fruit ripens quickly. Perhaps, however, you will discover +that it has not on that account less flavor and value." + +Maulear tapped thrice at the door of the cell; the turnkey appeared, and +Henri left, as he went out casting one last look of affection on Taddeo. + +Never did time appear so long to Aminta's brother as that which +intervened between Maulear's departure and the night he was so anxious +for. That night came at last. The keeper brought his evening meal. He +did not wish to be asleep as he was on the first occasion, when La +Felina visited him. He was unwilling to lose a single moment of her +precious visit. Remembering that his preceding nights had been agitated +and almost sleepless, apprehensive that he would be overcome by +weariness, he resolved to stimulate himself. Like most of the +Neapolitans, he was very temperate, and rarely drank wine; he preferred +that icy water, flavored with the juice of the orange or lime, of which +the people of that country are so fond. He now, however, needed +something to keep him awake, and asked for wine. + +He approached the table on which his evening meal was placed, he took a +flask of Massa wine, one of the best of Naples; he poured out a goblet +and drank it, and felt immediately new strength course through his +veins. + +He sat on his bed and listened anxiously for the slightest sound, to the +low accents of the night, to those indescribable sounds which are +drowned by the tumults of the day, and of whose existence, silence and +night alone make us aware. The hours rolled on, and at every stroke of +the clock his heart kept time with every blow of the iron hammer on the +bell of bronze. At last the clock struck twelve. Midnight, the time for +specters and crimes, was come. A few minutes before the clock sounded, +he perceived that the sleep of which he had been so much afraid +gradually made his eyelids grow heavy--and that though he sought to +overcome the feeling, his drowsiness increased to such a degree that he +was forced to sit down. + +I spoke in one of my preceding chapters of the tyrannical power +exercised by sleep over all organizations, and especially in those +situations when man is least disposed to yield to it. Never had this +absolute master exercised a more despotic power; this pitiless god +seemed to place his iron thumb on the eyes of the prisoner, and to close +them by force. A strange oppression of his limbs, an increasing +disturbance of his memory and thought, a kind of invincible torpor, +rapidly took possession of the young man. Then commenced a painful +contest between mind and body,--the latter succumbed. He felt his body +powerless, his reason grow dim, and his strength pass away. In vain he +sought to see, to hear, to watch, to live, to contend with an enemy +which sought to make him senseless, inert and powerless. His head fell +upon his bosom and he sank to sleep. + +Just then, he heard a light noise, the rustling of a silk dress, and a +timid step. With a convulsive effort he opened his eyes, and saw La +Felina within a few feet of his bed. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and +fell upon the white hand of the singer. She touched Rovero's face to +assure herself that he was in reality asleep. + +END OF PART II. + + +[From the Gem.] + +"THE TWICKENHAM GHOST." + + Come to the casement to-night, + And look out at the bright lady-moon; + Come to the casement to-night, + And I'll sing you your favorite tune! + Where the stream glides beside the old tower, + My boat shall be under the wall,-- + Oh, dear one! be there in your bower, + With Byron, a lamp, and your shawl. + + Oh! come where no troublesome eye + Can look on the vigil love keeps; + When there is not a cloud in the sky, + What maid, _but an old maiden_, sleeps? + And you know not how sweet is the tone + Of a song from a lip we have press'd, + When it breathes it "by moonlight alone," + To the ear of _the one_ it loves best. + + Oh! daylight love's music but mars, + (As it breaks up the dance of the elves!) + The moon and the stream and the stars, + Should hear it alone with ourselves: + And who'd be content with "_I may_," + If they only would think of "_I might_?" + Or _who'd_ listen to music by day, + That had listened to music by night? + + The Opera's over by one, + Lady Jersey's grows stupid at two; + I'll dance just one waltz, and have done, + Then be off, on the pony, for Kew! + My boat holds a cloak--a guitar, + And it waits by that dark bridge for me: + And I'll row, by the light of one star, + Love's own, to the old tower, by three! + + I'll bring you that sweet canzonette, + That we practiced together last year; + And my own little miniature set + Round with emeralds--tis _such_ a dear! + You promised you'd love me as long + As your heart felt me close to it, there; + And, dear one! for that and the song, + _Won't_ you give me the locket of hair? + + Farewell, sweet! be not in a fright, + Should your grandmamma bid you beware + Of a youth, who was murdered one night, + And whose ghost haunts the dark waters there: + For _you_ know, ever since his decease, + Of a harmless young ghost that's allow'd + To go, by the River Police, + Serenading about in his shroud! + + + + +[From the Dublin University Magazine.] + +THE MYSTIC VIAL: OR, THE LAST DEMOISELLE DE CHARREBOURG. + + +I.--THE GAME OF BOWLS. + +More than a century ago--we know not whether the revolution has left a +vestige of it--there stood an old chateau, backed by an ancient and +funereal forest, and approached through an interminable straight avenue +of frowning timber, somewhere about fifteen leagues from Paris, and +visible from the great high road to Rouen. + +The appliances of comfort had once been collected around it upon a +princely scale; extensive vineyards, a perfect wood of fruit-trees, +fish-ponds, mills, still remained, and a vast park, abounding with cover +for all manner of game, stretched away almost as far as the eye could +reach. + +But the whole of this palatial residence was now in a state of decay and +melancholy neglect. A dilapidated and half-tenanted village, the feudal +dependency of the seignorial domain, seemed to have sunk with the +fortunes of its haughty protector. The steep roofs of the Chateau de +Charrebourg and its flanking towers, with their tall conical caps, were +mournfully visible in the sun among the rich foliage that filled the +blue hazy distance, and seemed to overlook with a sullen melancholy the +village of Charrebourg that was decaying beneath it. + +The Visconte de Charrebourg, the last of a long line of ancient +seigneurs, was still living, and though not under the ancestral roof of +his chateau, within sight of its progressive ruin, and what was harder +still to bear, of its profanation; for his creditors used it as a +storehouse for the produce of the estate, which he thus saw collected +and eventually carted away by strangers, without the power of so much as +tasting a glass of its wine or arresting a single grain of its wheat +himself. And to say the truth, he often wanted a pint of the one and a +measure or two of the other badly enough. + +Let us now see for ourselves something of his circumstances a little +more exactly. The Visconte was now about seventy, in the enjoyment of +tolerable health, and of a pension of nine hundred francs (L36) per +annum, paid by the Crown. His creditors permitted him to occupy, +besides, a queer little domicile, little better than a cottage, which +stood just under a wooded hillock in the vast wild park. To this were +attached two or three Lilliputian paddocks, scarcely exceeding an +English acre altogether. Part of it, before the door, a scanty bit we +allow, was laid a little parterre of flowers, and behind the dwelling +was a small bowling-green surrounded by cherry-trees. The rest was +cultivated chiefly for the necessities of the family. In addition to +these concessions his creditors permitted him to shoot rabbits and catch +perch for the use of his household, and that household consisted of +three individuals--the Visconte himself, his daughter Lucille (scarcely +seventeen years of age), and Dame Marguerite, in better times her +nurse--now cook, housemaid, and all the rest. + +Contrast with all this what he had once been, the wealthy Lord of +Charrebourg, the husband of a rich and noble wife, one of the most +splendid among the satellites of a splendid court. He had married rather +late, and as his reverses had followed that event in point of time, it +was his wont to attribute his misfortunes to the extravagance of his +dear and sainted helpmate, "who never could resist play and jewelry." +The worthy Visconte chose to forget how much of his fortune he had +himself poured into the laps of mistresses, and squandered among the +harpies of the gaming-table. The result however was indisputable, by +whatever means it had been arrived at, the Visconte was absolutely +beggared. + +Neither had he been very fortunate in his family. Two sons, who, +together with Lucille, had been the fruit of his marriage, had both +fallen, one in a duel, the other in a madcap adventure in Naples. + +And thus of course ended any hope of seeing his fortunes even moderately +reconstructed. + +We must come now to the lonely dwelling which serves all that is left of +the family of Charrebourg for a palace. It is about the hour of five +o'clock in the afternoon of a summer's day. Dame Marguerite has already +her preparations for supper in the kitchen. The Visconte has gone to the +warren to shoot rabbits for to-morrow's dinner. Two village lads, who +take a pleasure in obliging poor old Marguerite--of course neither ever +thinks of Lucille--have just arrived at the kitchen door. Gabriel has +brought fresh spring water, which, from love of the old cook, he carries +to the cottage regularly every morning and evening. Jacque has brought +mulberries for "the family," from a like motive. The old woman has +pronounced Jacque's mulberries admirable; and with a smile tapped +Gabriel on the smooth brown cheek, and called him her pretty little +water carrier. They loiter there as long as they can; neither much likes +the other; each understands what his rival is about perfectly well; +neither chooses to go while the other remains. + +Jacque, sooth to say, is not very well favored, sallow, flat-faced, with +lank black hair, small, black, cunning eyes, and a wide mouth; he has a +broad square figure, and a saucy swagger. Gabriel is a slender lad, with +brown curls about his shoulders, ruddy brown face, and altogether +good-looking. These two rivals, you would say, were very unequally +matched. + +Poor Gabriel! he has made knots to his knees of salmon-color and blue, +the hues of the Charrebourg livery. It is by the mute eloquence of such +traits of devotion that his passion humbly pleads. He wishes to belong +to her. When first he appears before her in these tell-tale ribbons, +the guilty knees that wear them tremble beneath him. He thinks that now +she must indeed understand him--that the murder will out at last. But, +alas! she, and all the stupid world beside, see nothing in them but some +draggled ribbons. He might as well have worn buckles--nay, _better_; for +he suspects that cursed Jacque understands them. But in this, indeed, he +wrongs him; the mystery of the ribbons is comprehended by himself alone. + +He and Jacque passed round the corner of the quaint little cottage; they +were crossing the bowling-green. + +"And so," sighed poor Gabriel, "I shall not see her to-day." + +"Hey! Gabriel! Jacque! has good Marguerite done with you?--then play a +game of bowls together to amuse me." + +The silvery voice that spoke these words came from the coral lips of +Lucille. Through the open casement, clustered round with wreaths of vine +in the transparent shade, she was looking out like a portrait of Flora +in a bowering frame of foliage. Could anything be prettier? + +Gabriel's heart beat so fast that he could hardly stammer forth a +dutiful answer; he could scarcely see the bowls. The beautiful face +among the vine-leaves seemed everywhere. + +It would have been worth one's while to look at that game of bowls. +There was something in the scene at once comical and melancholy. Jacque +was cool, but very clumsy. Gabriel, a better player, but all bewildered, +agitated, trembling. While the little daughter of nobility, in drugget +petticoat, her arms resting on the window-sill, looked out upon the +combatants with such an air of unaffected and immense superiority as the +queen of beauty in the gallery of a tilting-yard might wear while she +watched the feats of humble yeomen and villein archers. Sometimes +leaning forward with a grave and haughty interest; sometimes again +showing her teeth, like little coronels of pearl, in ringing laughter, +in its very unrestrainedness as haughty as her gravity. The spirit of +the noblesse, along with its blood, was undoubtedly under that slender +drugget bodice. Small suspicion had that commanding little damsel that +the bipeds who were amusing her with their blunders were playing for +love of her. Audacity like that was not indeed to be contemplated. + +"Well, Gabriel has won, and I am glad of it, for I think he is the +better lad of the two," she said, with the prettiest dogmatism +conceivable. "What shall we give you, Gabriel, now that you have won the +game? let me see." + +"Nothing, Mademoiselle--nothing, I entreat," faltered poor Gabriel, +trembling in a delightful panic. + +"Well, but you are hot and tired, and have won the game beside. +Marguerite shall give you some pears and a piece of bread." + +"I wish nothing, Mademoiselle," said poor Gabriel, with a melancholy +gush of courage, "but to die in your service." + +"Say you so?" she replied, with one of those provokingly unembarrassed +smiles of good-nature which your true lovers find far more killing than +the cruelest frown; "it is the speech of a good villager of Charrebourg. +Well, then, you shall have them another time." + +"But, as your excellence is so good as to observe, I have won the game," +said Gabriel, reassured by the sound of his own voice, "and to say I +should have something as--as a token of victory, I would ask, if +Mademoiselle will permit, for my poor old aunt at home, who is so very +fond of those flowers, just one of the white roses which Mademoiselle +has in her hand; it will give her so much pleasure." + +"The poor old woman! Surely you may pluck some fresh from the bush; but +tell Marguerite, or she will be vexed." + +"But, Mademoiselle, pardon me, I have not time: one is enough, and I +think there are none so fine upon the tree as that; besides, I know she +would like it better for having been in Mademoiselle's hand." + +"Then let her have it by all means," said Lucille; and so saying, she +placed the flower in Gabriel's trembling fingers. Had he yielded to his +impulse, he would have received it kneeling. He was intoxicated with +adoration and pride; he felt as if at that moment he was the sultan of +the universe, but her slave. + +The unconscious author of all this tumult meanwhile had left the window. +The rivals were _tete-a-tete_ upon the stage of their recent contest. +Jacque stood with his hand in his breast, eyeing Gabriel with a sullen +sneer. _He_ held the precious rose in his hand, and still gazed at the +vacant window. + +"And so your aunt loves a white rose better than a slice of bread?" +ejaculated Jacque. "Heaven! what a lie--ha, ha, ha!" + +"Well, I won the game and I won the rose," said Gabriel, tranquilly. "I +can't wonder you are a little vexed." + +"Vexed?--bah! I thought she would have offered you a piece of money," +retorted Jacque; "and if she _had_, I venture to say we should have +heard very little about that nice old aunt with the _penchant_ for white +roses." + +"I'm not sordid, Jacque," retorted his rival; "and I did not want to put +Mademoiselle to any trouble." + +"How she laughed at you, Gabriel, your clumsiness and your ridiculous +grimaces; but then you do make--ha, ha, ha!--such very comical faces +while the bowls are rolling, I could not blame her." + +"She laughed more at you than at me," retorted Gabriel, evidently +nettled. "_You_ talk of clumsiness and grimaces--upon my faith, a pretty +notion." + +"Tut, man, you must have been deaf. You amused her so with your +writhing, and ogling, and grinning, and sticking your tongue first in +this cheek and then in that, according as the bowl rolled to one side or +the other, that she laughed till the very tears came; and after all +that, forsooth, she wanted to feed you like a pig on rotten pears; and +then--ha, ha, ha!--the airs, the command, the magnificence. Ah, la! it +was enough to make a cow laugh." + +"You are spited and jealous; but don't dare to speak disrespectfully of +Mademoiselle in my presence, sirrah," said Gabriel, fiercely. + +"Sirrah me no sirrahs," cried Jacque giving way at last to an +irrepressible explosion of rage and jealousy. "I'll say what I think, +and call things by their names. You're an ass, I tell you--an ass; and +as for her, she's a saucy, impertinent little minx, and you and she, and +your precious white rose, may go in a bunch to the devil together." + +And so saying, he dealt a blow with his hat at the precious relic. A +quick movement of Gabriel's, however, arrested the unspeakable +sacrilege. In an instant Jacque was half frightened at his own audacity; +for he knew of old that in some matters Gabriel was not to be trifled +with, and more than made up in spirit for his disparity in strength. +Snatching up a piece of fire-wood in one hand, and with the other +holding the sacred flower behind him, Gabriel rushed at the miscreant +Jacque, who, making a hideous grimace and a gesture of ridicule, did not +choose to await the assault, but jumped over the low fence, and ran like +a Paynim coward before a crusader of old. The stick flew whizzing by his +ear. Gabriel, it was plain, was in earnest; so down the woody slope +toward the stream the chase swept headlong; Jacque exerting his utmost +speed, and Gabriel hurling stones, clods, and curses after him. When, +however, he had reached the brook, it was plain the fugitive had +distanced him. Pursuing his retreat with shouts of defiance, he here +halted, hot, dusty, and breathless, inflamed with holy rage and +chivalric love, like a Paladin after a victory. + +Jacque meanwhile pursued his retreat at a slackened pace, and now and +then throwing a glance behind him. + +"The fiend catch him!" he prayed. "I'll break his bird-traps and smash +his nets, and I'll get my big cousin, the blacksmith, to drub him to a +jelly." + +But Gabriel was happy: he was sitting under a bush, lulled by the +trickling of the stream, and alone with his visions and his rose. + +The noble demoiselle in the mean time took her little basket, intending +to go into the wood and gather some wild strawberries, which the old +Visconte liked; and as she never took a walk without first saluting her +dear old Marguerite-- + +"Adieu, ma bonne petite maman," she said, running up to that lean and +mahogany-complexioned dame, and kissing her heartily on both cheeks; "I +am going to pick strawberries." + +"Ah, ma chere mignonne, I wish I could again see the time when the +lackeys in the Charrebourg blue and salmon, and covered all over with +silver lace, would have marched behind Mademoiselle whenever she walked +into the park. Parbleu, that was magnificence!" + +"Eh bien, nurse," said the little lady, decisively and gravely, "we +shall have all that again." + +"I hope so, my little pet--why not?" she replied, with a dreary shrug, +as she prepared to skewer one of the eternal rabbits. + +"Ay, why not?" repeated the demoiselle, serenely. "You tell me, nurse, +that I am beautiful, and I think I am." + +"Beautiful--indeed you are, my little princess," she replied, turning +from the rabbit, and smiling upon the pretty questioner until her five +thin fangs were all revealed. "They said your mother was the greatest +beauty at court; but, _ma foi_! she was never like you." + +"Well, then, if that be true, some great man will surely fall in love +with me, you know, and I will marry none that is not richer than ever my +father, the Visconte, was--rely upon that, good Marguerite." + +"Well, my little pet, bear that in mind, and don't allow any one to +steal your heart away, unless you know him to be worthy." + +At these words Lucille blushed--and what a brilliant vermilion--averted +her eyes for a moment, and then looked full in her old nurse's face. + +"Why do you say that, Marguerite?" + +"Because I feel it, my pretty little child," she replied. + +"No, no, no, no," cried Lucille, still with a heightened color, and +looking with her fine eyes full into the dim optics of the old woman; +"you had some reason for saying that--you know you had!" + +"By my word of honor, no," retorted the old woman, in her turn +surprised--"no, my dear; but what is the matter--why do you blush so?" + +"Well, I shall return in about an hour," said Lucille, abstractedly, and +not heeding the question; and then with a gay air she tripped singing +from the door, and so went gaily down the bosky slope to the edge of the +wood. + + +II.--THE GENTLEMAN IN BLUE AND SILVER. + +Lucille had no sooner got among the mossy roots of the trees, than her +sylvan task commenced, and the fragrant crimson berries began to fill +her basket. Her little head was very busy with all manner of marvelous +projects; but this phantasmagoria was not gloomy; on the contrary, it +was gorgeous and pleasant; for the transparent green shadow of the +branches and the mellow singing of the birds toned her daydreams with +their influence. + +In the midst of those airy pageants she was interrupted by a substantial +and by no means unprepossessing reality. A gentleman of graceful form +and mien, dressed in a suit of sky-blue and silver, with a fowling-piece +in his hand, and followed closely by a bare-legged rustic, carrying a +rude staff and a well-stored game-bag, suddenly emerged from behind a +mass of underwood close by. It was plain that he and Lucille were +acquainted, for he instantly stopped, signing to his attendant to pursue +his way, and raising his three-cornered hat, bowed as the last century +only could bow, with an inclination that was at once the expression of +chivalry and ease. His features were singularly handsome, but almost too +delicate for his sex, pale, and with a certain dash of melancholy in +their noble intelligence. + +"You here, Monsieur Dubois!" exclaimed Lucille, in a tone that a little +faltered, and with a blush that made her doubly beautiful. "What strange +chance has conducted you to this spot?" + +"My kind star--my genius--my good angel, who thus procures me the honor +of beholding Mademoiselle de Charrebourg--an honor than which fortune +has none dearer to me--no--none _half_ so prized." + +"These are phrases, sir." + +"Yes; phrases that expound my heart. I beseech you bring them to the +test." + +"Well, then," she said, gravely, "let us see. Kneel down and pick the +strawberries that grow upon this bank; they are for the Visconte de +Charrebourg." + +"I am too grateful to be employed." + +"You are much older, Monsieur, than I." + +"No doubt." + +"And have seen more of the world, too." + +"True, Mademoiselle," and he could not forbear smiling. + +"Well, then, you ought not to have tried to meet me in the park so often +as you did--or indeed at all--you know very well you ought not." + +"But, Mademoiselle, what harm can the most ill-natured of human critics +discover----" + +"Oh, but listen to me. I begin to fear I have been wrong in talking to +you as I have done; and if so, you ought not to have presented yourself +to me as you did. I have reflected on it since. In fact, I don't know +who you are, Monsieur Dubois. The Charrebourgs do not use to make +companions of everybody; and you may be a roturier, for anything I can +tell." + +Monsieur Dubois smiled again. + +"I see you laugh because we are poor," she said, with a heightened color +and a flashing glance. + +"Mademoiselle misunderstands me. I am incapable of that. There is no +point at which ridicule can approach the family of Charrebourg." + +"That is true, sir," she said, haughtily; and she added, "and on that +account I need not inquire wherefore people smile. But this seems plain +to me--that I have done very wrong in conversing alone with a gentleman +of whom I know nothing beyond his name. You must think so yourself, +though you will not say it; and as you profess your willingness to +oblige me, I have only to ask that all these foolish conversations may +be quite forgotten between us. And now the _petit pannier_ is filled, +and it is time that I should return. Good evening, Monsieur +Dubois--farewell." + +"This is scarcely a kind farewell, considering that we have been good +friends, Mademoiselle de Charrebourg, for so long." + +"Good friends--yes--for a long time; but you know," she continued, with +a sad, wise shake of her pretty head, "I ought not to allow gentlemen +whom I chance to meet here to be my friends--is it not so? This has only +struck me recently, Monsieur Dubois; and I am sure you used to think me +very strange. But I have no one to advise me; I have no mother--she is +dead; and the Visconte seldom speaks to me; and so I fear I often do +strange things without intending; and--and I have told you all this, +because I should be sorry you thought ill of me, Monsieur Dubois." + +She dropped her eyes for a moment to the ground, with an expression at +once very serious and regretful. + +"Then am I condemned to be henceforward a stranger to _dear_ +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg?" + +"I have told you all my thoughts, Monsieur Dubois," she answered, in a +tone whose melancholy made it nearly as tender as his own. But, perhaps, +some idea crossed her mind that piqued her pride; for suddenly +recollecting herself, she added, in a tone it may be a little more +abrupt and haughty than her usual manner-- + +"And so, Monsieur Dubois, once for all, good evening. You will need to +make haste to overtake your peasant attendant; and as for me, I must run +home now--adieu." + +Dubois followed her hesitatingly a step or two, but stopped short. A +slight flush of excitement--it might be of mortification--hovered on his +usually pale cheek. It subsided, however, and a sudden and more tender +character inspired his gaze, as he watched her receding figure, and +followed its disappearance with a deep sigh. + +But Monsieur Dubois had not done with surprises. + +"Holloa! sir--a word with you," shouted an imperious voice, rendered +more harsh by the peculiar huskiness of age. + +Dubois turned, and beheld a figure, which penetrated him with no small +astonishment, advancing toward him with furious strides. We shall +endeavor to describe it. + +It was that of a very tall, old man, lank and upright, with snow-white +mustaches, beard, and eyebrows, all in a shaggy and neglected state. He +wore an old coat of dark-gray serge, gathered at the waist by a belt of +undressed leather, and a pair of gaiters, of the same material, reached +fully to his knees. From his left hand dangled three rabbits, tied +together by the feet, and in his right he grasped the butt of his +antiquated fowling-piece, which rested upon his shoulder. This latter +equipment, along with a tall cap of rabbit skins, which crowned his +head, gave him a singular resemblance to the old prints of Robinson +Crusoe; and as if the _tout ensemble_ was not grotesque enough without +such an appendage, a singularly tall hound, apparently as old and +feeble, as lank and as gray as his master, very much incommoded by the +rapidity of his pace, hobbled behind him. A string scarce two yards +long, knotted to his master's belt, was tied to the old collar, once +plated with silver, that encircled his neck, and upon which a close +scrutiny might have still deciphered the armorial bearings of the +Charrebourgs. + +There was a certain ludicrous sympathy between the superannuated hound +and his master. While the old man confronted the stranger, erect as Don +Quixote, and glaring upon him in silent fury, as though his eyeballs +would leap from their sockets, the decrepit dog raised his bloodshot, +cowering eyes upon the self-same object, and showing the stumps of his +few remaining fangs, approached him with a long, low growl, like distant +thunder. The man and his dog understood one another perfectly. +Conscious, however, that there might possibly be some vein of ridicule +in this manifest harmony of sentiment, he bestowed a curse and a kick +upon the brute, which sent it screeching behind him. + +"It seems, sir, that you have made the acquaintance of Mademoiselle de +Charrebourg?" he demanded, in a tone scarcely less discordant than those +of his canine attendant. + +"Sir, I don't mean to consult you upon the subject." + +Robinson Crusoe hitched his gun, as though he was about to "let fly" at +the invader of his solitudes. + +"I demand your name, sir." + +"And _I_ don't mean to give it." + +"But give it you shall, sir, by ----." + +"It is plain you understand catching rabbits and dressing their skins +better than conversing with gentlemen," said the stranger, as with a +supercilious smile he turned away. + +"Stay, sir," cried the old gentleman, peremptorily, "or I shall slip my +dog upon you." + +"If you do, I'll shoot him." + +"You have insulted me, sir. You wear a _couteau de chasse_--so do I. +Destiny condemns the Visconte de Charrebourg to calamity, but not to +insult. Draw your sword." + +"The Visconte de Charrebourg!" echoed Dubois, in amazement. + +"Yes, sir--the Visconte de Charrebourg, who will not pocket an affront +because he happens to have lost his revenues." + +Who would have thought that any process could possibly have +metamorphosed the gay and magnificent courtier, of whose splendid +extravagance Dubois had heard so many traditions, into this grotesque +old savage. + +"There are some houses, and foremost among the number that of +Charrebourg," said the young man, with marked deference, raising his +hat, "which no loss of revenue can possibly degrade, and which, +associated with the early glories of France, gain but a profounder title +to our respect, when their annals and descent are consecrated by the +nobility of suffering." + +Nebuchadnezzar smiled. + +"I entreat that Monsieur le Visconte will pardon what has passed under a +total ignorance of his presence." + +The Visconte bowed, and resumed, gravely but more placidly-- + +"I must then return to my question, and ask your name." + +"I am called Dubois, sir." + +"Dubois! hum! I don't recollect, Monsieur Dubois, that I ever had the +honor of being acquainted with your family." + +"Possibly not, sir." + +"However, Monsieur Dubois, you appear to be a gentleman, and I ask you, +as the father of the noble young lady who has just left you, whether you +have established with her any understanding such as I ought not to +approve--in short, any understanding whatsoever?" + +"None whatever, on the honor of a gentleman. I introduced myself to +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg, but she has desired that our acquaintance +shall cease, and _her_ resolution upon the subject is, of course, +decisive. On the faith of a gentleman, you have there the entire truth +frankly stated." + +"Well, Monsieur Dubois, I believe you," said the Visconte, after a +steady gaze of a few seconds; "and I have to add a request, which is +this--that, unless through me, the acquaintance may never be sought to +be renewed. Farewell, sir. Come along, Jonquil!" he added, with an +admonition of his foot, addressed to the ugly old brute who had laid +himself down. And so, with a mutual obeisance, stiff and profound, +Monsieur Dubois and the Visconte de Charrebourg departed upon their +several ways. + +When the old Visconte entered his castle, he threw the three rabbits on +the table before Marguerite, hung his fusil uncleaned upon the wall, +released his limping dog, and stalked past Lucille, who was in the +passage, with a stony aspect, and in total silence. This, however, was +his habit, and he pursued his awful way into his little room of state, +where seated upon his high-backed, clumsy throne of deal, with his +rabbit-skin tiara on his head, he espied a letter, with a huge seal, +addressed to him, lying on his homely table. + +"Ha! hum. From M. Le Prun. The ostentation of the Fermier-General! the +vulgarity of the bourgeois, even in a letter!" + +Alone as he was, the Visconte affected a sneer of tranquil superiority; +but his hand trembled as he took the packet and broke the seal. Its +contents were evidently satisfactory: the old man elevated his eyebrows +as he read, sniffed twice or thrice, and then yielded to a smile of +irrepressible self-complacency. + +"So it will give him inexpressible pleasure, will it, to consult my +wishes. Should he become the purchaser of the Charrebourg estate, he +entreats--ay, that is the word--that I will not do him the injustice to +suppose him capable of disturbing me in the possession of my present +residence." The Visconte measured the distance between the tiled floor +and the ceiling, with a bitter glance, and said, "So our +bourgeois-gentilhomme will permit the Visconte de Charrebourg--ha, +ha--to live in this stinking hovel for the few years that remain to him; +but, _par bleu_, that is fortune's doing, not his. I ought not to blame +this poor bourgeois--he is only doing what I asked him. He will also +allow me whatever '_privileges_' I have hitherto enjoyed--that of +killing roach in the old moat and rabbits in the warren; scarce worth +the powder and shot I spend on them. _Eh, bien!_ after all what more +have I asked for? He is also most desirous to mark, in every way in his +power, the profound respect he entertains for the Visconte de +Charrebourg. How these fellows grimace and caricature when they attempt +to make a compliment! but he can't help that, and he is trying to be +civil. And, see, here is a postscript I omitted to read." + +He readjusted his spectacles. It was thus conceived:-- + +"P.S.--I trust the Visconte de Charrebourg will permit me the honor of +waiting upon him, to express in person my esteem and respect; and that +he will also allow me to present my little niece to Mademoiselle de +Charrebourg, as they are pretty nearly of the same age, and likely, +moreover, to become neighbors." + +"Yes," he said, pursuing a train of self-gratulation, suggested by this +postscript; "it was a _coup_ of diplomacy worthy of Richelieu himself, +the sending Lucille in person with my letter. The girl has beauty; its +magic has drawn all these flowers and figures from the pen of that dry +old schemer. Ay, who knows, she may have fortune before her; were the +king to see her----" + +But here he paused, and, with a slight shake of the head, muttered, +"Apage sathanas!" + + +III.--THE FERMIER-GENERAL. + +The Visconte ate his supper in solemn silence, which Lucille dared not +interrupt, so that the meal was far from cheerful. Shortly after its +conclusion, however, the old man announced in a few brief sentences, as +much of the letter he had just received as in any wise concerned her to +know. + +"See _you_ and Marguerite to the preparations; let everything, at least, +be neat. He knows, as all the world does, that I am miserably poor; and +we can't make this place look less beggarly than it is; but we must make +the best of it. What can one do with a pension of eight hundred +francs--bah!" + +The latter part of this speech was muttered in bitter abstraction. + +"The pension is too small, sir." + +He looked at her with something like a sneer. + +"It is too small, sir, and ought to be increased." + +"Who says so?" + +"Marguerite has often said so, sir, and I believe it. If you will +petition the king, he will give you something worthy of your rank." + +"You are a pair of wiseheads, truly. It cost the exertions of powerful +friends, while I still had some, to get that pittance; were I to move in +the matter now, it is more like to lead to its curtailment than +extension." + +"Yes, but the king admires beauty, and I am beautiful," she said, with a +blush that was at once the prettiest, the boldest, and yet the purest +thing imaginable; "and I will present your petition myself." + +Her father looked at her for a moment with a gaze of inquiring wonder, +which changed into a faint, abstracted smile; but he rose abruptly from +his seat with a sort of shrug, as if it were chill, and, muttering his +favorite exorcism, "Apage sathanas!" walked with a flurried step up and +down the room. His face was flushed, and there was something in its +expression which forbade her hazarding another word. + +It was not until nearly half an hour had elapsed that the Visconte +suddenly exclaimed, as if not a second had interposed-- + +"Well, Lucille, it is not _quite_ impossible; but you need not mention +it to Marguerite." + +He then signed to her to leave him, intending, according to his wont, to +find occupation for his solitary hours in the resources of his library. +This library was contained in an old chest; consisted of some score of +shabby volumes of all sizes, and was, in truth, a queer mixture. It +comprised, among other tomes, a Latin Bible and a missal, in intimate +proximity with two or three other volumes of that gay kind which even +the Visconte de Charrebourg would have blushed and trembled to have seen +in the hands of his child. It resembled thus the heterogeneous furniture +of his own mind, with an incongruous ingredient of superinduced +religion; but, on the whole, unpresentable and unclean. He took up the +well-thumbed Vulgate, in which, of late years, he had read a good deal, +but somehow, it did not interest him at that moment. He threw it back +again, and suffered his fancy to run riot among schemes more exciting +and, alas! less guiltless. His daughter's words had touched an evil +chord in his heart--she had unwittingly uncaged the devil that lurked +within him; and this guardian angel from the pit was playing, in truth, +very ugly pranks with his ambitious imagination. + +Lucille called old Marguerite to her bedroom, and there made the +astonishing disclosure of the promised visit; but the old woman, though +herself very fussy in consequence, perceived no corresponding excitement +in her young mistress; on the contrary, she was sad and abstracted. + +"Do you remember," said Lucille, after a long pause, "the story of the +fair demoiselle of Alsace you used to tell me long ago? How true her +lover was, and how bravely he fought through all the dangers of +witchcraft and war to find her out again and wed her, although he was a +noble knight, and she, as he believed, but a peasant's daughter. +Marguerite, it is a pretty story. I wonder if gentlemen are as true of +heart now?" + +"Ay, my dear, why not? love is love always; just the same as it was of +old is it now, and will be while the world wags." + +And with this comforting assurance their conference ended. + +The very next day came the visit of Monsieur Le Prun and his niece. The +Fermier-General was old and ugly, there is no denying it; he had a +shrewd, penetrating eye, moreover, and in the lines of his mouth were +certain unmistakable indications of habitual command. When his face was +in repose, indeed, its character was on the whole forbidding. But in +repose it seldom was, for he smiled and grimaced with an industry that +was amazing. + +His niece was a pretty little fair-haired girl of sixteen, with +something sad and even _funeste_ in her countenance. The fragile +timidity of the little blonde contrasted well with the fire and energy +that animated the handsome features of her new acquaintance. Julie St. +Pierre, for that was her name, seemed just as unconscious of Lucille's +deficient toilet as she was herself, and the two girls became, in the +space of an hour's ramble among the brakes and bushes of the park, as +intimate as if they had spent all their days together. Monsieur Le Prun, +meanwhile, conversed affably with the Visconte, whom he seemed to take a +pleasure in treating with a deference which secretly flattered alike his +pride and his vanity. He told him, moreover, that the contract for the +purchase of the Charrebourg estate was already completed, and pleased +himself with projecting certain alterations in the Visconte's humble +residence, which would certainly have made it a far more imposing piece +of architecture than it ever had been. All his plans, however, were +accompanied with so many submissions to the Visconte's superior taste, +and so many solicitations of "permission," and so many delicate +admissions of an ownership, which both parties knew to be imaginary, +that the visitor appeared in the attitude rather of one suing for than +conferring a favor. Add to all this that the Fermier-General had the +good taste to leave his equipage at the park gate, and trudged on foot +beside his little niece, who, in rustic fashion, was mounted on a +donkey, to make his visit. No wonder, then, that when the Croesus and +his little niece took their departure, they left upon the mind of the +old Visconte an impression which (although, for the sake of consistency, +he was still obliged to affect his airs of hauteur) was in the highest +degree favorable. + +The acquaintance thus commenced was not suffered to languish. Scarce a +day passed without either a visit or a _billet_, and thus some five or +six weeks passed. + +Lucille and her new companion became more and more intimate; but there +was one secret recorded in the innermost tablet of her heart which she +was too proud to disclose even to her gentle friend. For a day--days--a +week--a fortnight after her interview with Dubois, she lived in hope +that every hour might present his handsome form at the cottage door to +declare himself, and, with the Visconte's sanction, press his suit. +Every morning broke with hope, every night brought disappointment with +its chill and darkness, till hope expired, and feelings of bitterness, +wounded pride, and passionate resentment succeeded. What galled her +proud heart most was the fear that she had betrayed her fondness to him. +To be forsaken was hard enough to bear, but to the desolation of such a +loss the sting of humiliation superadded was terrible. + +One day the rumble of coach-wheels was heard upon the narrow, broken +road which wound by the Visconte's cottage. A magnificent equipage, +glittering with gold and gorgeous colors, drawn by four noble horses +worthy of Cinderella's state-coach, came rolling and rocking along the +track. The heart of Lucille beat fast under her little bodice as she +beheld its approach. The powdered servants were of course to open the +carriage-door, and Dubois himself, attired in the robes of a prince, was +to spring from within and throw himself passionately at her feet. In +short, she felt that the denouement of the fairy tale was at hand. + +The coach stopped--the door opened, and Monsieur Le Prun descended, and +handed his little niece to the ground; Lucille wished him and Dubois +both in the galleys. + +He was more richly dressed than usual, more ceremonious, and if possible +more gracious. He saluted Lucille, and after a word or two of +commonplace courtesy, joined the old Visconte, and they shortly entered +the old gentleman's chamber of audience together, and there remained for +more than an hour. At the end of that time they emerged together, both a +little excited as it seemed. The Fermier-General was flushed like a +scarlet withered apple, and his black eyes glowed and flashed with an +unusual agitation. The Visconte too was also flushed, and he carried his +head a little back, with an unwonted air of reserve and importance. + +The adieux were made with some little flurry, and the equipage swept +away, leaving the spot where its magnificence had just been displayed as +bleak and blank as the space on which the pageant of a phantasmagoria +has been for a moment reflected. + +The old servant of all work was charmed with this souvenir of better +days. Monsieur Le Prun had risen immensely in her regard in consequence +of the display she had just gloated upon. In the estimation of the +devoted Marguerite he was more than a Midas. His very eye seemed to gild +everything it fell upon as naturally as the sun radiates his yellow +splendor. The blue velvet liveries, the gold-studded harness, the +embossed and emblazoned coach, the stately beasts with their tails tied +up in great bows of broad blue ribbons, with silver fringe, like an +Arcadian beauty's chevelure, the reverential solemnity of the gorgeous +lacqueys, the _tout ensemble_ in short, was overpowering and delightful. + +"Well, child," said the Visconte, after he and Lucille had stood for a +while in silence watching the retiring equipage, taking her hand in his +at the same time, and leading her with a stately gravity along the +narrow walk which environed the cottage, "Monsieur Le Prun, it must be +admitted, has excellent taste; _par bleu_, his team would do honor to +the royal stables. What a superb equipage! Happy the woman whom fortune +will elect to share the splendor of which all that we have just seen is +but as a sparkle from the furnace--fortunate she whom Monsieur Le Prun +will make his wife." + +He spoke with so much emotion, directed a look of such triumphant +significance upon his daughter, and pressed her hand so hard, that on a +sudden a stupendous conviction, at once horrible and dazzling, burst +upon her. + +"Monsieur!--for the love of God do you mean--do you mean----?" she said, +and broke off abruptly. + +"Yes, my dear Lucille," he returned with elation, "I _do_ mean to tell +you that you--_you_ are that fortunate person. It is true that you can +bring him no wealth, but he already possesses more of that than he knows +how to apply. You can, however, bring him what few other women possess, +an ancient lineage, an exquisite beauty, and the simplicity of an +education in which the seeds of finesse and dissipation have not been +sown, in short, the very attributes and qualifications which he most +esteems--which he has long sought, and which in conversation he has +found irresistible in you. Monsieur Le Prun has entreated me to lay his +proposals at your feet, and you of course convey through me the +gratitude with which you accept them." + +Lucille was silent and pale; within her a war and chaos of emotions were +struggling, like the tumult of the ocean. + +"I felicitate you, my child," said the Visconte, kissing her throbbing +forehead; "in you the fortunes of your family will be restored--come +with me." + +She accompanied him into the cottage; she was walking, as it were, in a +wonderful dream; but amidst the confusion of her senses, her perplexity +and irresolution, there was a dull sense of pain at her heart, there was +a shadowy figure constantly before her; its presence agitated and +reproached her, but she had little leisure to listen to the pleadings of +a returning tenderness, even had they been likely to prevail with her +ambitious heart. Her father rapidly sketched such a letter of +complimentary acceptance as he conceived suitable to the occasion and +the parties. + +"Read that," he said, placing it before Lucille. "Well, that I think +will answer. What say you, child?" + +"Yes, sir," she replied with an effort; "it is true; he does me indeed +great honor; and--and I accept him; and now, sir, I would wish to go and +be for a while alone." + +"Do so," said her father, again kissing her, for he felt a sort of +gratitude toward her as the prime cause of all those comforts and +luxuries, whose long despaired-of return he now beheld in immediate and +certain prospect. Not heeding this unwonted exuberance of tenderness, +she hurried to her little bed-room, and sat down upon the side of her +bed. + +At first she wept passionately, but her girlish volatility soon dried +these tears. The magnificent equipage of Monsieur Le Prun swept before +her imagination. Her curious and dazzled fancy then took flight in +speculations as to the details of all the, as yet, undescribed splendors +in reserve. Then she thought of herself married, and mistress of all +this great fortune, and her heart beat thick, and she laughed aloud, and +clapped her hands in an ecstasy of almost childish exultation. + +Next day she received a long visit from Monsieur Le Prun, as her +accepted lover. Spite of all his splendor, he had never looked in her +eyes half so old, and ugly and sinister, as now. The marriage, which was +sometimes so delightfully full of promise to her vanity and ambition, in +his presence most perversely lost all its enchantment, and terrified +her, like some great but unascertained danger. It was however too late +now to recede; and even were she free to do so, it is more than probable +that she could not have endured the sacrifice involved in retracting her +consent. + +The Visconte's little household kept early hours. He himself went to bed +almost with the sun; and on the night after this decisive visit--for +such Monsieur Le Prun's first appearance and acceptation in the +character of an affianced bridegroom undoubtedly was--Lucille was lying +awake, the prey of a thousand agitating thoughts, when, on a sudden, +rising on the still night air came a little melody--alas! too well +known--a gay and tender song, chanted sweetly. Had the voice of Fate +called her, she could not have started more suddenly upright in her bed, +with eyes straining, and parted lips--one hand pushing back the rich +clusters of hair, and collecting the sound at her ear, and the other +extended toward the distant songster, and softly marking the time of +the air. She listened till the song died away, and covering her face +with her hands, she threw herself down upon the pillow, and sobbing +desolately, murmured--"too late!--too late!" + + +IV.--THE STRANGE LADY IN WHITE. + +The visits of the happy Fermier-General occurred, of course, daily, and +increased in duration. Meanwhile preparations went forward. The +Visconte, supplied from some mysterious source, appeared to have an +untold amount of cash. He made repeated excursions to the capital, which +for twenty years he had not so much as seen; and handsome dresses, +ornaments, &c., for Lucille, were accompanied by no less important +improvements upon his own wardrobe, as well as various accessions to the +comforts of their little dwelling--so numerous, indeed, as speedily to +effect an almost complete transformation in its character and +pretensions. + +Thus the time wore on, in a state of excitement, which, though checkered +with many fears, was on the whole pleasurable. + +About ten days had passed since the peculiar and delicate relation we +have described was established between Lucille and Monsieur Le Prun. +Urgent business had called him away to the city, and kept him closely +confined there, so that, for the first time since his declaration, his +daily visit was omitted upon this occasion. Had the good Fermier-General +but known all, he need not have offered so many apologies, nor labored +so hard to console his lady-love for his involuntary absence. The truth, +then, is, as the reader no doubt suspects, Lucille was charmed at +finding herself, even for a day, once more her own absolute mistress. + +A gay party from Paris, with orders of admission from the creditors, +that day visited the park. In a remote and bosky hollow they had seated +themselves upon the turf, and, amid songs and laughter, were enjoying a +cold repast. Far away these sounds of mirth were borne on the clear air +to Lucille. Alas! when should she laugh as gaily as those ladies, who, +with their young companions, were making merry?--when again should music +speak as of old with her heart, and bear in its chords no tone of +reproach and despair? This gay party broke up into groups, and began +merrily to ramble toward the great gate, where, of course, their +carriages were awaiting them. + +Attracted mournfully by their mirth, Lucille rambled onward as they +retreated. It was evening, and the sunbeams slanted pleasantly among the +trees and bushes, throwing long, soft shadows over the sward, and +converting into gold every little turf, and weed, and knob, that broke +the irregular sweep of the ground. + +She had reached a part of the park with which she was not so familiar. +Here several gentle hollows were converging toward the stream, and trees +and wild brushwood in fresh abundance clothed their sides, and spread +upward along the plain in rich and shaggy exuberance. + +From among them, with a stick in his hand, and running lightly in the +direction of her father's cottage, Gabriel suddenly emerged. + +On seeing her at the end of the irregular vista, which he had just +entered, however, he slackened his pace, and doffing his hat he +approached her. + +"A message, Gabriel?" she inquired. + +"Yes, if Mademoiselle pleases," said he, blushing all over, like the +setting sun. "I was running to the Visconte's house to tell +Mademoiselle." + +"Well, Gabriel, and what is it?" + +"Why, Mademoiselle, a strange lady in the glen desires me to tell +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg that she wishes to see her." + +"But did she say why she desired it, and what she wished to speak to me +about?" + +"No, Mademoiselle." + +"Then tell her that Mademoiselle de Charrebourg, knowing neither her +name nor her business, declines obeying her summons," said she, +haughtily. Gabriel bowed low, and was about to retire on his errand, +when she added-- + +"It was very dull of you, Gabriel, not to ask her what she wanted of +me." + +"Madame, without your permission, I dare not," he replied, with a deeper +blush, and a tone at once so ardent and so humble, that Lucille could +not forbear a smile of the prettiest good nature. + +"In truth, Gabriel, you are a dutiful boy. But how did you happen to +meet her?" + +"I was returning, Mademoiselle, from the other side of the stream, and +just when I got into the glen, on turning round the corner of the gray +stone, I saw her standing close to me behind the bushes." + +"And I suppose you were frightened?" she said, archly. + +"No, Mademoiselle, indeed; though she was strangely dressed and very +pale, but she spoke to me kindly. She asked me my name, and then she +looked in my face very hard, as a fortune-teller does, and she told me +many strange things, Mademoiselle, about myself; some of them I knew, +and some of them I never heard before." + +"I suppose she _is_ a fortune-teller; and how did she come to ask for +me?" + +"She inquired if the Visconte de Charrebourg still lived on the estate, +and then she said, 'Has he not a beautiful daughter called Lucille?' and +I, Mademoiselle, made bold to answer, 'O yes, madame, yes, in truth.'" + +Poor Gabriel blushed and faltered more than ever at this passage. + +"'Tell Mademoiselle,' she said, 'I have something that concerns her +nearly to tell her. Let her know that I am waiting here; but I cannot +stay long.' And so she beckoned me away impatiently, and I, expecting to +find you near the house was running, when Mademoiselle saw me." + +"It is very strange; stay, Gabriel, I _will_ go and speak to her, it is +only a step." + +The fact was that Lucille's curiosity (as might have been the case with +a great many of her sex in a similar situation) was too strong for her, +and her pride was forced to bend to its importunity. + +"Go you before," she said to Gabriel, who long remembered that evening +walk in attendance upon Lucille, as a scene so enchanting and delightful +as to be rather a mythic episode than an incident in his life; "and +Gabriel," she added, as they entered the cold shadow of the thick +evergreens, and felt she knew not why, a superstitious dread creep over +her, "do you wait within call, but so as not to overhear our +conversation; you understand me." + +They had now emerged from the dark cover into the glen, and looking +downward toward the little stream, at a short distance from them, the +figure of the mysterious lady was plainly discernible. She was sitting +with her back toward them upon a fragment of rock, under the bough of an +old gnarled oak. Her dress was a sort of loose white robe, it might be +of flannel, such as invalids in hospitals wear, and a red cloak had +slipped from her shoulders, and covered the ground at her feet. Thus, +solitary and mysterious, she suggested the image of a priestess cowering +over the blood of a victim in search of omens. + +Lucille approached her with some trepidation, and to avoid coming upon +her wholly by surprise she made a little detour, and thus had an +opportunity of seeing the features of the stranger, as well as of +permitting her to become aware of her approach. + +Her appearance, upon a nearer approach, was not such as to reassure +Lucille. She was tall, deadly pale, and marked with the smallpox. She +had particularly black eyebrows, and awaited the young lady's approach +with that ominous smile which ascends no higher than the lips, and +leaves the eyes and forehead dark, threatening, and uncertain. +Altogether, there was a character, it might be of insanity, it might be +of guilt, in the face, which was formidable. + +Lucille wished herself at home, but there was that in the blood of the +Charrebourgs which never turned away from danger, real or imaginary, +when once confronted. + +"So you are Lucille de Charrebourg?" said the figure, looking at her +with that expression of malice, which is all the more fearful that it +appears causeless. + +"Yea, Madame, that is my name; will you be so good as to tell me, +beside, the name of the lady who has been kind enough to desire an +interview with me?" + +"For a name; my dear, suit yourself; call me Sycorax, Jezebel, or what +you please, and I will answer to it." + +"But what are you?" + +"There again I give you a _carte blanche_; say I am a benevolent fairy; +you don't seem to like that? or your guardian-angel? nor that neither! +Well, a witch if you please, or a ghost, or a fortune-teller--ay, that +will do, a fortune-teller--so that is settled." + +"Well, Madame, if I may not know either your name or occupation, will +you be good enough at least to let me hear your business." + +"Surely, my charming demoiselle; you should have heard it immediately +had you not pestered me with so many childish questions. Well, then, +about this Monsieur Le Prun?" + +"Well, Madame?" said Lucille, not a little surprised. + +"Well, my dear, I'm not going to tell you whether this Monsieur Le Prun +is an angel, for angels they say _have_ married women; or whether he is +a Bluebeard--you have heard the story of Bluebeard, my little dear--but +this I say, be he which he may, _you_ must not marry him." + +"And pray, who constrains my will?" exclaimed the girl, scornfully, but +at the same time inwardly frightened. + +"_I_ do, my pretty pigeon; if you marry him, you do so forewarned, and +if he don't punish you _I_ will." + +"How dare you speak in that tone to me?" said Lucille, to whose cheek +the insolent threat of the stranger called a momentary flush of red; +"_you_ punish me, indeed, if _he_ does not! I'll not permit you to +address me so; besides I have help close by, if I please to call for +it." + +All this time the woman was laughing inwardly, and fumbling under her +white robe, as if in search of something. + +"I say he may be an angel, or he may be a bluebeard, I don't pretend to +say which," she continued, with a perfectly genuine contempt of +Lucille's vaunting, "but I have here an amulet that never fails in cases +like this; it will detect and expel the devil better than blessed water, +_vera crux_, or body of our Lord, for these things have sometimes +failed, but this can never. With the aid of this you cannot be deceived. +If he be a good man its influence will be ineffectual against him; but +if, on the other hand, he be possessed of evil spirits, then test him +with it, and you will behold him for a moment as he is." + +"Let me see it, then." + +"Here it is." + +She drew from under the white folds of her dress a small spiral bottle, +enameled with some Chinese characters, and set in a base and capital of +chased gold, with four little spiral pillars at the corners connecting +the top and bottom, and leaving the porcelain visible between. It had, +moreover, a stopper that closed with a spring, and altogether did not +exceed two inches in length, and in thickness was about the size of a +swan's quill. It looked like nothing earthly, but what she had described +it. For a scent-bottle, indeed, it might possibly have been used; but +there was something odd and knowing about this little curiosity, +something mysterious, and which seemed as though it had a tale to tell. +In short, Lucille looked on it with all the interest, and if the truth +must be spoken, a good deal of the awe, which its pretensions demanded. + +"And what am I to do with this little bauble?" she asked, after she had +examined it for some moments curiously. + +"When you want to make trial of its efficacy, take it forth, look +steadily in his face, and say, 'I expect to receive the counterpart of +this,' that is all. If he be a good man, as who can say, the talisman +will leave him as it finds him. But if he be, as some men are, the slave +of Satan, you will see, were it but for a second, the sufferings and +passions of hell in his face. Fear not to make trial of it, for no harm +can ensue; you will but know the character you have to deal with." + +"But this is a valuable bauble, its price must be considerable, and I +have no money." + +"Well, suppose I make it a present to you." + +"I should like to have it--but--but----." + +"But I am too poor to part with it on such terms, and you too proud to +take it--is that your meaning? Never mind, I can afford to give it, and, +proud as you are, you can afford to take it. Hide it until the time to +try him comes, and then speak as I told you." + +"Well, I will accept it," said Lucille, coldly, but her voice trembled +and her face was pale; "and this I know, if there be any virtue of any +sort in the toy, it can only prove Monsieur Le Prun's goodness. Yes, he +is a very kind man, and all the world, I am told, speaks of his +excellence." + +"Very probably," said the stranger, "but mark my words, don't marry him; +if you do, you shall see me again." + +"Halloa, devil! are you deaf?" thundered a sneering voice from a crag at +the opposite side. "Come, come, it's time we were moving." + +The summons came from a broad, short, swarthy fellow, with black +mustaches and beard, arrayed in a suit of dusky red. He had one hand +raised high above his head beckoning to her, and with the other he +furiously shook the spreading branch of a tree beside him; the prominent +whites of his eyes, and his grinning teeth, were, even at that distance, +seen conspicuous; and so shaggy, furious, and unearthly did he seem, +that he might well have represented some wild huntsman or demon of the +wood. It seemed, indeed, as though a sort of witches' dance were to be +held that night in the old park of Charrebourg, and that some of the +preternatural company had reached the trysting-place before their time. + +The ill-omened woman in white hastily gathered up her mantle, without +any gesture or word of farewell. With hurried strides her tall figure +glided off toward the apparition in red, and both speedily disappeared +among the hazy cover at the other side. + +The little hollow was now deserted, except for Lucille. It was not till +they had quite vanished, and that she was left there alone, that she +felt something akin to terror steal over her, and hurried from the scene +of her strange interview as from a haunted spot. A little way up the +rising bank Gabriel was awaiting her return, sorely disappointed that +fortune had in no wise made her debtor to his valor. + +Long before she reached home the sun had gone down, and the long dusky +shadows had given place to the thin, cold haze of approaching night. +Often as she glided onward among rocks and bushes she felt an +instinctive impulse, something between terror and aversion, prompting +her to hurl the little spiral vial far from her among the wild weeds and +misty brakes, where, till doomsday, it might never be found again. But +other feelings, stranger in their kind, determined her at least to defer +the sacrifice, and so she reached her chamber with the mysterious gift +fast in her tiny grasp. + +Here she again examined it, more minutely than before; it contained +neither fluid nor powder of any sort, and was free from any perfume or +odor whatsoever; and excepting that the more closely she inspected it, +the more she discovered in its workmanship to excite her admiration, her +careful and curious investigation was without result. As she carefully +folded up the curious souvenir, and secreted it in the safest corner of +the safest drawer, she thought over the interview again and again, and +always with the same result as respected the female who had bestowed it, +namely, that if not actually a lady, she had at least the education and +the manners of a person above the working classes. + +That night Lucille was haunted with ugly dreams. Voices were speaking to +her in threats and blasphemies from the little vial. The mysterious lady +in white would sit huddled up at the foot of her bed, and the more she +smiled the more terrible became her scowl, until at last her countenance +began to dilate, and she slowly advanced her face closer and closer, +until, just as her smiling lips reached Lucille, she uttered a yell, +whether of imprecation or terror she could not hear, but which scared +her from her sleep like a peal of thunder. Then a great coffin was +standing against the wall with Monsieur Le Prun in it dead and shrouded, +and a troop of choristers began singing a requiem, when on a sudden the +furious voice she had heard that evening screamed aloud, "To what +purpose all this hymning, seeing the corpse is possessed by evil +spirits;" and then such looks of rage and hatred flitted over the livid +face in the coffin, as nothing but hell could have inspired. Then again +she would see Monsieur Le Prun struggling, his face all bloody and +distorted, with the man in red and the strange lady of the talisman, who +screamed, laughing with a detestable glee, "Come bride, come, the +bridegroom waits." Such horrid dreams as these haunted her all night, so +much so that one might almost have fancied that an evil influence had +entered her chamber with the little vial. But the songs of gay birds +pruning their wings, and the rustle of the green leaves glittering in +the early sun round her window, quickly dispelled the horrors which had +possessed her little room in the hours of silence and darkness. It was, +notwithstanding, with a sense of fear and dislike that she opened the +drawer where the little vial lay, and unrolling all the paper envelopes +in which it was carefully folded, beheld it once more in the clear light +of day. + +"Nothing, nothing, but a grotesque little scent-bottle--why should I be +afraid of it?--a poor little pretty toy." + +So she said, as she folded it up again, and deposited it once more where +it had lain all night. But for all that she felt a mysterious sense of +relief when she ran lightly from her chamber into the open air, +conscious that the harmless little toy was no longer present. + + +V.--THE CHATEAU DES ANGES. + +The next day Monsieur Le Prun returned. His vanity ascribed the manifest +agitation of Lucille's manner to feelings very unlike the distrust, +alarm, and aversion which, since her last night's adventure, had filled +her mind. He came, however, armed with votive evidences of his passion, +alike more substantial and more welcome than the gallant speeches in +which he dealt. He brought her, among other jewels, a suit of brilliants +which must have cost alone some fifteen or twenty thousand francs. He +seemed to take a delight in overpowering her with the costly exuberance +of his presents. Was there in this a latent distrust of his own personal +resources, and an anxiety to astound and enslave by means of his +magnificence--to overwhelm his proud but dowerless bride with the almost +fabulous profusion and splendor of his wealth? Perhaps there was, and +the very magnificence which dazzled her was prompted more by meanness +than generosity. + +This time he came accompanied by a gentleman, the Sieur de Blassemare, +who appeared pretty much what he actually was--a sort of general agent, +adviser, companion, and hanger-on of the rich Fermier-General. + +The Sieur de Blassemare had his _titres de noblesse_, and started in +life with a fair fortune. This, however, he had seriously damaged by +play, and was now obliged to have recourse to that species of dexterity, +to support his luxuries, which, employed by others, had been the main +agent in his own ruin. The millionaire and the parvenu found him +invaluable. He was always gay, always in good humor; a man of birth and +breeding, well accepted, in spite of his suspected rogueries, in the +world of fashion--an adept in all its ways, as well as in the mysteries +of human nature; active, inquisitive, profligate; the very man to pick +up intelligence when it was needed--to execute a delicate commission, or +to advise and assist in any project of taste. In addition to all these +gifts and perfections, his fund of good spirits and scandalous anecdote +was inexhaustible, and so Monsieur Le Prun conceived him very cheaply +retained at the expense of allowing him to cheat him quietly of a few +score of crowns at an occasional game of picquet. + +This fashionable sharper and voluptuary was now somewhere about +five-and-forty; but with the assistance of his dress, which was +exquisite, and the mysteries of his toilet, which was artistic in a high +degree, and above all, his gayety, which never failed him, he might +easily have passed for at least six years younger. + +It was the wish of the benevolent Monsieur Le Prun to set the Viscount +quite straight in money matters; and as there still remained, like the +electric residuum in a Leyden vial after the main shock has been +discharged, some few little affairs not quite dissipated in the +explosion of his fortunes, and which, before his reappearance even in +the background of society, must be arranged, he employed his agile +aid-de-camp, the Sieur de Blassemare, to fish out these claims and +settle them. + +It was not to be imagined that a young girl, perfectly conscious of her +beauty, with a great deal of vanity and an immensity of ambition, could +fail to be delighted at the magnificent presents with which her rich old +lover had that day loaded her. + +She spread them upon the counterpane of her bed, and when she was tired +of admiring them, she covered herself with her treasures, hung the +flashing necklace about her neck, and clasped her little wrists in the +massive bracelets, stuck a pin here and a brooch there, and covered her +fingers with sparkling jewels; and though she had no looking-glass +larger than a playing-card in which to reflect her splendor, she yet +could judge in her own mind very satisfactorily of the effect. Then, +after she had floated about her room, and courtesied, and waved her +hands to her heart's content, she again strewed the bed with these +delightful, intoxicating jewels, which flashed actual fascination upon +her gaze. + +At that moment her gratitude effervesced, and she almost felt that, +provided she were never to behold his face again, she could--_not love_, +but _like_ Monsieur Le Prun very well; she half relented, she almost +forgave him; she would have received with good-will, with thanks, and +praises, anything and everything he pleased to give her, except his +company. + +Meanwhile the old Visconte, somewhat civilized and modernized by recent +restorations, was walking slowly to and fro in the little bowling-green, +side by side with Blassemare. + +"Yes," he said, "with confidence I give my child into his hands. It is a +great trust, Blassemare; but he is gifted with those qualities, which, +more than wealth, conduce to married happiness. I confide in him a great +trust, but I feel I risk no sacrifice." + +A comic smile, which he could not suppress, illuminated the dark +features of Blassemare, and he looked away as if studying the landscape +until it subsided. + +"He is the most disinterested and generous of men," resumed the old +gentleman. + +"_Ma foi_, so he is," rejoined his companion; "but Mademoiselle de +Charrebourg happened to be precisely the person he needed; birth, +beauty, simplicity--a rare alliance. You underrate the merits of +Mademoiselle de Charrebourg. He makes no such presents to the Sisters of +Charity." + +"Pardon me, sir, I know her merits well; she is indeed a dutiful and +dear child." + +And the Visconte's eyes filled with moisture, for his heart was softened +by her prosperity, involving, as it did, his own. + +"And will make one of the handsomest as she will, no doubt, one of the +most loving wives in France," said Blassemare, gravely. + +"And he will make, or I am no prophet, an admirable husband," resumed +the Visconte; "he has so much good feeling and so much----" + +"So much money," suggested Blassemare, who was charmed at the Visconte's +little hypocrisy; "ay, by my faith, that he has; and as to that little +bit of scandal, those mysterious reports, you know," he added, with a +malicious simplicity. + +"Yes, I know," said the Visconte, shortly. + +"All sheer fiction, my dear Visconte," continued Blassemare, with a +shrug and a smile of disclaimer. + +"Of course, of course," said the Visconte, peremptorily. + +"It was talked about, you know," persisted his malicious companion, +"about twenty years ago, but it is quite discredited now--scouted. You +can't think how excellently our good friend the Fermier-General is +established in society. But I need not tell you, for of course you +satisfied yourself; the alliance on which I felicitate Le Prun proves +it." + +The Visconte made a sort of wincing smile and a bow. He saw that +Blassemare was making a little scene out of his insincerities for his +own private entertainment. But there is a sort of conventional hypocrisy +which had become habitual to them both. It was like a pair of blacklegs +cheating one another for practice with their eyes open. So Blassemare +presented his snuff-box, and the Visconte, with equal _bonhomie_, took +a pinch, and the game was kept up pleasantly between them. + +Meanwhile Lucille, in her chamber, the window of which opened upon the +bowling-green, caught a word or two of the conversation we have just +sketched. What she heard was just sufficient to awaken the undefined but +anxious train of ideas which had become connected with the image of +Monsieur Le Prun. Something seemed all at once to sadden and quench the +fire that blazed in her diamonds; they were disenchanted; her heart no +longer danced in their light. With a heavy sigh she turned to the drawer +where the charmed vial lay; she took it out; she weighed it in her hand. + +"After all," she said, "it _is_ but a toy. Why should it trouble me? +What harm _can_ be in it?" + +She placed it among the golden store that lay spread upon her coverlet. +But it would not assimilate with those ornaments; on the contrary, it +looked only more quaint and queer, like a suspicious stranger among +them. She hurriedly took it away, more dissatisfied, somehow, than ever. +She inwardly felt that there was danger in it, but what could it be? +what its purpose, significance, or power? Conjecture failed her. There +it lay, harmless and pretty for the present, but pregnant with unknown +mischief, like a painted egg, stolen from a serpent's nest, which time +and temperature are sure to hatch at last. + +The strangest circumstance about it was, that she could not make up her +mind to part with or destroy it. It exercised over her the fascination +of a guilty companionship. She hated but could not give it up. And yet, +after all, what a trifle to fret the spirits even of a girl! + +It is wonderful how rapidly impressions of pain or fear, if they be not +renewed, lose their influence upon the conduct and even upon the +spirits. The scene in the glen, the image of the unprepossessing and +mysterious pythoness, and the substance and manner of the sinister +warning she communicated, were indeed fixed in her memory ineffaceably. +But every day that saw her marriage approach in security and peace, and +her preparations proceed without molestation, served to dissipate her +fears and to obliterate the force of that hated scene. + +It was, therefore, only now and then that the odd and menacing +occurrence recurred to her memory with a depressing and startling +effect. At such moments, it might be of weakness, the boding words, +"Don't marry him; if you do you shall see me again," smote upon her +heart like the voice of a specter, and she felt that chill, succeeded by +vague and gloomy anxiety, which superstition ascribes to the passing +presence of a spirit from the grave. + +"I don't think you are happy, dear Lucille, or may be you are offended +with me," said Julie St. Pierre, turning her soft blue eyes full upon +her handsome companion, and taking her hand timidly between her own. + +They were sitting together on a wild bank, shaded by a screen of +brushwood, in the park. Lucille had been silent, abstracted, and, as it +seemed, almost sullen during their walk, and poor little timid Julie, +who cherished for her girlish friend that sort of devotion with which +gentler and perhaps better natures are so often inspired by firmer +wills, and more fiery tempers, was grieved and perplexed. + +"Tell me, Lucille, are you angry with me?" + +"_I_ angry! no, indeed; and angry with you, my dear, _dear_ little +friend! I could not be, dear Julie, even were I to try." + +And so they kissed heartily again and again. + +"Then," said Julie, sitting down by her, and taking her hand more firmly +in hers, and looking with such a loving interest as nothing could resist +in her face, "you are unhappy. Why don't you tell me what it is that +grieves you? I dare say I could give you very wise counsel, and, at all +events, console you. At the convent the pensioners used all to come to +me when they were in trouble, and, I assure you, I always gave them good +advice." + +"But I am not unhappy." + +"Really?" + +"No, indeed." + +"Well, shall I tell you? I thought you were unhappy because you are +going to be married to my uncle." + +"Folly, folly, my dear little prude. Your uncle is a very good man, and +a very grand match. I ought to be delighted at a prospect so brilliant." + +Even while Lucille spoke, she felt a powerful impulse to tell her little +companion _all_--her fondness for Dubois, her aversion for Monsieur Le +Prun, the scene with the strange woman, and her own forebodings; but +such a confession would have been difficult to reconcile with her fixed +resolution to let the affair take its course, and at all hazards marry +the man whom, it was vain to disguise it from herself, she disliked, +distrusted, and feared. + +"I was going to give you comfort by my own story. I never told you +before that _I_, too, am affianced." + +"Affianced! and to whom?" + +"To the Marquis de Secqville." + +"Hey! Why that is the very gentleman of whom Monsieur de Blassemare told +us such wicked stories the other day." + +"Did he?" she said, with a sigh. "Well, I often feared he was a +prodigal; but heaven, I trust, will reclaim him." + +"But you do not love him?" + +"No. I never saw him but once." + +"And are you happy?" + +"Yes, quite happy now; but, dear Lucille, I was very miserable once. You +must know that shortly after we were betrothed, when I was placed in the +convent at Rouen, there was a nice girl there, of whom I soon grew very +fond. Her brother, Henri, used to come almost every day to see her. He +was about three years older than I, and so brave and beautiful. I did +not know that I loved him until his sister went away, and his visits, of +course, ceased; and when I could not see him any more, I thought my +heart would break." + +"Poor little Julie!" + +"I was afraid of being observed when I wept, but I used to cry to myself +all night long, and wish to die, as my mother used to fear long ago I +would do before I came to be as old as I am now; and I could not even +hear of him, for my friend, his sister, had married, and was living near +Caen, and so we were quite separated." + +"You were, _indeed_, very miserable, my poor little friend." + +"Yes; but at last, after a whole year, she was passing through Rouen, +and so she came to the convent to see me. Oh, when I saw her my heart +fluttered so that I thought I should have choked. I don't know why it +was, but I was afraid to ask for him; but at last, finding she would not +speak of him at all, which I thought was ill-natured, though indeed it +was not, I _did_ succeed, and asked her how he was; then all at once she +began to cry, for he was dead; and knowing _that_, I forgot +everything--I lost sight of everything--they said I fainted. And when I +awoke again there was a good many of the sisters and some of the +pensioners round me, and my friend still weeping; and the superioress +was there, too, but I did not heed them, but only said I would not +believe he was dead. Then I was very ill for more than a month, and my +uncle came to see me; but I don't think he knew what had made me so; and +as soon as I grew better the superioress was very angry with me, and +told me it was very wicked, which it may have been, but indeed I could +not help it; and she gave me in charge to sister Eugenie to bring me to +a sense of my sinfulness, seeing that I ought not to have loved any one +but him to whom I was betrothed." + +"Alas! poor Julie, I suppose she was a harsh preceptress also." + +"No, indeed; on the contrary, she was very kind and gentle. She was so +young--only twenty-three--dear sister Eugenie!--and so pretty, though +she was very pale, and oh, so thin; and when we were both alone in her +room she used to let me tell her all my story, and she used to draw her +hand over her pretty face, and cry so bitterly in return, and kiss me, +and shake me by the hands, that I often thought she must once have loved +some one also herself, and was weeping because she could never see him +again; so I grew to love her very much; but I did not know all that time +that sister Eugenie was dying. The day I took leave of her she seemed as +if she was going to tell me something about herself, and I think now if +I had pressed her she would. I am very sorry I did not, for it would +have been pleasant to me as long as I live to have given the dear sister +any comfort, and shown how truly I loved her. But it was not so, and +only four months after we parted she died; but I hope we may meet, where +I am sure she is gone, in heaven, and then she will know how much I +loved her, and how good, and gentle, and kind, I always thought her." + +Poor little Julie shed tears at these words. + +"Now I do not love the Marquis," she continued, "nor I am sure does he +love me. It will be but a match of convenience. I suppose he will +continue to follow his amusements and I will live quietly at home; so +after all it will make but little change to me, and I will still be as I +am now, the widow of poor Henri." + +"You are so tranquil, dear Julie, because he is dead. Happy is it for +you that he is in his grave. Come, let us return." + +They began to walk toward the cottage. + +"And how would you spend your days, Julie, had you the choice of your +own way of life?" + +"I would take the vail. I would like to be a nun, and to die early, like +sister Eugenie." + +Lucille looked at her with undisguised astonishment. + +"Take the vail!" she exclaimed, "so young, so pretty. _Parbleu_, I would +rather work in the fields or beg my bread on the high-roads. Take the +vail--no, no, no. Marguerite told me I had a great-aunt who took the +vail, and three years after died mad in a convent in Paris. Ah, it is a +sad life, Julie, it is a sad life!" + +It was the wish of the Fermier-General that his nuptials should be +celebrated with as much privacy as possible. The reader, therefore, will +lose nothing by our dismissing the ceremony as rapidly as may be. Let it +suffice to say, that it _did_ take place, and to describe the +arrangements with which it was immediately succeeded. + +Though Monsieur Le Prun had become the purchaser of the Charrebourg +estate, he did not choose to live upon it. About eight leagues from +Paris he possessed a residence better suited to his tastes and plans. It +was said to have once belonged to a scion of royalty, who had contrived +it with a view to realizing upon earth a sort of Mahomedan paradise. +Nothing indeed could have been better devised for luxury as well as +seclusion. From some Romish legend attaching to its site, it had +acquired the name of the Chateau des Anges, a title which unhappily did +not harmonize with the traditions more directly connected with the +building itself. + +It was a very spacious structure, some of its apartments were even +magnificent, and the entire fabric bore overpowering evidences, alike in +its costly materials and finish, and in the details of its design, of +the prodigal and voluptuous magnificence to which it owed its existence. + +It was environed by lordly forests, circle within circle, which were +pierced by long straight walks diverging from common centers, and almost +losing themselves in the shadowy distance. Studded, too, with a series +of interminable fishponds, encompassed by hedges of beech, yew, and +evergreens of enormous height and impenetrable density, under whose +emerald shadows water-fowl of all sorts, from the princely swan down to +the humble water-hen, were sailing and gliding this way and that, like +rival argosies upon the seas. + +The view of the chateau itself, when at last, through those dense and +extensive cinctures of sylvan scenery, you had penetrated to its site, +was, from almost every point, picturesque and even beautiful. + +Successive terraces of almost regal extent, from above whose marble +balustrades and rows of urns the tufted green of rare and rich plants, +in a long, gorgeous wreath of foliage, was peeping, ran, tier above +tier, conducting the eye, among statues and graceful shrubs, to the +gables and chimneys of the quaint but vast chateau itself. The forecourt +upon which the great avenue debouched was large enough for the stately +muster of a royal levee; and at intervals, upon the balustrade which +surrounded it, were planted a long file of stone statues, each +originally holding a lamp, which, however, the altered habits of the +place had long since dismounted. + +If the place had been specially contrived, as it was said to have been, +for privacy, it could not have been better planned. It was literally +buried in an umbrageous labyrinth of tufted forest. Even the great +avenue commanded no view of the chateau, but abutted upon a fountain, +backed by a towering screen of foliage, where the approach divided, and +led by a double road to the court we have described. In fact, except +from the domain itself, the very chimneys of the chateau were invisible +for a circuit of miles around, the nearest point from which a glance of +its roof could be caught being the heights situated a full league away. + +If the truth must be told, then, Monsieur Le Prun was conscious of some +disparity in point of years between himself and his beautiful wife; and +although he affected the most joyous confidence upon the subject, he was +nevertheless as ill at ease as most old fellows under similar +circumstances. It soon became, therefore, perfectly plain, that the +palace to which the wealthy bridegroom had transported his beautiful +wife was, in truth, but one of those enchanted castles in which enamored +genii in fairy legends are described as guarding their captive +princesses--a gorgeous and luxurious prison, to which there was no +access, from which no escape, and where amidst all the treasures and +delights of a sensuous paradise, the captive beauty languished and +saddened. + +END OF PART I. + + +[From the Examiner.] + +TO CHARLES DICKENS. + +BY WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. + + Call we for harp or song? + Accordant numbers, measured out, belong + Alone, we hear, to bard. + Let him this badge, for ages worn, discard; + Richer and nobler now + Than when the close-trimm'd laurel mark'd his brow, + And from one fount his thirst + Was slaked, and from none other proudly burst + Neighing, the winged steed. + Gloriously fresh were those young days indeed! + Clear, if confined, the view: + The feet of giants swept that early dew; + More graceful came behind, + And golden tresses waved upon the wind. + + Pity and Love were seen + In earnest converse on the humble green; + Grief too was there, but Grief + Sat down with them, nor struggled from relief. + Strong Pity was, strong he, + But little love was bravest of the three. + At what the sad one said + Often he smiled, though Pity shook her head. + Descending from their clouds, + The Muses mingled with admiring crowds: + Each had her ear inclined, + Each caught and spoke the language of mankind + From choral thraldom free... + Dickens! didst thou teach _them_, or they teach _thee_? + +_September, 1850._ + + +[From "Light and Darkness," by Catharine Crowe, Author of "The Night +Side of Nature," &c. &c.] + +THE TWO MISS SMITHS. + +In a certain town in the West of England, which shall be nameless, there +dwelt two maiden ladies of the name of Smith; each possessing a small +independence, each residing, with a single maid-servant, in a small +house, the drawing-room floor of which was let, whenever lodgers could +be found; each hovering somewhere about the age of fifty, and each +hating the other with a restless and implacable enmity. The origin of +this aversion was the similarity of their names; each was Miss C. Smith, +the one being called Cecilia, the other Charlotte--a circumstance which +gave rise to such innumerable mistakes and misunderstandings, as were +sufficient to maintain these ladies in a constant state of irritability +and warfare. Letters, messages, invitations, parcels, bills, were daily +missent, and opened by the wrong person; thus exposing the private +affairs of one to the other; and as their aversion had long ago +extinguished everything like delicacy on either side, any information so +acquired was used without scruple to their mutual annoyance. Presents, +too, of fruit, vegetables, or other delicacies from the neighboring +gentry, not unfrequently found their way to the wrong house; and if +unaccompanied by a letter, which took away all excuse for mistake, they +were appropriated without remorse, even when the appropriating party +felt confident in her heart that the article was not intended for her; +and this not from greediness or rapacity, but from the absolute delight +they took in vexing each other. + +It must be admitted, also, that this well-known enmity was occasionally +played upon by the frolic-loving part of the community, both high and +low; so that over and above the genuine mistakes, which were of +themselves quite enough to keep the poor ladies in hot water, every now +and then some little hoax was got up and practiced upon them, such as +fictitious love-letters, anonymous communications, and so forth. It +might have been imagined, as they were not answerable for their names, +and as they were mutual sufferers by the similarity--one having as much +right to complain of this freak of fortune as the other, that they might +have entered into a compact of forbearance, which would have been +equally advantageous to either party; but their naturally acrimonious +dispositions prevented this, and each continued as angry with the other +as she could have been if she had a sole and indefeasible right to the +appellation of _C. Smith_, and her rival had usurped it in a pure spirit +of annoyance and opposition. To be quite just, however, we must observe +that Miss Cecilia was much the worse of the two; by judicious management +Miss Charlotte might have been tamed, but the malice of Miss Cecilia was +altogether inexorable. + +By the passing of the Reform Bill, the little town wherein dwelt these +belligerent powers received a very considerable accession of importance; +it was elevated into a borough, and had a whole live member to itself, +which, with infinite pride and gratification, it sent to parliament, +after having extracted from him all manner of pledges, and loaded him +with all manner of instructions as to how he should conduct himself +under every conceivable circumstance; not to mention a variety of bills +for the improvement of the roads and markets, the erection of a +town-hall, and the reform of the systems of watching, paving, lighting, +&c., the important and consequential little town of B----. + +A short time previous to the first election--an event which was +anticipated by the inhabitants with the most vivid interest--one of the +candidates, a country gentleman who resided some twenty miles off, took +a lodging in the town, and came there with his wife and family, in +order, by a little courtesy and a few entertainments, to win the hearts +of the electors and their friends; and his first move was to send out +invitations for a tea and card party, which, in due time, when the +preparations were completed, was to be followed by a ball. There was but +one milliner and dressmaker of any consideration in the town of B----, +and it may be imagined that on so splendid an occasion her services were +in great request--so much so, that in the matter of head-dresses, she +not only found that it would be impossible, in so short a period, to +fulfill the commands of her customers, but also that she had neither the +material nor the skill to give them satisfaction. It was, therefore, +settled that she should send off an order to a house in Exeter, which +was the county town, for a cargo of caps, toquets, turbans, &c., fit for +all ages and faces--"such as were not disposed of to be returned;" and +the ladies consented to wait, with the best patience they could, for +this interesting consignment, which was to arrive, without fail, on the +Wednesday, Thursday being the day fixed for the party. But the last +coach arrived on Wednesday night without the expected boxes; however, +the coachman brought a message for Miss Gibbs, the milliner, assuring +her that they would be there the next morning without fail. + +Accordingly, when the first Exeter coach rattled through the little +street of B----, which was about half-past eleven, every head that was +interested in the freight was to be seen looking anxiously out for the +deal boxes; and, sure enough, there they were--three of them--large +enough to contain caps for the whole town. Then there was a rush up +stairs for their bonnets and shawls; and in a few minutes troops of +ladies, young and old, were seen hurrying toward the market-place, where +dwelt Miss Gibbs--the young in pursuit of artificial flowers, gold +bands, and such like adornments--the elderly in search of a more mature +order of decoration. + +Amongst the candidates for finery, nobody was more eager than the two +Miss Smiths; and they had reason to be so, not only because they had +neither of them anything at all fit to be worn at Mrs. Hanaway's party, +which was in a style much above the entertainments they were usually +invited to, but also because they both invariably wore turbans, and each +was afraid that the other might carry off the identical turban that +might be most desirable for herself. Urged by this feeling, so alert +were they, that they were each standing at their several windows when +the coach passed, with their bonnets and cloaks actually on--ready to +start for the plate!--determined to reach Miss Gibbs's in time to +witness the opening of the boxes. But "who shall control his fate?" Just +as Miss Cecilia was stepping off her threshold, she was accosted by a +very gentlemanly looking person, who, taking off his hat, with an air +really irresistible, begged to know if he had "the honor of seeing Miss +Smith"--a question which was of course answered in the affirmative. + +"I was not quite sure," said he, "whether I was right, for I had +forgotten the number; but I thought it was sixty," and he looked at the +figures on the door. + +"This _is_ sixty, sir," said Miss Cecilia; adding to herself, "I wonder +if it was sixteen he was sent to?" for at number sixteen lived Miss +Charlotte. + +"I was informed, madam," pursued the gentleman, "that I could be +accommodated with apartments here--that you had a first floor to let." + +"That is quite true, sir," replied Miss Cecilia, delighted to let her +rooms, which had been some time vacant, and doubly gratified when the +stranger added, "I come from Bath, and was recommended by a friend of +yours, indeed probably a relation, as she bears the same name--Miss +Joanna Smith." + +"I know Miss Joanna very well, sir," replied Miss Cecilia; "pray, walk +up stairs, and I'll show you the apartments directly. (For," thought +she, "I must not let him go out of the house till he has taken them, for +fear he should find out his mistake.) Very nice rooms, sir, you +see--everything clean and comfortable--a pretty view of the canal in +front--just between the baker's and the shoemaker's; you'll get a peep, +sir, if you step to this window. Then it's uncommonly lively; the Exeter +and Plymouth coaches, up and down, rattling through all day long, and +indeed all night too, for the matter of that. A beautiful little +bedroom, back, too, sir--Yes, as you observe, it certainly does look +over a brick-kiln; but there's no dust--not the least in the world--for +I never allow the windows to be opened: altogether, there can't be a +pleasanter situation than it is." + +The stranger, it must be owned, seemed less sensible of all these +advantages than he ought to have been; however he engaged the +apartments: it was but for a short time, as he had come there about some +business connected with the election; and as Miss Joanna had so +particularly recommended him to the lodging, he did not like to +disoblige her. So the bargain was struck: the maid received orders to +provision the garrison with bread, butter, tea, sugar, &c., whilst the +gentleman returned to the inn to dispatch Boots with his portmanteau and +carpet-bag. + +"You were only just in time, sir," observed Miss Cecilia, as they +descended the stairs, "for I expected a gentleman to call at twelve +o'clock to-day, who, I am sure, would have taken the lodgings." + +"I should be sorry to stand in the way," responded the stranger, who +would not have been at all sorry for an opportunity of backing out of +the bargain. "Perhaps you had better let him have them--I can easily get +accommodated elsewhere." + +"Oh dear, no, sir; dear me! I wouldn't do such a thing for the world!" +exclaimed Miss Cecilia, who had only thrown out this little inuendo by +way of binding her lodger to his bargain, lest, on discovering his +mistake, he should think himself at liberty to annul the agreement. For +well she knew that it _was_ a mistake: Miss Joanna of Bath was Miss +Charlotte's first cousin, and, hating Miss Cecilia, as she was in duty +bound to do, would rather have sent her a dose of arsenic than a lodger, +any day. She had used every precaution to avoid the accident that had +happened, by writing on a card, "Miss Charlotte Smith, No. 16, High +street, B----, _opposite the linendrapers shop_," but the thoughtless +traveler, never dreaming of the danger in which he stood, lost the card, +and, trusting to his memory, fell into the snare. + +Miss Cecilia had been so engrossed by her anxiety to hook this fish +before her rival could have a chance of throwing out a bait for him, +that, for a time, she actually forgot Miss Gibbs and the turban; but now +that point was gained, and she felt sure of her man, her former care +revived with all its force, and she hurried along the street toward the +market-place, in a fever of apprehension lest she should be too late. +The matter certainly looked ill; for, as she arrived breathless at the +door, she saw groups of self-satisfied faces issuing from it, and, +amongst the rest, the obnoxious Miss Charlotte's physiognomy appeared, +looking more pleased than anybody. + +"Odious creature!" thought Miss Cecilia; "as if she supposed that any +turban in the world could make her look tolerable!" But Miss Charlotte +did suppose it; and moreover she had just secured the very identical +turban that of all the turbans that ever were made was most likely to +accomplish this desideratum--at least so she opined. + +Poor Miss Cecilia! Up stairs she rushed, bouncing into Miss Gibbs's +little room, now strewed with finery. "Well, Miss Gibbs, I hope you have +something that will suit me?" + +"Dear me, mem," responded Miss Gibbs, "what a pity you did not come a +little sooner. The only two turbans we had are just gone--Mrs. Gosling +took one, and Miss Charlotte Smith the other--two of the +beautifulest--here they are, indeed--you shall see them;" and she opened +the boxes in which they were deposited, and presented them to the +grieved eye of Miss Cecilia. + +She stood aghast! The turbans were very respectable turbans indeed; but +to her disappointed and eager desires they appeared worthy of Mahomet +the Prophet, or the grand Sultana, or any other body, mortal or +immortal, that has ever been reputed to wear turbans. And this +consummation of perfection she had lost! lost just by a neck! missed it +by an accident, that, however gratifying she had thought it at the time, +she now felt was but an inadequate compensation for her present +disappointment. But there was no remedy. Miss Gibbs had nothing fit to +make a turban of; besides, Miss Cecilia would have scorned to appear in +any turban that Miss Gibbs could have compiled, when her rival was to be +adorned with a construction of such superhuman excellence. No! the only +consolation she had was to scold Miss Gibbs for not having kept the +turbans till she had seen them, and for not having sent for a greater +number of turbans. To which objurgations Miss Gibbs could only answer: +"That she had been extremely sorry indeed, when she saw the ladies were +bent upon having the turbans, as she had ordered two entirely with a +view to Miss Cecilia's accommodation; and moreover that she was never +more surprised in her life than when Mrs. Gosling desired one of them +might be sent to her, because Mrs. Gosling never wore turbans; and if +Miss Gibbs had only foreseen that she would have pounced upon it in that +way, she, Miss Gibbs, would have taken care she should never have seen +it at all," &c., &c., &c.,--all of which the reader may believe, if he +or she choose. + +As for Miss Cecilia, she was implacable, and she flounced out of the +house, and through the streets, to her own door, in a temper of mind +that rendered it fortunate, as far as the peace of the town of B---- was +concerned, that no accident brought her in contact with Miss Charlotte +on the way. + +As soon as she got into her parlor she threw off her bonnet and shawl, +and plunging into her arm-chair, she tried to compose her mind +sufficiently to take a calm view of the dilemma, and determine on what +line of conduct to pursue--whether to send an excuse to Mrs. Hanaway, or +whether to go to the party in one of her old head-dresses. Either +alternative was insupportable. To lose the party, the game at loo, the +distinction of being seen in such good society--it was too provoking; +besides, very likely people would suppose she had not been invited; Miss +Charlotte, she had no doubt, would try to make them believe so. But +then, on the other hand, to wear one of her old turbans was so +mortifying--they were so very shabby, so unfashionable--on an occasion, +too, when everybody would be so well-dressed! Oh, it was +aggravating--vexatious in the extreme! She passed the day in +reflection--chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancies; recalling to +herself how well she looked in the turban--for she had tried it on; +figuring what would have been Miss Charlotte's mortification if she had +been the disappointed person--how triumphantly she, Miss Cecilia, would +have marched into the room with the turban on her head--how crestfallen +the other would have looked; and then she varied her occupation by +resuscitating all her old turbans, buried in antique band-boxes deep in +dust, and trying whether it were possible, out of their united +materials, to concoct one of the present fashionable shape and +dimensions. But the thing was impracticable: the new turban was composed +of crimson satin and gold lace, hers of pieces of muslin and gauze. + +When the mind is very much engrossed, whether the subject of +contemplation be pleasant or unpleasant, time flies with inconceivable +rapidity; and Miss Cecilia was roused from her meditations by hearing +the clock in the passage strike four, warning her that it was necessary +to come to some decision, as the hour fixed for the party, according to +the primitive customs of B----, was half-past seven, when the knell of +the clock was followed by a single knock at the door, and the next +moment her maid walked into the room with--what do you think?--the +identical crimson and gold turban in her hand! + +"What a beauty!" cried Susan, turning it round, that she might get a +complete view of it in all its phases. + +"Was there any message, Sue?" inquired Miss Cecilia, gasping with +agitation, for her heart was in her throat. + +"No, ma'am," replied Sue; "Miss Gibbs's girl just left it; she said it +should have come earlier, but she had so many places to go to." + +"And she's gone, is she, Susan?" + +"Yes, ma'am, she went directly--she said she hadn't got half through +yet." + +"Very well, Susan, you may go; and remember, I'm not at home if anybody +calls; and if any message comes here from Miss Gibbs, you'll say I'm +gone out, and you don't expect me home till very late." + +"Very well, ma'am." + +"And I say, Susan, if they send here to make any inquiries about that +turban, you'll say you know nothing about it, and send them away." + +"Very well, ma'am," said Susan, and down she dived to the regions below. + +Instead of four o'clock, how ardently did Miss Cecilia wish it was +seven; for the danger of the next three hours was imminent. Well she +understood how the turban had got there--it was a mistake of the +girl--but the chance was great that, before seven o'clock arrived, Miss +Charlotte would take fright at not receiving her head-dress, and would +send to Miss Gibbs to demand it, when the whole thing would be found +out. However no message came: at five o'clock, when the milk-boy rang, +Miss Cecilia thought she should have fainted: but that was the only +alarm. At six she began to dress, and at seven she stood before her +glass in full array, with the turban on her head. She thought she had +never looked so well; indeed, she was sure she had not. The magnitude of +the thing gave her an air, and indeed a feeling of dignity and +importance that she had never been sensible of before. The gold lace +looked brilliant even by the light of her single tallow candle; what +would it do in a well-illumined drawing-room! Then the color was +strikingly becoming, and suited her hair exactly--Miss Cecilia, we must +here observe, was quite gray; but she wore a frontlet of dark curls, and +a little black silk skull-cap, fitted close to her head, which kept all +neat and tight under the turban. + +She had not far to go; nevertheless, she thought it would be as well to +set off at once, for fear of accidents, even though she lingered on the +way to fill up the time, for every moment the danger augmented; so she +called to Susan to bring her cloak, and her calash, and her overalls, +and being well packed up by the admiring Sue, who declared the turban +was "without exception the beautifulest thing she ever saw," she +started; determined, however, not to take the direct way, but to make a +little circuit by a back street, lest, by ill luck, she should fall foul +of the enemy. + +"Susan," said she, pausing as she was stepping off the threshold, "if +anybody calls you'll say I have been gone to Mrs. Hanaway's some time; +and, Susan, just put a pin in this calash to keep it back, it falls over +my eyes so that I can't see." And Susan pinned a fold in the calash, and +away went the triumphant Miss Cecilia. She did not wish to be guilty of +the vulgarity of arriving first at the party; so she lingered about till +it wanted a quarter to eight, and then she knocked at Mrs. Hanaway's +door, which a smart footman immediately opened, and, with the alertness +for which many of his order are remarkable, proceeded to disengage the +lady from her external coverings--the cloak, the overalls, the calash; +and then, without giving her time to breathe, he rushed up the stairs, +calling out "Miss Cecilia Smith;" whilst the butler, who stood at the +drawing-room door, threw it open, reiterating, "Miss Cecilia Smith;" and +in she went. But, O reader, little do you think, and little did she +think, where the turban was that she imagined to be upon her head, and +under the supposed shadow of which she walked into the room with so much +dignity and complacence. It was below in the hall, lying on the floor, +fast in the calash, to which Susan, ill-starred wench! had pinned it; +and the footman, in his cruel haste, had dragged them both off together. + +With only some under-trappings on her cranium, and altogether +unconscious of her calamity, smiling and bowing, Miss Cecilia advanced +toward her host and hostess, who received her in the most gracious +manner, thinking, certainly, that her taste in a head-dress was +peculiar, and that she was about the most extraordinary figure they had +ever beheld, but supposing that such was the fashion she chose to +adopt--the less astonished or inclined to suspect the truth, from having +heard a good deal of the eccentricities of the two spinsters of B----. +But to the rest of the company, the appearance she made was +inexplicable; they had been accustomed to see her ill dressed, and oddly +dressed, but such a flight as this they were not prepared for. Some +whispered that she had gone mad; others suspected that it must be +accident--that somehow or other she had forgotten to put on her +head-dress; but even if it were so, the joke was an excellent one, and +nobody cared enough for her to sacrifice their amusement by setting her +right. So Miss Cecilia, blessed in her delusion, triumphant and happy, +took her place at the whist table, anxiously selecting a position which +gave her a full view of the door, in order that she might have the +indescribable satisfaction of seeing the expression of Miss Charlotte's +countenance when she entered the room--that is, if she came; the +probability was, that mortification would keep her away. + +But no such thing--Miss Charlotte had too much spirit to be beaten out +of the field in that manner. She had waited with patience for her +turban, because Miss Gibbs had told her, that, having many things to +send out, it might be late before she got it; but when half-past six +arrived, she became impatient, and dispatched her maid to fetch it. The +maid returned, with "Miss Gibbs's respects, and the girl was still out +with the things; she would be sure to call at Miss Charlotte's before +she came back." At half-past seven there was another message, to say +that the turban had not arrived; by this time the girl had done her +errands, and Miss Gibbs, on questioning her, discovered the truth. But +it was too late--the mischief was irreparable--Susan averring, with +truth, that her mistress had gone to Mrs. Hanaway's party some time, +with the turban on her head. + +We will not attempt to paint Miss Charlotte's feelings--that would be a +vain endeavor. Rage took possession of her soul; her attire was already +complete, all but the head-dress, for which she was waiting. She +selected the best turban she had, threw on her cloak and calash, and in +a condition of mind bordering upon frenzy, she rushed forth, determined, +be the consequences what they might, to claim her turban, and expose +Miss Cecilia's dishonorable conduct before the whole company. + +By the time she arrived at Mrs. Hanaway's door, owing to the delays that +had intervened, it was nearly half-past eight; the company had all +arrived; and whilst the butler and footmen were carrying up the +refreshments, one of the female servants of the establishment had come +into the hall, and was endeavoring to introduce some sort of order and +classification amongst the mass of external coverings that had been +hastily thrown off by the ladies; so, when Miss Charlotte knocked, she +opened the door and let her in, and proceeded to relieve her of her +wraps. + +"I suppose I'm very late," said Miss Charlotte, dropping into a chair to +seize a moment's rest, whilst the woman drew off her boots; for she was +out of breath with haste, and heated with fury. + +"I believe everybody's come, ma'am," said the woman. + +"I should have been here some time since," proceeded Miss Charlotte, +"but the most shameful trick has been played me about my--my--Why--I +declare--I really believe--" and she bent forward and picked up the +turban--the identical turban, which, disturbed by the maid-servant's +maneuvers, was lying upon the floor, still attached to the calash by +Sukey's unlucky pin. + +Was there ever such a triumph? Quick as lightning, the old turban was +off and the new one on, the maid with bursting sides assisting in the +operation; and then, with a light step and a proud heart, up walked Miss +Charlotte, and was ushered into the drawing-room. + +As the door opened, the eyes of the rivals met. Miss Cecilia's feelings +were those of disappointment and surprise. "Then she has got a turban +too! How could she have got it?"--and she was vexed that her triumph was +not so complete as she had expected. But Miss Charlotte was in +ecstasies. It may be supposed she was not slow to tell the story; it +soon flew round the room, and the whole party were thrown into +convulsions of laughter. Miss Cecilia alone was not in the secret; and +as she was successful at cards, and therefore in good humor, she added +to their mirth, by saying that she was glad to see everybody so merry, +and by assuring Mrs. Hanaway, when she took her leave, that she had +spent a delightful evening, and that her party was the gayest she had +ever seen in B----. + +"I am really ashamed," said Mrs. Hanaway, "at allowing the poor woman to +be the jest of my company; but I was afraid to tell her the cause of our +laughter, from the apprehension of what might have followed her +discovery of the truth." + +"And it must be admitted," said her husband, "that she well deserves the +mortification that awaits her when she discovers the truth." + +Poor Miss Cecilia _did_ discover the truth, and never was herself again. +She parted with her house, and went to live with a relation at Bristol; +but her spirit was broken; and, after going through all the stages of a +discontented old age, ill-temper, peevishness, and fatuity--she closed +her existence, as usual with persons of her class, unloved and +unlamented. + + +SIR NICHOLAS AT MARSTON MOOR. + +BY THE AUTHOR OF LILLIAN. + + I. + + To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas; the clarion's note is high; + To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas; the huge drum makes reply: + Ere this hath Lucas marched with his gallant cavaliers, + And the bray of Rupert's trumpets grows fainter on our ears; + To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas; white Guy is at the door; + And the vulture whets his beak o'er the field of Marston Moor. + Up rose the lady Alice from her brief and broken prayer; + And she brought a silken standard down the narrow turret-stair: + Oh, many were the tears those radiant eyes had shed, + As she worked the bright word "Glory" in the gay and glancing + thread; + And mournful was the smile that o'er those beauteous features ran, + As she said: "It is your lady's gift, unfurl it in the van." + "It shall flutter, noble wench, where the best and boldest ride; + Through the steel-clad files of Skippon, and the black dragoons of + Pride; + The recreant soul of Fairfax will feel a sicklier qualm, + And the rebel lips of Oliver give out a louder psalm, + When they see my lady's gew-gaw flaunt bravely on their wing, + And hear her loyal soldier's shout, For God and for the king!" + + + II. + + Tis noon; the ranks are broken along the royal line; + They fly, the braggarts of the court, the bullies of the Rhine: + Stout Langley's cheer is heard no more, and Astley's helm is down; + And Rupert sheathes his rapier with a curse and with a frown: + And cold Newcastle mutters, as he follows in the flight, + "The German boar had better far have supped in York to-night." + The knight is all alone, his steel cap cleft in twain, + His good buff jerkin crimsoned o'er with many a gory stain; + But still he waves the standard, and cries amid the rout, + "For church and king, fair gentlemen, spur on, and fight it out!"-- + And now he wards a roundhead's pike, and now he hums a stave, + And here he quotes a stage-play, and there he fells a knave. + Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas! thou hast no thought of fear, + Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas! but fearful odds are here. + The traitors ring thee round, and with every blow and thrust, + "Down, down," they cry, "with Belial, down with him to the dust!" + "I would," quoth grim old Oliver, "that Belial's trusty sword + This day were doing battle for the saints and for the Lord!" + + + III. + + The lady Alice sits with her maidens in her bower; + The gray-haired warden watches on the castle's highest tower.-- + "What news, what news, old Anthony?"--"The field is lost and won; + The ranks of war are melting as the mists beneath the sun; + And a wounded man speeds hither,--I am old and cannot see, + Or sure I am that sturdy step my master's step should be." + "I bring thee back the standard from as rude and red a fray + As e'er was proof of soldier's thews, or theme for minstrel's lay: + Bid Hubert fetch the silver bowl, and liquor quantum suff.; + I'll make a shift to drain it, ere I part with boot and buff; + Though Guy through many a gaping wound is breathing out his life, + And I come to thee a landless man, my fond and faithful wife. + Sweet, we will fill our money-bags, and freight a ship for France, + And mourn in merry Paris for this poor realm's mischance: + Or, if the worst betide me, why better ax or rope, + Than life with Lenthal for a King, and Peters for a Pope! + Alas, alas, my gallant Guy!--out on the crop-eared boor, + That sent me with my standard on foot from Marston Moor." + + +[From Fraser's Magazine.] + +LIFE AT A WATERING PLACE. + +ACCIDENTS WILL HAPPEN. + +"Hurrah, old fellow!" shouted Ashburner's host, on the seventh morning +of his visit; "here's a letter from Carl. I have been expecting it, and +he has been expecting us, some time. So prepare yourself to start +to-morrow." + +"He can't have been expecting _me_, you know," suggested the guest, who, +though remarkably domesticated for so short a time, hardly felt himself +yet entitled to be considered one of the family. + +"Oh, _us_ means Clara, and myself, and baby, and any friends we choose +to bring,--or, I should say, who will do us the honor to accompany us. +We are hospitable people and the more the merrier. I know how much +house-room Carl has; there is always a prophet's chamber, as the parsons +call it, for such occasions. You _must_ come; there's no two ways about +that. You will see two very fine women there,--_nice persons_, as you +would say: my sisters-in-law, Miss Vanderlyn, and Mrs. Carl Benson." + +"But at any rate, would it not be better to write first, and apprise him +of the additional visitor?" + +"We should be there a week before our letter. _Ecoutez!_ There is no +post-office near us here, and my note would have to go to the city by a +special messenger. Then the offices along the Hudson are perfectly +antediluvian and barbarous, and mere mockery and delusion. Observe, I +speak of the small local posts; on the main routes letters travel fast +enough. You may send to Albany in nine hours; to Carl's place, which is +about two-thirds of the distance to Albany, it would take more than half +as many days,--if, indeed, it arrived at all. I remember once +propounding this problem in the _Blunder and Bluster:--'If a letter sent +from New York to Hastings, distance 22 miles, never gets there, how long +will it take one to go from New York to Red Hook, distance 110 miles?'_ +We are shockingly behind you in our postal arrangements; _there_ I give +up the country. 'No, you musn't write, but come yourself,' as Penelope +said to Ulysses." + +Ashburner made no further opposition, and they were off the next morning +accordingly. Before four a cart had started with the baggage, and +directions to take up Ashburner's trunks and man-servant on the way. +Soon after the coachman and groom departed with the saddle-horses, +trotters, and wagon; for Benson, meditating some months' absence, took +with him the whole of his stud, except the black colt, who was strongly +principled against going on the water, and had nearly succeeded in +breaking his master's neck on one occasion, when Harry insisted on his +embarking. The long-tailed bays were left harnessed to the +_Rockaway_,--a sort of light omnibus open at the sides, very like a +_char-a-banc_, except that the seats run crosswise, and capable of +accommodating from six to nine persons: that morning it held six, +including the maid and nurse. Benson took the reins at a quarter-past +five, and as the steamboat dock was situated at the very southern +extremity of the city, and they had three miles of terrible pavement to +traverse, besides nearly twelve of road, he arrived there just seven +minutes before seven; at which hour, to the second, the good boat +Swallow was to take wing. In a twinkling the horses were unharnessed and +embarked; the carriage instantly followed them; and Harry, after +assuring himself that all his property, animate and inanimate, was +safely shipped, had still time to purchase, for his own and his friend's +edification, the _Jacobin_, the _Blunder and Bluster_, the +_Inexpressible_, and other popular papers, which an infinity of dirty +boys were crying at the top of their not very harmonious voices. + +"Our people do business pretty fast," said he, in a somewhat triumphant +tone. "How this would astonish them on the Continent! See there!" as a +family, still later than his own, arrived with a small mountain of +trunks, all of which made their way on board as if they had wings. "When +I traveled in Germany two years ago with Mrs. B. and her sister, we had +eleven packages, and it used to take half-an-hour at every place to +weigh and ticket them beforehand, not withstanding which one or two +would get lost every now and then. In my own country I have traveled in +all directions with large parties, never have been detained five minutes +for baggage, and never lost anything except once--an umbrella. Now we +are going." + +The mate cried, "All ashore!" the newsboys and apple-venders +disappeared; the planks were drawn in; the long, spidery walking-beam +began to play; and the Swallow had started with her five hundred +passengers. + +"Let us stroll around the boat: I want to show you how we get up these +things here." + +The ladies' cabin on deck and the two general cabins below were +magnificently furnished with the most expensive material, and in the +last Parisian style, and this display and luxury were the more +remarkable as the fare was but twelve shillings for a hundred and sixty +miles. Ashburner admitted that the furniture was very elegant, but +thought it out of place, and altogether too fine for the purpose. + +"So you would say, probably, that the profuse and varied dinner we shall +have is thrown away on the majority of the passengers, who bolt it in +half-an-hour. But there are some who habitually appreciate the dinner +and the furniture: it does them good, and it does the others no +harm,--nay, it does _them_ good, too. The wild man from the West, who +has but recently learned to walk on his hind legs, is dazzled with these +sofas and mirrors, and respects them more than he would more ordinary +furniture. At any rate, it's a fault on right side. The furniture of an +English hotel is enough to give a traveler a fit of the blues, such an +extreme state of fustiness it is sure to be in. Did it ever strike you, +by the way, how behindhand your countrymen are in the matter of hotels? +When a traveller passes from England into Belgium (putting France out of +the question), it is like going from Purgatory into Paradise." + +"I don't think I ever stayed at a London hotel." + +"Of course not; when your governor was out of town, and you not with +him, you had your club. This is exactly what all travelers in England +complain of. Everything for the exclusive use of the natives is +good--except the water, and of that you don't use much in the way of a +beverage; everything particularly tending to the comfort of strangers +and sojourners--as the hotels, for instance, is bad, dear, and +uncomfortable. I don't think you like to have foreigners among you, for +your arrangements are calculated to drive them out of the country as +fast as possible!" + +"Perhaps we don't, as a general principle," said Ashburner, smiling. + +"Well, I won't say that it is not the wisest policy. We have suffered +much by being too liberal to foreigners. But then you must not be +surprised at what they say about you. However, it is not worth while to +lose the view for our discussion. Come up-stairs and take a good look at +the river of rivers." + +Ashburner felt no disposition to deny the beauty and grandeur of the +Hudson. At first, the shore was lined with beetling ramparts of +trap-rock. After many miles of this, the clear water spread out into a +great lake, with apparently no egress. But on turning a promontory, the +river stretched away nearly as wide as before, under wooded cliffs not +dissimilar to those of the Rhine. Then came the picturesque Catskill +mountains; and near these Harry was to stop, but Ashburner did not stop +with him. At West Point the boat had taken up, among other passengers, +two young officers of his acquaintance, then quartered in Canada. They +were going to take the tour of the lakes, including, of course, Niagara, +and offered Ashburner, if he would accompany them on this excursion +first, to show him the lions of Canada afterward. On consulting with +Benson, he found that the trip would not occupy more than a month or +five weeks, and that after that time the watering-place season would be +at its height. + +"And it will be an excuse for my staying with Carl till August," Harry +continued. "The women are half crazy to be at Oldport already. I would +rather stay at Ravenswood. We shall expect you there at the end of July. +But," and here, for the first time since their acquaintance, Ashburner +perceived a slight embarrassment in his manner, "don't bring your +friends." + +"Oh, dear, no!" said Ashburner, not comprehending what could have put +such a thing into the other's head, or what was coming next. + +"I don't mean to Ravenswood, but to Oldport; that is, if you can help +their coming. To tell you the truth, your university men, and literary +men generally, are popular enough here, but your army is in very bad +odor. The young fellows who come down among us from Canada behave +shockingly. They don't act like gentlemen or Christians." + +Ashburner hastened to assure him that Captain Blank and Lieutenant Dash +were both gentlemen and Christians, in the ordinary acceptation of the +terms, and had never been known to misconduct themselves in any way. + +"Doubtless, inasmuch as they are your friends, but the general principle +remains the same. So many of your young officers have misconducted +themselves that the _prima facie_ evidence is always against one of +them, and he stands a chance of being coolly treated." + +Ashburner wanted to know what the young officers had done. + +"Everything they could do to go counter to the habits and prejudices of +the people among whom they were, and to show their contempt of American +society; to act, in short, as if they were among uncivilized people. For +instance, it is a custom at these watering-place hotels to dress for the +_table-d'hote_. Now, I do not think it altogether reasonable that a man +should be expected to make his evening toilet by three in the afternoon, +and, indeed, I do not strictly conform to the rule myself. But these men +came in with flannel shirts and dirty shoes, and altogether in a state +unfit for ladies' company. Perhaps, however, we were too fastidious in +this. But what do you say to a youngster's seating himself upon a piano +in the public parlor, while a lady is playing on it?" + +Ashburner allowed that it was rather unceremonious. + +"By various similar acts, trivial, perhaps, individually, but forming a +very disagreeable aggregate, these young men made themselves so +unpopular that one season the ladies, by common consent, refused to +dance with any of them. But there is worse behind. These gentlemen, so +stupid in a drawing-room, are sharp enough in borrowing money, and +altogether oblivious of repaying it." + +Ashburner remembered the affair of Ensign Lawless, and made up his mind +to undergo another repetition of it. + +"I don't speak of my individual case, the thing has happened fifty +times. I could tell of a dozen friends who have been victimized in this +way during the last three years. In fact, I believe that your _jeunes +militaires_ have formed a league to avenge the Mississippi bondholders, +and recover their lost money under the form of these nominal loans. You +may think it poetic justice, but we New Yorkers have no fancy to pay the +Mississippians' debts in this way." + +It would be foreign to our present purpose to accompany Ashburner in his +Northwestern and Canadian tour. Suffice it to say, that he returned by +the first of August, very much pleased, having seen many things well +worth seeing, and experienced no particular annoyance, except the one +predicted by Benson, that he sometimes _had to take care of his +servant_. Neither shall we say much of his visit to Ravenswood, where, +indeed, he only spent a few hours, arriving there in the morning and +leaving it in the afternoon of the same day, and had merely time to +partake of a capital lunch, and to remark that his entertainer had a +beautiful place and a handsome wife, and was something like his younger +brother, but more resembling an Englishman than any American he had yet +seen. + +The party to Oldport was increased by the addition of Miss Vanderlyn, a +tall, stylish girl, more striking than her sister, but less delicately +beautiful. Though past twenty, she had been out only one season, having +been kept back three years by various accidents. But though new to +society, she had nothing of the book-muslin timidity about her; nor was +she at all abashed by the presence of the titled foreigner. On the +contrary, she addressed him with perfect ease of manner, in French, +professing, as an apology for conversing in that language, a fear that +he might not be able to understand her English,--_"Parceque chez vous, +on dit que nous autres Americaines, ne parlons pas l'Anglais comme il +faut."_ + +As we are not writing a handbook or geographical account of the Northern +States, it will not be necessary to mention where the fashionable +watering-place of Oldport Springs is situated--not even what State it is +in--suffice it to say, that from Carl Benson's place thither was a day's +journey, performed partly by steamboat, partly by rail, and the last +forty miles by stage-coach, or, as the Americans say, "for shortness," +by stage. The water portion of their journey was soon over, nor did +Ashburner much regret it, for he had been over this part of the route +before on his way to Canada, and the river is not remarkably beautiful +above the Catskill range. + +On taking the cars, Benson seized the opportunity to enlighten his +friend with a quantity of railroad statistics and gossip, such as, that +the American trains averaged eighteen miles an hour, including +stoppages,--about two miles short of the steamboat average; that they +cost about one-fifth of an English road, or a dollar for a pound, which +accounted for their deficiency in some respects; that there were more +than three thousand miles of rail in the country; that there was no +division of first, second, and third class, but that some lines had +ladies cars--that is to say, cars for the gentlemen with ladies and the +ladies without gentlemen--and some had separate cars for the ladies and +gentlemen of color; that there had been some attempts to get up +smoking-cars after the German fashion, but the public mind was not yet +fully prepared for it; that one of the southern lines had tried the +experiment of introducing a _restaurant_ and other conveniences, with +tolerable success; and other facts of more or less interest. Ashburner +for his part, on examining his ticket, found upon the back of it a list +of all the stations on the route, with their times and distances--a very +convenient arrangement; and he was also much amused at the odd names of +some of the stations--Nineveh, Pompey, Africa, Cologne, and others +equally incongruous. + +"Don't be afraid of laughing," said Benson, who guessed what he was +smiling at. "Whenever I am detained at a country tavern, if there duly +happens to be a good-sized map of the United States there, I have enough +to amuse me in studying the different styles of names in the different +sections of the Union--different in style, but alike in impropriety. In +our State, as you know, the fashion is for classical and oriental names. +In New England there is a goodly amount of old English appellations, but +often sadly misapplied; for instance, an inland town will be called +Falmouth, or Oldport, like the place we are going to. The aboriginal +names, often very harmonious, had been generally displaced, except in +Maine, where they are particularly long, and jaw-breaking, such as +_Winnipiscoggir_ and _Chargogagog_. Still we have some very pretty +Indian names left in New York; _Ontario_, for instance, and _Oneida_, +and _Niagara_, which you who have been there know is + + Pronounced Niagara, + To rhyme with _staggerer_, + And not Niagara, + To rhyme with _starer_." + +"What does _Niagara_ mean?" + +"_Broken water_, I believe; but one gets so many different meanings for +these names, from those who profess to know more or less about the +native dialects, that you can never be certain. For instance, a great +many will tell you, on Chateaubriand's authority, that _Mississippi_ +means _Father of the waters_. Some years ago one of our Indian scholars +stated that this was an error; that the literal meaning of Mississippi +was _old-big-strong_--not quite so poetic an appellation. I asked Albert +Gallatin about it at the time--he was considered our best man on such +subjects--and he told me that the word, or words, for the name is made +up of two, signified _the entire river_. This is a fair specimen of the +answers you get. I never had the same explanation of an Indian name +given me by two men who pretended to understand the Indian languages." + +"What rule does a gentleman adopt in naming his country-seat when he +acquires a new one, or is there any rule?" + +"There are two natural and proper expedients, one to take the nearest +aboriginal name that is pretty and practicable, the other to adopt the +name from some natural feature. Of this latter we have two very neat +examples in the residences of our two greatest statesmen, Clay and +Webster, which are called _Ashland_ and _Marshfield_--appellations +exactly descriptive of the places. But very often mere fancy names are +adopted, and frequently in the worst possible taste, by people too who +have great taste in other respects. I wanted my brother to call his +place Carlsruhe--that would have been literally appropriate, though +sounding oddly at first. But as it belonged originally to his +father-in-law, it seemed but fair that his wife should have the naming +of it, and she was _so_ fond of the Bride of Lammermoor! Well, I hope +Carl will set up a few crows some day, just to give a little color to +the name. But, after all, what's in a name? We are to stop at +Constantinople; if they give us a good supper and bed there (and they +will unless the hotel is much altered for the worse within two years), +they may call the town Beelzebub for me." + +But Benson reckoned without his host. They were fated to pass the night, +not at Constantinople, but at the rising village of Hardscrabble, +consisting of a large hotel and a small blacksmith's shop. + +The _contretemps_ happened in this wise. The weather was very hot--it +always is from the middle of June to the middle of September--but this +day had been particularly sultry, and toward evening oppressed nature +found relief in a thunder-storm, and such a storm! Ashburner, though +anything but a nervous man, was not without some anxiety, and the ladies +were in a sad fright; particularly Mrs. Benson, who threatened +hysterics, and required a large expenditure of Cologne and caresses to +bring her round. At last the train came to a full stop at Hardscrabble, +about thirty-six miles on the wrong side of Constantinople. Even before +the usual three minutes' halt was over our travelers suspected some +accident; their suspicions were confirmed when the three minutes +extended to ten, and ultimately the conductor announced that just beyond +this station half a mile of the road had been literally washed away, so +that further progress was impossible. Fortunately by this time the rain +had so far abated that the passengers were able to pass from the shelter +of the cars (there was no covered way at the station) to that of the +spacious hotel _stoop_ without being very much wetted. Benson +recollected that there was a canal at no great distance, which, though +comparatively disused since the establishment of the railroad, still had +some boats on it, and he thought it probable that they might finish +their journey in this way--not a very comfortable or expeditious one, +but better than standing still. It appeared however on inquiry that the +canal was also put _hors de combat_ by the weather, and nothing was to +be done that way. Only two courses remained, either to go back to +Clinton, or to remain for the night where they were. + +"This hotel ought to be able to accommodate us all," remarked a +fellow-passenger near them. + +He might well say so. The portico under which they stood (built of the +purest white pine, and modeled after that of a Grecian temple with eight +columns) fronted at least eighty feet. The house was several stories +high, and if the front were anything more than a mere shell, must +contain rooms for two hundred persons. How the building came into its +present situation was a mystery to Ashburner; it looked as if it had +been transported bodily from some large town, and set down alone in the +wilderness. The probability is, that some speculators, judging from +certain signs that a town was likely to arise there soon, had built the +hotel so as to be all ready for it. + +There was no need to question the landlord: he had already been +diligently assuring every one that he could accommodate all the +passengers, who indeed did not exceed a hundred in number. + +Logicians tell us, that a great deal of the trouble and misunderstanding +which exists in this naughty world, arises from men not defining their +terms in the outset. The landlord of Hardscrabble had evidently some +peculiar ideas of his own as to the meaning of the term _accommodate_. +The real state of the case was, that he had any quantity of rooms, and a +tolerably liberal supply of bedsteads, but his stock of bedding was by +no means in proportion; and he was, therefore, compelled to multiply it +by process of division, giving the hair mattress to one, the feather bed +to another, the straw bed to a third; and so with the pillows and +bolsters as far as they would go. This was rather a long process, even +with American activity, especially as some of the hands employed were +temporarily called off to attend to the supper table. + +The meal, which was prepared and eaten with great promptitude, was a +mixture of tea and supper. Very good milk, pretty good tea, and pretty +bad coffee, represented the drinkables; and for solids, there was a +plentiful provision of excellent bread and butter, new cheese, dried +beef in very thin slices, or rather _chips_, gingerbread, dough-nuts, +and other varieties of home-made cake, sundry preserves, and some +pickles. The waiters were young women--some of them very pretty and +lady-like. The Bensons kept up a conversation with each other and +Ashburner in French, which he suspected to be a customary practice of +"our set" when in public, as indeed it was, and one which tended not a +little to make them unpopular. A well-dressed man opposite looked so +fiercely at them that the Englishman thought he might have partially +comprehended their discourse and taken offense at it, till he was in a +measure reassured by seeing him eat poundcake and cheese together,--a +singularity of taste about which he could not help making a remark to +Benson. + +"Oh, that's nothing," said Harry. "Did you never, when you were on the +lakes, see them eat ham and molasses? It is said to be a western +practice: I never was there; but I'll tell you what I _have_ seen. A man +with cake, cheese, smoked-beef, and preserves, all on his plate +together, and paying attention to them all indiscriminately. He was not +an American either, but a Creole Frenchman of New Orleans, who had +traveled enough to know better." + +Soon after supper most of the company seemed inclined bedward; but there +were no signs of beds for some time. Benson's party, who were more +amused than fatigued by their evening's experience, spread the carpet of +resignation, and lit the cigar of philosophy. All the passengers did not +take it so quietly. One tall, melancholy-faced man, who looked as if he +required twice the ordinary amount of sleep, was especially anxious to +know "where they were going to put him." + +"Don't be afraid, sir," said the landlord, as he shot across the room on +some errand; "we'll tell you before you go to bed." With which safe +prediction the discontented one was fain to content himself. + +At length, about ten or half-past, the rooms began to be in readiness, +and their occupants to be marched off to them in squads of six or eight +at a time,--the long corridors and tall staircases of the hotel +requiring considerable pioneering and guidance. Benson's party came +among the last. Having examined the room assigned to the ladies, Harry +reported it to contain one bed and half a washstand; from which he and +Ashburner had some misgivings as to their own accommodation, but were +not exactly prepared for what followed, when a small boy with a tallow +candle and face escorted them up three flights of stairs into a room +containing two small beds and a large spittoon, and not another single +article of furniture. + +"I say, boy!" quoth Benson, in much dudgeon, turning to their +chamberlain, "suppose we should want to wash in the morning, what are we +to do?" + +"I don't know, sir," answered the boy; and depositing the candle on the +floor, disappeared in the darkness. + +"By Jove!" ejaculated the fastidious youth, "there isn't as much as a +hook in the wall to hang one's coat on. It's lucky we brought up our +carpet-bags with us, else we should have to look out a clean spot on the +floor for our clothes." + +Ashburner was not very much disconcerted. He had traveled in so many +countries, notwithstanding his youth, that he could pass his nights +anyhow. In fact, he had never been at a loss for sleep in his life, +except on one occasion, when, in Galway, a sofa was assigned to him at +one side of a small parlor, on the other side of which three Irish +gentlemen were making a night of it. + +So they said their prayers, and went to bed, like good boys. But their +slumbers were not unbroken. Ashburner dreamed that he was again in +Venice, and that the musquitoes of that delightful city, of whose +venomousness and assiduity he retained shuddering recollections, were +making an onslaught upon him in great numbers; while Benson awoke toward +morning with a great outcry; in apology for which he solemnly assured +his friend, that two seconds before he was in South Africa, where a lion +of remarkable size and ferocity had caught him by the leg. And on rising +they discovered some spots of blood on the bed-clothes, showing that +their visions had not been altogether without foundation in reality. + +The Hardscrabble hotel, grand in its general outlines, had overlooked +the trifling details of wash-stands and chamber crockery. Such of these +articles as it _did_ possess, were very properly devoted to the use of +the ladies; and accordingly Ashburner and Benson, and forty-five more, +performed their matutinal ablutions over a tin basin in the bar-room, +where Harry astonished the natives by the production of his own +particular towel and pocket comb. The weather had cleared up +beautifully, the railroad was repaired, and the train ready to start as +soon as breakfast was over. After this meal, as miscellaneous as their +last night's supper, while the passengers were discharging their +reckoning, Ashburner noticed that his friend was unusually fussy and +consequential, asked several questions, and made several remarks in a +loud tone, and altogether seemed desirous of attracting attention. When +it came to his turn to pay, he told out the amount, not in the ordinary +dirty bills, but in hard, ringing half-dollars, which had the effect of +drawing still further notice upon him. + +"Five dollars and a quarter," said Benson, in a measured and audible +tone; "and, Landlord, here's a quarter extra." + +The landlord looked up in surprise; so did the two or three men standing +nearest Harry. + +"It's to buy beef with, to feed 'em. Feed 'em well now, don't forget!" + +"Feed 'em! feed who?" and the host looked as if he thought his customer +crazy. + +"Feed _who_? Why look here!" and bending over the counter, Harry uttered +a portentous monosyllable, in a pretended whisper, but really as audible +to the bystanders as a stage aside. Three or four of those nearest +exploded. + +"Yes, feed 'em _well_ before you put anybody into your beds again, or +you'll have to answer for the death of a fellow-Christian some day, +that's all. Good morning!" And taking his wife under his arm, Benson +stalked off to the cars with a patronizing farewell nod, amid a +sympathetic roar, leaving the host irresolute whether to throw a +decanter after him, or to join in the general laugh. + + * * * * * + +Hook and one of his friends happened to come to a bridge. "Do you know +who built this bridge?" said he to Hook. "No, but if you go over you'll +be tolled." + + +[From the December number of Graham's Magazine.] + +TO A CELEBRATED SINGER. + +BY R.H. STODDARD. + + Oft have I dreamed of music rare and fine, + The wedded melody of lute and voice, + Divinest strains that made my soul rejoice, + And woke its inner harmonies divine. + And where Sicilia smooths the ruffled seas, + And Tempe hallows all its purple vales, + Thrice have I heard the noble nightingales, + All night entranced beneath the gloomy trees; + But music, nightingales, and all that Thought + Conceives of song is naught + To thy rich voice, which echoes in my brain, + And fills my longing heart with a melodious pain! + + A thousand lamps were lit--I saw them not-- + Nor all the thousands round me like a sea, + Life, Death and Time, and all things were forgot; + I only thought of thee! + Meanwhile the music rose sublime and strong, + But sunk beneath thy voice which rose alone, + Above its crumbled fragments to thy throne, + Above the clouds of Song. + Henceforth let Music seal her lips, and be + The silent Ministrant of Poesy; + For not the delicate reed that Pan did play + To partial Midas at the match of old, + Nor yet Apollo's lyre, with chords of gold, + That more than won the crown he lost that day; + Nor even the Orphean lute, that half set free-- + Oh why not all?--the lost Eurydice-- + Were fit to join with thee; + Much less our instruments of meaner sound, + That track thee slowly o'er enchanted ground, + Unfit to lift the train thy music leaves, + Or glean around its sheaves! + + I strive to disentangle in my mind + Thy many-knotted threads of softest song, + Whose memory haunts me like a voiceless wind, + Whose silence does it wrong. + No single tone thereof, no perfect sound + Lingers, but dim remembrance of the whole; + A sound which was a Soul. + The Soul of sound diffused an atmosphere around + So soft, so sweet, so mellow, rich and deep! + So like a heavenly soul's ambrosial breath, + It would not wake but only deepen Sleep + Into diviner Death! + Softer and sweeter than the jealous flute, + Whose soft, sweet voice grew harsh before its own, + It stole in mockery its every tone, + And left it lone and mute; + It flowed like liquid pearl through golden cells, + It jangled like a string of golden bells, + It trembled like a wind in golden strings, + It dropped and rolled away in golden rings; + Then it divided and became a shout, + That Echo chased about, + However wild and fleet, + Until it trod upon its heels with flying feet! + At last it sunk and sunk from deep to deep, + Below the thinnest word, + And sunk till naught was heard, + But charmed Silence sighing in its sleep! + + Powerless and mute beneath thy mighty spell, + My heart was lost within itself and thee, + As when a pearl is melted in its shell, + And sunken in the sea! + I sunk, and sunk beneath thy song, but still + I thirsted after more, the more I sank; + A flower that drooped with all the dew it drank, + But still upheld its cup for Heaven to fill; + My inmost soul was drunk with melody, + Which thou didst pour around, + To crown the feast of sound, + And lift to every lip, but chief to me, + Whose spirit uncontrolled, + Drained all the fiery wine and clutched its cup of gold! + + Would I could only hear thee once again, + But once again, and pine into the air, + And fade away with all this hopeless pain, + This hope divine, and this divine despair! + If we were only Voices, if our minds + Were only voices, what a life were ours! + My soul would woo thee in the vernal winds, + And thine would answer me in summer showers, + At morn and even, when the east and west + Were bathed in floods of purple poured from Heaven, + We would delay the Morn upon its nest, + And fold the wings of Even! + All day we'd fly with azure wings unfurled, + And gird a belt of Song about the world; + All night we'd teach the winds of night a tune, + While charmed oceans slept beneath a yellow moon! + And when aweary grown of earthly sport, + We'd wind our devious flight from star to star, + Till we beheld the palaces afar, + Where Music holds her court. + Entered and beckoned up the aisles of sound, + Where starry melodies are marshaled round, + We'd kneel before her throne with eager dread, + And when she kissed us melt in trances deep, + While angels bore us to her bridal bed, + And sung our souls asleep! + + O Queen of Song! as peerless as thou art, + As worthy as thou art to wear thy crown, + Thou hast a deeper claim to thy renown, + And a diviner music in thy heart; + Simplicity and goodness walk with thee, + Beneath the wings of watchful Seraphim: + And Love is wed to whitest Chastity, + And Pity sings its hymn. + Nor is thy goodness passive in its end, + But ever active as the sun and rain-- + Unselfish, lavish of its golden gain-- + Not want alone, but a whole nation's--Friend! + This is thy glory, this thy noblest fame; + And when thy glory fades, and fame departs, + This will perpetuate a deathless name, + Where names are deathless--deep in loving hearts! + + +[From Miss McIntosh's "Christmas Gift."] + +THE WOLF-CHASE. + +BY C. WHITEHEAD. + +During the winter of 1844, being engaged in the northern part of Maine, +I had much leisure to devote to the wild sports of a new country. To +none of these was I more passionately addicted than to skating. The deep +and sequestered lakes of this State, frozen by the intense cold of a +northern winter, present a wide field to the lovers of this pastime. +Often would I bind on my skates, and glide away up the glittering river, +and wind each mazy streamlet that flowed beneath its fetters on toward +the parent ocean, forgetting all the while time and distance in the +luxurious sense of the gliding motion--thinking of nothing in the easy +flight, but rather dreaming, as I looked through the transparent ice at +the long weeds and cresses that nodded in the current beneath, and +seemed wrestling with the waves to let them go; or I would follow on the +track of some fox or otter, and run my skate along the mark he had left +with his dragging tail until the trail would enter the woods. Sometimes +these excursions were made by moonlight, and it was on one of these +occasions that I had a rencounter, which even now, with kind faces +around me, I cannot recall without a nervous looking-over-my-shoulder +feeling. + +I had left my friend's house one evening just before dusk, with the +intention of skating a short distance up the noble Kennebec, which +glided directly before the door. The night was beautifully clear. A +peerless moon rode through an occasional fleecy cloud, and stars +twinkled from the sky and from every frost-covered tree in millions. +Your mind would wonder at the light that came glinting from ice, and +snow-wreath, and incrusted branches, as the eye followed for miles the +broad gleam of the Kennebec, that like a jeweled zone swept between the +mighty forests on its banks. And yet all was still. The cold seemed to +have frozen tree, and air, and water, and every living thing that +moved. Even the ringing of my skates on the ice echoed back from the +Moccasin Hill with a startling clearness, and the crackle of the ice as +I passed over it in my course seemed to follow the tide of the river +with lightning speed. + +I had gone up the river nearly two miles when, coming to a little stream +which empties into the larger, I turned in to explore its course. Fir +and hemlock of a century's growth met overhead, and formed an archway +radiant with frost-work. All was dark within, but I was young and +fearless, and as I peered into an unbroken forest that reared itself on +the borders of the stream, I laughed with very joyousness: my wild hurra +rang through the silent woods, and I stood listening to the echo that +reverberated again and again, until all was hushed. I thought how often +the Indian hunter had concealed himself behind these very trees--how +often his arrow had pierced the deer by this very stream, and his wild +halloo had here rung for his victory. And then, turning from fancy to +reality, I watched a couple of white owls, that sat in their hooded +state, with ruffled pantalets and long ear-tabs, debating in silent +conclave the affairs of their frozen realm, and wondering if they, "for +all their feathers, were a-cold," when suddenly a sound arose--it seemed +to me to come from beneath the ice; it sounded low and tremulous at +first, until it ended in one wild yell. I was appalled. Never before had +such a noise met my ears. I thought it more than mortal--so fierce, and +amid such an unbroken solitude, it seemed as if a fiend had blown a +blast from an infernal trumpet. Presently I heard the twigs on shore +snap, as if from the tread of some animal, and the blood rushed back to +my forehead with a bound that made my skin burn, and I felt relieved +that I had to contend with things earthly, and not of spiritual +nature--my energies returned, and I looked around me for some means of +escape. The moon shone through the opening at the mouth of the creek by +which I had entered the forest, and considering this the best means of +escape, I darted toward it like an arrow. 'Twas hardly a hundred yards +distant, and the swallow could scarcely excel my desperate flight; yet, +as I turned my head to the shore, I could see two dark objects dashing +through the underbrush at a pace nearly double in speed to my own. By +this great speed, and the short yells which they occasionally gave, I +knew at once that these were the much dreaded gray wolf. + +I had never met with these animals, but from the description given of +them I had but little pleasure in making their acquaintance. Their +untamable fierceness, and the untiring strength which seems part of +their nature, render them objects of dread to every benighted traveler. + + "With their long gallop, which can tire + The deer-hound's hate, the hunter's fire," + +they pursue their prey--never straying from the track of their +victim--and as the wearied hunter thinks he has at last outstripped +them, he finds that they but waited for the evening to seize their prey, +and falls a prize to the tireless animals. + +The bushes that skirted the shore flew past with the velocity of +lightning as I dashed on in my flight to pass the narrow opening. The +outlet was nearly gained; one second more and I would be comparatively +safe, when my pursuers appeared on the bank directly above me, which +here rose to the height of ten feet. There was no time for thought, so I +bent my head and dashed madly forward. The wolves sprang, but +miscalculating my speed, sprang behind, while their intended prey glided +out upon the river. + +Nature turned me toward home. The light flakes of snow spun from the +iron of my skates, and I was some distance from my pursuers, when their +fierce howl told me I was still their fugitive. I did not look back, I +did not feel afraid, or sorry, or glad; one thought of home, of the +bright faces awaiting my return, of their tears if they never should see +me, and then every energy of body and mind was exerted for escape. I was +perfectly at home on the ice. Many were the days that I spent on my good +skates, never thinking that at one time they would be my only means of +safety. Every half minute an alternate yelp from my fierce attendants +made me but too certain that they were in close pursuit. Nearer and +nearer they came; I heard their feet pattering on the ice nearer still, +until I could feel their breath and hear their snuffing scent. Every +nerve and muscle in my frame was stretched to the utmost tension. + +The trees along the shore seemed to dance in the uncertain light, and my +brain turned with my own breathless speed, yet still they seemed to hiss +forth their breath with a sound truly horrible, when an involuntary +motion on my part turned me out of my course. The wolves close behind, +unable to stop, and as unable to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and +fell, still going on far ahead; their tongues were lolling out, their +white tusks glaring from their bloody mouths, their dark, shaggy breasts +were fleeced with foam, and as they passed me their eyes glared, and +they howled with fury. The thought flashed on my mind, that by this +means I could avoid them, viz., by turning aside whenever they came too +near; for they, by the formation of their feet, are unable to run on ice +except on a straight line. + +I immediately acted upon this plan. The wolves, having regained their +feet, sprang directly toward me. The race was renewed for twenty yards +up the stream; they were already close on my back, when I glided round +and dashed directly past my pursuers. A fierce yell greeted my +evolution, and the wolves, slipping upon their haunches, sailed onward, +presenting a perfect picture of helplessness and baffled rage. Thus I +gained nearly a hundred yards at each turning. This was repeated two or +three times, every moment the animals getting more excited and baffled. + +At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my fierce antagonists came +so near, that they threw the white foam over my dress as they sprang to +seize me, and their teeth clashed together like the spring of a +fox-trap. Had my skates failed for one instant, had I tripped on a +stick, or caught my foot in a fissure in the ice, the story I am now +telling would never have been told. I thought all the chances over; I +knew where they would first take hold of me if I fell; I thought how +long it would be before I died, and when there would be a search for the +body that would already have its tomb; for oh! how fast man's mind +traces out all the dead colors of death's picture, only those who have +been near the grim original can tell. + +But soon I came opposite the house, and my hounds--I knew their deep +voices--roused by the noise, bayed furiously from the kennels. I heard +their chains rattle; how I wished they would break them, and then I +would have protectors that would be peers to the fiercest denizens of +the forest. The wolves, taking the hint conveyed by the dogs, stopped in +their mad career, and after a moment's consideration, turned and fled. I +watched them until their dusky forms disappeared over a neighboring +hill. Then, taking off my skates, I wended my way to the house, with +feelings which may be better imagined than described. + +But even yet, I never see a broad sheet of ice in the moonshine, without +thinking of that snuffling breath and those fearful things that followed +me so closely down the frozen Kennebec. + + +[From Recollections and Anecdotes of the Bard of Glamorgan.] + +STORY OF A POET. + +During one of his perambulations in Cardiganshire, the Bard found +himself, on a dreary winter evening, at too great a distance from the +abode of any friend, for him to reach it at a reasonable hour: he was +also more than commonly weary, and therefore turned into a roadside +public house to take up his night's lodgings. He had been there only a +short time, standing before the cheerful fire, when a poor peddler +entered with a pack on his back, and evidently suffering from cold and +fatigue. He addressed the landlord in humble tone, begging he might +lodge there, but frankly avowing he had no money. Trade, he said, had of +late been unfavorable to him--no one bought his goods, and he was making +the best of his way to a more populous district. There were, however, +articles of value in his pack, much more than sufficient to pay for his +entertainment, and he tendered any part of them, in payment, or in +pledge for the boon of shelter and refreshment. The landlord, however, +was one of those sordid beings who regard money as the standard of worth +in their fellow-men, and the want of it as a warrant for insult; he, +therefore, sternly told the poor wayfarer there was no harbor for him +under that roof, unless he had coin to pay for it. Again and again, the +weary man, with pallid looks and feeble voice, entreated the heartless +wretch, and was as often repulsed in a style of bulldog surliness, till +at length he was roughly ordered to leave the house. The bard was not an +unmoved witness of this revolting scene; and his heart had been sending +forth its current, in rapid and yet more rapid pulsations to his now +glowing extremities, as he listened and looked on. He had only one +solitary shilling in his pocket, which he had destined to purchase his +own accommodations for that wintry night; but its destination was now +changed. Here was a needy man requiring it more than himself; and +according to his generous views of the social compact, it became his +duty to sacrifice his minor necessities to the greater ones of his +fellow-creature. Snatching the shilling from its lurking place, he +placed it in the hand of the peddler, telling him _that_ would pay for +his lodging, and lodging he should have, in spite of the savage who had +refused it. Then darting a withering look at the publican, he exclaimed, +"Villain! do you call yourself a man? You, who would turn out a poor +exhausted traveler from your house on a night like this, under any +circumstances! But he has offered you ample payment for his quarters and +you refused him. Did you mean to follow him and rob him--perhaps murder +him? You have the heart of a murderer; you are a disgrace to humanity, +and I will not stay under your roof another minute; but turn out this +poor traveler at your peril--you dare not refuse the money he can now +offer you." Having thus vented his indignant feeling with his usual +heartiness, Iolo seized his staff and walked out into the inclement +night, penniless indeed, and supperless too, but with a rich perception +of the truth uttered by Him who "had not where to lay his head," though +omnipotent as well as universal in his beneficence--"It is more blessed +to give than to receive." A walk of many miles lay between him and his +friend's house, to which he now directed his steps, and by the time he +entered early on the following morning his powers had nearly sunk under +cold and exhaustion. A fever was the sequel, keeping him stationary for +several weeks. + + +[From Dickens's Household Words.] + +HIRAM POWERS'S GREEK SLAVE. + + They say Ideal Beauty cannot enter + The house of anguish. On the threshold stands + This alien Image with the shackled hands, + Called the Greek Slave: as if the artist meant her, + (The passionless perfection which he lent her, + Shadowed, not darkened, where the sill expands,) + To, so, confront man's crimes in different lands, + With man's ideal sense. Pierce to the centre, + Art's fiery finger! and break up ere long + The serfdom of this world. Appeal, fair stone, + From God's pure heights of beauty, against man's wrong! + Catch up, in thy divine face, not alone + East griefs, but west, and strike and shame the strong, + By thunders of white silence, overthrown. + + +[From Papers for the People.] + +THE BLACK POCKET-BOOK. + +"What do you pay for peeping?" said a baker's boy with a tray on his +shoulder to a young man in a drab-colored greatcoat, and with a cockade +in his hat, who, on a cold December's night was standing with his face +close to the parlor window of a mean house, in a suburb of one of our +largest seaport towns in the south of England. + +Tracy Walkingham, which was the name of the peeper, might have answered +that he paid _dear enough_; for in proportion as he indulged himself +with these surreptitious glances, he found his heart stealing away from +him, till he literally had not a corner of it left that he could fairly +call his own. + +Tracy was a soldier; but being in the service of one of his officers, +named D'Arcy, was relieved from wearing his uniform. At sixteen years of +age he had run away from a harsh schoolmaster, and enlisted in an +infantry regiment; and about three weeks previous to the period at which +our story opens, being sent on an early errand to his master's +laundress, his attention had been arrested by a young girl, who, coming +hastily out of an apothecary's shop with a phial in her hand, was +rushing across the street, unmindful of the London coach and its four +horses, which were close upon her, and by which she would assuredly have +been knocked down, had not Tracy seized her by the arm and snatched her +from the danger. + +"You'll be killed if you don't look sharper," said he carelessly; but as +he spoke, she turned her face toward him. "I hope my roughness has not +hurt you?" he continued in a very different tone: "I'm afraid I gripped +your arm too hard?" + +"I'm very much obliged to you," she said; "you did not hurt me at all. +Thank you," she added, looking back to him as she opened the door of the +opposite house with a key which she held in her hand. + +The door closed, and she was gone ere Tracy could find words to detain +her; but if ever there was a case of love at first sight, this was one. +Short as had been the interview, she carried his heart with her. For +some minutes he stood staring at the house, too much surprised and +absorbed in his own feelings to be aware that, as is always the case if +a man stops to look at anything in the street, he was beginning to +collect a little knot of people about him, who all stared in the same +direction too, and were asking each other what was the matter. Warned by +this discovery, the young soldier proceeded on his way; but so engrossed +and absent was he, that he had strode nearly a quarter of a mile beyond +the laundress' cottage before he discovered his error. On his return, he +contrived to walk twice past the house; but he saw nothing of the girl. +He had a mind to go into the apothecary's and make some inquiry about +her; but that consciousness which so often arrests such inquiries +arrested his, and he went home, knowing no more than his eyes and ears +had told him--namely, that this young damsel had the loveliest face and +the sweetest voice that fortune had yet made him acquainted with, and, +moreover, that the possessor of these charms was apparently a person in +a condition of life not superior to his own. Her dress and the house in +which she lived both denoted humble circumstances, if not absolute +poverty, although he felt that her countenance and speech indicated a +degree of refinement somewhat inconsistent with this last conjecture. +She might be a reduced gentlewoman. Tracy hoped not, for if so, poor as +she was, she would look down upon him; she might, on the contrary, be +one of those natural aristocrats, born Graces, that nature sometimes +pleases herself with sending into the world; as in her humorous moments +she not unfrequently does the reverse, bestowing on a princess the +figure and port of a market-woman. Whichever it was, the desire +uppermost in his mind was to see her again; and accordingly, after his +master was dressed, and gone to dinner, he directed his steps to the +same quarter. It was now evening, and he had an opportunity of more +conveniently surveying the house and its neighborhood without exciting +observation himself. For this purpose he crossed over to the +apothecary's door, and looked around him. It was a mean street, +evidently inhabited by poor people, chiefly small retail dealers; almost +every house in it being used as a shop, as appeared from the lights and +the merchandise in the windows, except the one inhabited by the unknown +beauty. They were all low buildings of only two stories; and that +particular house was dark from top to bottom, with the exception of a +faint stripe of light which gleamed from one of the lower windows, of +which there were only two, apparently from a rent or seam in the +shutter, which was closed within. On crossing over to take a nearer +survey, Tracy perceived that just above a green curtain which guarded +the lower half of the window from the intrusions of curiosity, the +shutters were divided into upper and lower, and that there was a +sufficient separation between them to enable a person who was tall +enough to place his eye on a level with the opening, to see into the +room. Few people, however, were tall enough to do this, had they thought +it worth their while to try; but Tracy, who was not far from six feet +high, found he could accomplish the feat quite easily. So, after looking +round to make sure nobody was watching him, he ventured on a peep; and +there indeed he saw the object of all this interest sitting on one side +of a table, whilst a man, apparently old enough to be her father, sat on +the other. He was reading, and she was working, with the rich curls of +her dark-brown hair tucked carelessly behind her small ears, disclosing +the whole of her young and lovely face, which was turned toward the +window. The features of the man he could not see, but his head was +bald, and his figure lank; and Tracy fancied there was something in his +attitude that indicated ill health. Sometimes she looked up and spoke to +her companion, but when she did so, it was always with a serious, +anxious expression of countenance, which seemed to imply that her +communications were on no very cheerful subject. The room was lighted by +a single tallow candle, and its whole aspect denoted poverty and +privation, while the young girl's quick and eager fingers led the +spectator to conclude she was working for her bread. + +It must not be supposed that all these discoveries were the result of +one enterprise. Tracy could only venture on a peep now and then when +nobody was nigh; and many a time he had his walk for nothing. Sometimes, +too, his sense of propriety revolted, and he forebore from a +consciousness that it was not a delicate proceeding thus to spy into the +interior of this poor family at moments when they thought no human eye +was upon them: but his impulse was too powerful to be always thus +resisted, and fortifying himself with the consideration that his purpose +was not evil, he generally rewarded one instance of self-denial by two +or three of self-indulgence. And yet the scene that met his view was so +little varied, that it might have been supposed to afford but a poor +compensation for so much perseverance. The actors and their occupation +continued always the same; and the only novelty offered was, that Tracy +sometimes caught a glimpse of the man's features, which, though they +betrayed evidence of sickness and suffering, bore a strong resemblance +to those of the girl. + +All this, however, to make the most of it, was but scanty fare for a +lover; nor was Tracy at all disposed to content himself with such cold +comfort. He tried what walking through the street by day would do, but +the door was always closed, and the tall green curtain presented an +effectual obstacle to those casual glances on which alone he could +venture by sunlight. Once only he had the good fortune again to meet +this "bright particular star" out of doors, and that was one morning +about eight o'clock, when he had been again sent on an early embassy to +the laundress. She appeared to have been out executing her small +marketings, for she was hastening home with a basket on her arm. Tracy +had formed a hundred different plans for addressing her--one, in short, +suited to every possible contingency--whenever the fortunate opportunity +should present itself; but, as is usual in similar cases, now that it +did come, she flashed upon him so suddenly, that in his surprise and +agitation he missed the occasion altogether. The fact was that she +stepped out of a shop just as he was passing it; and her attention being +directed to some small change which she held in her hand, and which she +appeared to be anxiously counting, she never even saw him, and had +reentered her own door before he could make up his mind what to do. He +learned, however, by this circumstance, that the best hope of success +lay in his going to Thomas Street at eight o'clock; but alas! this was +the very hour that his services could not be dispensed with at home; and +although he made several desperate efforts, he did not succeed in +hitting the lucky moment again. + +Of course he did not neglect inquiry; but the result of his +perquisitions afforded little encouragement to his hopes of obtaining +the young girl's acquaintance. All that was known of the family was, +that they had lately taken the house, that their name was Lane, that +they lived quite alone, and were supposed to be very poor. Where they +came from, and what their condition in life might be, nobody knew or +seemed desirous to know, since they lived so quietly, that they had +hitherto awakened no curiosity in the neighborhood. The Scotsman at the +provision shop out of which she had been seen to come, pronounced her a +_wise-like girl_; and the apothecary's lad said that she was uncommon +_comely and genteel-like_, adding that her father was in very bad +health. This was the whole amount of information he could obtain, but to +the correctness of it, as regarded the bad health and the poverty, his +own eyes bore witness. + +Nearly three weeks had elapsed since Tracy's first meeting with the +girl, when one evening he thought he perceived symptoms of more than +ordinary trouble in this humble menage. Just as he placed his eye to the +window, he saw the daughter entering the room with an old blanket, which +she wrapped round her father, whilst she threw her arms about his neck, +and tenderly caressed him; at the same time he remarked that there was +no fire in the grate, and that she frequently applied her apron to her +eyes. As these symptoms denoted an unusual extremity of distress, Tracy +felt the strongest desire to administer some relief to the sufferers; +but by what stratagem to accomplish his purpose it was not easy to +discover. He thought of making the apothecary or the grocer his agent, +requesting them not to name who had employed them; but he shrank from +the attention and curiosity such a proceeding would awaken, and the evil +interpretations that might be put upon it. Then he thought of the ribald +jests and jeers to which he might subject the object of his admiration, +and he resolved to employ no intervention, but to find some means or +other of conveying his bounty himself; and having with this view +inclosed a sovereign in half a sheet of paper, he set out upon his +nightly expedition. + +He was rather later than usual, and the neighboring church clock struck +nine just as he turned into Thomas Street; he was almost afraid that the +light would be extinguished, and the father and daughter retired to +their chambers, as had been the case on some previous evenings; but it +was not so: the faint gleam showed that they were still there, and +after waiting some minutes for a clear coast, Tracy approached the +window--but the scene within was strangely changed. + +The father was alone--at least except himself there was no living being +in the room--but there lay a corpse on the floor; at the table stood the +man with a large black notebook in his hand, out of which he was taking +what appeared to the spectator, so far as he could discern, to be bank +notes. To see this was the work of an instant; to conclude that a crime +had been committed was as sudden! and under the impulse of fear and +horror that seized him, Tracy turned to fly, but in his haste and +confusion, less cautious than usual, he struck the window with his +elbow. The sound must have been heard within; and he could not resist +the temptation of flinging an instantaneous glance into the room to +observe what effect it had produced. It was exactly such as might have +been expected; like one interrupted in a crime, the man stood +transfixed, his pale face glaring at the window, and his hands, from +which the notes had dropped suspended in the attitude in which they had +been surprised; with an involuntary exclamation of grief and terror, +Tracy turned again and fled. But he had scarcely gone two hundred yards +when he met the girl walking calmly along the street with her basket on +her arm. She did not observe him, but he recognized her; and urged by +love and curiosity, he could not forbear turning back, and following her +to the door. On reaching it, she, as usual, put her key into the lock; +but it did not open as usual; it was evidently fastened on the inside. +She lifted the knocker, and let it fall once, just loud enough to be +heard within; there was a little delay, and then the door was opened--no +more, however, than was sufficient to allow her to pass in--and +immediately closed. Tracy felt an eager desire to pursue this strange +drama further, and was standing still, hesitating whether to venture a +glance into the room, when the door was again opened, and the girl +rushed out, leaving it unclosed, and ran across the street into the +apothecary's shop. + +"She is fetching a doctor to the murdered man," thought Tracy. And so it +appeared, for a minute had scarcely elapsed, when she returned, +accompanied by the apothecary and his assistant; they all three entered +the house; and upon the impulse of the moment, without pausing to +reflect on the impropriety of the intrusion, the young soldier entered +with them. + +The girl, who walked first with a hasty step, preceded them into that +room on the right of the door which, but a few minutes before, Tracy had +been surveying through the window. The sensations with which he now +entered it formed a singular contrast to his anticipations, and +furnished a striking instance of what we have all occasion to remark as +we pass through life--namely, that the thing we have most earnestly +desired, frequently when it does come, arrives in a guise so different +to our hopes, and so distasteful to the sentiments or affections which +have given birth to the wish, that what we looked forward to as the +summit of bliss, proves, when we reach it, no more than a barren peak +strewn with dust and ashes. Fortunate, indeed, may we esteem ourselves +if we find nothing worse to greet us. How often had Tracy fancied that +if he could only obtain entrance into that room he should be happy! As +long as he was excluded from it, it was _his_ summit, for he could see +no further, and looked no further, sought no further: it seemed to him +that, once there, all that he desired must inevitably follow. Now he +_was_ there, but under what different circumstances to those he had +counted on! with what different feelings to those his imagination had +painted! + +"What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Adams the apothecary, as he approached +the body, which still lay on the floor. + +"I hope it's only a fit!" exclaimed the girl, taking the candle off the +table, and holding it in such a manner as to enable the apothecary to +examine the features. + +"He's dead, I fancy," said the latter, applying his fingers to the +wrist. "Unloose his neckcloth, Robert, and raise the head." + +This was said to the assistant, who, having done as he was told, and no +sign of life appearing, Mr. Adams felt for his lancet, and prepared to +bleed the patient. The lancet, however, had been left in the pocket of +another coat, and Robert being sent over to fetch it, Tracy stepped +forward and took his place at the head of the corpse; the consequence of +which was, that, when the boy returned, Mr. Adams bade him go back and +mind the shop, as they could do very well without him; and thus Tracy's +intrusion was, as it were, legitimized, and all awkwardness removed from +it. Not, however, that he had been sensible of any: he was too much +absorbed with the interest of the scene to be disturbed by such minor +considerations. Neither did anybody else appear discomposed or surprised +at his presence: the apothecary did not know but he had a right to be +there; the boy, who remembered the inquiries Tracy had made with regard +to the girl, concluded they had since formed an acquaintance; the girl +herself was apparently too much absorbed in the distressing event that +had occurred to have any thoughts to spare on minor interests; and as +for the man, he appeared to be scarcely conscious of what was going on +around him. Pale as death, and with all the symptoms of extreme sickness +and debility, he sat bending somewhat forward in an old arm-chair, with +his eyes fixed on the spot where the body lay; but there was "no +speculation" in those eyes, and it was evident that what he seemed to be +looking at he did not see. To every thoughtful mind the corporeal +investiture from which an immortal spirit has lately fled must present a +strange and painful interest; but Tracy felt now a more absorbing +interest in the mystery of the living than the dead; and as strange +questionings arose in his mind with regard to the pale occupant of the +old arm-chair as concerning the corpse that was stretched upon the +ground. Who was this stranger, and how came he there lying dead on the +floor of that poor house? And where was the pocket-book and the notes? +Not on the table, not in the room, so far as he could discern. They must +have been placed out of sight; and the question occurred to him, was +_she_ a party to the concealment? But both his heart and his judgment +answered _no_. Not only her pure and innocent countenance, but her whole +demeanor acquitted her of crime. It was evident that her attention was +entirely engrossed by the surgeon's efforts to recall life to the +inanimate body; there was no _arriere pensee_, no painful consciousness +plucking at her sleeve; her mind was anxious, but not more so than the +ostensible cause justified, and there was no expression of mystery or +fear about her. How different to the father, who seemed terror-struck! +No anxiety for the recovery of the stranger, no grief for his death, +appeared in him; and it occurred to Tracy that he looked more like one +condemned and waiting for execution than the interested spectator of +another's misfortune. + +No blood flowed, and the apothecary having pronounced the stranger dead, +proposed, with the aid of Tracy, to remove him to a bed; and as there +was none below, they had to carry him up stairs, the girl preceding them +with a light, and leading the way into a room where a small tent +bedstead without curtains, two straw-bottomed chairs, with a rickety +table, and cracked looking-glass, formed nearly all the furniture; but +some articles of female attire lying about, betrayed to whom the +apartment belonged, and lent it an interest for Tracy. + +Whilst making these arrangements for the dead but few words were spoken. +The girl looked pale and serious, but said little; the young man would +have liked to ask a hundred questions, but did not feel himself entitled +to ask one; and the apothecary, who seemed a quiet, taciturn person, +only observed that the stranger appeared to have died of disease of the +heart, and inquired whether he was a relation of the family. + +"No," replied the girl; "he's no relation of ours--his name is +Aldridge." + +"Not Ephraim Aldridge?" said the apothecary. + +"Yes; Mr. Ephraim Aldridge," returned she: "my father was one of his +clerks formerly." + +"You had better send to his house immediately," said Mr. Adams. "I +forget whether he has any family?" + +"None but his nephew, Mr. Jonas," returned the girl. "I'll go there +directly, and tell him." + +"Your father seems in bad health?" observed Mr. Adams, as he quitted the +room, and proceeded to descend the stairs. + +"Yes; he has been ill a long time," she replied, with a sad countenance; +"and nobody seems to know what's the matter with him." + +"Have you had any advice for him," inquired the apothecary. + +"Oh, yes, a great deal, when first he was ill; but nobody did him any +good." + +By this time they had reached the bottom of the stairs; and Mr. Adams, +who now led the van, instead of going out of the street door, turned +into the parlor again. + +"Well, sir," said he, addressing Lane, "this poor gentleman is dead. I +should have called in somebody else had I earlier known who he was; but +it would have been useless, life must have been extinct half an hour +before I was summoned. Why did you not send for me sooner?" + +"I was out," replied the girl, answering the question that had been +addressed to her father. "Mr. Aldridge had sent me away for something, +and when I returned I found him on the floor, and my father almost +fainting. It was a dreadful shock for him, being so ill." + +"How did it happen?" inquired Mr. Adams, again addressing Lane. + +A convulsion passed over the sick man's face, and his lip quivered as he +answered in a low sepulchral tone. "He was sitting on that chair, +talking about--about his nephews, when he suddenly stopped speaking, and +fell forward. I started up, and placed my hands against his breast to +save him, and then he fell backward upon the floor." + +"Heart, no doubt. Probably a disease of long standing," said Mr. Adams. +"But it has given you a shock: you had better take something, and go to +bed." + +"What should he take?" inquired the daughter. + +"I'll send over a draught," replied the apothecary, moving toward the +door; "and you won't neglect to give notice of what has happened--it +must be done to-night." + +"It is late for you to go out," observed Tracy, speaking almost for the +first time since he entered the house. "Couldn't I carry the message for +you?" + +"Yes: if you will, I shall be much obliged," said she; "for I do not +like to leave my father again to-night. The house is No. 4, West +Street." + +Death is a great leveler, and strong emotions banish formalities. The +offer was as frankly accepted as made; and his inquiry whether he could +be further useful being answered by "No, thank you--not to-night," the +young man took his leave and proceeded on his mission to West Street in +a state of mind difficult to describe--pleased and alarmed, happy and +distressed. He had not only accomplished his object by making the +acquaintance of Mary Lane, but the near view he had had of her, both as +regarded her person and behavior, confirmed his admiration and +gratified his affection; but, as he might have told the boy who +interrupted him, he had paid dear for peeping. He had seen what he would +have given the world not to have seen; and whilst he eagerly desired to +prosecute his suit to this young woman, and make her his wife, he shrank +with horror from the idea of having a thief and assassin for his +father-in-law. + +Engrossed with these reflections he reached West Street before he was +aware of being half-way there, and rang the bell of No. 4. It was now +past eleven o'clock, but he had scarcely touched the wire, before he +heard a foot in the passage, and the door opened. The person who +presented himself had no light, neither was there any in the hall, and +Tracy could not distinguish to whom he spoke when he said, "is this the +house of Mr. Ephraim Aldridge?" + +"It is: what do you want?" answered a man's voice, at the same time that +he drew back, and made a movement toward closing the door. + +"I have been requested to call here to say that Mr. Aldridge is"--And +here the recollection that the intelligence he bore would probably be +deeply afflicting to the nephew he had heard mentioned as the deceased +man's only relation, and to whom he was now possibly speaking, arrested +the words in his throat, and after a slight hesitation he added--"is +taken ill." + +"Ill!" said the person who held the door in his hand, which he now +opened wider. "Where? What's the matter with him? Is he very ill? Is it +any thing serious?" + +The tone in which these questions were put relieved Tracy from any +apprehension of inflicting pain, and he rejoined at once, "I'm afraid he +is dead." + +"Dead!" reiterated the other, throwing the door wide. "Step in if you +please. Dead! how should that be? He was very well this afternoon. Where +is he?" And so saying, he closed the street door, and led the young +soldier into a small parlor, where a lamp with a shade over it, and +several old ledgers, were lying on the table. + +"He's at Mr. Lane's in Thomas Street," replied Tracy. + +"But are you sure he's dead?" inquired the gentleman, who was indeed no +other than Mr. Jonas Aldridge himself. "How did he die? Who says he's +dead?" + +"I don't know how he died. The apothecary seemed to think it was disease +of the heart," replied Tracy; "but he is certainly dead." + +At this crisis of the conversation a new thought seemed to strike the +mind of Jonas, who, exhibiting no symptoms of affliction, had hitherto +appeared only curious and surprised. "My uncle Ephraim dead!" said he. +"No, no, I can't believe it. It is impossible--it cannot be! My dear +uncle! My only friend! Dead! Impossible!--you must be mistaken." + +"You had better go and see yourself," replied Tracy, who did not feel at +all disposed to sympathize with this sudden effusion of sentiment. "I +happened to be by, by mere chance, and know nothing more than I heard +the apothecary say." And with these words he turned toward the door. + +"You are an officer's servant, I see?" rejoined Jonas. + +"I live with Captain D'Arcy of the 32d," answered Tracy; and wishing Mr. +Jonas a good-evening, he walked away with a very unfavorable impression +of that gentleman's character. + +The door was no sooner closed on Tracy than Mr. Jonas Aldridge returned +into the parlor, and lighted a candle which stood on a side-table, by +the aid of which he ascended to the second floor, and entered a +back-room wherein stood a heavy four-post bed, the curtains of which +were closely drawn together. The apartment, which also contained an +old-fashioned mahogany set of drawers, and a large arm-chair, was well +carpeted, and wore an aspect of considerable comfort. The shutters were +closed, and a moreen curtain was let down to keep out the draught from +the window. + +Mr. Jonas had mounted the stairs three at a time; but no sooner did he +enter the room, and his eye fall upon the bed, then he suddenly paused, +and stepping on the points of his toes toward it, he gently drew back +one of the side curtains, and looked in. It was turned down, and ready +for the expected master, but it was tenantless: he who should have lain +there lay elsewhere that night. Mr. Jonas folded in his lips, and nodded +his head with an expression that seemed to say _all's right_. And then +having drawn the bolt across the door, he took two keys out of his +waistcoat pocket; with one he opened a cupboard in the wainscot, and +with the other a large tin-box which stood therein, into which he thrust +his hand, and brought out a packet of papers, which not proving to be +the thing he sought, he made another dive; but this second attempt +turned out equally unsuccessful with the first; whereupon he fetched the +candle from the table, and held it over the box, in hopes of espying +what he wished. But his countenance clouded, and an oath escaped him, on +discovering it was not there. + +"He has taken it with him!" said he. And having replaced the papers he +had disturbed, and closed the box, he hastily descended the stairs. In +the hall hung his greatcoat and hat. These he put on, tying a comforter +round his throat to defend him from the chill night-air; and then +leaving the candle burning in the passage, he put the key of the +house-door in his pocket, and went out. + +Dead men wait patiently; but the haste with which Mr. Jonas Aldrich +strode over the ground seemed rather like one in chase of a fugitive; +and yet, fast as he went, the time seemed long to him till he reached +Thomas Street. + +"Is my uncle here!" said he to Mary, who immediately answered to his +knock. + +"Yes, sir," replied she. + +"And what's the matter? I hope it is nothing serious?" added he. + +"He's dead, sir, the doctor says," returned she. + +"Then you had a doctor?" + +"Oh yes, sir; I fetched Mr. Adams over the way immediately; but he said +he was dead the moment he saw him. Will you please to walk up stairs, +and see him yourself?" + +"Impossible! It cannot be that my uncle is dead!" exclaimed Mr. Jonas, +who yet suspected some _ruse_. "You should have had the best advice--you +should have called in Dr. Sykes. Let him be sent for immediately!" he +added, speaking at the top of his voice, as he entered the little room +above: "no means must be neglected to recover him. Depend on it, it is +only a fit." + +But the first glance satisfied him that all these ingenious precautions +were quite unnecessary. There lay Mr. Ephraim Aldridge dead +unmistakably; and while Mary was inquiring where the celebrated Dr. +Sykes lived, in order that she might immediately go in search of him, +Mr. Jonas was thinking on what pretense he might get her out of the room +without sending for anybody at all. + +Designing people often give themselves an enormous deal of useless +trouble; and after searching his brain in vain for an expedient to get +rid of the girl, Mr. Jonas suddenly recollected that the simplest was +the best. There was no necessity, in short, for saying anything more +than that he wished to be alone; and this he did say, at the same time +drawing his handkerchief from his pocket, and applying it to his eyes, a +little pantomime that was intended to aid the gentle Mary in putting a +kind construction on the wish. She accordingly quitted the room, and +descended to the parlor; whereupon Mr. Jonas, finding himself alone, +lost no time in addressing himself to his purpose, which was to search +the pockets of the deceased, wherein he found a purse containing gold +and silver, various keys, and several other articles, but not the +article he sought; and as he gradually convinced himself that his search +was vain, his brow became overcast, angry ejaculations escaped his lips, +and after taking a cursory survey of the room, he snatched up the +candle, and hastily descended the stairs. + +"When did my uncle come here? What did he come about?" he inquired +abruptly as he entered the parlor where Mary, weary and sad, was resting +her head upon the table. + +"He came this evening, sir; but I don't know what he came about. He said +he wanted to have some conversation with my father, and I went into the +kitchen to leave them alone." + +"Then you were not in the room when the accident happened?" + +"What accident, sir?" + +"I mean, when he died." + +"No, sir; I had gone out to buy something for supper." + +"What made you go out so late for that purpose?" + +"My father called me in, sir, and Mr. Aldridge gave me some money." + +"Then nobody was present but your father?" + +"No, sir." + +"And where is he now?" + +"My father is very ill, sir; and it gave him such a shock, that he was +obliged to go to bed." + +"Had my uncle nothing with him but what I have found in his pockets?" + +"Nothing that I know of, sir." + +"No papers?" + +"No, sir." + +"Go and ask your father if he saw any papers." + +"I'm sure he didn't, sir, or else they would be here." + +"Well, I'll thank you to go and ask him, however." + +Whereupon Mary quitted the room; and stepping up stairs, she opened, and +then presently shut again, the door of her own bedroom. "It is no use +disturbing my poor father," said she to herself; "I'm sure he knows +nothing about any papers; and if I wake him, he will not get to sleep +again all night. If he saw them, he'll say so in the morning." + +"My father knows nothing of the papers, sir," said she, reentering the +room; "and if they're not in the pocket, I'm sure Mr. Aldridge never +brought them here." + +"Perhaps he did not, after all," thought Jonas; "he has maybe removed it +out of the tin-box, and put it into the bureau." A suggestion which made +him desire to get home again as fast as he had left it. So, promising to +send the undertakers in the morning to remove the body, Mr. Jonas took +his leave, and hastened back to West Street, where he immediately set +about ransacking every drawer, cupboard, and press, some of which he +could only open with the keys he had just extracted from the dead man's +pocket. But the morning's dawn found him unsuccessful: it appeared +almost certain that the important paper was not in the house; and weary, +haggard, and angry, he stretched himself on his bed till the hour +admitted of further proceedings. And we will avail ourselves of this +interval to explain more particularly the relative position of the +parties concerned in our story. + +Ephraim Aldridge, a younger member of a large and poor family, had been +early in life apprenticed to a hosier; and being one of the most steady, +cautious, saving boys that ever found his bread amongst gloves and +stockings, had early grown into great favor with his master, who, as +soon as he was out of his apprenticeship, elevated him to the post of +book-keeper; and in this situation, as he had a liberal salary, and was +too prudent to marry, he contrived to save such a sum of money as, +together with his good character, enabled him to obtain the reversion of +the business when his master retired from it. The prudence which had +raised him adhered to him still; his business flourished, and he grew +rich; but the more money he got, the fonder he became of it; and the +more he had, the less he spent; while the cautious steadiness of the boy +shrank into a dry reserve as he grew older, till he became an austere, +silent, inaccessible man, for whom the world in general entertained a +certain degree of respect, but whom nobody liked, with the exception +perhaps of one person, and that was Maurice Lane, who had formerly been +his fellow-apprentice, and was now his shopman. And yet a more marked +contrast of character could scarcely exist than between these two young +men; but, somehow or other, everybody liked Lane; even the frigid heart +of Ephraim could not defend itself from the charm of the boy's beautiful +countenance and open disposition; and when he placed his former comrade +in a situation of responsibility, it was not because he thought him the +best or the steadiest servant he could possibly find, but because he +wished to have one person about him that he liked, and that liked him. +But no sooner did Lane find himself with a salary which would have +maintained himself comfortably, than he fell in love with a beautiful +girl whom he saw trimming caps and bonnets in an opposite shop-window, +and straightway married her. Then came a family, and with it a train of +calamities which kept them always steeped in distress, till the wife, +worn out with hard work and anxiety, died; the children that survived +were then dispersed about the world to earn their bread, and Lane found +himself alone with his youngest daughter Mary. Had he retained his +health, he might now have done better; but a severe rheumatic fever, +after reducing him to the brink of the grave, had left him in such +infirm health, that he was no longer able to maintain his situation; so +he resigned it, and retired to an obscure lodging, with a few pounds in +his pocket, and the affection and industry of his daughter for his only +dependence. + +During all this succession of calamities, Mr. Aldrich had looked on with +a severe eye. Had it been anybody but Lane, he would have dismissed him +as soon as he married; as it was, he allowed him to retain his place, +and to take the consequences of his folly. He had carved his own +destiny, and must accept it; it was not for want of knowing better, for +Ephraim had warned him over and over again of the folly of poor men +falling in love and marrying. Entertaining this view of the case, he +justified his natural parsimony with the reflection, that by encouraging +such imprudence he should be doing an injury to other young men. He made +use of Lane as a beacon, and left him in his distress, lest assistance +should destroy his usefulness. The old house in Thomas Street, however, +which belonged to him, happening to fall vacant, he so far relented as +to send word to his old clerk that he might inhabit it if he pleased. + +Some few years, however, before these latter circumstances, Mr. +Aldridge, who had determined against matrimony, had nevertheless been +seized with that desire so prevalent in the old especially, to have an +heir of his own name and blood for his property. He had but two +relations that he remembered, a brother and a sister. The latter, when +Ephraim was a boy, had married a handsome sergeant of a marching +regiment, and gone away with it; and her family never saw her afterward, +though for some years she had kept up an occasional correspondence with +her parents, by which they learned that she was happy and prosperous; +that her husband had been promoted to an ensigncy for his good conduct; +that she had one child; and finally, that they were about to embark for +the West Indies. + +His brother, with whom he had always maintained some degree of +intercourse, had early settled in London as a harness-maker, and was +tolerably well off; on which account Ephraim respected him, and now that +he wanted an heir, it was in this quarter he resolved to look for one. +So he went to London, inspected the family, and finally selected young +Jonas, who everybody said was a facsimile of himself in person and +character. He was certainly a cautious, careful, steady boy who was +guilty of no indiscretions, and looked very sharp after his halfpence. +Ephraim, who thought he had hit upon the exact desideratum, carried him +to the country, put him to school, and became exceedingly proud and fond +of him. His character, indeed, as regarded his relations with the boy, +seemed to have undergone a complete change, and the tenderness he had +all through life denied to everybody else, he now in his decline +lavished to an injudicious excess on this child of his adoption. When he +retired from business he took Jonas home; and as the lad had some talent +for portrait-painting, he believed him destined to be a great artist, +and forbore to give him a profession. Thus they lived together +harmoniously enough for some time, till the factitious virtues of the +boy ripened into the real vices of the man; and Ephraim discovered that +the cautious, economical, discreet child was, at five-and-twenty, an +odious specimen of avarice, selfishness, and cunning; and what made the +matter worse was, that the uncle and nephew somehow appeared to have +insensibly changed places--the latter being the governor, and the former +the governed; and that while Mr. Jonas professed the warmest affection +for the old man, and exhibited the tenderest anxiety for his health, he +contrived to make him a prisoner in his own house, and destroy all the +comfort of his existence--and everybody knows how hard it is to break +free from a domestic despotism of this description, which, like the +arms of a gigantic cuttle-fish, has wound itself inextricably around its +victim. + +To leave Jonas, or to make Jonas leave him, was equally difficult; but +at length the declining state of his health, together with his +ever-augmenting hatred of his chosen heir, rendering the case more +urgent, he determined to make a vigorous effort for freedom; and now it +first occurred to him that his old friend Maurice Lane might help him to +attain his object. In the mean time, while waiting for an opportunity to +get possession of the will by which he had appointed Jonas heir to all +his fortune, he privately drew up another, in favor of his sister's +eldest son or his descendants, on condition of their taking the name of +Aldridge; and this he secured in a tin-box, of which he kept the key +always about him, the box itself being deposited in a cupboard in his +own chamber. In spite of all these precautions, however, Jonas +penetrated the secret, and by means of false keys, obtained a sight of +the document which was to cut him out of all he had been accustomed to +consider his own; but it was at least some comfort to observe that the +will was neither signed nor witnessed, and therefore at present +perfectly invalid. This being the case, he thought it advisable to +replace the papers, and content himself with narrowly watching his +uncle's future proceedings, since stronger measures at so critical a +juncture might possibly provoke the old man to more decisive ones of his +own. + +In a remote quarter of the town resided two young men, commonly called +Jock and Joe Wantage, who had formerly served Mr. Aldridge as errand +boys, but who had since managed to set up in a humble way of business +for themselves; and having at length contrived one evening to elude the +vigilance of his nephew, he stepped into a coach, and without entering +into any explanation of his reasons, he, in the presence of those +persons, produced and signed his will, which they witnessed, desiring +them at the same time never to mention the circumstance to anybody, +unless called upon to do so. After making them a little present of +money, for adversity had now somewhat softened his heart, he proceeded +to the house of his old clerk. + +It was by this time getting late, and the father and daughter were +sitting in their almost fireless room, anxious and sad, for, as Tracy +had conjectured, they were reduced to the last extremity of distress, +when they were startled at a double knock at the door. It was long since +those old walls had reverberated to such a sound. + +"Who can that be?" exclaimed Lane, looking suddenly up from his book, +which was a tattered volume of Shakspeare, the only one he possessed. "I +heard a coach stop." + +"It can be nobody here," returned Mary: "it must be a mistake." + +However, she rose and opened the door, at which by this time stood Mr. +Aldridge, whose features it was too dark to distinguish. + +"Bring a light here!" said he. "No; stay; I'll send you out the money," +he added to the coachman, and with that he stepped forward to the little +parlor. But the scene that there presented itself struck heavily upon +his heart, and perhaps upon his conscience, for instead of advancing, he +stood still in the doorway. Here was poverty indeed! He and Lane had +begun life together, but what a contrast in their ultimate fortunes! The +one with much more money than he knew what to do with; the other without +a shilling to purchase a bushel of coals to warm his shivering limbs; +and yet the rich man was probably the more miserable of the two! + +"Mr. Aldridge!" exclaimed Lane, rising from his seat in amazement. + +"Take this, and pay the man his fare," said the visitor to Mary, handing +her some silver. "And have you no coals?" + +"No, sir." + +"Then buy some directly, and make up the fire. Get plenty; here's the +money to pay for them;" and as the coals were to be had next door, there +was soon a cheerful fire in the grate. Lane drew his chair close to the +fender, and spread his thin fingers to the welcome blaze. + +"I did not know you were so badly off as this," Mr. Aldridge remarked. + +"We have nothing but what Mary earns, and needlework is poorly paid," +returned Lane; "and often not to be had. I hope Mr. Jonas is well?" + +Mr. Aldridge did not answer, but sat silently looking into the fire. The +corners of his mouth were drawn down, his lip quivered, and the tears +rose to his eyes as he thought of all he had lavished on that ungrateful +nephew, that serpent he had nourished in his bosom, while the only +friend he ever had was starving. + +"Mary's an excellent girl," pursued the father, "and has more sense than +years. She nursed me through all my illness night and day; and though +she has had a hard life of it, she's as patient as a lamb, poor thing! I +sometimes wish I was dead, and out of her way, for then she might do +better for herself." + +Mr. Aldridge retained his attitude and his silence, but a tear or two +escaped from their channels, and flowed down the wan and hollow cheek: +he did not dare to speak, lest the convulsion within his breast should +burst forth into sobs and outward demonstrations, from which his close +and reserved nature shrunk. Lane made two or three attempts at +conversation, and then, finding them ineffectual, sank into silence +himself. + +If the poor clerk could have penetrated the thoughts of his visitor +during that interval, he would have read there pity for the sufferings +of his old friend, remorse for having treated him with harshness under +the name of justice, and the best resolutions to make him amends for the +future. + +"Justice!" thought he; "how can man, who sees only the surface of +things, ever hope to be just?" + +"You have no food either, I suppose?" said he abruptly breaking the +silence. + +"There's part of a loaf in the house, I believe," returned Lane. + +"Call the girl, and bid her fetch some food! Plenty and the best! Do you +hear, Mary?" he added as she appeared at the door. "Here's money." + +"I have enough left from what you gave me for the coals," said Mary, +withholding her hand. + +"Take it!--take it!" said Mr. Aldridge, who was now for the first time +in his life beginning to comprehend that the real value of money depends +wholly on the way in which it is used, and that that which purchases +happiness neither for its possessor nor anybody else is not wealth, but +dross. "Take it, and buy whatever you want. When did _he_ ever withhold +his hand when I offered him money?" thought he as his mind recurred to +his adopted nephew. + +Mary accordingly departed, and having supplied the table with +provisions, was sent out again to purchase a warm shawl and some other +articles for herself, which it was too evident she was much in need of. +It was not till after she had departed that Mr. Aldridge entered into +the subject that sat heavy on his soul. He now first communicated to +Lane that which the reserve of his nature had hitherto induced him to +conceal from everybody--namely, the disappointment he had experienced in +the character of his adopted son, the ill-treatment he had received from +him, and the mixture of fear, hatred, and disgust with which the conduct +of Jonas had inspired him. + +"He has contrived, under the pretense of taking care of my health, to +make me a prisoner in my own house. I haven't a friend nor an +acquaintance; he has bought over the servants to his interest, and his +confidential associate is Holland, _my_ solicitor, who drew up the will +I made in that rascal's favor, and has it in his possession. Jonas is to +marry his daughter too; but I have something in my pocket that will +break off that match. I should never sleep in my grave if he inherited +my money! The fact is," continued he, after a pause, "I never mean to go +back to the fellow. I won't trust myself in his keeping; for I see he +has scarcely patience to wait till nature removes me out of the way. +I'll tell you what, Lane," continued he, his hollow cheek flushing with +excited feelings, "I'll come and live with you, and Mary shall be my +nurse." + +Lane, who sat listening to all this in a state of bewilderment, +half-doubting whether his old master had not been seized with a sudden +fit of insanity, here cast a glance round the miserable whitewashed +walls begrimed with smoke and dirt. "Not here--not here!" added Mr. +Aldridge, interpreting the look aright; we'll take a house in the +country, and Mary shall manage everything for us, whilst we sit +together, with our knees to the fire, and talk over old times. Thank +God, my money is my own still! and with country air and good nursing I +should not wonder if I recover my health; for I can safely say I have +never known what it is to enjoy a happy hour these five years--never +since I found out that fellow's real character--and that is enough to +kill any man! Look here," said he, drawing from his pocket a large black +leathern note-case. "Here is a good round sum in Bank of England notes, +which I have kept concealed until I could get clear of Mr. Jonas; for +though he cannot touch the principal, thank God! he got a power of +attorney from me some time ago, entitling him to receive my dividends; +but now I'm out of his clutches, I'll put a drag on his wheel, he may +rely on it. With this we can remove into the country and take lodgings, +while we look out for a place to suit us permanently. We'll have a cow +in a paddock close to the house; the new milk and the smell of the hay +will make us young again. Many an hour, as I have lain in my wearisome +bed lately, I have thought of you and our Sunday afternoons in the +country when we were boys. In the eagerness of money-getting, these +things had passed away from my memory; but they return to me now as the +only pleasant recollection of my life." + +"And yet I never thought you enjoyed them much at the time," observed +Lane, who was gradually getting more at ease with the rich man that had +once been his equal, but between whom and himself all equality had +ceased as the one grew richer and the other poorer. + +"Perhaps I did not," returned Ephraim. "I was too eager to get on in the +world to take much pleasure in anything that did not help to fill my +pockets. Money--money, was all I thought of! and when I got it, what did +it bring me? Jonas--and a precious bargain he has turned out! But I'll +be even with him yet." Here there was a sob and a convulsion of the +breast, as the wounded heart swelled with its bitter sense of injury. "I +have not told you half yet," continued he; "but I'll be even with him, +little as he thinks it." + +As a pause now ensued, Lane felt it was his turn to say something, and +he began with, "I am surprised at Mr. Jonas;" for so cleverly had the +nephew managed, that the alienation of the uncle was unsuspected by +everybody, and Lane could hardly bring himself to comment freely on this +once-cherished nephew. "I could not have believed, after all you've done +for him, that he would turn out ungrateful. Perhaps," continued he; but +here the words were arrested on his lips by a sudden movement on the +part of Mr. Aldridge, which caused Lane, who had been staring vacantly +into the fire, to turn his eyes toward his visitor, whom, to his +surprise, he saw falling gradually forward. He stretched out his hand to +arrest the fall; but his feeble arm only gave another direction to the +body, which sank on its face to the ground. Lane, who naturally thought +Mr. Aldridge had fainted from excess of emotion, fetched water, and +endeavored to raise him from the floor; but he slipped heavily from his +grasp; and the recollection that years ago, he had heard from the +apothecary who attended Ephraim that the latter had disease of the +heart, and would some day die suddenly, filled him with terror and +dismay. He saw that the prophecy was fulfilled; his own weak nerves and +enfeebled frame gave way under the shock, and dropping into the nearest +chair, he was for some moments almost as insensible as his friend. + +When he revived, and was able to recall his scattered senses, the first +thing that met his eye was the open pocket-book and the notes that lay +on the table. But a moment before, how full of promise was that book to +him! Now, where were his hopes? Alas, like his fortunes, in the dust! +Never was a man less greedy of money than Lane; but he knew what it was +to want bread, to want clothes, to want fire. He felt sure Jonas would +never give him a sixpence to keep him from starving; and there was his +poor Mary, so overworked, fading her fair young cheeks with toil. That +money was to have made three persons comfortable: he to whom it belonged +was gone, and could never need it; and he had paid quite enough before +he departed to satisfy Lane, that could he lift up his voice from the +grave to say who would have the contents of that book, it would not be +Jonas. Where, then, could be the harm of helping himself to that which +had been partly intended for him? Where too, could be the danger? +Assuredly Jonas, the only person who had a right to inquire into Mr. +Aldridge's affairs, knew nothing of this sum; and then the pocket-book +might be burned, and so annihilate all trace. There blazed the fire so +invitingly. Besides, Jonas would be so rich, and could so well afford to +spare it. As these arguments hastily suggested themselves, Lane, +trembling with emotion, arose from his seat, seized the book, and +grasped a handful of the notes, when to his horror, at that moment he +heard a tap at the window. Shaking like a leaf, his wan cheeks whiter +than before, and his very breath suspended, he stood waiting for what +was to follow; but nothing ensued--all was silent again. It was probably +an accident: some one passing had touched the glass; but still an +undefined fear made him totter to the street door, and draw the bolt. +Then he returned into the room: there were the notes yet tempting him. +But this interruption had answered him. He longed for them as much as +before, but did not dare to satisfy his desire, lest he should hear that +warning tap again. Yet if left there till Mary returned, they were lost +to him forever; and he and she would be starving again, all the more +wretched for this transitory gleam of hope that had relieved for a +moment the darkness of their despair. But time pressed: every moment he +expected to hear her at the door; and as unwilling to relinquish the +prize as afraid to seize it, he took refuge in an expedient that avoided +either extreme--he closed the book, and flung it beneath the table, over +which there was spread an old green cloth, casting a sufficiently dark +shadow around to render the object invisible, unless to a person +stooping to search for it. Thus, if inquired for and sought, it would be +found, and the natural conclusion be drawn that it had fallen there; if +not, he would have time for deliberation, and circumstances should +decide him what to do. + +There were but two beds in this poor house: in one slept Lane, on the +other was stretched the dead guest. Mary, therefore, on this eventful +night had none to go to. So she made up the fire, threw her new shawl +over her head, and arranged herself to pass the hours till morning in +the rickety old chair in which her father usually sat. The scenes in +which she had been assisting formed a sad episode in her sad life; and +although she knew too little of Mr. Aldridge to feel any particular +interest in him, she had gathered enough from her father, and from the +snatches of conversation she had heard, to be aware that this visit was +to have been the dawn of better fortunes, and that the old man's sudden +decease was probably a much heavier misfortune to themselves than to +him. A girl more tenderly nurtured and accustomed to prosperity would +have most likely given vent to her disappointment in tears; but tears +are an idle luxury, in which the poor rarely indulge: they have no time +for them. They must use their eyes for their work; and when night comes, +their weary bodies constrain the mind to rest. Mary had had a fatiguing +evening--it was late before she found herself alone; and tired and +exhausted, unhappy as she felt, it was not long ere she was in a sound +sleep. + +It appeared to her that she must have slept several hours, when she +awoke with the consciousness that there was somebody stirring in the +room. She felt sure that a person had passed close to where she was +sitting; she heard the low breathing and the cautious foot, which +sounded as if the intruder was without shoes. The small grate not +holding much coal, the fire was already out, and the room perfectly +dark, so that Mary had only her ear to guide her: she could see nothing. +A strange feeling crept over her when she remembered their guest: but +no--he was forever motionless; there could be no doubt of that. It could +not surely be her father. His getting out of bed and coming down stairs +in the middle of the night was to the last degree improbable. What could +he come for? Besides, if he had done so, he would naturally have spoken +to her. Then came the sudden recollection that she had not fastened the +back-door, which opened upon a yard as accessible to their neighbors as +to themselves--neighbors not always of the best character either; and +the cold shiver of fear crept over her. Now she felt how fortunate it +was that the room _was_ dark. How fortunate, too, that she had not +spoken or stirred; for the intruder withdrew as silently as he came. +Mary strained her ears to listen which way he went; but the shoeless +feet gave no echo. It was some time before the poor girl's beating heart +was stilled; and then suddenly recollecting that this mysterious +visitor, whoever he was, might have gone to fetch a light and return, +she started up, and turned the key in the door. During that night Mary +had no more sleep. When the morning broke, she arose and looked around +to see if any traces of her midnight visitor remained, but there were +none. A sudden alarm now arose in her breast for her father's safety, +and she hastily ascended the stairs to his chamber; but he appeared to +be asleep, and she did not disturb him. Then she opened the door of her +own room, and peeped in--all was still there, and just as it had been +left on the preceding evening; and now, as is usual on such occasions, +when the terrors of the night had passed away, and the broad daylight +looked out upon the world, she began to doubt whether the whole affair +had not been a dream betwixt sleeping and waking, the result of the +agitating events of the preceding evening. + +After lighting the fire, and filling the kettle, Mary next set about +arranging the room; and in so doing, she discovered a bit of folded +paper under the table, which, on examination, proved to be a five-pound +note. Of course this belonged to Mr. Aldridge, and must have fallen +there by accident; so she put it aside for Jonas, and then ascended to +her father's room again. He was now awake, but said he felt very unwell, +and begged for some tea, a luxury they now possessed, through the +liberality of their deceased guest. + +"Did anything disturb you in the night, father?" inquired Mary. + +"No," replied Lane, "I slept all night." He did not look as if he had, +though; and Mary, seeing he was irritable and nervous, and did not wish +to be questioned, made no allusion to what had disturbed herself. + +"If Mr. Jonas Aldridge comes here, say I am too ill to see him," added +he, as she quitted the room. + +About eleven o'clock the undertakers came to remove the body; and +presently afterward Tracy arrived. + +"I came to say that I delivered your message last night to Mr. Jonas +Aldridge," said he, when she opened the door; "and he promised to come +here directly." + +"He did come," returned Mary. "Will you please to walk in? I'm sorry my +father is not down stairs. He's very poorly to-day." + +"I do not wonder at that," answered Tracy, as his thoughts recurred to +the black pocket-book. + +"Mr. Jonas seemed very anxious about some papers he thought his uncle +had about him; but I have found nothing but this five-pound note, which +perhaps you would leave at Mr. Aldridge's for me?" + +"I will, with pleasure," answered Tracy, remembering that this +commission would afford him an excuse for another visit; and he took his +leave a great deal more in love than ever. + +"Humph!" said Mr. Jonas, taking the note that Tracy brought him; "and +she has found no papers?" + +"No, sir, none. Miss Lane says that unless they were in his pocket, Mr. +Aldridge could not have had any papers with him." + +"It's very extraordinary," said Mr. Jonas, answering his own +reflections. + +"Will you give me a receipt for the note, sir?" asked Tracy. My name +is"---- + +"It's all right. I'm going there directly myself, and I'll say you +delivered it," answered Jonas, hastily interrupting him, and taking his +hat off a peg in the passage. "I'm in a hurry just now;" whereupon Tracy +departed without insisting farther. + +While poor Ephraim slept peaceably in his coffin above, Mr. Jonas, +perplexed by all manner of doubts in regard to the missing will, sat +below in the parlor, in a fever of restless anxiety. Every heel that +resounded on the pavement made his heart sink till it had passed the +door, while a ring or a knock shook his whole frame to the center; and +though he longed to see Mr. Holland, his uncle's solicitor, whom he knew +to be quite in his interest, he had not courage either to go to him or +to send for him, for fear of hastening the catastrophe he dreaded. + +Time crept on; the day of the funeral came and passed; the will was +read; and Mr. Jonas took possession as sole heir and executor, and no +interruption occurred. Smoothly and favorably, however, as the stream of +events appeared to flow, the long-expectant heir was not the less +miserable. + +But when three months had elapsed he began to breathe more freely, and +to hope that the alarm had been a false one. The property was indeed his +own--he was a rich man, and now for the first time he felt in sufficient +spirits to look into his affairs and review his possessions. A +considerable share of these consisted in houses, which his uncle had +seized opportunities of purchasing on advantageous terms; and as the +value of some had increased, whilst that of others was diminishing for +want of repair, he employed a surveyor to examine and pronounce on their +condition. + +"Among the rest," said he, "there is a small house in Thomas Street, No. +7. My uncle allowed an old clerk of his to inhabit it, rent free; but he +must turn out. I gave them notice three months ago; but they've not +taken it. Root them up, will you? and get the house cleaned down and +whitewashed for some other tenant." + +Having put these matters in train, Mr. Jonas resolved, while his own +residence was set in order, to make a journey to London, and enjoy the +gratification of presenting himself to his family in the character of a +rich man; and so fascinating did he find the pleasures of wealth and +independence, that nearly four months had elapsed since his departure +before he summoned Mr. Reynolds to give an account of his proceedings. + +"So," said he, after they had run through the most important items--"so +you have found a tenant for the house in Thomas Street? Had you much +trouble in getting rid of the Lanes?" + +"They're in it still," answered Mr. Reynolds. "The man that has taken it +has married Lane's daughter." + +"What is he?" inquired Jonas. + +"An officer's servant--a soldier in the regiment that is quartered in +the citadel." + +"Oh, I've seen the man--a good-looking young fellow. But how is he to +pay the rent?" + +"He says he has saved money, and he has set her up in a shop. However, I +have taken care to secure the first quarter; there's the receipt for +it." + +"That is all right," said Mr. Jonas, who was in a very complacent humor, +for fortune seemed quite on his side at present. "How," said he, +suddenly changing color as he glanced his eye over the slip of paper; +"how! Tracy Walkingham!" + +"Yes; an odd name enough for a private soldier, isn't it?" + +"Tracy Walkingham!" he repeated. "Why how came he to know the Lanes? +Where does he come from?" + +"I know nothing of him, except that he is in the barracks. But I can +inquire, and find out his history and genealogy if you wish it," replied +Mr. Reynolds. + +"Oh, no, no," said Jonas; "leave him alone. If I want to find out +anything about him, I'll do it myself. Indeed it is nothing connected +with himself, but the name struck me as being that of a person who owed +my uncle some money; however, it cannot be him of course. And to return +to matters of more consequence, I want to know what you've done with the +tenements in Water Lane?" And having thus adroitly turned the +conversation, the subject of the tenant with the odd name was referred +to no more; but although it is true, that "out of the fullness of the +heart the mouth speaketh," it is also frequently true, that that which +most occupies the mind is the farthest from the lips, and this was +eminently the case on the present occasion; for during the ensuing half +hour that Mr. Jonas appeared to be listening with composure to the +surveyor's reports and suggestions, the name of Tracy Walkingham was +burning itself into his brain in characters of fire. + +"Tracy Walkingham!" exclaimed he, as soon as Mr. Reynolds was gone, and +he had turned the key in the lock to exclude interruptions; "here, and +married to Lane's daughter! There's something in this more than meets +the eye! The Lanes have got that will as sure as my name's Jonas +Aldridge, and have been waiting to produce it till they had him fast +noosed. But why do they withhold it now? Waiting till they hear of my +return, I suppose." And as this conviction gained strength, he paced the +room in a paroxysm of anguish. And there he was, so helpless, too! What +could he do but wait till the blow came? He would have liked to turn +them out of his house, but they had taken it for a year; and besides, +what good would that do but to give them a greater triumph, and perhaps +expedite the catastrophe? Sometimes he thought of consulting his friend +Holland; but his pride shrank from the avowal that his uncle had +disinherited him, and that the property he and everybody else had long +considered so securely his, now in all probability justly belonged to +another. Then he formed all sorts of impracticable schemes for getting +the paper into his possession, or Tracy out of the way. Never was there +a more miserable man; the sight of those two words, _Tracy Walkingham_, +had blasted his sight, and changed the hue of everything he looked upon. +Our readers will have little difficulty in guessing the reason: the +young soldier, Mary's handsome husband, was the heir named in the +missing will--the son of that sister of Ephraim who had married a +sergeant, and had subsequently gone to the West Indies. + +Tracy Walkingham, the father, was not exactly in his right position as a +private in the 9th regiment, for he was the offspring of a very +respectable family; but some early extravagance and dissipation, +together with a passion for a military life, which was denied +gratification, had induced him to enlist. Good conduct and a tolerable +education soon procured him the favorable notice of his superiors, took +him out of the ranks, and finally procured him a commission. When both +he and his wife died in Jamaica, their only son was sent home to the +father's friends; but the boy met with but a cold reception; and after +some years passed, far from happily, he, as we have said, ran away from +school; and his early associations being all military, seized the first +opportunity of enlisting, as his father had done before him. But of the +history of his parents he knew nothing whatever, except that his father +had risen from the ranks; and he had as little suspicion of his +connection with Ephraim Aldridge as Mary had. Neither did the name of +Tracy Walkingham suggest any reminiscences to Lane, who had either +forgotten, or more probably had never heard it, Mr. Aldridge's sister +having married prior to the acquaintance of the two lads. But Jonas had +been enlightened by the will; and although the regiment now quartered at +P---- was not the one therein mentioned, the name was too remarkable not +to imply a probability, which his own terror naturally converted into a +certainty. + +In the mean time, while the rich and conscious usurper was nightly lying +on a bed of thorns, and daily eating the broad of bitterness, the poor +and unconscious heir was in the enjoyment of a larger share of happiness +than usually falls to the lot of mortals. The more intimately he became +acquainted with Mary's character, the more reason he found to +congratulate himself on his choice; and even Lane he had learned to +love; while all the painful suspicions connected with Mr. Aldridge's +death and the pocket-book had been entirely dissipated by the evident +poverty of the family; since, after the expenditure of the little ready +money Mr. Aldridge had given them, they had relapsed into their previous +state of distress, having clearly no secret resources wherewith to avert +it. Mary's shop was now beginning to get custom too, and she was by slow +degrees augmenting her small stock, when the first interruption to their +felicity occurred. This was the impending removal of the regiment, +which, under present circumstances, was an almost inevitable sentence of +separation; for even could they have resolved to make the sacrifice, and +quit the home on which they had expended all their little funds, it was +impossible for Mary to abandon her father, ever feeble, and declining in +health. The money Tracy had saved toward purchasing his discharge was +not only all gone, but, though doing very well, they were not yet quite +clear of the debt incurred for their furniture. There was therefore no +alternative but to submit to the separation, hard as it was; and all the +harder, that they could not tell how long it might take to amass the +needful sum to purchase Tracy's liberty. Lane, too, was very much +affected, and very unwilling to part with his son-in-law. + +"What," said he, "only twenty pounds?" And when he saw his daughter's +tears, he would exclaim, "Oh, Mary! and to think that twenty pounds +would do it!" And more than once he said, "Tracy should not go; he was +determined he should not leave them;" and bade Mary dry her tears, for +he would prevent it. But nevertheless the route came; and early one +morning the regiment marched through Thomas Street, the band playing the +tune of "The girl I left behind me;" while poor Mary, choking with sobs, +peeped through the half-open shutter, to which the young husband's eyes +were directed as long as the house was in sight. That was a sad day, and +very sad were many that followed. Neither was there any blessed Penny +Post then, to ease the sick hearts and deferred hopes of the poor; and +few and rare were the tidings that reached the loving wife--soon to +become a mother. The only pleasure Mary had now was in the amassing +money. How eager she was for it! How she counted over and over her daily +gains! How she economized! What self-denial she practiced! Oh for twenty +pounds to set her husband free, and bring him to her arms again! So +passed two years, circumstances always improving, but still this object +so near her heart was far from being attained, when there arrived a +letter from Tracy, informing her that the regiment was ordered abroad, +and that, as he could not procure a furlough, there was no possibility +of their meeting unless she could go to him. What was to be done? If she +went, all her little savings would be absorbed in the journey, and the +hope of purchasing her husband's discharge indefinitely postponed. +Besides, who was to take care of her father, and the lodger, and the +shop? The former would perhaps die from neglect, she should lose her +lodger, and the shop would go to destruction for want of the needful +attention. But could she forbear? Her husband might never return--they +might never meet again--then how she should reproach herself! Moreover, +Tracy had not seen the child: that was decisive. At all risks she must +go; and this being resolved, she determined to shut up her shop, and +engage a girl to attend to her father and her lodger. These arrangements +made, she started on her long journey with her baby in her arms. + +At the period of which we are treating, a humble traveler was not only +subject to great inconveniences, but besides the actual sum disbursed, +he paid a heavy per-centage from delay on every mile of his journey. +Howbeit, "Time and the hour run through the roughest day," and poor Mary +reached her destination at last; and in the joy of meeting with her +husband, forgot all her difficulties and anxieties, till the necessity +for parting recalled her to the sad reality that awaited them. If she +stayed too long away from her shop, she feared her customers would +forsake her altogether; and then how was the next rent-day to be +provided for? So, with many a sigh and many a tear, the young couple +bade each other farewell, and Mary recommenced her tedious journey. If +tedious before, when such a bright star of hope lighted her on her way, +how much more so now! While poor Tracy felt so wretched and depressed, +that many a time vague thoughts of deserting glanced through his mind, +and he was only withheld from it by the certainty that if they shot +him--and deserters, when taken, were shot in those days--it would break +his poor little wife's heart. Soon after Mary's departure, however, it +happened that his master, Major D'Arcy, met with a severe accident while +hunting; and as Tracy was his favorite servant, and very much attached +to him, his time and thoughts were so much occupied with attendance on +the invalid, that he was necessarily in some degree diverted from his +own troubles. + +In the mean time Mary arrived at home, where she found her affairs in no +worse condition than might be expected. Her father was in health much as +she had left him, and her lodger still in the house, though both weary +of her substitute; and the latter--that is, the lodger--threatening to +quit if the mistress did not make haste back. All was right now +again--except Mary's heart--and things resumed their former train; the +only event she expected being a letter to inform her of her husband's +departure, which he had promised to post on the day of his embarkation. + +Three months elapsed, however, before the postman stopped at her door +with the dreaded letter. How her heart sank when she saw him enter the +shop! + +"A letter for you, Mrs. Walkingham--one-and-two-pence, if you please." +Mary opened her till, and handed him the money. + +"Poor thing!" thought the man, observing how her hand shook, and how +pale she turned; "expects bad news, I suppose!" + +Mary dropped the letter into the money-drawer, for there was a customer +in the shop waiting to be served--and then came in another. When the +second was gone, she took it out and looked at it, turned it about, and +examined it, and kissed it, and then put it away again. She felt that +she dared not open it till night, when all her business was over, and +her shop closed, and she might pour out her tears without interruption. +She could scarcely tell whether she most longed or feared to open it; +and when at length the quiet hour came, and her father was in bed, and +her baby asleep in its cradle beside her, and she sat down to read it, +she looked at it, and pressed it to her bosom, and kissed it again and +again, before she broke the seal; and then when she had done so, the +paper shook in her hand, and her eyes were obscured with tears, and the +light seemed so dim that she could not at first decipher anything but +"My darling Mary!" It was easy to read that, for he always called her +_his darling Mary_--but what came next? "Joy! joy! dry your dear tears, +for I know how fast they are falling, and be happy! I am not going +abroad with the regiment, and I shall soon be a free man. Major D'Arcy +has met with a sad accident, and cannot go to a foreign station; and as +he wishes me not to leave him, he is going to purchase my discharge," +&c. &c. + +Many a night had Mary lain awake from grief, but this night she could +not sleep for joy. It was such a surprise, such an unlooked-for piece of +good fortune. It might indeed be some time before she could see her +husband, but he was free, and sooner or later they should be together. +Everybody who came to the shop the next day wondered what had come over +Mrs. Walkingham. She was not like the same woman. + +It was about eight months after the arrival of the above welcome +intelligence, on a bright winter's morning, Mary as usual up betimes, +her shop all in order, her child washed and dressed, and herself as neat +and clean "as a new pin," as her neighbor, Mrs. Crump the laundress, +used to say of her--her heart as usual full of Tracy, and more than +commonly full of anxiety about him, for the usual period for his writing +was some time passed. She was beginning to be uneasy at his prolonged +silence, and to fear that he was ill. + +"No letter for me, Mr. Ewart?" she said, as she stood on the step with +her child in her arms, watching for the postman. + +"None to-day, Mrs. Walkingham; better luck next time!" answered the +functionary, as he trotted past. Mary, disappointed was turning in, +resolving that night to write and upbraid her husband for causing her so +much uneasiness, when she heard the horn that announced the approach of +the London coach, and she stopped to see it pass; for there were +pleasant memories connected with that coach: it was the occasion of her +first acquaintance with Tracy--so had the driver sounded his horn, which +she, absorbed in her troubles, had not heard; so had he cracked his +whip; so had the wheels rattled over the stones; and so had the idle +children in the street run hooting and hallooing after it; but not so +had it dashed up to her door and stopped. It cannot be!--yes, it +is--Tracy himself, in a drab great-coat and crape round his hat, jumping +down from behind! The guard throws him a large portmanteau, and a paper +parcel containing a new gown for Mary and a frock for the boy; and in a +moment more they are in the little back parlor in each other's arms. +Major D'Arcy was dead, and Tracy had returned to his wife to part no +more--so we will shut the door, and leave them to their happiness, while +we take a peep at Mr. Jonas Aldridge. + +We left him writhing under the painful discovery that the rightful heir +of the property he was enjoying, at least so far as his uncle's +intentions were concerned, was not only in existence, but was actually +the husband of Lane's daughter; and although he sometimes hoped the +fatal paper had been destroyed, since he could in no other way account +for its non-production, still the galling apprehension that it might +some day find its way to light was ever a thorn in his pillow; and the +natural consequence of this irritating annoyance was, that while he +hated both Tracy and his wife, he kept a vigilant eye on their +proceedings, and had a restless curiosity about all that concerned them. +He would have been not only glad to eject them from the house they +occupied, and even to drive them out of the town altogether, but he had +a vague fear of openly meddling with them; so that the departure of the +regiment, and its being subsequently ordered abroad, afforded him the +highest satisfaction; in proportion to which was his vexation at Tracy's +release, and ultimate return as a free man, all which particulars he +extracted from Mr. Reynolds as regularly as the payment of the quarter's +rent. + +"And what does he mean to do now?" inquired Jonas. + +"To settle here, I fancy," returned Mr. Reynolds. "They seem to be doing +very well in the little shop; and I believe they have some thoughts of +extending their business." + +This was extremely unpleasant intelligence, and the more so, that it was +not easy to discover any means of defeating these arrangements; for as +Mr. Jonas justly observed, as he soliloquized on the subject, "In this +cursed country there is no getting rid of such a fellow!" + +In the town of which we speak there are along the shore several houses +of public resort of a very low description, chiefly frequented by +soldiers and sailors; and in war-times it was not at all an uncommon +thing for the hosts of these dens to be secretly connected with the +pressgangs and recruiting companies, both of whom, at a period when men +were so much needed for the public service, pursued their object after a +somewhat unscrupulous fashion. Among the most notorious of these houses +was one called the Britannia, kept by a man of the name of Gurney, who +was reported to have furnished, by fair means or foul, a good many +recruits to his Majesty's army and navy. Now it occurred to Mr. Jonas +Aldridge that Gurney might be useful to him in his present strait; nor +did he find any unwillingness on the part of that worthy person to serve +his purposes. + +"A troublesome sort of fellow this Walkingham is," said Mr. Jonas; "and +I wouldn't mind giving twenty pounds if you could get him to enlist +again." + +The twenty pounds was quite argument enough to satisfy Gurney of the +propriety of so doing; but success in the undertaking proved much less +easy than desirable. Tracy, who spent his evenings quietly at home with +his wife, never drank, and never frequented the houses on the quay, +disappointed all the schemes laid for entrapping him; and Mr. Jonas had +nearly given up the expectation of accomplishing his purpose, when a +circumstance occurred that awakened new hopes. The house next to that +inhabited by the young couple took fire in the night when everybody was +asleep; the party-walls being thin, the flames soon extended to the +adjoining ones; and the following morning saw poor Tracy and his wife +and child homeless, and almost destitute, their best exertions having +enabled them to save little more than their own lives and that of Mary's +father, who was now bedridden. But for his infirm condition they might +have saved more of their property; but not only was there much time +necessarily consumed in removing him, but when Tracy rushed into his +room, intending to carry him away in his arms, Lane would not allow him +to lift him from his bed till he had first unlocked a large trunk with a +key which was attached to a string hung round the sick man's neck. + +"Never mind--never mind trying to save anything but your life! You'll be +burnt, sir; indeed you will; there's not a moment to lose," cried Tracy +eagerly. + +But Lane would listen to nothing: the box must be opened, and one +precious object secured. "Thrust your hand down to the bottom--the +corner next the window--and you'll find a parcel in brown paper." + +"I have it, sir--I have it!" cried Tracy; and lifting the invalid from +his bed with the strong arm of vigorous youth, he threw him on his back, +and bore him safely into the street. + +"The parcel!" said Lane; "where is it?" + +Tracy flung it to him, and rushed back into the house. But too late: the +flames drove him forth immediately; and finding he could do nothing +there, he proceeded to seek a shelter for his houseless family. + +It was with no little satisfaction that Mr. Jonas Aldridge heard of this +accident. These obnoxious individuals were dislodged now without any +intervention of his, and the link was broken that so unpleasantly seemed +to connect them with himself. Moreover, they were to all appearance +ruined, and consequently helpless and defenseless. Now was the time to +root them out of the town if possible, and prevent them making another +settlement in it; and now was the time that Gurney might be useful; for +Tracy, being no longer a householder, was liable to be pressed, if he +could not be induced to reenlist. + +In the mean while, all unconscious of the irritation and anxiety they +were innocently inflicting on the wealthy Mr. Jonas Aldridge, Tracy and +his wife were struggling hard to keep their heads above water in this +sudden wreck of all their hopes and comforts. It is so hard to rise +again after such a plunge; for the destruction of the poor is their +poverty; and _having_ nothing, they could undertake nothing, begin +nothing. The only thing open seemed for Tracy to seek service, and for +Mary to resume her needlework; but situations and custom are not found +in a day, and they were all huddled together in a room, and wanting +bread. The shock of the fire and the removal had seriously affected Lane +too, and it was evident that his sorrows and sufferings were fast +drawing to a close. He was aware of it himself, and one day when Mary +was out he called Tracy to his bedside, and asked him if Mr. Adams did +not think he was dying. + +"You have been very ill before, and recovered," said Tracy, unwilling to +shock him with the sentence that the apothecary had pronounced against +him. + +"I see," said Lane; "my time is come; and I am not unwilling to go, for +I am a sore burthen to you and Mary, now you're in trouble. I know +you're very kind," he added, seeing Tracy about to protest; "but it's +high time I was under ground. God knows--God knows I have had a sore +struggle, and it's not over yet! To see you so poor, in want of +everything, and to know that I could help you. I sometimes think there +could be no great harm in it either. The Lord have mercy upon me! What +am I saying?" + +"You had better not talk any more, but try to sleep till Mary comes in," +said Tracy, concluding his mind was beginning to wander. + +"No, no," said Lane; "that won't do: I must say it now. You remember +that parcel we saved from the fire?" + +"Yes I do," answered Tracy, looking about. "Where is it? I've never seen +it since." + +"It's here!" said Lane, drawing it from under his pillow. "Look there," +he added: "_not to be opened till after my death_. You observe?" + +"Certainly, sir." + +"_Not to be opened till after my death._ But as soon as I am gone, take +it to Mr. Jonas Aldridge: it belongs to him. There is a letter inside +explaining everything; and I have asked him to be good to you and Mary +for the sake of--for the sake of the hard, hard struggle I have had in +poverty and sickness, when I saw her young cheek fading with want and +work; and now again, when you are all suffering, and little Tracy too, +with his thin pale face that used to be so round and rosy: but it will +soon be over, thank God! You will be sure to deliver it into his own +hands?" + +"I give you my word I will, sir." + +"Take it away then, and let me see it no more; but hide it from Mary, +and tell her nothing about it." + +"I will not, sir. And now you must try to rest." + +"I feel more at peace now," said Lane; "and perhaps I may. Thank God the +worst struggle is over--dying is easy." + +Mr. Adams was right in his prediction. In less than a week from the +period of that solemn behest poor Lane was in his grave; and his last +word, with a significant glance at Tracy, was--_remember_! + +Mary had loved her father tenderly--indeed there was a great deal in him +to love; and he was doubly endeared to her by the trials they had gone +through together, and the cares and anxieties she had lavished on him. +But there was no bitterness in the tears she shed: she had never failed +him in their hours of trial; she had been a dutiful and affectionate +daughter, and he had expired peacefully in the arms of herself and her +kind and beloved husband. It was on the evening of the day which had +seen the remains of poor Maurice Lane deposited in the churchyard of St. +Jude that Tracy, having placed the parcel in his bosom, and buttoned his +coat over it, said to his wife--"Mary, I have occasion to go out on a +little business; keep up your spirits till I return; I will not be away +more than an hour;" and leaning over her chair he kissed her cheek, and +left the room. As he stepped from his own door into the street, he +observed two men leaning against the rails of the adjoining house, and +he heard one say to the other, "Yes, by jingo!" "At last!" returned the +other; whereupon they moved on, pursuing the same way he went himself, +but keeping at some distance behind. + +Tracy could not quite say that he owed no man anything, for the fire had +incapacitated them from paying some small accounts which they would +otherwise have been able to discharge, and he even owed a month's rent; +but this, considering the circumstances of the case, he did not expect +would be claimed. Indeed Mr. Reynolds, who was quite ignorant of Mr. +Jonas' enmity, had hinted as much. He had therefore no apprehension of +being pursued for debt, nor, till he recollected that there was a very +active pressgang in the town, did it occur to him that the movements of +these men could be connected with himself. It is true that, as a +discharged soldier, he was not strictly liable, but he was aware that +immunities of this sort were not always available at the moment of need; +and that, as these persons did not adhere very strictly to the terms of +their warrant, once in their clutches, it was no easy matter to get out +of them: so he quickened his pace, and kept his eyes and ears on the +alert. + +His way lay along the shore, and shortly before he reached the +Britannia, the two men suddenly advanced, and placed themselves one on +each side of him. But for the suspicion we have named, Tracy would have +either not observed their movements, or, if he had, would have stopped +and inquired what they wanted. As it was, he thought it much wiser to +escape the seizure at first, should such be their intention, than trust +to the justice of his cause afterward; so, without giving them time to +lay hands upon him, he took to his heels and ran, whereupon they sounded +a whistle, and as he reached Joe Gurney's door, he found his flight +impeded by that worthy himself, who came out of it, and tried to trip +him up. But Tracy was active, and making a leap, he eluded the +stratagem. The man, however, seized him, which gave time to the two +others to come up; and there commenced a desperate struggle of three to +one, in which, in spite of his strength and ability, Tracy would +certainly have been worsted but for a very unexpected reinforcement +which joined him from some of the neighboring houses, to whose +inhabitants Gurney's proceedings had become to the last degree odious; +more especially in the women, among whom there was scarcely one who had +not the cause of a brother, a son, or a lover to avenge. Armed with +pokers, brooms, or whatever they could lay their hands on, these Amazons +issued from their doors, and fell foul of Gurney, whom they singled from +the rest as their own peculiar prey. In the confusion Tracy contrived to +make his escape; and without his hat, and his clothes almost torn off +his back, he rushed in upon the astonished Mary in less than half an +hour after he had left her. + +His story was soon told, and there was nothing sufficiently uncommon in +such an incident in those days to excite much surprise, except as +regarded the circumstance of the men lying in wait for him. Tracy was +not ignorant that malice and jealousy had occasionally furnished victims +to the press system; but they had no enemy they knew of, nor was there +any one, as far as they were aware, that had an interest in getting him +out of the way. It was, however, an unpleasant and alarming occurrence, +and he resolved on consulting a lawyer, in order to ascertain how he +might protect himself from any repetition of the annoyance. + +With this determination, the discussion between the husband and wife +concluded for that night; but the former had a private source of +uneasiness, which on the whole distressed him much more than the seizure +itself, and which he could not have the relief of communicating to +Mary--this was the loss of the parcel so sacredly committed to his care +by his deceased father-in-law, and which he was on his way to deliver +into the hands of Mr. Jonas Aldridge when he met with the interruption. +It had either fallen or been torn from his bosom in the struggle, and +considering the neighborhood and the sort of people that surrounded him, +he could scarcely indulge the most remote hope of ever seeing it again. +To what the papers contained Lane had furnished him no clew; but whether +it was anything of intrinsic worth, or merely some article to which +circumstances or association lent an arbitrary value, the impossibility +of complying with the last and earnest request of Mary's father formed +far the most painful feature in the accident of the evening; and while +the wife lay awake, conjuring up images of she knew not what dangers and +perils that threatened her husband, Tracy passed an equally sleepless +night in vague conjectures as to what had become of the parcel, and in +forming visionary schemes for its recovery. + +In the morning he even determined to face Gurney in his den; for it was +only at night that he felt himself in any danger from the nefarious +proceedings of himself and his associates. But his inquiries brought him +no satisfaction. The people who resided in the neighborhood of Gurney's +house, many of whom had engaged in the broil, declared they knew nothing +of the parcel; "but," said they, "if any of Gurney's people have it, you +need never hope to see it again." Tracy thought so too; however, he paid +a visit to their den of iniquity, and declared his determination to have +them summoned before the magistrates, to answer for his illegal seizure; +but as all who were present denied any knowledge of the affair, and as +he could not have sworn to the two ruffians who tracked him, he +satisfied himself with this threat without proceeding further in the +business. + +Having been equally unsuccessful at the police-office, he determined +after waiting a few days in the hope of discovering some clew by which +he might recover the parcel, to communicate the circumstance to Mr. +Jonas Aldridge. He therefore took an early opportunity of presenting +himself in West Street. + +"Here's a man wishes to see you, sir," said the servant. + +"Who is it? What does he want?" inquired Mr. Jonas, who, recumbent in +his arm-chair, and his glass of port beside him, was leisurely perusing +his newspaper after dinner. "Where is he?" + +"He's in the passage, sir." + +"Take care he's not a thief come to look after the greatcoats and hats." + +"He looks very respectable, sir." + +"Wants me to subscribe to something, I suppose. Go and ask him what's +his business." + +"He says he can't tell his business except to you, sir, because it's +something very partickler," said the maid, returning into the room. "He +says he's been one of your tenants; his name's Walkingham." + +"Walkingham!" reiterated Mr. Jonas, dropping the newspaper, and starting +erect out of his recumbent attitude. "Wants me! Business! What business +can he possibly have with me? Say I'm engaged, and can't see him. No, +stay! Yes; say I'm engaged and can't see him." + +"He wishes to know what time it will be convenient for you to see him, +sir, as it's about something very partickler indeed," said the girl, +again making her appearance. + +Mr. Jonas reflected a minute or two; he feared this visit portended him +no good. He had often wondered that Tracy had not claimed relationship +with him, for he felt no doubt of his being his cousin; probably he was +now come to do it; or had he somehow got hold of that fatal will? One or +the other surely was the subject of his errand; and if I refuse to see +him, he will go and tell his story to somebody else. "Let him come in. +Stay! Take the lamp off the table, and put it at the other end of the +room." + +This done, Mr. Jonas having reseated himself in his arm-chair in such a +position that he could conceal his features from his unwelcome visitor, +bade the woman send him in. + +"I beg your pardon for intruding, sir," said Tracy, "but I thought it my +duty to come to you," speaking in such a modest tone of voice, that Mr. +Jonas began to feel somewhat reassured, and ventured to ask with a +careless air, "What was his business?" + +"You have perhaps heard, sir, that Mr. Lane is dead?" + +"I believe I did," said Mr. Jonas. + +"Well, sir, shortly before his death he called me to his bedside and +gave me a parcel, which he desired me to deliver to you as soon as he +was laid in his grave." + +"To me?" said Mr. Jonas, by way of filling up the pause, and concealing +his agitation, for he immediately jumped to the conclusion that the will +was really forthcoming now. + +"Yes, sir, into your own hand; and accordingly the day he was buried I +set out in the evening to bring it to you; but the pressgang got hold of +me, and in the scuffle I lost it out of my bosom, where I had put it +for safety, and though I have made every inquiry, I can hear nothing of +it." + +"What was it? What did the parcel contain?" inquired Mr. Jonas, eagerly. + +"I don't know, I am sure, sir," answered Tracy. "It was sealed up in +thick brown paper; but, from the anxiety Mr. Lane expressed about its +delivery, I am afraid it was something of value. He said he should never +rest in his grave if you did not get it." + +Mr. Jonas now seeing there was no immediate danger, found courage to ask +a variety of questions with a view to further discoveries; but as Tracy +had no clew to guide him with regard to the contents of the parcel +except his own suspicions, which he did not feel himself called upon to +communicate, he declared himself unable to give any information. All he +could say was, that "he thought the parcel felt as if there was a book +in it." + +"A book!" said Mr. Jonas. "What sized book?" + +"Not a large book, sir, but rather thick; it might be a pocket-book." + +"Very odd!" said Mr. Jonas, who was really puzzled; for if the book +contained the will, surely it was not to him that Lane would have +committed it. However, as nothing more could be elicited on the subject, +he dismissed Tracy, bidding him neglect nothing to recover the parcel, +and inexpressibly vexed that his own stratagem to get rid of this +"discomfortable cousin," had prevented his receiving the important +bequest. + +Whilst Tracy returned home, satisfied that he had fulfilled his duty as +far as he was able, Mr. Jonas having well considered the matter, +resolved on obtaining an interview with Joe Gurney himself; "for," +thought he, "if the parcel contained neither money, nor anything that +could be turned into money, he may possibly be able to get it for me." + +"Well, sir, I remembers the night very well," said Joe. "They'd ha' been +watching for that 'ere young chap, off and on, for near a fortnight, +when they got him, as luck would have it, close to my door; but he +raised such a noise that the neighbors came out, and he got away." + +"But did you hear anything of the parcel?" inquired Mr. Jonas. + +"Well, sir, I'm not sure whether I did or no," answered Gurney; "but I +think it was Tom Purcell as picked it up." + +"Then you saw it?" said Mr. Jonas. "What did it contain? Where is it?" + +"Well, I'm sure, sir, that is more than I can say," returned Gurney, who +always spared himself the pain of telling more truth than he could +avoid; "but Tom went away the next day to Lunnun." + +"And did he take the parcel with him? Was there no address on it?" + +"No, sir, not on the outside at least--there was something wrote, but it +wasn't addressed to nobody." + +Although Mr. Jonas was perfectly aware that Gurney knew more than he +chose to tell, not wishing to quarrel with him, he was obliged to +relinquish the interrogative system, and content himself with a promise +that he would endeavor to discover the whereabout of Tom Purcell, and do +all he could to recover the lost article; and to a certain extent Gurney +intended to fulfill the engagement. The fact of the matter was, that the +parcel had been found by Tom Purcell, but not so exclusively as that he +could secure the benefit of its contents to himself. They had been +divided amongst those who put in their claim, the treasure consisting of +a black pocket-book, containing L95 in bank-notes, and Lane's letter, +sealed, and addressed to Mr. Jonas Aldridge. The profits being +distributed, the pocket-book and letter were added to the share of the +finder, and these, it was possible, might be recovered; and with that +view Gurney dispatched a missive to their possessor. But persons who +follow the profession of Tom Purcell have rarely any fixed address, and +a considerable time elapsed ere an answer was received; and when it did +come, it led to no result. The paper he had burnt, and the pocket-book +he had thrown into a ditch. He described the spot, and it was searched, +but nothing of the sort was found. Here, therefore, ended the matter to +all appearance, especially as Mr. Jonas succeeded in extracting from +Gurney that there was nothing in the book but that letter and some +money. + +In the mean while, however, the pocket-book had strangely enough found +its way back to Thomas Street. A poor woman that carried fish about the +town for sale, and with whom Mary not unfrequently dealt, brought it to +her one day, damp, tattered, and discolored, and inquired if it did not +belong to her husband. + +"Not that I know of," said Mary. + +"Because," said the woman, "he came to our house one morning last winter +asking for a parcel. Now, I know this pocket-book--at least I think it's +the same--had been picked up by some of Gurney's folks the night afore, +though it wasn't for me that lives next door to him to interfere in his +matters. Hows'ever, my son's a hedger and ditcher, and when he came home +last night he brought it: he says he found it in a field near by the +Potteries." + +"I do not think it is Tracy's," said Mary; "but if you will leave it, +I'll ask him." And the article being in too dilapidated a condition to +have any value, the woman told her she was welcome to it, and went away. + +The consequence of this little event was, that when Tracy returned, Mary +became a participator in the secret which had hitherto been withheld +from her. + +"I see it all," said she. "No doubt Mr. Aldridge gave it to my father to +take care of the night he came here; and when he died, my poor father, +knowing we were to have shared with him had he lived, felt tempted to +keep it; but he was too honest to do so; and in all our distresses he +never touched what was not his own; but this explains many things I +could not understand." And as the tears rose to her eyes at the +recollection of the struggle she had witnessed, without comprehending +it, betwixt want and integrity, she fell into a reverie, which prevented +her observing that her child, a boy of four years old, had taken +possession of the pocket-book, and, seated on the floor, was pulling it +to pieces. + +"I tell you what, Mary," said Tracy, returning into the shop, which he +had left for a few minutes, "I'll take the book as it is to Mr. Jonas +Aldridge. I'm sorry the money's lost; but we are not to blame for that, +and I suppose he has plenty. Put it into a bit of clean paper, will you, +and I'll set off at once." + +"Oh, Tracy, Tracy," cried Mary, addressing her little boy, "what _are_ +you doing with that book? Give it me, you naughty child! See, he has +almost torn it in half!" Not a very difficult feat, for the leather was +so rotten with damp that it scarcely held together. + +"Look here, Tracy: here's a paper in it," said Mary, as she took it from +the child, and from the end of a secret pocket, which was unript, she +drew a folded sheet of long writing-paper. + +"Dear me! look here!" said she, as she unfolded and cast her eye over +it. "'In the name of God, amen! I, Ephraim Aldridge, residing at No. 4, +West Street, being of sound mind, memory, and understanding'----Why, +Tracy, it's a will, I declare! Only think, How odd! isn't it? 'Of sound +mind, memory, and understanding, do make and publish this my last will +and testament'"---- + +"I'll tell you what, Mary," said Tracy, attempting to take the paper +from her, "I don't think we've any right to read it: give it me." + +"Stay," said Mary; "stay. Oh, Tracy, do but listen to this: 'I +give, devise, and bequeath all property, of what nature or kind +soever, real, freehold, or personal, of which I shall die seized or +possessed'----Think what a deal Mr. Jonas must have!" + +"Mary, I'm surprised at you." + +"'Of which I shall die seized or possessed, to my nephew'"---- + +"It's merely the draft of a will. Give it me, and let me go." + +"'To my nephew, Tracy Walkingham, son of the late Tracy Walkingham, +formerly a private, and subsequently a commissioned officer in his +majesty's 96th Regiment of foot, and of my sister, Eleanor Aldridge, his +wife.' Tracy, what can it mean? Can you be Mr. Ephraim Aldridge's +nephew?" + +"It's very strange," said Tracy. "I never heard my mother's maiden name; +for both she and my father died in the West Indies when I was a child; +but certainly, as I have often told you, my father was a private in the +96th Regiment, and afterward got a commission." + +It would be useless to dwell on the surprise of the young couple, or to +detail the measures that were taken to ascertain and prove, beyond a +cavil, that Tracy was the right heir. There were relations yet alive +who, when they heard that he was likely to turn out a rich man, were +willing enough to identify him, and it was not till the solicitor he had +employed was perfectly satisfied on this head that Mr. Jonas was waited +on, with the astounding intelligence that a will had been discovered, +made subsequent to the one by which he inherited. At the same time a +letter was handed to him, which, sealed and addressed in Ephraim's hand, +had been found in the same secret receptacle of the book as the larger +paper. + +The contents of that letter none ever knew but Jonas himself. It seemed +to have been a voice of reproach from the grave for the ill return he +had made to the perhaps injudicious but well-meant generosity and +indulgence of the old man. The lawyer related that when he opened it he +turned deadly pale, and placing his hands before his face, sank into a +chair quite overcome: let us hope his heart was touched. + +However that may be, he had no reason to complain of the treatment he +received from the hands of his successors, who temperate in prosperity, +as they had been patient in adversity, in consideration of the +relationship and of the expectations in which he had been nurtured, made +Jonas a present of a thousand pounds for the purpose of establishing him +in any way of life he might select; while, carefully preserved in a +leathern case, the old black pocket-book, to which they owed so much, is +still extant in the family of Tracy Walkingham. + + +[Abridged from "Light and Darkness," just published.] + +THE LAST VAMPIRE. + +BY MRS. CROWE. + +In the fifteenth century lycanthropy prevailed extensively amongst the +Vaudois, and many persons suffered death for it; but as no similar case +seems to have been heard of for a long while, lycanthropy and ghoulism +were set down amongst the superstitions of the East, and the follies and +fables of the dark ages. A circumstance however has just come to light +in France that throws a strange and unexpected light upon this curious +subject. The account we are going to give is drawn from a report of the +investigation before a council of war, held on the 10th of the present +month (July, 1849), Colonel Manselon, president. It is remarked that the +court was extremely crowded, and that many ladies were present. + +The facts of this mysterious affair, as they came to light in the +examinations, are as follows: For some months past the cemeteries in and +around Paris have been the scenes of a frightful profanation, the +authors of which had succeeded in eluding all the vigilance that was +exerted to detect them. At one time the guardians or keepers of these +places of burial were themselves suspected; at others the odium was +thrown on the surviving relations of the dead. + +The cemetery of Pere la Chaise was the first field of these horrible +operations. It appears that for a considerable time the guardians had +observed a mysterious figure flitting about by night amongst the tombs, +on whom they never could lay their hands. As they approached, he +disappeared like a phantom; and even the dogs that were let loose, and +urged to seize him, stopped short, and ceased to bark, as if they were +transfixed by a charm. When morning broke, the ravages of this strange +visitant were but too visible--graves had been opened, coffins forced, +and the remains of the dead, frightfully torn and mutilated, lay +scattered upon the earth. Could the surgeons be the guilty parties? No. +A member of the profession being brought to the spot declared that no +scientific knife had been there; but certain parts of the human body +might be required for anatomical studies, and the gravediggers might +have violated the tombs to obtain money by the sale of them. The watch +was doubled, but to no purpose. A young soldier was one night seized in +a tomb, but he declared he had gone there to meet his sweetheart, and +had fallen asleep; and as he evinced no trepidation they let him go. + +At length these profanations ceased in Pere la Chaise, but it was not +long before they were renewed in another quarter. A suburban cemetery +was the new theater of operations. A little girl aged seven years, and +much loved by her parents, died. With their own hands they laid her in +her coffin, attired in the frock she delighted to wear on _fete_ days, +and with her favorite playthings beside her; and accompanied by numerous +relatives and friends they saw her laid in the earth. On the following +morning it was discovered that the grave had been violated, the body +torn from the coffin, frightfully mutilated, and the heart extracted. +There was no robbery. The sensation in the neighborhood was tremendous; +and in the general terror and perplexity suspicion fell on the +broken-hearted father, whose innocence however was easily proved. Every +means was taken to discover the criminal; but the only result of the +increased surveillance was that the scene of profanation was removed to +the cemetery of Mont Parnasse, where the exhumations were carried to +such an extent that the authorities were at their wits' end. + +Considering, by the way, that all these cemeteries are surrounded by +walls, and have iron gates, which are kept closed, it certainly seems +very strange that any ghoul or vampire of solid flesh and blood should +have been able to pursue his vocation so long undiscovered. However, so +it was; and it was not till they bethought themselves of laying a snare +for this mysterious visitor that he was detected. Having remarked a spot +where the wall, though nine feet high, appeared to have been frequently +scaled, an old officer contrived a sort of infernal machine, with a wire +attached to it, which he so arranged that it should explode if any one +attempted to enter the cemetery at that point. This done, and a watch +being set, they thought themselves now secure of their purpose. +Accordingly, at midnight an explosion roused the guardians, who +perceived a man already in the cemetery; but before they could seize him +he had leaped the wall with an agility that confounded them; and +although they fired their pieces after him, he succeeded in making his +escape. But his footsteps were marked with blood that had flowed from +his wounds, and several scraps of military attire were picked up on the +spot. Nevertheless, they seem to have been still uncertain where to seek +the offender, till one of the gravediggers of Mont Parnasse, whilst +preparing the last resting-place of two criminals about to be executed, +chanced to overhear some sappers of the 74th regiment remarking that one +of their sergeants had returned on the preceding night cruelly wounded, +nobody knew how, and had been conveyed to Val de Grace, which is a +military hospital. A little inquiry now soon cleared up the mystery; and +it was ascertained that Sergeant Bertrand was the author of all these +profanations, and of many others of the same description previous to his +arrival in Paris. + +Supported on crutches, wrapped in a gray cloak, pale and feeble, +Bertrand was now brought forward for examination; nor was there anything +in the countenance or appearance of this young man indicative of the +fearful monomania of which he is the victim; for the whole tenor of his +confession proves that in no other light is his horrible propensity to +be considered. In the first place, he freely acknowledged himself the +author of these violations of the dead both in Paris and elsewhere. + +"What object did you propose to yourself in committing these acts?" + +"I cannot tell," replied Bertrand: "it was a horrible impulse. I was +driven to it against my own will; nothing could stop or deter me. I +cannot describe or understand myself what my sensations were in tearing +and rending these bodies." + +President.--"And what did you do after one of these visits to a +cemetery?" + +Bertrand.--"I withdrew, trembling convulsively, feeling a great desire +for repose. I fell asleep, no matter where, and slept for several hours; +but during this sleep I heard everything that passed around me! I have +sometimes exhumed from ten to fifteen bodies in a night. I dug them up +with my hands, which were often torn and bleeding with the labor I +underwent; but I minded nothing, so that I could get at them. The +guardians fired at me one night and wounded me, but that did not prevent +my returning the next. This desire seized me generally about once a +fortnight." + +Strange to say, the perpetrator of all these terrors was "gentle and +kind to the living, and especially beloved in his regiment for his +frankness and gayety." + + + + +[From Blackwood's Magazine.] + +MY NOVEL: OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE. + +BY PISISTRATUS CAXTON. + +_Continued from Page 582._ + + +BOOK II.--INITIAL CHAPTER:--INFORMING THE READER HOW THIS WORK CAME TO +HAVE INITIAL CHAPTERS. + +"There can't be a doubt," said my father, "that to each of the main +divisions of your work--whether you call them Books or Parts--you should +prefix an Initial or Introductory Chapter." + +_Pisistratus._--"Can't be a doubt, sir! Why so?" + +_Mr. Caxton._--"Fielding lays it down as an indispensable rule, which he +supports by his example; and Fielding was an artistical writer, and knew +what he was about." + +_Pisistratus._--"Do you remember any of his reasons, sir?" + +_Mr. Caxton._--"Why, indeed, Fielding says very justly that he is not +bound to assign any reason; but he does assign a good many, here and +there--to find which, I refer you to _Tom Jones_. I will only observe, +that one of his reasons, which is unanswerable, runs to the effect that +thus, in every Part or Book, the reader has the advantage of beginning +at the fourth or fifth page instead of the first--'a matter by no means +of trivial consequence,' saith Fielding, 'to persons who read books with +no other view than to say they have read them--a more general motive to +reading than is commonly imagined; and from which not only law books and +good books, but the pages of Homer and Virgil, of Swift and Cervantes, +have been often turned over.' There," cried my father triumphantly, "I +will lay a shilling to twopence that I have quoted the very words." + +_Mrs. Caxton._--"Dear me, that only means skipping: I don't see any +great advantage in writing a chapter, merely for people to skip it." + +_Pisistratus._--"Neither do I!" + +_Mr. Caxton_, dogmatically.--"It is the repose in the picture--Fielding +calls it 'contrast'--(still more dogmatically) I say there can't be a +doubt about it. Besides, (added my father after a pause,) besides, this +usage gives you opportunities to explain what has gone before, or to +prepare for what's coming; or, since Fielding contends with great truth, +that some learning is necessary for this kind of historical composition, +it allows you, naturally and easily, the introduction of light and +pleasant ornaments of that nature. At each flight in the terrace, you +may give the eye the relief of an urn or a statue. Moreover, when so +inclined, you create proper pausing places for reflection; and complete, +by a separate yet harmonious ethical department, the design of a work, +which is but a mere Mother Goose's tale if it does not embrace a general +view of the thoughts and actions of mankind." + +_Pisistratus._--"But then, in these initial chapters, the author thrusts +himself forward; and just when you want to get on with the _dramatis +personae_, you find yourself face to face with the poet himself." + +_Mr. Caxton._--"Pooh! you can contrive to prevent that! Imitate the +chorus of the Greek stage, who fill up the intervals between the action +by saying what the author would otherwise say in his own person." + +_Pisistratus_, slily.--"That's a good idea, sir--and I have a chorus, +and a choraegus too, already in my eye." + +_Mr. Caxton_, unsuspectingly.--"Aha! you are not so dull a fellow as you +would make yourself out to be; and, even if an author did thrust himself +forward, what objection is there to that?--I don't say a good poem, but +a poem. It is a mere affectation to suppose that a book can come into +the world without an author. Every child has a father, one father at +least, as the great Conde says very well in his poem." + +_Pisistratus._--"The great Conde a poet!--I never heard that before." + +_Mr. Caxton._--"I don't say he was a poet, but he sent a poem to Madame +de Montansier. Envious critics think that he must have paid somebody +else to write it; but there is no reason why a great Captain should not +write a poem. I wonder, Roland, if the Duke ever tried his hand at +'Stanzas to Mary,' or 'Lines to a sleeping babe.'" + +_Captain Roland._--"Austin, I'm ashamed of you. Of course the Duke could +write poetry if he pleased--something, I dare say, in the way of the +great Conde--that is something warlike and heroic, I'll be bound. Let's +hear!" + +_Mr. Caxton_, reciting-- + + "Telle est du Ciel la loi severe + Qu'il faut qu'un enfant ait un pere; + On dit meme quelque fois + Tel enfant en a jusqu'a trois." + +_Captain Roland_, greatly disgusted.--"Conde write such stuff!--I don't +believe it." + +_Pisistratus._--"I do, and accept the quotation--you and Roland shall be +joint fathers to my child as well as myself." + + "Tel enfant en a jusqu'a trois." + +_Mr. Caxton_, solemnly.--"I refuse the proffered paternity; but so far +as administering a little wholesome castigation, now and then, have no +objection to join in the discharge of a father's duty." + +_Pisistratus._--"Agreed; have you anything to say against the infant +hitherto?" + +_Mr. Caxton._--"He is in long clothes at present; let us wait till he +can walk." + +_Blanche._--"But pray whom do you mean for a hero?--and is Miss Jemima +your heroine?" + +_Captain Roland._--"There is some mystery about the--" + +_Pisistratus_, hastily.--"Hush, Uncle; no letting the cat out of the bag +yet. Listen, all of you! I left Frank Hazeldean on his way to the +Casino." + + +CHAPTER II. + +"It is a sweet pretty place," thought Frank, as he opened the gate which +led across the fields to the Casino, that smiled down upon him with its +plaster pilasters. "I wonder, though, that my father, who is so +particular in general, suffers the carriage road to be so full of holes +and weeds. Mounseer does not receive many visits, I take it." + +But when Frank got into the ground immediately before the house, he saw +no cause of complaint as to want of order and repair. Nothing could be +kept more neatly. Frank was ashamed of the dint made by the pony's hoofs +in the smooth gravel; he dismounted, tied the animal to the wicket, and +went on foot toward the glass door in front. + +He rang the bell once, twice, but nobody came, for the old +woman-servant, who was hard of hearing, was far away in the yard, +searching for any eggs which the hen might have scandalously hidden from +culinary purposes; and Jackeymo was fishing for the sticklebacks and +minnows, which were, when caught, to assist the eggs, when found, in +keeping together the bodies and souls of himself and his master. The old +woman was on board wages,--lucky old woman! Frank rang a third time, and +with the impetuosity of his age. A face peeped from the Belvidere on the +terrace. "Diavolo!" said Dr. Riccabocca to himself. "Young cocks crow +hard on their own dunghill; it must be a cock of a high race to crow so +loud at another's." + +Therewith he shambled out of the summer-house, and appeared suddenly +before Frank, in a very wizard-like dressing-robe of black serge, a red +cap on his head, and a cloud of smoke coming rapidly from his lips, as a +final consolatory whiff, before he removed the pipe from them. Frank had +indeed seen the Doctor before, but never in so scholastic a costume, and +he was a little startled by the apparition at his elbow, as he turned +round. + +"Signorino--young gentleman," said the Italian, taking off his cap with +his usual urbanity, "pardon the negligence of my people--I am too happy +to receive your commands in person." + +"Dr. Rickeybockey?" stammered Frank, much confused by this polite +address, and the low yet stately bow with which it was accompanied, +"I--I have a note from the Hall. Mamma--that is, my mother,--and aunt +Jemima beg their best compliments, and hope you will come, sir." + +The Doctor took the note with another bow, and, opening the glass door, +invited Frank in. + +The young gentleman, with a school-boy's usual bluntness, was about to +say that he was in a hurry, and had rather not; but Dr. Riccabocca's +grand manner awed him, while a glimpse of the hall excited his +curiosity--so he silently obeyed the invitation. + +The hall, which was of an octagon shape, had been originally paneled off +into compartments, and in these the Italian had painted landscapes, rich +with the warm sunny light of his native climate. Frank was no judge of +the art displayed; but he was greatly struck with the scenes depicted: +they were all views of some lake, real or imaginary--in all, dark-blue +shining waters reflected dark-blue placid skies. In one, a flight of +steps descended to the lake, and a gay group was seen feasting on the +margin; in another, sunset threw its rose-hues over a vast villa or +palace, backed by Alpine hills, and flanked by long arcades of vines, +while pleasure-boats skimmed over the waves below. In short, throughout +all the eight compartments, the scene, though it differed in details, +preserved the same general character, as if illustrating some favorite +locality. The Italian did not, however, evince any desire to do the +honors to his own art, but, preceding Frank across the hall, opened the +door of his usual sitting-room, and requested him to enter. Frank did +so, rather reluctantly, and seated himself with unwonted bashfulness on +the edge of a chair. But here new specimens of the Doctor's handicraft +soon riveted attention. The room had been originally papered; but +Riccabocca had stretched canvas over the walls, and painted thereon +sundry satirical devices, each separated from the other by scroll-works +of fantastic arabesques. Here a Cupid was trundling a wheel-barrow full +of hearts which he appeared to be selling to an ugly old fellow, with a +money-bag in his hand--probably Plutus. There Diogenes might be seen +walking through a market-place, with his lantern in his hand, in search +of an honest man, whilst the children jeered at him, and the curs +snapped at his heels. In another place, a lion was seen half dressed in +a fox's hide, while a wolf in a sheep's mask was conversing very +amicably with a young lamb. Here again might be seen the geese +stretching out their necks from the Roman Capitol in full cackle, while +the stout invaders were beheld in the distance, running off as hard as +they could. In short, in all these quaint entablatures some pithy +sarcasm was symbolically conveyed; only over the mantlepiece was the +design graver and more touching. It was the figure of a man in a +pilgrim's garb, chained to the earth by small but innumerable ligaments, +while a phantom likeness of himself, his shadow, was seen hastening down +what seemed an interminable vista; and underneath were written the +pathetic words of Horace-- + + "Patriae quis exul + Se quoque fugit?" + +--"What exile from his country can fly himself as well?" The furniture +of the room was extremely simple, and somewhat scanty; yet it was +arranged so as to impart an air of taste and elegance to the room. Even +a few plaster busts and statues, though bought but of some humble +itinerant, had their classical effect, glistening from out stands of +flowers that were grouped around them, or backed by graceful +screen-works formed from twisted osiers, which, by the simple +contrivance of trays at the bottom, filled with earth, served for living +parasitical plants, with gay flowers contrasting thick ivy leaves, and +gave to the whole room the aspect of a bower. + +"May I ask your permission?" said the Italian, with his finger on the +seal of the letter. + +"Oh yes," said Frank with _naivete_. + +Riccabocca broke the seal, and a slight smile stole over his +countenance. Then he turned a little aside from Frank, shaded his face +with his hand, and seemed to muse. "Mrs. Hazeldean," said he at last, +"does me very great honor. I hardly recognize her handwriting, or I +should have been more impatient to open the letter." The dark eyes were +lifted over the spectacles, and went right into Frank's unprotected and +undiplomatic heart. The Doctor raised the note, and pointed to the +characters with his forefinger. + +"Cousin Jemima's hand," said Frank, as directly as if the question had +been put to him. + +The Italian smiled. "Mr. Hazeldean has company staying with him?" + +"No; that is, only Barney--the Captain. There's seldom much company +before the shooting season," added Frank with a slight sigh; "and then +you know the holidays are over. For my part, I think we ought to break +up a month later." + +The Doctor seemed reassured by the first sentence in Frank's reply, and +seating himself at the table, wrote his answer--not hastily, as we +English write, but with care and precision, like one accustomed to weigh +the nature of words--in that stiff Italian hand, which allows the writer +so much time to think while he forms his letters. He did not therefore +reply at once to Frank's remark about the holidays, but was silent till +he had concluded his note, read it three times over, sealed it by the +taper he slowly lighted, and then, giving it to Frank, he said-- + +"For your sake, young gentleman, I regret that your holidays are so +early; for mine, I must rejoice, since I accept the kind invitation you +have rendered doubly gratifying by bringing it yourself." + +"Deuce take the fellow and his fine speeches! One don't know which way +to look," thought English Frank. + +The Italian smiled again, as if this time he had read the boy's heart, +without need of those piercing black eyes, and said, less ceremoniously +than before, "You don't care much for compliments, young gentleman?" + +"No, I don't indeed," said Frank heartily. + +"So much the better for you, since your way in the world is made: it +would be so much the worse if you had to make it!" + +Frank looked puzzled: the thought was too deep for him--so he turned to +the pictures. + +"Those are very funny," said he: "they seem capitally done--who did +'em?" + +"Signorino Hazeldean, you are giving me what you refused yourself." + +"Eh?" said Frank inquiringly. + +"Compliments!" + +"Oh--I--no; but they are well done, aren't they, sir?" + +"Not particularly: you speak to the artist." + +"What! you painted them?" + +"Yes." + +"And the pictures in the hall?" + +"Those too." + +"Taken from nature--eh?" + +"Nature," said the Italian sententiously, perhaps evasively, "let +nothing be taken from her." + +"Oh!" said Frank, puzzled again. + +"Well, I must wish you good morning, sir; I am very glad you are +coming." + +"Without compliment?" + +"Without compliment." + +"_A rivedersi_--good-by for the present, my young signorino. This way," +observing Frank make a bolt toward the wrong door. + +"Can I offer you a glass of wine--it is pure, of our own making?" + +"No, thank you, indeed, sir," cried Frank, suddenly recollecting his +father's admonition. "Good-by--don't trouble yourself, sir; I know my +way now." + +But the bland Italian followed his guest to the wicket, where Frank had +left the pony. The young gentleman, afraid lest so courteous a host +should hold the stirrup for him, twitched off the bridle, and mounted in +haste, not even staying to ask if the Italian could put him in the way +to Rood Hall, of which way he was profoundly ignorant. The Italian's eye +followed the boy as he rode up the ascent in the lane, and the Doctor +sighed heavily. "The wiser we grow," said he to himself, "the more we +regret the age of our follies: it is better to gallop with a light heart +up the stony hill than sit in the summer-house and cry 'How true!' to +the stony truths of Machiavelli!" + +With that he turned back into the Belvidere; but he could not resume his +studies. He remained some minutes gazing on the prospect, till the +prospect reminded him of the fields which Jackeymo was bent on his +hiring, and the fields reminded him of Lenny Fairfield. He walked back +to the house, and in a few moments reemerged in his out-of-door trim, +with cloak and umbrella, relighted his pipe, and strolled toward +Hazeldean village. + +Meanwhile Frank, after cantering on for some distance, stopped at a +cottage, and there learned that there was a short cut across the fields +to Rood Hall, by which he could save nearly three miles. Frank however +missed the short cut, and came out into the highroad. A turnpike-keeper, +after first taking his toll, put him back again into the short cut, and +finally he got into some green lanes, where a dilapidated finger-post +directed him to Rood. Late at noon, having ridden fifteen miles in the +desire to reduce ten to seven, he came suddenly upon a wild and +primitive piece of ground, that seemed half chase, half common, with +slovenly tumble-down cottages of villainous aspect scattered about in +odd nooks and corners; idle dirty children were making mud-pies on the +road; slovenly-looking children were plaiting straw at the thresholds; a +large but forlorn and decayed church, that seemed to say that the +generation which saw it built was more pious than the generation which +now resorted to it, stood boldly and nakedly out by the road-side. + +"Is this the village of Rood?" asked Frank of a stout young man +breaking stones on the road--sad sign that no better labor could be +found for him! + +The man sullenly nodded, and continued his work. + +"And where's the Hall--Mr. Leslie's?" + +The man looked up in stolid surprise, and this time touched his hat. + +"Be you going there?" + +"Yes, if I can find out where it is." + +"I'll show your honor," said the boor alertly. + +Frank reined in the pony, and the man walked by his side. + +Frank was much of his father's son, despite the difference of age, and +that more fastidious change of manner which characterizes each +succeeding race in the progress of civilization. Despite all his Eton +finery, he was familiar with peasants, and had the quick eye of one +country-born as to country matters. + +"You don't seem very well off in this village, my man," said he +knowingly. + +"Noa; there be a deal of distress here in the winter time, and summer +too, for that matter; and the parish ben't much help to a single man." + +"But the farmers want work here as well as elsewhere, I suppose?" + +"Deed, and there ben't much farming work here--most o' the parish be all +wild ground loike." + +"The poor have a right of common, I suppose," said Frank, surveying a +large assortment of vagabond birds and quadrupeds. + +"Yes; neighbor Timmins keeps his geese on the common, and some has a +cow--and them be neighbor Jowlas's pigs. I don't know if there's a +right, loike; but the folks at the Hall does all they can to help us, +and that ben't much: they ben't as rich as some folks; but," added the +peasant proudly, "they be as good blood as any in the shire." + +"I'm glad to see you like them, at all events." + +"Oh yes, I likes them well eno'; mayhap you are at school with the young +gentleman?" + +"Yes," said Frank. + +"Ah! I heard the clergyman say as how Master Randal was a mighty clever +lad, and would get rich some day. I'se sure I wish he would, for a poor +squire makes a poor parish. There's the Hall, sir." + + +CHAPTER III. + +Frank looked right ahead, and saw a square house, that in spite of +modern sash-windows was evidently of remote antiquity--a high conical +roof; a stack of tall quaint chimney-pots of red baked clay (like those +at Sutton Place in Surrey) dominating over isolated vulgar +smoke-conductors of the ignoble fashion of present times; a dilapidated +groin-work, incasing within a Tudor arch a door of the comfortable date +of George III., and the peculiarly dingy and weather-stained appearance +of the small finely-finished bricks, of which the habitation was +built,--all showed the abode of former generations adapted with +tasteless irreverence to the habits of descendants unenlightened by +Pugin, or indifferent to the poetry of the past. The house had emerged +suddenly upon Frank out of the gloomy waste land, for it was placed in a +hollow, and sheltered from sight by a disorderly group of ragged, +dismal, valetudinarian fir-trees, until an abrupt turn of the road +cleared that screen, and left the desolate abode bare to the +discontented eye. Frank dismounted, the man held his pony, and after +smoothing his cravat, the smart Etonian sauntered up to the door, and +startled the solitude of the place with a loud peal from the modern +brass knocker--a knock which instantly brought forth an astonished +starling who had built under the eaves of the gable roof, and called up +a cloud of sparrows, tomtits, and yellow-hammers, who had been regaling +themselves amongst the litter of a slovenly farmyard that lay in full +sight to the right of the house, fenced off by a primitive, paintless +wooden rail. In process of time a sow, accompanied by a thriving and +inquisitive family, strolled up to the gate of the fence, and leaning +her nose on the lower bar of the gate, contemplated the visitor with +much curiosity and some suspicion. + +While Frank is still without, impatiently swingeing his white trowsers +with his whip, we will steal a hurried glance toward the respective +members of the family within. Mr. Leslie, the _pater familias_, is in a +little room called his "study," to which he regularly retires every +morning after breakfast, rarely reappearing till one o'clock, which is +his unfashionable hour for dinner. In what mysterious occupations Mr. +Leslie passes those hours no one ever formed a conjecture. At the +present moment he is seated before a little rickety bureau, one leg of +which (being shorter than the other) is propped up by sundry old letters +and scraps of newspapers; and the bureau is open, and reveals a great +number of pigeon-holes and divisions, filled with various odds and ends, +the collection of many years. In some of these compartments are bundles +of letters, very yellow, and tied in packets with faded tape; in +another, all by itself, is a fragment of plum-pudding stone, which Mr. +Leslie has picked up in his walks and considered a rare mineral. It is +neatly labeled, "Found in Hollow Lane, May 21st, 1824, by Maunder Slugge +Leslie, Esq." The next division holds several bits of iron in the shape +of nails, fragments of horse-shoes, &c., which Mr. Leslie had also met +with in his rambles, and according to a harmless popular superstition, +deemed it highly unlucky not to pick up, and once picked up, no less +unlucky to throw away. _Item_, in the adjoining pigeon-hole a goodly +collection of pebbles with holes in them, preserved for the same reason, +in company with a crooked sixpence; _item_, neatly arranged in fanciful +mosaics, several periwinkles, blackamoor's teeth, (I mean the shell so +called,) and other specimens of the conchiferous ingenuity of nature, +partly inherited from some ancestral spinster, partly amassed by Mr. +Leslie himself in a youthful excursion to the sea-side. There were the +farm-bailiff's accounts, several files of bills, an old stirrup, three +sets of knee and shoe-buckles which had belonged to Mr. Leslie's father, +a few seals tied together by a shoe-string, a shagreen toothpick case, a +tortoiseshell magnifying glass to read with, his eldest son's first +copy-books, his second son's ditto, his daughter's ditto, and a lock of +his wife's hair arranged in a true lover's knot, framed and glazed. +There were also a small mousetrap, a patent corkscrew, too good to be +used in common; fragments of a silver teaspoon, that had by natural +decay arrived at a dissolution of its parts; a small brown Holland bag, +containing half-pence of various dates, as far back as Queen Anne, +accompanied by two French _sous_ and a German _silber gros_; the which +miscellany Mr. Leslie magniloquently called "his coins," and had left in +his will as a family heirloom. There were many other curiosities of +congenial nature and equal value--"_quae nunc describere longum est_." +Mr. Leslie was engaged at this time in what is termed "putting things to +rights"--an occupation he performed with exemplary care once a week. +This was his day; and he had just counted his coins, and was slowly +tying them up again, when Frank's knock reached his ears. + +Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie paused, shook his head as if incredulously, +and was about to resume his occupation, when he was seized with a fit of +yawning which prevented the bag being tied for full two minutes. + +While such the employment of the study--let us turn to the recreations +in the drawing-room, or rather parlor. A drawing-room there was on the +first floor, with a charming look-out, not on the dreary fir-trees, but +on the romantic undulating forest-land; but the drawing-room had not +been used since the death of the last Mrs. Leslie. It was deemed too +good to sit in, except when there was company; there never being +company, it was never sat in. Indeed, now the paper was falling off the +walls with the damp, and the rats, mice, and moths--those "_edaces +rerum_"--had eaten, between them, most of the chair-bottoms and a +considerable part of the floor. Therefore the parlor was the sole +general sitting-room; and being breakfasted in, dined and supped in, +and, after supper, smoked in by Mr. Leslie to the accompaniment of rum +and water, it is impossible to deny that it had what is called "a +smell"--a comfortable wholesome family smell--speaking of numbers, +meals, and miscellaneous social habitation. There were two windows; one +looked full on the fir-trees; the other on the farmyard with the pigsty +closing the view. Near the fir-tree window sat Mrs. Leslie; before her +on a high stool, was a basket of the children's clothes that wanted +mending. A work-table of rosewood inlaid with brass, which had been a +wedding present, and was a costly thing originally but in that peculiar +taste which is vulgarly called "Brumagem," stood at hand: the brass had +started in several places, and occasionally made great havoc on the +childrens' fingers and Mrs. Leslie's gown; in fact, it was the liveliest +piece of furniture in the house, thanks to that petulant brass-work, and +could not have been more mischievous if it had been a monkey. Upon the +work-table lay a housewife and thimble, and scissors and skeins of +worsted and thread, and little scraps of linen and cloth for patches. +But Mrs. Leslie was not actually working--she was preparing to work; she +had been preparing to work for the last hour and a half. Upon her lap +she supported a novel, by a lady who wrote much for a former generation, +under the name of "Mrs. Bridget Blue Mantle." She had a small needle in +her left hand, and a very thick piece of thread in her right; +occasionally she applied the end of the said thread to her lips, and +then--her eyes fixed on the novel--made a blind vacillating attack at +the eye of the needle. But a camel would have gone through it with quite +as much ease. Nor did the novel alone engage Mrs. Leslie's attention, +for ever and anon she interrupted herself to scold the children; to +inquire "what o'clock it was;" to observe that "Sarah would never suit," +and to wonder why Mr. Leslie would not see that the work-table was +mended. Mrs. Leslie had been rather a pretty woman. In spite of a dress +at once slatternly and economical, she has still the air of a +lady--rather too much so, the hard duties of her situation considered. +She is proud of the antiquity of her family on both sides; her mother +was of the venerable stock of the Daudlers of Daudle Place, a race that +existed before the Conquest. Indeed, one has only to read our earliest +chronicles, and to glance over some of those long-winded moralizing +poems which delighted the thanes and ealdermen of old, in order to see +that the Daudles must have been a very influential family before William +the First turned the country topsy-turvy. While the mother's race was +thus indubitably Saxon, the father's had not only the name but the +peculiar idiosyncracy of the Normans, and went far to establish that +crotchet of the brilliant author of _Sybil, or the Two Nations_, as to +the continued distinction between the conquering and the conquered +populations. Mrs. Leslie's father boasted the name of Montfydget; +doubtless of the same kith and kin as those great barons Montfichet, who +once owned such broad lands and such turbulent castles. A high-nosed, +thin, nervous, excitable progeny, these same Montfydgets, as the most +troublesome Norman could pretend to be. This fusion of race was notable +to the most ordinary physiognomist in the _physique_ and in the _morale_ +of Mrs. Leslie. She had the speculative blue eye of the Saxon, and the +passionate high nose of the Norman; she had the musing donothingness of +the Daudlers, and the reckless have-at-everythingness of the +Montfydgets. At Mrs. Leslie's feet, a little girl with her hair about +her ears, (and beautiful hair it was too) was amusing herself with a +broken-nosed doll. At the far end of the room, before a high desk, sat +Frank's Eton schoolfellow, the eldest son. A minute or two before +Frank's alarum had disturbed the tranquillity of the household, he had +raised his eyes from the books on the desk, to glance at a very tattered +copy of the Greek Testament, in which his brother Oliver had found a +difficulty that he came to Randal to solve. As the young Etonian's face +was turned to the light, your first impression, on seeing it, would have +been melancholy but respectful interest--for the face had already lost +the joyous character of youth--there was a wrinkle between the brows; +and the lines that speak of fatigue were already visible under the eyes +and about the mouth; the complexion was sallow, the lips were pale. +Years of study had already sown, in the delicate organization, the seeds +of many an infirmity and many a pain; but if your look had rested longer +on that countenance, gradually your compassion might have given place to +some feeling uneasy and sinister, a feeling akin to fear. There was in +the whole expression so much of cold calm force, that it belied the +debility of the frame. You saw there the evidence of a mind that was +cultivated, and you felt that in that cultivation there was something +formidable. A notable contrast to this countenance, prematurely worn and +eminently intelligent, was the round healthy face of Oliver, with slow +blue eyes, fixed hard on the penetrating orbs of his brother, as if +trying with might and main to catch from them a gleam of that knowledge +with which they shone clear and frigid as a star. + +At Frank's knock, Oliver's slow blue eyes sparkled into animation, and +he sprang from his brother's side. The little girl flung back the hair +from her face, and stared at her mother with a look of wonder and +fright. + +The young student knit his brows, and then turned wearily back to his +books. + +"Dear me," cried Mrs. Leslie, "who can that possibly be? Oliver, come +from the window, sir, this instant, you will be seen! Juliet, run--ring +the bell--no, go to the stairs, and say, 'not at home.' Not at home on +any account," repeated Mrs. Leslie nervously, for the Montfydget blood +was now in full flow. + +In another minute or so, Frank's loud boyish voice was distinctly heard +at the outer door. + +Randal slightly started. + +"Frank Hazeldean's voice," said he; "I should like to see him, mother." + +"See him," repeated Mrs. Leslie in amaze, "see him!--and the room in +this state!" + +Randal might have replied that the room was in no worse state than +usual; but he said nothing. A slight flush came and went over his pale +face; and then he leaned his cheek on his hand, and compressed his lips +firmly. + +The outer door closed with a sullen inhospitable jar, and a slipshod +female servant entered with a card between her finger and thumb. + +"Who is that for?--give it to me, Jenny," cried Mrs. Leslie. + +But Jenny shook her head, laid the card on the desk beside Randal, and +vanished without saying a word. + +"Oh look, Randal, look up," cried Oliver, who had again rushed to the +window; "such a pretty gray pony!" + +Randal did look up; nay, he went deliberately to the window, and gazed a +moment on the high-mettled pony, and the well-dressed, high-spirited +rider. In that moment changes passed over Randal's countenance more +rapidly than clouds over the sky in a gusty day. Now envy and +discontent, with the curled lip and the gloomy scowl; now hope and proud +self-esteem, with the clearing brow, and the lofty smile; and then all +again became cold, firm, and close, as he walked back to his books, +seated himself resolutely, and said half aloud,--"Well, KNOWLEDGE IS +POWER!" + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Mrs. Leslie came up in fidget and in fuss; she leant over Randal's +shoulder and read the card. Written in pen and ink, with an attempt at +imitation of printed Roman character, there appeared first, '_Mr. Frank +Hazeldean_;' but just over these letters, and scribbled hastily and less +legibly in pencil, was-- + +'Dear Leslie,--sorry you are out--come and see us--_Do!_' + +"You will go, Randal?" said Mrs. Leslie after a pause. + +"I am not sure." + +"Yes, _you_ can go; _you_ have clothes like a gentleman; _you_ can go +anywhere, not like those children;" and Mrs. Leslie glanced almost +spitefully on poor Oliver's coarse threadbare jacket, and little +Juliet's torn frock. + +"What I have I owe at present to Mr. Egerton, and I should consult his +wishes; he is not on good terms with these Hazeldeans." Then glancing +toward his brother, who looked mortified, he added with a strange sort +of haughty kindness, "What I may have hereafter, Oliver, I shall owe to +myself; and then, if I rise, I will raise my family." + +"Dear Randal," said Mrs. Leslie, fondly kissing him on the forehead, +"what a good heart you have!" + +"No, mother; my books don't tell me that it is a good heart that gets on +in the world: it is a hard head," replied Randal with a rude and +scornful candor. "But I can read no more just now; come out, Oliver." + +So saying, he slid from his mother's hand and left the room. + +When Oliver joined him, Randal was already on the common; and, without +seeming to notice his brother, he continued to walk quickly and with +long strides in profound silence. At length he paused under the shade +of an old oak, that, too old to be of value save for firewood, had +escaped the axe. The tree stood on a knoll, and the spot commanded a +view of the decayed house--the old dilapidated church--the dismal, +dreary village. + +"Oliver," said Randal between his teeth, so that his voice had the sound +of a hiss, "it was under this tree that I first resolved to--" + +He paused. + +"What, Randal?" + +"Read hard; knowledge is power!" + +"But you are so fond of reading." + +"I!" cried Randal. "Do you think, when Woolsey and Thomas-a-Becket +became priests, they were fond of telling their beads and pattering +Aves?--I fond of reading!" + +Oliver stared; the historical allusions were beyond his comprehension. + +"You know," continued Randal, "that we Leslies were not always the +beggarly poor gentlemen we are now. You know that there is a man who +lives in Grosvenor Square, and is very rich--very. His riches came to +him from a Leslie; that man is my patron, Oliver, and he is very good to +me." + +Randal's smile was withering as he spoke. "Come on," he said, after a +pause--"come on." Again the walk was quicker, and the brothers were +silent. + +They came at length to a little shallow brook, across which some large +stones had been placed at short intervals, so that the boys walked over +the ford dryshod. "Will you pull me down that bough, Oliver?" said +Randal abruptly, pointing to a tree. Oliver obeyed mechanically; and +Randal, stripping the leaves, and snapping off the twigs, left a fork at +the end; with this he began to remove the stepping stones. "What are you +about, Randal?" asked Oliver, wonderingly. + +"We are on the other side of the brook now; and we shall not come back +this way. We don't want the stepping-stones anymore!--away with them!" + + +CHAPTER V. + +The morning after this visit of Frank Hazeldean's to Rood Hall, the +Right Honorable Audley Egerton, member of parliament, privy councillor, +and minister of a high department in the state--just below the rank of +the cabinet--was seated in his library, awaiting the delivery of the +post, before he walked down to his office. In the meanwhile, he sipped +his tea, and glanced over the newspapers with that quick and half +disdainful eye with which your practical man in public life is wont to +regard the abuse or the eulogium of the Fourth Estate. + +There is very little likeness between Mr. Egerton and his half-brother; +none indeed, except that they are both of tall stature, and strong, +sinewy, English build. But even in this last they do not resemble each +other; for the Squire's athletic shape is already beginning to expand +into that portly embonpoint which seems the natural development of +contented men as they approach middle life. Audley, on the contrary, is +inclined to be spare; and his figure, though the muscles are as firm as +iron, has enough of the slender to satisfy metropolitan ideas of +elegance. His dress--his look--his _tout ensemble_, are those of the +London man. In the first, there is more attention to fashion than is +usual amongst the busy members of the House of Commons; but then Audley +Egerton had always been something more than a mere busy member of the +House of Commons. He had always been a person of mark in the best +society, and one secret of his success in life has been his high +reputation as 'a gentleman.' + +As he now bends over the journals, there is an air of distinction in the +turn of the well-shaped head, with the dark-brown hair--dark in spite of +a reddish tinge--cut close behind, and worn away a little toward the +crown, so as to give additional height to a commanding forehead. His +profile is very handsome, and of that kind of beauty which imposes on +men if it pleases women; and is therefore, unlike that of your mere +pretty fellows, a positive advantage in public life. It is a profile +with large features clearly cut, masculine, and somewhat severe. The +expression of his face is not open, like the Squire's; nor has it the +cold closeness which accompanies the intellectual character of young +Leslie's; but it is reserved and dignified, and significant of +self-control, as should be the physiognomy of a man accustomed to think +before he speaks. When you look at him, you are not surprised to learn +that he is not a florid orator nor a smart debater--he is a "weighty +speaker." He is fairly read, but without any great range either of +ornamental scholarship or constitutional lore. He has not much humor; +but he has that kind of wit which is essential to grave and serious +irony. He has not much imagination, nor remarkable subtilty in +reasoning; but if he does not dazzle, he does not _bore_: he is too much +the man of the world for that. He is considered to have sound sense and +accurate judgment. Withal, as he now lays aside the journals, and his +face relaxes its austerer lines, you will not be astonished to hear that +he is a man who is said to have been greatly beloved by women, and still +to exercise much influence in drawing-rooms and boudoirs. At least no +one was surprised when the great heiress Clementina Leslie, kinswoman +and ward to Lord Lansmere--a young lady who had refused three earls and +the heir-apparent to a dukedom--was declared by her dearest friends to +be dying of love for Audley Egerton. + +It had been the natural wish of the Lansmeres that this lady should +marry their son, Lord L'Estrange. But that young gentleman, whose +opinions on matrimony partook of the eccentricity of his general +character, could never be induced to propose, and had, according to the +_on-dits_ of town, been the principal party to make up the match between +Clementina and his friend Audley; for the match required making-up, +despite the predilections of the young heiress. Mr. Egerton had had +scruples of delicacy. He avowed, for the first time, that his fortune +was much less than had been generally supposed, and he did not like the +idea of owing all to a wife, however much he might esteem and admire +her. L'Estrange was with his regiment abroad during the existence of +these scruples; but by letters to his father, and to his cousin +Clementina, he contrived to open and conclude negotiations, while he +argued away Mr. Egerton's objections; and before the year in which +Audley was returned for Lansmere had expired, he received the hand of +the great heiress. The settlement of her fortune, which was chiefly in +the funds, had been unusually advantageous to the husband; for though +the capital was tied up so long as both survived--for the benefit of any +children they might have--yet, in the event of one of the parties dying +without issue by the marriage, the whole passed without limitation to +the survivor. In not only assenting to, but proposing this clause, Miss +Leslie, if she showed a generous trust in Mr. Egerton, inflicted no +positive wrong on her relations; for she had none sufficiently near to +her to warrant their claim to the succession. Her nearest kinsman, and +therefore her natural heir, was Harley L'Estrange; and if he was +contented, no one had a right to complain. The tie of blood between +herself and the Leslies of Rood Hall was, as we shall see presently, +extremely distant. + +It was not till after his marriage that Mr. Egerton took an active part +in the business of the House of Commons. He was then at the most +advantageous starting-point for the career of ambition. His words on the +state of the country took importance from his stake in it. His talents +found accessories in the opulence of Grosvenor Square, the dignity of a +princely establishment, the respectability of one firmly settled in +life, the reputation of a fortune in reality very large, and which was +magnified by popular report into the revenues of Croesus. Audley +Egerton succeeded in Parliament beyond the early expectations formed of +him. He took at first that station in the House which it requires tact +to establish, and great knowledge of the world to free from the charge +of impracticability and crotchet, but which, once established, is +peculiarly imposing from the rarity of its independence; that is to say, +the station of the moderate man, who belongs sufficiently to a party to +obtain its support, but is yet sufficiently disengaged from a party to +make his vote and word, on certain questions, matter of anxiety and +speculation. + +Professing Toryism, (the word Conservative, which would have suited him +better, was not then known,) he separated himself from the country +party, and always avowed great respect for the opinions of the large +towns. The epithet given to the views of Audley Egerton was +"enlightened." Never too much in advance of the passion of the day, yet +never behind its movement, he had that shrewd calculation of odds which +a consummate mastery of the world sometimes bestows upon +politicians--perceived the chances for and against a certain question +being carried within a certain time, and nicked the question between +wind and water. He was so good a barometer of that changeful weather +called Public Opinion that he might have had a hand in the _Times_ +newspaper. He soon quarreled, and purposely, with his Lansmere +constituents--nor had he ever revisited that borough, perhaps because it +was associated with unpleasant reminiscences in the shape of the +Squire's epistolary trimmer, and in that of his own effigies which his +agricultural constituents had burned in the corn-market. But the +speeches which produced such indignation at Lansmere, had delighted one +of the greatest of our commercial towns, which at the next general +election honored him with its representation. In those days, before the +Reform Bill, great commercial towns chose men of high mark for their +members; and a proud station it was for him who was delegated to speak +the voice of the princely merchants of England. + +Mrs. Egerton survived her marriage but a few years; she left no +children; two had been born, but died in their first infancy. The +property of the wife, therefore, passed without control or limit to the +husband. + +Whatever might have been the grief of the widower, he disdained to +betray it to the world. Indeed, Audley Egerton was a man who had early +taught himself to conceal emotion. He buried himself in the country, +none knew where, for some months: when he returned, there was a deep +wrinkle on his brow; but no change in his habits and avocation, except +that soon afterward he accepted office, and thus became busier than +ever. + +Mr. Egerton had always been lavish and magnificent in money matters. A +rich man in public life has many claims on his fortune, and no one +yielded to those claims with an air so regal as Audley Egerton. But +amongst his many liberal actions, there was none which seemed more +worthy of panegyric than the generous favor he extended to the son of +his wife's poor and distant kinsfolks, the Leslies of Rood Hall. + +Some four generations back, there had lived a certain Squire Leslie, a +man of large acres and active mind. He had cause to be displeased with +his elder son, and though he did not disinherit him, he left half his +property to a younger. + +The younger had capacity and spirit, which justified the paternal +provision. He increased his fortune; lifted himself into notice and +consideration by public services and a noble alliance. His descendants +followed his example, and took rank among the first commoners in +England, till the last male, dying, left his sole heiress and +representative in one daughter, Clementina, afterward married to Mr. +Egerton. + +Meanwhile the elder son of the forementioned Squire had muddled and +sotted away much of his share in the Leslie property; and, by low +habits and mean society, lowered in repute his representation of the +name. + +His successors imitated him, till nothing was left to Randal's father, +Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie, but the decayed house which was what the +Germans call the _stamm schloss_, or "stem hall" of the race, and the +wretched lands immediately around it. + +Still, though all intercourse between the two branches of the family had +ceased, the younger had always felt a respect for the elder, as the head +of the house. And it was supposed that, on her deathbed, Mrs. Egerton +had recommended her impoverished namesakes and kindred to the care of +her husband. For, when he returned to town after Mrs. Egerton's death, +Audley had sent to Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie the sum of L5000, which he +said his wife, leaving no written will, had orally bequeathed as a +legacy to that gentleman; and he requested permission to charge himself +with the education of the eldest son. + +Mr. Maunder Slugge Leslie might have done great things for his little +property with those five thousand pounds, or even (kept in the three per +cents) the interest would have afforded a material addition to his +comforts. But a neighboring solicitor having caught scent of the legacy, +hunted it down into his own hands, on pretense of having found a capital +investment in a canal. And when the solicitor had got possession of the +five thousand pounds, he went off with them to America. + +Meanwhile Randal, placed by Mr. Egerton at an excellent preparatory +school, at first gave no signs of industry or talent; but just before he +left it, there came to the school, as classical tutor, an ambitious +young Oxford man; and his zeal, for he was a capital teacher, produced a +great effect generally on the pupils, and especially on Randal Leslie. +He talked to them much in private on the advantages of learning, and +shortly afterward he exhibited those advantages in his own person; for, +having edited a Greek play with much subtil scholarship, his college, +which some slight irregularities of his had displeased, recalled him to +its venerable bosom by the presentation of a fellowship. After this he +took orders, became a college tutor, distinguished himself yet more by a +treatise on the Greek accent, got a capital living, and was considered +on the highroad to a bishopric. This young man, then, communicated to +Randal the thirst for knowledge; and when the boy went afterward to +Eton, he applied with such earnestness and resolve that his fame soon +reached the ears of Audley; and that person, who had the sympathy for +talent, and yet more for purpose, which often characterizes ambitious +men, went to Eton to see him. From that time Audley evinced great and +almost fatherly interest in the brilliant Etonian; and Randal always +spent with him some days in each vacation. + +I have said that Egerton's conduct, with respect to this boy, was more +praiseworthy than most of those generous actions for which he was +renowned, since to this the world gave no applause. What a man does +within the range of his family connections, does not carry with it that +_eclat_ which invests a munificence exhibited on public occasions. +Either people care nothing about it, or tacitly suppose it to be but his +duty. It was true, too, as the Squire had observed, that Randal Leslie +was even less distantly related to the Hazeldeans than to Mrs. Egerton, +since Randal's grandfather had actually married a Miss Hazeldean, (the +highest worldly connection that branch of the family had formed since +the great split I have commemorated.) But Audley Egerton never appeared +aware of that fact. As he was not himself descended from the Hazeldeans, +he never troubled himself about their genealogy; and he took care to +impress it upon the Leslies that his generosity on their behalf was +solely to be ascribed to his respect for his wife's memory and kindred. +Still the Squire had felt as if his "distant brother" implied a rebuke +on his own neglect of these poor Leslies, by the liberality Audley +evinced toward them; and this had made him doubly sore when the name of +Randal Leslie was mentioned. But the fact really was, that the Leslies +of Rood had so shrunk out of all notice that the Squire had actually +forgotten their existence, until Randal became thus indebted to his +brother; and then he felt a pang of remorse that any one save himself, +the head of the Hazeldeans, should lend a helping hand to the grandson +of a Hazeldean. + +But having thus, somewhat too tediously, explained the position of +Audley Egerton, whether in the world or in the relation to his young +_protege_, I may now permit him to receive and to read his letters. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +Mr. Egerton glanced over the pile of letters placed beside him, and +first he tore up some, scarcely read, and threw them into the +waste-basket. Public men have such odd out-of-the-way letters that their +waste-baskets are never empty: letters from amateur financiers proposing +new ways to pay off the National Debt; letters from America, (never +free!) asking for autographs; letters from fond mothers in country +villages, recommending some miracle of a son for a place in the king's +service; letters from freethinkers in reproof of bigotry; letters from +bigots in reproof of freethinking; letters signed Brutus Redivivus, +containing the agreeable information that the writer has a dagger for +tyrants, if the Danish claims are not forthwith adjusted; letters signed +Matilda or Caroline, stating that Caroline or Matilda has seen the +public man's portrait at the Exhibition, and that a heart sensible to +its attractions may be found at No. ---- Piccadilly; letters from +beggars, impostors, monomaniacs, speculators, jobbers--all food for the +waste-basket. + +From the correspondence thus winnowed, Mr. Egerton first selected those +on business, which he put methodically together in one division of his +pocket-book; and secondly, those of a private nature, which he as +carefully put into another. Of these last there were but three--one from +his steward, one from Harley L'Estrange, one from Randal Leslie. It was +his custom to answer his correspondence at his office; and to his +office, a few minutes afterward, he slowly took his way. Many a +passenger turned back to look again at the firm figure, which, despite +the hot summer day, was buttoned up to the throat; and the black +frock-coat thus worn, well became the erect air, and the deep full chest +of the handsome senator. When he entered Parliament Street, Audley +Egerton was joined by one of his colleagues, also on his way to the +cares of office. + +After a few observations on the last debate, this gentleman said-- + +"By the way, can you dine with me next Saturday, to meet Lansmere? He +comes up to town to vote for us on Monday." + +"I had asked some people to dine with me," answered Egerton, "but I will +put them off. I see Lord Lansmere too seldom, to miss any occasion to +meet a man whom I respect so much." + +"So seldom! True, he is very little in town; but why don't you go and +see him in the country? Good shooting--pleasant old-fashioned house." + +"My dear Westbourne, his house is '_nimium vicina Cremonae_,' close to a +borough in which I have been burned in effigy." + +"Ha--ha--yes--I remember you first came into Parliament for that snug +little place; but Lansmere himself never found fault with your votes, +did he?" + +"He behaved very handsomely, and said he had not presumed to consider me +his mouthpiece; and then, too, I am so intimate with L'Estrange." + +"Is that queer fellow ever coming back to England?" + +"He comes, generally every year, for a few days, just to see his father +and mother, and then goes back to the Continent." + +"I never meet him." + +"He comes in September or October, when you, of course, are not in town, +and it is in town that the Lansmeres meet him." + +"Why does he not go to them?" + +"A man in England but once a year, and for a few days, has so much to do +in London, I suppose." + +"Is he as amusing as ever?" + +Egerton nodded. + +"So distinguished as he might be!" continued Lord Westbourne. + +"So distinguished as he is!" said Egerton formally; "an officer selected +for praise, even in such fields as Quatre Bras and Waterloo; a scholar, +too, of the finest taste; and as an accomplished gentleman, matchless!" + +"I like to hear one man praise another so warmly in these ill-natured +days," answered Lord Westbourne. "But still, though L'Estrange is +doubtless all you say, don't you think he rather wastes his life--living +abroad?" + +"And trying to be happy, Westbourne? Are you sure it is not we who waste +our lives? But I can't stay to hear your answer. Here we are at the door +of my prison." + +"On Saturday, then?" + +"On Saturday. Good day." + +For the next hour, or more, Mr. Egerton was engaged on the affairs of +the state. He then snatched an interval of leisure, (while awaiting a +report, which he had instructed a clerk to make him,) in order to reply +to his letters. Those on public business were soon dispatched; and +throwing his replies aside, to be sealed by a subordinate hand, he drew +out the letters which he had put apart as private. + +He attended first to that of his steward: the steward's letter was long, +the reply was contained in three lines. Pitt himself was scarcely more +negligent of his private interests and concerns than Audley +Egerton--yet, withal, Audley Egerton was said by his enemies to be an +egotist. + +The next letter he wrote was to Randal, and that, though longer, was far +from prolix: it ran thus-- + +"Dear Mr. Leslie,--I appreciate your delicacy in consulting me, whether +you should accept Frank Hazeldean's invitation to call at the Hall. +Since you are asked, I can see no objection to it. I should be sorry if +you appeared to force yourself there; and for the rest, as a general +rule, I think a young man who has his own way to make in life had better +avoid all intimacy with those of his own age who have no kindred objects +nor congenial pursuits. + +"As soon as this visit is paid, I wish you to come to London. The report +I receive of your progress at Eton renders it unnecessary, in my +judgment, that you should return there. If your father has no objection, +I propose that you should go to Oxford at the ensuing term. Meanwhile, I +have engaged a gentleman who is a fellow of Baliol, to read with you; he +is of opinion, judging only by your high repute at Eton, that you may at +once obtain a scholarship in that college. If you do so, I shall look +upon your career in life as assured. + + Your affectionate friend, and sincere + well-wisher, A.E." + +The reader will remark that, in this letter, there is a certain tone of +formality. Mr. Egerton does not call his _protege_ "Dear Randal," as +would seem natural, but coldly and stiffly, "Dear Mr. Leslie." He hints, +also, that the boy has his own way to make in life. Is this meant to +guard against too sanguine notions of inheritance, which his generosity +may have excited? + +The letter to Lord L'Estrange was of a very different kind from the +others. It was long, and full of such little scraps of news and gossip +as may interest friends in a foreign land; it was written gaily, and as +with a wish to cheer his friend; you could see that it was a reply to a +melancholy letter; and in the whole tone and spirit there was an +affection, even to tenderness, of which those who most liked Audley +Egerton would have scarcely supposed him capable. Yet, notwithstanding, +there was a kind of constraint in the letter, which perhaps only the +fine tact of a woman would detect. It had not that _abandon_, that +hearty self-outpouring, which you might expect would characterize the +letters of two such friends, who had been boys at school together, and +which did breathe indeed in all the abrupt rambling sentences of his +correspondent. But where was the evidence of the constraint? Egerton is +off-hand enough where his pen runs glibly through paragraphs that relate +to others; it is simply that he says nothing about himself--that he +avoids all reference to the inner world of sentiment and feeling. But +perhaps, after all, the man has no sentiment and feeling! How can you +expect that a steady personage in practical life, whose mornings are +spent in Downing Street, and whose nights are consumed in watching +government bills through committee, can write in the same style as an +idle dreamer amidst the pines of Ravenna or on the banks of Como. + +Audley had just finished this epistle, such as it was, when the +attendant in waiting announced the arrival of a deputation from a +provincial trading town, the members of which deputation he had +appointed to meet at two o'clock. There was no office in London at which +deputations were kept waiting less than at that over which Mr. Egerton +presided. + +The deputation entered--some score or so of middle-aged, +comfortable-looking persons, who nevertheless had their grievance--and +considered their own interests, and those of the country, menaced by a +certain clause in a bill brought in by Mr. Egerton. + +The Mayor of the town was the chief spokesman, and he spoke well--but in +a style to which the dignified official was not accustomed. It was a +slap-dash style--unceremonious, free, and easy--an American style. And, +indeed, there was something altogether in the appearance and bearing of +the Mayor which savored of residence in the Great Republic. He was a +very handsome man, but with a look sharp and domineering--the look of a +man who did not care a straw for president or monarch, and who enjoyed +the liberty to speak his mind, and "wallop his own nigger!" + +His fellow-burghers evidently regarded him with great respect; and Mr. +Egerton had penetration enough to perceive that Mr. Mayor must be a rich +man, as well as an eloquent one, to have overcome those impressions of +soreness or jealousy which his tone was calculated to create in the +self-love of his equals. + +Mr. Egerton was far too wise to be easily offended by mere manner; and, +though he stared somewhat haughtily when he found his observations +actually pooh-poohed, he was not above being convinced. There was much +sense and much justice in Mr. Mayor's arguments, and the statesman +civilly promised to take them into full consideration. + +He then bowed out the deputation; but scarcely had the door closed +before it opened again, and Mr. Mayor presented himself alone, saying +aloud to his companions in the passage, "I forgot something I had to say +to Mr. Egerton; wait below for me." + +"Well, Mr. Mayor," said Audley, pointing to a seat, "what else would you +suggest?" + +The Mayor looked round to see that the door was closed; and then, +drawing his chair close to Mr. Egerton's, laid his forefinger on that +gentleman's arm, and said, "I think I speak to a man of the world, sir." + +Mr. Egerton bowed, and made no reply by word, but he gently removed his +arm from the touch of the forefinger. + +_Mr. Mayor._--"You observe, sir, that I did not ask the members whom we +return to Parliament to accompany us. Do better without 'em. You know +they are both in Opposition--out-and-outers." + +_Mr. Egerton._--"It is a misfortune which the Government cannot +remember, when the question is whether the trade of the town itself is +to be served or injured." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"Well, I guess you speak handsome, sir. But you'd be glad +to have two members to support Ministers after the next election." + +_Mr. Egerton_, smilingly.--"Unquestionably, Mr. Mayor." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"And I can do it, Mr. Egerton. I may say I have the town +in my pocket; so I ought, I spend a great deal of money in it. Now, you +see, Mr. Egerton, I have passed a part of my life in a land of +liberty--the United States--and I come to the point when I speak to a +man of the world. I am a man of the world myself, sir. And if so be the +Government will do something for me, why, I'll do something for the +Government. Two votes for a free and independent town like ours--that's +something, isn't it?" + +_Mr. Egerton_, taken by surprise--"Really I--" + +_Mr. Mayor_, advancing his chair still nearer, and interrupting the +official.--"No nonsense, you see, on one side or the other. The fact is +that I have taken it into my head that I should like to be knighted. You +may well look surprised, Mr. Egerton--trumpery thing enough, I dare say; +still every man has his weakness and I should like to be Sir Richard. +Well, if you can get me made Sir Richard, you may just name your two +members for the next election--that is, if they belong to your own set, +enlightened men, up to the times. That's speaking fair and manful, isn't +it?" + +_Mr. Egerton_, drawing himself up.--"I am at a loss to guess why you +should select me, sir, for this very extraordinary proposition." + +_Mr. Mayor_, nodding good-humoredly.--"Why, you see, I don't go all +along with the Government; you're the best of the bunch. And maybe +you'd like to strengthen your own party. This is quite between you and +me, you understand; honor's a jewel!" + +_Mr. Egerton_, with great gravity.--"Sir, I am obliged by your good +opinion; but I agree with my colleagues in all the great questions +affecting the government of the country, and--" + +_Mr. Mayor_, interrupting him.--"Ah, of course you must say so; very +right. But I guess things would go differently if you were Prime +Minister. However, I have another reason for speaking to you about my +little job. You see you were member for Lansmere once, and I think you +came in but by two majority, eh?" + +_Mr. Egerton._--"I know nothing of the particulars of that election; I +was not present." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"No; but, luckily for you, two relatives of mine were, and +they voted for you. Two votes, and you came in by two! Since then, you +have got into very snug quarters here, and I think we have a claim on +you--" + +_Mr. Egerton._--"Sir, I acknowledge no such claim; I was and am a +stranger in Lansmere; and, if the electors did me the honor to return me +to Parliament, it was in compliment rather to--" + +_Mr. Mayor_, again interrupting the official.--"Rather to Lord Lansmere, +you were going to say; unconstitutional doctrine that, I fancy. Peer of +the realm. But, never mind, I know the world; and I'd ask Lord Lansmere +to do my affair for me, only I hear he is as proud as Lucifer." + +_Mr. Egerton_, in great disgust, and settling his papers before +him.--"Sir, it is not in my department to recommend to his Majesty +candidates for the honor of knighthood, and it is still less in my +department to make bargains for seats in Parliament." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"Oh, if that's the case, you'll excuse me; I don't know +much of the etiquette in these matters. But I thought that, if I put two +seats in your hands, for your own friends, you might contrive to take +the affair into your department, whatever it was. But since you say you +agree with your colleagues, perhaps it comes to the same thing. Now you +must not suppose I want to sell the town, and that I can change and chop +my politics for my own purpose. No such thing! I don't like the sitting +members; I'm all for progressing, but they go _too_ much ahead for me; +and, since the Government is disposed to move a little, why I'd as lief +support them as not. But, in common gratitude, you see, (added the +Mayor, coaxingly,) I ought to be knighted! I can keep up the dignity, +and do credit to his Majesty." + +_Mr. Egerton_, without looking up from his papers.--"I can only refer +you, sir, to the proper quarter." + +_Mr. Mayor_, impatiently.--"Proper quarter! Well, since there is so much +humbug in this old country of ours, that one must go through all the +forms and get at the job regularly, just tell me whom I ought to go to." + +_Mr. Egerton_, beginning to be amused as well as indignant.--"If you +want a knighthood, Mr. Mayor, you must ask the Prime Minister; if you +want to give the Government information relative to seats in Parliament, +you must introduce yourself to Mr. ----, the Secretary of the Treasury." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"And if I go to the last chap, what do you think he'll +say?" + +_Mr. Egerton_, the amusement preponderating over the indignation.--"He +will say, I suppose, that you must not put the thing in the light in +which you have put it to me; that the Government will be very proud to +have the confidence of yourself and your brother electors; and that a +gentleman like you, in the proud position of Mayor, may well hope to be +knighted on some fitting occasion. But that you must not talk about the +knighthood just at present, and must confine yourself to converting the +unfortunate political opinions of the town." + +_Mr. Mayor._--"Well, I guess that chap there would want to do me! Not +quite so green, Mr. Egerton. Perhaps I'd better go at once to the +fountain-head. How d'ye think the Premier would take it?" + +_Mr. Egerton_, the indignation preponderating over the +amusement.--"Probably just as I am about to do." + +Mr. Egerton rang the bell; the attendant appeared. + +"Show Mr. Mayor the way out," said the Minister. + +The Mayor turned round sharply, and his face was purple. He walked +straight to the door; but, suffering the attendant to precede him along +the corridor, he came back with rapid stride, and clinching his hands, +and with a voice thick with passion, cried, "Some day or other I will +make you smart for this, as sure as my name's Dick Avenel!" + +"Avenel!" repeated Egerton, recoiling, "Avenel!" + +But the Mayor was gone. + +Audley fell into a deep and musing reverie which seemed gloomy, and +lasted till the attendant announced that the horses were at the door. + +He then looked up, still abstractedly, and saw his letter to Harley +L'Estrange open on the table. He drew it toward him, and wrote, "A man +has just left me, who calls himself Aven--" in the middle of the name +his pen stopped. "No, no," muttered the writer, "what folly to reopen +the old wounds there," and he carefully erased the words. + +Audley Egerton did not ride in the park that day, as was his wont, but +dismissed his groom; and, turning his horse's head toward Westminster +Bridge, took his solitary way into the country. He rode at first slowly, +as if in thought; then fast, as if trying to escape from thought. He was +later than usual at the House that evening, and he looked pale and +fatigued. But he had to speak, and he spoke well. + +TO BE CONTINUED. + + +[From the Journal des Chasseurs.] + +WILD SPORTS IN ALGERIA. + +BY M. JULES GERARD. + +I knew of a large old lion in the Smauls country and betook myself in +that direction. On arriving I heard that he was in the Bonarif, near +Batnah. My tent was not yet pitched at the foot of the mountain, when I +learned that he was at the Fed Jong, where, on my arrival, I found he +had gained the Aures. After traveling one hundred leagues in ten days in +the trace of my brute without catching a glimpse of anything but his +footprints, I was gratified on the night of the 22d of August with the +sound of my lord's voice. I had established my tent in the valley of +Ousten. As there is only one path across this thickly covered valley, I +found it an easy task to discover his track and follow it to his lair. +At six o'clock in the evening I alighted upon a hillock commanding a +prospect of the country around. I was accompanied by a native of the +country and my spahi, one carrying my carbine, the other my old gun. As +I had anticipated, the lion roared under cover at dawn of day; but +instead of advancing toward me, he started off in a westerly direction +at such a pace that it was impossible for me to come up with him. I +retraced my steps at midnight and took up my quarters at the foot of a +tree upon the path which the lion had taken. The country about this spot +was cleared and cultivated. The moon being favorable, the approach of +anything could be descried in every direction. I installed myself and +waited. Weary after a ride of several hours over a very irregular +country, and not expecting any chance that night, I enjoined my spahi to +keep a good watch, and lay down. I was just about to fall asleep when I +felt a gentle pull at my burnous. On getting up I was able to make out +two lions, sitting one beside the other, about one hundred paces off, +and exactly on the path in which I had taken up my position. At first I +thought we had been perceived, and prepared to make the best of this +discovery. The moon shed a light upon the entire ground which the lions +would have to cross in order to reach the tree, close to which all +within a circumference of ten paces was completely dark, both on account +of the thickness of the tree and the shadow cast by the foliage. My +spahi, like me, was in range of the shadow, while the Arab lay snoring +ten paces off in the full light of the moon. There was no doubting the +fact--it was this man who attracted the attention of the lions. I +expressly forbade the spahi to wake up the Arab, as I was persuaded that +when the action was over he would be proud of having served as a bait +even without knowing it. I then prepared my arms and placed them against +the tree and got up, in order the better to observe the movements of the +enemy. They were not less than half an hour traversing a distance of one +hundred metres. Although the ground was open, I could only see them when +they raised their heads to make sure that the Arab was still there. They +took advantage of every stone and every tuft of grass to render +themselves almost invisible; at last the boldest of them came up +crouching on his belly to within ten paces of me and fifteen of the +Arab. His eye was fixed on the latter, and with such an expression that +I was afraid I had waited too long. The second, who had stayed a few +paces behind, came and placed himself on a level with and about four or +five paces from the first. I then saw for the first time that they were +full-grown lionesses. I took aim at the first, and she came rolling and +roaring down to the foot of the tree. The Arab was scarcely awakened +when a second ball stretched the animal dead upon the spot. The first +bullet went in at the muzzle and came out at the tail; the second had +gone through the heart. After making sure that my men were all right, I +looked out for the second lioness. She was standing up within fifteen +paces, looking at what was going on around her. I took my gun and +leveled it at her. She squatted down. When I fired she fell down +roaring, and disappeared in a field of maize on the edge of the road. On +approaching I found by her moaning that she was still alive, and did not +venture at night into the thick plantation which sheltered her. As soon +as it was day I went to the spot where she had fallen, and all I found +were bloodmarks showing her track in the direction of the wood. After +sending the dead lioness to the neighboring garrison, who celebrated its +arrival by a banquet, I returned to my post of the previous night. A +little after sunset the lion roared for the first time, but instead of +quitting his lair he remained there all night, roaring like a madman. +Convinced that the wounded lioness was there, I sent on the morning of +the 24th two Arabs to explore the cover. They returned without daring to +approach it. On the night of the 24th there was the same roaring and +complaining of the lion on the mountain and under cover. On the 25th, at +five in the evening, I had a young goat muzzled, and proceeded with it +to the mountain. The lair was exceedingly difficult of access. +Nevertheless I succeeded at last by crawling now on my hands and now on +my belly in reaching it. Having discovered certain indications of the +presence of the inhabitants of this locality, I had the goat unmuzzled +and tied to a tree. Then followed the most comical panic on the part of +the Arabs, who were carrying my arms. Seeing themselves in the middle of +the lion's lair, whom they could distinctly smell, and hearing the +horrified goat calling them with all its might, was a position perfectly +intolerable to them. After consulting together as to whether it were +better to climb up a tree or clamber on a rock, they asked my permission +to remain near the goat. This confidence pleased me and obtained them +the privilege of a place by my side. I had not been there a quarter of +an hour when the lioness appeared; she found herself suddenly beside the +goat, and looked about her with an air of astonishment. I fired, and she +fell without a struggle. The Arabs were already kissing my hands, and I +myself believed her dead, when she got up again as though nothing was +the matter and showed us all her teeth. One of the Arabs who had run +toward her was within six paces of her. On seeing her get up he clung to +the lower branches of the tree to which the goat was tied, and +disappeared like a squirrel. The lioness fell dead at the foot of the +tree, a second bullet piercing her heart. The first had passed out of +the nape of the neck without breaking the skull bone. + + +[From the Spectator.] + +RECENT DEATHS IN THE FAMILY OF ORLEANS. + +"One touch of nature makes the whole world kin:" there is not one among +the millions who read of the mortal sufferings endured by Queen Louise +of Belgium that will not sympathize with the sorrowing relatives around +her deathbed; especially with that aged lady who has seen so many +changes, survived so many friends, mourned so many dear ones. To the +world Queen Amelie is like a relative to whom we are endeared by report +without having seen her; and as we read of her journey to pay the last +sad offices to her daughter, we forget the "royal personage," in regard +for that excellent lady who has been made known to us by so many +sorrows. + +The Orleans family, in its triumphs and in its adversities, may be taken +as a living and most striking illustration of "principle,"--of principle +working to ends that are certain. Louis Philippe's character shone best +in his personal and family relation. He was a shifty expedientist in +politics: a great national crisis came to him as a fine opportunity to +the commercial man for pushing some particular kind of traffic. He +adopted the cant of the day, as mere traders adopt produce, ready made; +taking the correctness of the earlier stages for granted. He adopted +"the Monarchy surrounded by Republican institutions," as a Member of +Parliament takes the oaths, for form's sake: it was the form of +accepting the crown, its power and dignity; and he did what was +suggested as the proper thing to be done: but did he ever trouble +himself about the "Republican institutions?" He adopted the National +Guard, as a useful instrument to act by way of breastwork, under cover +of which his throne could repose secure, while the royal power could +shoot as it pleased _over_ that respectable body at the people: but did +he ever trouble himself with the purpose of a national guard?--No more +than a beadle troubles his head with the church theology or parochial +constitution. He never meddled with the stuff and vital working of +politics; and when the time came that required him to maintain his post +by having a hold on the nation of France, by acting with the forces then +at work, wholly incompetent to the unsought task, he let go, and was +drifted away by the flood of events. But still, though the most signal +instance of opportunity wasted and success converted to failure before +the eyes of Europe, he retained a considerable degree of respectability. +First, the vitality of the man was strong, and had been tested by many +vicissitudes; and the world sympathizes with that sort of leasehold +immortality. Further, his family clung around him: the respectable, +amiable paterfamilias, whose personal qualities had been somewhat +obscured by the splendors of the throne, now again appeared unvailed, +and that which was sterling in the man was once more known--again tried, +again sound. Louis Philippe failed as a king, he succeeded as a father. + +Queen Amelie placed her faith less on mundane prosperity than on +spiritual welfare; and she was so far imbued by faith as a living +principle that it actuated her in her conduct as a daily practice. With +the obedience of the true Catholic, she combined the spirit of active +Christianity. While some part of her family has been inspired mainly by +the paternal spirit, some took their spirit from the mother; and none, +it would appear, more decidedly than Queen Louise. The accounts from +Belgium liken her to our own Queen Adelaide, in whom was exhibited the +same spirit of piety and practical Christianity; and we see the result +in the kind of personal affection that she earned. Agree with these +estimable women in their doctrine or not, you cannot but respect the +firmness of their own faith or the spirit of self-sacrifice which +remained uncorrupted through all the trials of temptations, so rife, so +_devitalizing_ in the life of royalty. + +Death visits the palace and the cottage, and we expect his approach: we +understand his aspect, and know how he affects the heart of mortality. +Be they crowned or not, we understand what it is that mortal creatures +are enduring under the affliction; and we well know what it means when +parent and children, brothers and sisters, collect around the deathbed. + +King Leopold we have twice seen under the same trial, and again remember +how much he has rested of his life on the personal relation. We note +these things; we call to mind all that the family, illustrious not less +by its vicissitudes and its adversities than by its exaltation, has +endured; and while we sympathize with its sorrows, we feel how much it +must be sustained by those reliances which endure more firmly than +worldly fortune. But our regard does not stop with admiration; we notice +with satisfaction this example to the family and personal relation--this +proof that amid the splendors of royalty the firmest reliances and the +sweetest consolations are those which are equally open to the humblest. + + +[From "Leaves from the Journal of a Naturalist," in Fraser's Magazine.] + +PLEASANT STORY OF A SWALLOW. + +In September, 1800, the Rev. Walter Trevelyan wrote from Long-Wilton, +Northumberland, in a letter to the editor of Bewick's "British Birds," +the following narrative, which is so simply and beautifully written, and +gives so clear an account of the process of taming, that it would be +unjust to recite it in any words but his own for the edification of +those who may wish to make the experiment:--"About nine weeks ago +(writes the good clergyman), a swallow fell down one of our chimneys, +nearly fledged, and was able to fly in two or three days. The children +desired they might try to rear him, to which I agreed, fearing the old +ones would desert him; and as he was not the least shy they succeeded +without any difficulty, for he opened his mouth for flies as fast as +they could supply them, and was regularly fed to a whistle. In a few +days, perhaps a week, they used to take him into the fields with them, +and as each child found a fly and whistled, the little bird flew for his +prey from one to another; at other times he would fly round about them +in the air, but always descended at the first call, in spite of the +constant endeavors of the wild swallows to seduce him away; for which +purpose several of them at once would fly about him in all directions, +striving to drive him away when they saw him about to settle on one of +the children's hands, extended with the food. He would very often alight +on the children, uncalled, when they were walking several fields distant +from home." What a charming sketch of innocence and benevolence, +heightened by the anxiety of the pet's relations to win him away from +beings whom they must have looked upon as so many young ogres! The poor +flies, it is true, darken the picture a little; but to proceed with the +narrative:--"Our little inmate was never made a prisoner by being put +into a cage, but always ranged about the room at large wherever the +children were, and they never went out of doors without taking him with +them. Sometimes he would sit on their hands or heads and catch flies for +himself, which he soon did with great dexterity. At length, finding it +take up too much of their time to supply him with food enough to satisfy +his appetite (for I have no doubt he ate from seven hundred to a +thousand flies a day), they used to turn him out of the house, shutting +the window to prevent his returning for two or three hours together, in +hopes he would learn to cater for himself, which he soon did; but still +was no less tame, always answering their call, and coming in at the +window to them (of his own accord) frequently every day, and always +roosting in their room, which he has regularly done from the first till +within a week or ten days past. He constantly roosted on one of the +children's heads till their bed-time; nor was he disturbed by the child +moving about, or even walking, but would remain perfectly quiet with his +head under his wing, till he was put away for the night in some warm +corner, for he liked much warmth." The kind and considerate attempt to +alienate the attached bird from its little friends had its effect. "It +is now four days (writes worthy Mr. Trevelyan, in conclusion) since he +came in to roost in the house, and though he then did not show any +symptoms of shyness, yet he is evidently becoming less tame, as the +whistle will not now bring him to the hand; nor does he visit us as +formerly, but he always acknowledges it when within hearing by a chirp, +and by flying near. Nothing could exceed his tameness for about six +weeks; and I have no doubt it would have continued the same had we not +left him to himself as much as we could, fearing he would be so +perfectly domesticated that he would be left behind at the time of +migration, and of course be starved in the winter from cold and hunger." +And so ends this agreeable story: not, however, that it was "of course" +that the confiding bird would be starved if it remained, for the Rev. +W.F. Cornish, of Totness, kept two tame swallows, one for a year and a +half, and the other for two years, as he informed Mr. Yarrell. + + +[From Mure's Literature of Ancient Greece.] + +EXCLUSION OF LOVE FROM GREEK POETRY. + +One of the most prominent forms in which the native simplicity and +purity of the Hellenic bard displays itself is the entire exclusion of +sentimental or romantic love from his stock of poetical materials. This +is a characteristic which, while inherited in a greater or less degree +by the whole more flourishing age of Greek poetical literature, +possesses also the additional source of interest to the modern scholar, +of forming one of the most striking points of distinction between +ancient and modern literary taste. So great an apparent contempt, on the +part of so sensitive a race as the Hellenes, for an element of poetical +pathos which has obtained so boundless an influence on the comparatively +phlegmatic races of Western Europe, is a phenomenon which, although it +has not escaped the notice of modern critics, has scarcely met with the +attention which its importance demands. By some it has been explained as +a consequence of the low estimation in which the female sex was held in +Homer's age, as contrasted with the high honors conferred on it by the +courtesy of medieval chivalry; by others as a natural effect of the +restrictions placed on the free intercourse of the sexes among the +Greeks. Neither explanation is satisfactory. The latter of the two is +set aside by Homer's own descriptions, which abundantly prove that in +his time, at least, women could have been subjected to no such jealous +control as to interfere with the free course of amorous intrigue. Nor +even, had such been the case, would the cause have been adequate to the +effect. Experience seems rather to evince that the greater the +difficulties to be surmounted the higher the poetical capabilities of +such adventures. Erotic romance appears, in fact, to have been nowhere +more popular than in the East, where the jealous separation of the sexes +has, in all ages, been extreme. As little can it be said that Homer's +poems exhibit a state of society in which females were lightly esteemed. +The Trojan war itself originates in the susceptibility of an injured +husband: and all Greece takes up arms to avenge his wrong. The plot of +the Odyssey hinges mainly on the constant attachment of the hero to the +spouse of his youth; and the whole action tends to illustrate the high +degree of social and political influence consequent on the exemplary +performance of the duties of wife and mother. Nor surely do the +relations subsisting between Hector and Andromache, or Priam and Hecuba, +convey a mean impression of the respect paid to the female sex in the +heroic age. As little can the case be explained by a want of fit or +popular subjects of amorous adventure. Many of the favorite Greek +traditions are as well adapted to the plot of an epic poem or tragedy of +the sentimental order, as any that modern history can supply. Still less +can the exclusion be attributed to a want of sensibility, on the part of +the Greek nation, to the power of the tender passions. The influence of +those passions is at least as powerfully and brilliantly asserted in +their own proper sphere of poetical treatment, in the lyric odes, for +example, of Sappho or Mimnermus, as in any department of modern poetry. +Nor must it be supposed that even the nobler Epic or Tragic Muse was +insensible to the poetical value of the passion of love. But it was in +the connection of that passion with others of a sterner nature to which +it gives rise, jealousy, hatred, revenge, rather than in its own tender +sensibilities, that the Greek poets sought to concentrate the higher +interest of their public. Any excess of the amorous affections which +tended to enslave the judgment or reason was considered as a weakness, +not an honorable emotion; and hence was confined almost invariably to +women. The nobler sex are represented as comparatively indifferent, +often cruelly callous, to such influence; and, when subjected to it, are +usually held up as objects of contempt rather than admiration. As +examples may be cited the amours of Medea and Jason, of Phaedra and +Hippolytus, of Theseus and Ariadne, of Hercules and Omphale. The satire +on the amorous weakness of the most illustrious of Greek heroes embodied +in the last mentioned fable, with the glory acquired by Ulysses from his +resistance to the fascinations of Circe and Calypso, may be jointly +contrasted with the subjection by Tasso of Rinaldo and his comrades to +the thraldom of Armida, and with the pride and pleasure which the +Italian poet of chivalry appears to take in the sensual degradation of +his heroes. The distinction here drawn by the ancients is the more +obvious, that their warriors are least of all men described as +indifferent to the pleasures of female intercourse. They are merely +exempt from subjection to its unmanly seductions. Ulysses, as he sails +from coast to coast, or island to island, willingly partakes of the +favors which fair goddesses or enchantresses press on his acceptance. +But their influence is never permitted permanently to blunt the more +honorable affections of his bosom, or divert his attention from higher +objects of ambition. + + +[From the Spectator.] + +THE GATEWAY OF THE OCEANS. + +The forcing of the barrier which for three hundred years has defied and +imperiled the commerce of the world seems now an event at hand. One half +of the contract for the junction of the Atlantic and Pacific, obtained +from the State of Nicaragua last year by the promptitude of the +Americans, is to be held at the option of English capitalists; and an +understanding is at length announced, that if the contemplated +ship-canal can be constructed on conditions that shall leave no +uncertainty as to the profitableness of the enterprise, it is to be +carried forward with the influence of our highest mercantile firms. The +necessary surveys have been actually commenced; and as a temporary route +is at the same time being opened, an amount of information is likely +soon to be collected which will familiarize us with each point regarding +the capabilities of the entire region. It is understood, moreover, that +when the canal-surveys shall be completed, they are to be submitted to +the rigid scrutiny of Government engineers both in England and the +United States; so that before the public can be called upon to consider +the expediency of embarking in the undertaking, every doubt in +connection with it, as far as practical minds are concerned, will have +been removed. + +The immediate steps now in course of adoption may be explained in a few +words. At present the transit across the Isthmus of Panama occupies four +days, and its inconveniences and dangers are notorious. At Nicaragua, it +is represented, the transit may possibly be effected in one day, and +this by a continuous steam-route with the exception of fifteen miles by +mule or omnibus. The passage would be up the San Juan, across Lake +Nicaragua to the town of that name, and thence to the port of San Juan +del Sur on the Pacific. On arriving at this terminus, (which is +considerably south of the one contemplated for the permanent canal, +namely Realejo,) the passenger would find himself some six or seven +hundred miles nearer to California than if he had crossed at the Isthmus +of Panama; and as the rate of speed of the American steamers on this +service is upward of three hundred miles a day, his saving of three days +in crossing, coupled with the saving in sea distance, would be +equivalent to a total of fifteen hundred miles, measured in relation to +what is accomplished by these vessels. A lower charge for the transit, +and a comparatively healthy climate, are also additional inducements; +and under these circumstances, anticipations are entertained that the +great tide of traffic will be turned in the new direction. This tide, +according to the last accounts from Panama, was kept up at the rate of +70,000 persons a year; and it was expected to increase. + +The navigability of the San Juan, however, in its present state, remains +yet to be tested. The American company who have obtained the privilege +of the route have sent down two vessels of light draught, the Nicaragua +and the Director, for the purpose of forthwith placing the matter beyond +doubt. At the last date, the Director had safely crossed the bar at its +mouth, and was preparing to ascend; the Nicaragua had previously gone up +the Colorado, a branch river, where, it is said, through the +carelessness of her engineer, she had run aground upon a sand-bank, +though without sustaining any damage. The next accounts will possess +great interest. Whatever may be the real capabilities of the river, +accidents and delays must be anticipated in the first trial of a new +method of navigating it: even in our own river, the Thames, the first +steamer could scarcely have been expected to make a trip from London +Bridge to Richmond without some mishap. Should, therefore, the present +experiment show any clear indications of success, there will be +reasonable ground for congratulation; and it forms so important a +chapter in the history of enterprise, that all must regard it with good +wishes. + +If the results of this temporary transit should realize the expectations +it seems to warrant, there can be little doubt the completion of the +canal will soon be commenced with ardor. Supposing the surveys should +show a cost not exceeding the sum estimated in 1837 by Lieutenant Baily, +the prospect of the returns would, there is reason to believe, be much +larger than the public have at any time been accustomed to suppose. +There is also the fact that the increase of these returns can know no +limit so long as the commerce of the world shall increase; and indeed, +already the idea of the gains to accrue appears to have struck some +minds with such force as to lead them to question if the privileges +which have been granted are not of a kind so extraordinarily favorable +that they will sooner or later be repudiated by the State of Nicaragua. +No such danger however exists; as the company are guaranteed in the safe +possession of all their rights by the treaty of protection which has +been ratified between Great Britain and the United States. + +One most important sign in favor of the quick completion of the +ship-canal is now furnished in the circumstance that there are no rival +routes. At Panama, a cheap wooden railway is to be constructed, which +will prove serviceable for much of the passenger-traffic to Peru and +Chili; but the project for a canal at that point has been entirely given +up. The same is the case at Tehuantepec, where the difficulties are far +greater than at Panama. + +It is true, the question naturally arises, whether if an exploration +were made of other parts of Central America or New Grenada, some route +might not be discovered which might admit of the construction of a canal +even at a less cost than will be necessary at Nicaragua. But in a matter +which concerns the commerce of the whole world for ages, there are other +points to be considered besides mere cheapness; and those who have +studied the advantages of Nicaragua maintain that enough is known of the +whole country both north and south of that State, to establish the fact +that she possesses intrinsic capabilities essential to the perfectness +of the entire work, which are not to be found in any other quarter, and +for the absence of which no saving of any immediate sum would +compensate. In the first place, it is nearer to California by several +hundred miles than any other route that could be pointed out except +Tehuantepec, while at the same time it is so central as duly to combine +the interests both of the northern and southern countries of the +Pacific; in the next place, it contains two magnificent natural docks, +where all the vessels in the world might refresh and refit; thirdly, it +abounds in natural products of all kinds, and is besides comparatively +well-peopled; fourthly, it possesses a temperature which is relatively +mild, while it is also in most parts undoubtedly healthy; and finally, +it has a harbor on the Pacific, which, to use the words of Dunlop in his +book on Central America, is as good as any port in the known world, and +decidedly superior even to Portsmouth, Rio Janeiro, Port Jackson, +Talcujana, Callao, and Guayaquil. The proximity to California moreover +settles the question as to American cooperation; which, it may be +believed, would certainly not be afforded to any route farther south, +and without which it would be idle to contemplate the undertaking. + +At the same time, however, it must be admitted, that if any body of +persons would adopt the example now set by the American company, and +commence a survey of any new route at their own expense, they would be +entitled to every consideration, and to rank as benefactors of the +community, whatever might be the result of their endeavors. There are +none who can help forward the enterprise, either directly or indirectly, +upon whom it will not shed honor. That honor, too, will not be distant. +The progress of the work will unite for the first time in a direct +manner the two great nations upon whose mutual friendship the welfare of +the world depends; and its completion will cause a revolution in +commerce more extensive and beneficent than any that has yet occurred, +and which may still be so rapid as to be witnessed by many who even now +are old. + + +[From the Spectator.] + +THE MURDER MARKET. + +"The Doddinghurst murder," "the Frimley murder," "the Regent's Park +burglary," "the Birmingham burglary," "the Liverpool plate +robberies,"--the plots thicken to such a degree that society turns still +paler; and having last week asked for ideas on the subject of better +security for life and property, asks this week, still more urgently, for +_more_ security. We must then penetrate deeper into the causes. + +Yes, civilization is observable in nothing more than in the development +of criminality. Whether it is that _pennyalining_ discloses it more, or +that the instances really are more numerous, may be doubtful; but why, +in spite of modern improvements to illumine, order, and guard society, +does crime stalk abroad so signally unchecked?--_that_ is the question. + +We believe that the causes are various; and that to effect a thorough +amendment, we must deal with _all_ the causes, radically. Let us reckon +up some of them. One is, that the New Police, which at first acted as a +scarecrow, has grown familiar to the ruffianly or roguish: it has been +discovered that a Policeman is not ubiquitous, and if you know that he +is walking toward Berkhamstead you are certain that he is not going +toward Hemel Hempstead. In some counties the Policeman is the very +reverse of ubiquitous, being altogether non-inventus, by reason of +parsimony in the rate-payers. The disuse of arms and the general +unfamiliarity with them help to embolden the audacious. The increase of +wealth is a direct attraction: the more silver spoons and epergnes, the +more gold-handled knives and dish-covers electro-gilt, are to be found +in pantry, the more baits are there set for the wild animals of society; +and if there be no trap with the bait, then the human vermin merely run +off with it. But he will bite if you offer any let. With the general +luxury grows the burglarious love of luxury: as peers and cits grow more +curious in their appetites, so burglars and swell-mobsmen. The tasteful +cruet which tempts Lady Juliana, and is gallantly purchased by her +obliging husband Mr. Stubbs, has its claims also for Dick Stiles; and +the champagne which is so relished by the guests round Mr. Stubbs's +mahogany is pleasant tipple under a hedge. Another cause, most pregnant +with inconvenience to the public, is the practice in which we persist in +letting our known criminals go about at large, on constitutional +scruples against shutting the door till the steed be gone. We are bound +to treat a man as innocent until he be found guilty,--which means, that +we must not hang him or pillory him without proof before a jury: but an +innocent man may be suspected, and _ought_ to be suspected, if +appearances are against him. So much for the suspected criminal, whom we +will not take into custody until he has galloped off in our own saddle. +But even the convicted ruffian is to be set at large, under the system +of time sentences. Yes, "the liberty of the subject" demands the license +of the burglar. + +A sixth cause is the mere increase of the population hereditarily given +to crime,--a caste upon which we have made so little impression, either +by prison discipline, ragged schools, or any other process. In education +we rely upon book learning or theological scrap teaching, neither of +which influences will reach certain minds; for there are many, and not +the worst dispositions, that never can be brought under a very active +influence of a studious or spiritual kind. But we omit the right kind of +training, the physical and material, for that order of mind. + +Other causes are--the wide social separation in this country, by virtue +of which our servants are strangers in the house, alien if not hostile +to the family; the want of our present customs to give scope for such +temperaments as need excitement; the state of the Poor-law, which makes +the honest man desperate and relaxes the proper control over the +vagrant. + +The remedies for these causes must go deeper than bells for shutters or +snappish housedogs for the night: meanwhile, we must be content to read +of murders, and to use the best palliatives we can--even shutter-bells +and vigilant little dogs. + + +[From the Examiner.] + +STATUES. + +Statues are now rising in every quarter of our metropolis, and mallet +and chisel are the chief instruments in use. Whatever is conducive to +the promotion of the arts ought undoubtedly to be encouraged; but love +in this instance, quite as much as in any, ought neither to be +precipitate nor blind. A true lover of his country should be exempted +from the pain of blushes, when a foreigner inquires of him, "_Whom does +this statue represent? and for what merits was it raised?_" The +defenders of their country, not the dismemberers of it, should be first +in honor; the maintainers of the laws, not the subverters of them, +should follow next. I may be asked by the studious, the contemplative, +the pacific, whether I would assign a higher station to any public man +than to a Milton and a Newton. My answer is plainly and loudly, _Yes_. +But the higher station should be in the streets, in squares, in houses +of parliament: such are their places; our vestibules and our libraries +are best adorned by poets, philosophers, and philanthropists. There is a +feeling which street-walking and public-meeting men improperly call +_loyalty_; a feeling intemperate and intolerant, smelling of dinner and +wine and toasts, which raises their stomachs and their voices at the +sound of certain names reverberated by the newspaper press. As little do +they know about the proprietary of these names as pot-wallopers know +about the candidates at a borough election, and are just as vociferous +and violent. A few days ago, I received a most courteous invitation to +be named on a Committee for erecting a statue to Jenner. It was +impossible for me to decline it; and equally was it impossible to +abstain from the observations which I am now about to state. I +recommended that the statue should be placed before a public hospital, +expressing my sense of impropriety in confounding so great a benefactor +of mankind, in any street or square or avenue, with the Dismemberer of +America and his worthless sons. Nor would I willingly see him among the +worn-out steam-engines of parliamentary debates. The noblest +parliamentary men who had nothing to distribute, not being ministers, +are without statues. The illustrious Burke, the wisest, excepting Bacon, +who at any time sat within the people's House; Romilly, the sincerest +patriot; Huskisson, the most intelligent in commercial affairs, has +none. Peel is become popular, not by his incomparable merits, but by his +untimely death. Shall we never see the day when Oliver and William mount +the chargers of Charles and George; and when a royal swindler is +superseded by the purest and most exalted of our heroes, Blake? + +Walter Savage Landor. + + +[From the last Edinburgh Review.] + +RESPONSIBILITY OF STATESMEN. + +It is of the last moment that all who are, or are likely to be, called +to administer the affairs of a free state, should be deeply imbued with +the statesmanlike virtues of modesty and caution, and should act under a +profound sense of their personal responsibility. It is an awful thing to +undertake the government of a great country; and no man can be any way +worthy of that high calling who does not from his inmost soul feel it to +be so. When we reflect upon the fearful consequences, both to the lives, +the material interests, and the moral well-being of thousands, which may +ensue from a hasty word, an erroneous judgment, a temporary +carelessness, or a lapse of diligence; when we remember that every +action of a statesman is pregnant with results which may last for +generations after he is gathered to his fathers; that his decisions may, +and probably must, affect for good or ill the destinies of future times; +that peace or war, crime or virtue, prosperity or adversity, the honor +or dishonor of his country, the right or wrong, wise or unwise solution +of some of the mightiest problems in the progress of humanity, depend +upon the course he may pursue at those critical moments which to +ordinary men occur but rarely, but which crowd the daily life of a +statesman; the marvel is that men should be forthcoming bold enough to +venture on such a task. Now, among public men in England this sense of +responsibility is in general adequately felt. It affords an honorable +(and in most cases we believe a true) explanation of that singular +discrepancy between public men when in and when out of office--that +inconsistency between the promise and the performance,--between what the +leader of the opposition urges the minister to do, and what the same +leader, when minister himself, actually does,--which is so commonly +attributed to less reputable motives. The independent member may +speculate and criticise at his ease; may see, as he thinks, clearly, and +with an undoubting and imperious conviction, what course on this or that +question ought to be pursued; may feel so unboundedly confident in the +soundness of his views, that he cannot comprehend or pardon the +inability of ministers to see as he sees, and to act as he would wish; +but as soon as the overwhelming responsibilities of office are his own, +as soon as he finds no obstacle to the carrying out of his plans, except +such as may arise from the sense that he does so at the risk of his +country's welfare and his own reputation--he is seized with a strange +diffidence, a new-born modesty, a mistrust of his own judgment which he +never felt before; he re-examines, he hesitates, he delays; he brings to +bear upon the investigation all the new light which official knowledge +has revealed to him; and finds at last that he scruples to do himself +what he had not scrupled to insist upon before. So deep-rooted is this +sense of responsibility with our countrymen, that whatever parties a +crisis of popular feeling might carry into power, we should have +comparatively little dread of rash, and no dread of corrupt, conduct on +their part; we scarcely know the public man who, when his country's +destinies were committed to his charge, could for a moment dream of +acting otherwise than with scrupulous integrity, and to the best of his +utmost diligence and most cautious judgment,--at all events till the +dullness of daily custom had laid his self-vigilance asleep. We are +convinced that were Lord Stanhope and Mr. Disraeli to be borne into +office by some grotesque freak of fortune, even they would become +sobered as by magic, and would astonish all beholders, not by their +vagaries, but by their steadiness and discretion. Now, of this wholesome +sense of awful responsibility, we see no indications among public men in +France. Dumont says, in his "Recollections of Mirabeau," "I have +sometimes thought that if you were to stop a hundred men +indiscriminately in the streets of Paris and London, and propose to each +to undertake the government, ninety-nine of the Londoners would refuse, +and ninety-nine of the Parisians would accept." In fact, we find it is +only one or two of the more experienced _habitues_ of office who in +France ever seem to feel any hesitation. Ordinary deputies, military +men, journalists, men of science, accept, with a _naive_ and simple +courage, posts for which, except that courage, they possess no single +qualification. But this is not the worst; they never hesitate, at their +country's risk and cost, to carry out their own favorite schemes to an +experiment; in fact, they often seem to value office mainly for that +purpose, and to regard their country chiefly as the _corpus vile_ on +which the experiment is to be made. To make way for their theories, they +relentlessly sweep out of sight the whole past, and never appear to +contemplate either the possibility or the parricidal guilt of failure. + + +[From the New Monthly Magazine.] + +THE COW TREE OF SOUTH AMERICA. + +Mr. Higson met with two species of cow tree, which he states to be +abundant in the deep and humid woods of the provinces of Choco and +Popayan. In an extract from his diary, dated Ysconde, May 7, 1822, he +gives an account of an excursion he made, about twelve miles up the +river, in company with the alcaide and two other gentlemen, in quest of +some of these milk trees, one species of which, known to the inhabitants +by the name of Popa, yields, during the ascent of the sap, a redundance +of a nutritive milky juice, obtained by incisions made into the thick +bark which clothes the trunk, and which he describes as of an ash color +externally, while the interior is of a clay red. Instinct, or some +natural power closely approaching to the reasoning principle, has taught +the jaguars, and other wild beasts of the forest, the value of this +milk, which they obtain by lacerating the bark with their claws and +catching the milk as it flows from the incisions. A similar instinct +prevails amongst the hogs that have become wild in the forests of +Jamaica, where a species of Rhus, the _Rhus Metopium_ of botanists, +grows, the bark of which, on being wounded, yields a resinous juice, +possessing many valuable medicinal properties, and among them that of +rapidly cicatrizing wounds. How this valuable property was first +discovered by the hogs, or by what peculiar interchange of ideas the +knowledge of it was communicated by the happy individual who made it to +his fellow hogs, is a problem which, in the absence of some porcine +historiographer, we have little prospect of solving. But, however this +may be, the fact is sufficiently notorious in Jamaica, where the wild +hogs, when wounded, seek out one of these trees, which, from the first +discoverers of its sanative properties, have been named "Hog Gum Trees," +and, abrading the bark with their teeth, rub the wounded part of their +bodies against it, so as to coat the wound with a covering of the gummy, +or rather gum-resinous fluid, that exudes from the bark. In like manner, +as Mr. Higson informs us, the jaguars, instructed in the nutritious +properties of the potable juice of the Popa, jump up against the stem, +and lacerating the bark with their claws greedily catch the liquid +nectar as it issues from the wound. By a strange perverseness of his +nature, man, in the pride of his heart and the intoxication of his +vanity, spurns this delicious beverage, which speedily fattens all who +feed on it, and contents himself with using it, when inspissated by the +sun, as a bird-lime to catch parrots; or converting it into a glue, +which withstands humidity, by boiling it with the gum of the mangle-tree +(_Sapium aucuparium?_), tempered with wood ashes. Mr. Higson states that +they caught plenty of the milk, which was of the consistence of cream, +of a bland and sweetish taste, and a somewhat aromatic flavor, and so +white as to communicate a tolerably permanent stain wherever it fell; it +mixed with spirit, as readily as cow's milk, and made, with the addition +of water, a very agreeable and refreshing beverage, of which they drank +several tutumos full. They cut down a tree, one of the tallest of the +forest, in order to procure specimens, and found the timber white, of a +fine grain, and well adapted for boards or shingles. They were about a +month too late to obtain the blossoms, which were said to be very showy, +but found abundance of fruit, disposed on short foot-stalks in the alae +of the leaves; these were scabrous, and about the size of a nutmeg. The +leaves he describes as having very short petioles, hearted at the base, +and of a coriaceous consistence, and covered with large semi-globular +glands. + +Besides the Popa, he speaks of another lactescent tree, called Sande, +the milk of which, though more abundant, is thinner, bluish, like +skimmed milk, and not so palatable. + +This, inspissated in the sun, acquires the appearance of a black gum, +and is so highly valued for its medicinal properties, especially as a +topical application in inflammatory affections of the spleen, pleura, +and liver, that it fetches a dollar the ounce in the Valle del Cauca. +The leaves are described as resembling those of the _Chrysophyllum +cainito_, or broad-leaved star apple, springing from short petioles, ten +or twelve inches long, oblong, ovate, pointed, with alternate veins, and +ferruginous on the under surface. The locality of the Sande he does not +point out, but says that a third kind of milk tree, the juice of which +is potable, grows in the same forests, where it is known by the name of +Lyria. This he regards as identical with the cow tree of Caracas, of +which Humboldt has given so graphic a description. + + +[From the Illustrated London News.] + +SONG OF THE SEASONS. + +BY CHARLES MACKAY. + + I heard the language of the trees, + In the noons of the early summer; + As the leaves were moved like rippling seas + By the wind--a constant comer. + It came and it went at its wanton will; + And evermore loved to dally, + With branch and flower, from the cope of the hill + To the warm depths of the valley. + The sunlight glow'd; the waters flow'd; + The birds their music chanted, + And the words of the trees on my senses fell-- + By a spirit of Beauty haunted:-- + Said each to each, in mystic speech:-- + "The skies our branches nourish;-- + The world is good,--the world is fair,-- + Let us _enjoy_ and flourish!" + + Again I heard the steadfast trees; + The wintry winds were blowing; + There seem'd a roar as of stormy seas, + And of ships to the depths down-going + And ever a moan through the woods were blown, + As the branches snapp'd asunder, + And the long boughs swung like the frantic arms + Of a crowd in affright and wonder. + Heavily rattled the driving hail! + And storm and flood combining, + Laid bare the roots of mighty oaks + Under the shingle twining. + Said tree to tree, "These tempests free + Our sap and strength shall nourish; + Though the world be hard, though the world be cold, + We can endure and flourish!" + + +[From Eliza Cook's Journal.] + +THE WANE OF THE YEAR. + +But autumn wanes, and with it fade the golden tints, and burning hues, +and the warm breezes; for winter, with chilling clasp and frosty breath, +hurries like a destroyer over the fields to bury their beauties in his +snow, and to blanch and wither up with his frozen breath, the remnants +of the blooming year. The harvests are gathered, the seeds are sown, the +meadow becomes once more green and velvet-like as in the days of spring: +the weeds and flowers run to seed, and stand laden with cups, and urns, +and bells, each containing the unborn germs of another summer's beauty, +and only waiting for the winter winds to scatter them, and the spring +sunshine to fall upon them, where they fall to break into bud and leaf +and flower, and to whisper to the passing wind that the soul of beauty +dies not. It is now upon the waning of the sunshine and the falling of +the leaf that the bleak winds rise angrily, and the gloom of the dying +year deepens in the woods and fields. We hear the plying of the constant +flail mingling with the clatter of the farm-yard; we are visited by fogs +and moving mists, and heavy rains that last for days together; upon the +hill the horn of the hunter is heard, and in the mountain solitudes the +eagle's scream; up among craggy rifts the red deer bound, and the +waterfall keeps up its peals of thunder; and although the autumn, having +ripened the fruits of summer, and gathered into the garnery the yellow +fruitage of the field, must hie away to sunbright shores and islands in +the glittering seas of fairy lands, she leaves the spirits of the +flowers to hover hither and thither amid the leafless bowers to bewail +in midnight dirges the loss of leaves and blossoms and the joyful tide +of song. It is one of these of whom the poet speaks; for he, having been +caught up by the divine ether into the regions of eternal beauty, has +seen, as mortals seldom see, the shadows of created things, and has +spoken with the angel spirits of the world:-- + + A spirit haunts the year's last hours, + Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers; + To himself he talks: + For at eventide, listening earnestly, + At his work you may hear him sob and sigh. + In the walks + Earthward he boweth the heavy stalks + Of the mouldering flowers, + Heavily hangs the broad sunflower + Over its grave i' the earth so chilly, + Heavily hangs the hollyhock, + Heavily hangs the tiger-lily. + + The air is damp, and hush'd and close, + As a sick man's room when he taketh repose + An hour before death; + My very heart faints, and my whole soul grieves, + At the rich moist smell of the rotting leaves, + And the breath + Of the fading edges of box beneath, + And the year's last rose. + Heavily hangs the broad sunflower + Over its grave i' the earth so chilly, + Heavily hangs the hollyhock, + Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.--_Tennyson._ + +The black clouds are even now gathering upon the fringes of the sky, and +the mellow season of the fruitage ends. Thus all the changes of the +earth pass round, each imprinting its semblance on the brow of man, and +writing its lessons on his soul; that like the green earth beneath his +feet, he may, through cold and heat, through storm and sun, be ever +blossoming with fragrant flowers, and yielding refreshing fruit from the +inexhaustible soil of a regenerated heart. + + +[From Slack's Ministry of the Beautiful, just published by A. Hart, +Philadelphia.] + +THE FOUNTAIN IN THE WOOD. + +A little way apart from a great city was a fountain in a wood. The water +gushed from a rock and ran in a little crystal stream to a mossy basin +below; the wildflowers nodded their heads to catch its tiny spray; tall +trees overarched it; and through the interspaces of their moving leaves +the sunlight came and danced with rainbow feet upon its sparkling +surface. + +There was a young girl who managed every day to escape a little while +from the turmoil of the city, and went like a pilgrim to the fountain in +the wood. The water was sparkling, the moss and fern looked very lovely +in the gentle moisture which the fountain cast upon them, and the trees +waved their branches and rustled their green leaves in happy concert +with the summer breeze. The girl loved the beauty of the scene and it +grew upon her. Every day the fountain had a fresh tale to tell, and the +whispering murmur of the leaves was ever new. By-and-by she came to know +something of the language in which the fountain, the ferns, the mosses, +and the trees held converse. She listened very patiently, full of wonder +and of love. She heard them often regret that man would not learn their +language, that they might tell him the beautiful things they had to say. +At last the maiden ventured to tell them that she knew their tongue, and +with what exquisite delight she heard them talk. The fountain flowed +faster, more sunbeams danced on its waters, the leaves sang a new song, +and the ferns and mosses grew greener before her eyes. They all told her +what joy thrilled through them at her words. Human beings had passed +them in abundance, they said, and as there was a tradition among the +flowers that men once spoke, they hoped one day to hear them do so +again. The maiden told them that all men spoke, at which they were +astonished, but said that making articulate noises was not speaking, +many such they had heard, but never till now real human speech; for +that, they said, could come alone from the mind and heart. It was the +voice of the body which men usually talked with, and that they did not +understand, but only the voice of the soul, which was rare to hear. Then +there was great joy through all the wood, and there went forth a report +that at length a maiden was found whose soul could speak, and who knew +the language of the flowers and the fountain. And the trees and the +stream said one to another, "Even so did our old prophets teach, and +now hath it been fulfilled." Then the maiden tried to tell her friends +in the city what she had heard at the fountain, but could explain very +little, for although they knew her words, they felt not her meaning. And +certain young men came and begged her to take them to the wood that they +might hear the voices. So she took one after another, but nothing came +of it, for to them the fountain and the trees were mute. Many thought +the maiden mad, and laughed at her belief, but they could not take the +sweet voices away from her. Now the maidens wished her to take them +also, and she did, but with little better success. A few thought they +heard something, but knew not what, and on their return to the city its +bustle obliterated the small remembrance they had carried away. At +length a young man begged the maiden to give him a trial, and she did +so. They went hand in hand to the fountain, and he heard the language, +although not so well as the maiden; but she helped him, and found that +when both heard the words together they were more beautiful than ever. +She let go his hand, and much of the beauty was gone; the fountain told +them to join hands and lips also, and they did it. Then arose sweeter +sounds than they had ever heard, and soft voices encompassed them +saying, "Henceforth be united; for the spirit of truth and beauty hath +made you one." + + +[From Dr. Marcy's Homeopathic Theory and Practice of Medicine.] + +WEARING THE BEARD. + +One great cause of the frequent occurrence of chronic bronchitis may be +found in the reprehensible fashion of shaving the beard. That this +ornament was given by the Creator for some useful purpose, there can be +no doubt, for in fashioning the human body, he gave nothing unbecoming a +perfect man, nothing useless, nothing superfluous. Hair being an +imperfect conductor of caloric, is admirably calculated to retain the +animal warmth of that part of the body which is so constantly and +necessarily exposed to the weather, and thus to protect this important +portion of the respiratory passage from the injurious effects of sudden +checks of perspiration. + +When one exercises for hours his vocal organs, with the unremitted +activity of a public declamation, the pores of the skin in the vicinity +of the throat and chest become relaxed, so that when he enters the open +air, the whole force of the atmosphere bears upon these parts, and he +sooner or later contracts a bronchitis; while, had he the flowing beard +with which his Maker has endowed him, uncut, to protect these important +parts, he would escape any degree of exposure unharmed. + +The fact that Jews and other people who wear the beard long, are but +rarely afflicted with bronchitis and analogous disorders, suggests a +powerful argument in support of these views. + + +[From "Ada Greville," by Peter Leicester.] + +A VIEW OF BOMBAY. + +They had soon reached the Apollo Bunder, where they were to land, and +where Ada's attention was promptly engaged by the bustle awaiting her +there; and where, from among numbers of carriages, and palanquins, and +carts in waiting--many of them of such extraordinary shapes--some moved +by horses, some by bullocks, and some by men, and all looking strange; +from their odd commixture, Mr. McGregor's phaeton promptly drew up, and +he placed the ladies in it, himself driving, and the two maids following +in a palanquin carriage. This latter amused Ada exceedingly; a +_vis-a-vis_, in fact, very long, and very low, drawn by bullocks, whose +ungainly and uneven paces were very unlike any other motion to which, so +far, her experience had been subjected; but they went well enough, and +quickly too, and Ada soon forgot their eccentricities in her surprise at +the many strange things she saw by the way. The airy appearance of the +houses, full of windows and doors, and all cased round by verandahs; the +native mud bazaars, so rude and uncouth in their shapes, and daubed over +with all kinds of glaring colours; with the women sitting in the open +verandahs, their broad brooms in hand, whisking off from their +food-wares the flies, myriads of which seem to contend with them for +ownership; the native women in the streets carrying water, in their +graceful dress, their scanty little jackets and short garments +exhibiting to advantage their beautiful limbs and elegant motion, the +very poorest of them covered with jewels--the wonted mode, indeed, in +which they keep what little property they have--the women, too, working +with the men, and undertaking all kinds of labor; the black, naked +coolies running here and there to snatch at any little employment that +would bring them but an _anna_. Contrasting with these, and mixed up +pell mell with them, the smart young officers cantering about, the +carriages of every shape and grade, from the pompous hackery, with its +gaudy, umbrella-like top, and no less pompous occupant, in his turban +and jewels, his bullocks covered with bells making more noise than the +jumbling vehicle itself, down to the meager bullock cart, at hire, for +the merest trifle. Here and there, too, some other great native, on his +sumptuously caparisoned horse, with arched neck and long flowing tail +sweeping the ground, and feeling as important as his rider; and the +popish priests, in their long, black gowns, and long beards; and the +civilians, of almost every rank, in their light, white jackets; and the +umbrellas; and the universal tomtoms, incessantly going; and above all, +the numbers of palanquins, each with its eight bearers, running here, +there, and everywhere; everything, indeed, so unlike dear old England; +everything, even did not the burning sun of itself tell the fact, too +sensibly to be mistaken, reminding the stranger that she was in the +Indian land. + + +From "The Memorial:" + +[The most brilliant and altogether attractive gift-book of the season, +edited by Mrs. Hewitt, and published by Putnam.] + +FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD. + +BY RUFUS WILMOT GRISWOLD. + +From the beginning of our intellectual history women have done far more +than their share in both creation and construction. The worshipful Mrs. +Bradstreet, who two hundred years ago held her court of wit among the +classic groves of Harvard, was in her day--the day in which Spenser, +Shakspeare, and Milton sung--the finest poet of her sex whose verse was +in the English language; and there was little extravagance in the title +bestowed by her London admirers, when they printed her works as those +"of the Tenth Muse, recently sprung up in America." In the beginning of +the present century we had no bard to dispute the crown with Elizabeth +Townsend, whose "Ode to Liberty" commanded the applause of Southey and +Wordsworth in their best days; whose "Omnipresence of the Deity" is +declared by Dr. Cheever to be worthy of those great poets or of +Coleridge; and who still lives, beloved and reverenced, in venerable +years, the last of one of the most distinguished families of New +England. + +More recently, Maria Brooks, called in "The Doctor" _Maria del +Occidente_, burst upon the world with "Zophiel," that splendid piece of +imagination and passion which stands, the vindication of the subtlety, +power and comprehension of the genius of woman, justifying by +comparison, the skepticism of Lamb when he suggested, to the author of +"The Excursion," whether the sex had "ever produced any thing so great." +Of our living and more strictly contemporary female poets, we mention +with unhesitating pride Mrs. Sigourney, Mrs. Oakes Smith, Mrs. Hewett, +Mrs. Whitman, Mrs. Welby, Alice Carey, "Edith May," Miss Lynch, and Miss +Clarke, as poets of a genuine inspiration, displaying native powers and +capacities in art such as in all periods have been held sufficient to +insure to their possessors lasting fame, and to the nations which they +adorned, the most desirable glory. + +It is Longfellow who says, + + ----"What we admire in a woman, + Is her affection, not her intellect." + +The sentiment is unworthy a poet, the mind as well as the heart claims +sympathy, and there is no sympathy but in equality; we need in woman the +completion of our own natures; that her finer, clearer, and purer vision +should pierce for us the mysteries that are hidden from our own senses, +strengthened, but dulled, in the rude shocks of the out-door world, from +which she is screened, by her pursuits, to be the minister of God to us: +to win us by the beautiful to whatever in the present life or the +immortal is deserving a great ambition. We care little for any of the +mathematicians, metaphysicians, or politicians, who, as shamelessly as +Helen, quit their sphere. Intellect in woman, so directed, we do not +admire, and of affection such women are incapable. There is something +divine in woman, and she whose true vocation it is to write, has some +sort of inspiration, which relieves her from the processes and accidents +of knowledge, to display only wisdom in all the range of gentleness, and +all the forms of grace. The equality of the sexes is one of the absurd +questions which have arisen from a denial of the _distinctions_ of their +faculties and duties--of the masculine energy from the feminine +refinement. The ruder sort of women cannot comprehend that there is a +distinction, not of dignity, but of kind; and so, casting aside their +own eminence, for which they are too base, and seeking after ours, for +which they are too weak, they are hermaphroditish disturbers of the +peace of both. In the main our American women are free from this +reproach; they have known their mission, and have carried on the threads +of civility through the years, so strained that they have been +melodiously vocal with every breath of passion from the common heart. We +turn from the jar of senates, from politics, theologies, philosophies, +and all forms of intellectual trial and conflict, to that portion of our +literature which they have given us, coming like dews and flowers after +glaciers and rocks, the hush of music after the tragedy, silence and +rest after turmoil of action. The home where love is refined and +elevated by intellect, and woman, by her separate and never-superfluous +or clashing mental activity, sustains her part in the life-harmony, is +the vestibule of heaven to us; and there we hear the poetesses repeat +the songs to which they have listened, when wandering nearer than we may +go to the world in which humanity shall be perfect again, by the union +in all of all power and goodness and beauty. + +The finest intelligence that woman has in our time brought to the +ministry of the beautiful, is no longer with us. Frances Sargent Osgood +died in New-York, at fifteen minutes before three o'clock, in the +afternoon of Sunday, the twelfth of May, 1850. These words swept like a +surge of sadness wherever there was grace and gentleness, and sweet +affections. All that was in her life was womanly, "pure womanly," and so +is all in the undying words she left us. This is her distinction. + +Mrs. Osgood was of a family of poets. Mrs. Anna Maria Wells, whose +abilities are illustrated in a volume of "Poems and Juvenile Sketches" +published in 1830, is a daughter of her mother; Mrs. E.D. Harrington, +the author of various graceful compositions in verse and prose, is her +youngest sister; and Mr. A.A. Locke, a brilliant and elegant writer, for +many years connected with the public journals, was her brother. She was +a native of Boston, where her father, Mr. Joseph Locke, was a highly +accomplished merchant. Her earlier life, however, was passed principally +in Hingham, a village of peculiar beauty, well calculated to arouse the +dormant poetry of the soul; and here, even in childhood, she became +noted for her poetical powers. In their exercise she was rather aided +than discouraged by her parents, who were proud of her genius and +sympathized with all her aspirations. The unusual merit of some of her +first productions attracted the notice of Mrs. Child, who was then +editing a Juvenile Miscellany, and who foresaw the reputation which her +young contributor afterwards acquired. Employing the _nomme de plume_ of +"Florence," she made it widely familiar by her numerous contributions in +the Miscellany, as well as, subsequently, for other periodicals. + +In 1834, she became acquainted with Mr. S.S. Osgood, the painter--a man +of genius in his profession--whose life of various adventure is full of +romantic interest; and while, soon after, she was sitting for a +portrait, the artist told her his strange vicissitudes by sea and land; +how as a sailor-boy he had climbed the dizzy maintop in the storm; how, +in Europe he followed with his palette in the track of the flute-playing +Goldsmith: and among the + + Antres vast and deserts idle, + Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, + +of South America, had found in pictures of the crucifixion, and of the +Liberator Bolivar--the rude productions of his untaught +pencil--passports to the hearts of the peasant, the partizan, and the +robber. She listened, like the fair Venetian; they were married, and +soon after went to London, where Mr. Osgood had sometime before been a +pupil of the Royal Academy. + +During this residence in the Great Metropolis, which lasted four years, +Mr. Osgood was successful in his art--painting portraits of Lord +Lyndhurst, Thomas Campbell, Mrs. Norton, and many other distinguished +characters, which secured for him an enviable reputation--and Mrs. +Osgood made herself known by her contributions to the magazines, by a +miniature volume, entitled "The Casket of Fate," and by the collection +of her poems published by Edward Churton, in 1839, under the title of "A +Wreath of Wild Flowers from New England." She was now about twenty-seven +years of age, and this volume contained all her early compositions which +then met the approval of her judgment. Among them are many pieces of +grace and beauty, such as belong to joyous and hopeful girlhood, and +one, of a more ambitious character, under the name of "Elfrida"--a +dramatic poem, founded upon incidents in early English history--in which +there are signs of more strength and tenderness, and promise of greater +achievement, though it is without the unity and proportion necessary to +eminent success in this kind of writing. + +Among her attached friends here--a circle that included the Hon. Mrs. +Norton, Mrs. Hofland, the Rev. Hobart Caunter, Archdeacon Wrangham, the +late W. Cooke Taylor, LL.D., and many others known in the various +departments of literature--was the most successful dramatist of the age, +James Sheridan Knowles, who was so much pleased with "Elfrida," and so +confident that her abilities in this line, if duly cultivated, would +enable her to win distinction, that he urged upon her the composition of +a comedy, promising himself to superintend its production on the stage. +She accordingly wrote "The Happy Release, or The Triumphs of Love," a +play in three acts, which was accepted, and was to have been brought out +as soon as she could change slightly one of the scenes, to suit the +views of the manager as to effect, when intelligence of the death of her +father suddenly recalled her to the United States, and thoughts of +writing for the stage were abandoned for new interests and new pursuits. + +Mr. and Mrs. Osgood arrived in Boston early in 1840, and they soon after +came to New-York, where they afterward resided; though occasionally +absent, as the pursuit of his profession, or ill health, called Mr. +Osgood to other parts of the country. Mrs. Osgood was engaged in various +literary occupations. She edited, among other books, "The Poetry of +Flowers, and Flowers of Poetry," (New-York, 1841,) and "The Floral +Offering," (Philadelphia, 1847,) two richly embellished souvenirs; and +she was an industrious and very popular writer for the literary +magazines and other miscellanies. + +She was always of a fragile constitution, easily acted upon by whatever +affects health, and in her latter years, except in the more genial +seasons of the spring and autumn, was frequently an invalid. In the +winter of 1847-8, she suffered more than ever previously, but the next +winter she was better, and her husband, who was advised by his +physicians to discontinue, for a while, the practice of his profession, +availed himself of the opportunity to go in pursuit of health and riches +to the mines of the Pacific. He left New-York on the fifth of February, +1849, and was absent one year. Mrs. Osgood's health was variable during +the summer, which she passed chiefly at Saratoga Springs, in the company +of a family of intimate friends; and as the colder months came on, her +strength decayed, so that before the close of November, she was confined +to her apartments. She bore her sufferings with resignation, and her +natural hopefulness cheered her all the while, with remembrances that +she had before come out with the flowers and the embracing airs, and +dreams that she would again be in the world with nature. Two or three +weeks before her death, her husband carried her in his arms, like a +child, to a new home, and she was happier than she had been for months, +in the excitement of selecting its furniture, brought in specimens or +patterns to her bedside. "_We shall be so happy!_" was her salutation to +the few friends who were admitted to see her; but they saw, and her +physicians saw, that her life was ebbing fast, and that she would never +never again see the brooks and greens fields for which she pined, nor +even any of the apartments but the one she occupied of her own house. I +wrote the terrible truth to her, in studiously gentle words, reminding +her that in heaven there is richer and more delicious beauty, that there +is no discord in the sweet sounds there, no poison in the perfume of the +flowers there, and that they know not any sorrow who are with Our +Father. She read the brief note almost to the end silently, and then +turned upon her pillow like a child, and wept the last tears that were +in a fountain which had flowed for every grief but hers she ever knew. +"I cannot leave my beautiful home," she said, looking about upon the +souvenirs of many an affectionate recollection; "and my noble husband, +and Lily and May!" These last are her children. But the sentence was +confirmed by other friends, and she resigned herself to the will of God. +The next evening but one, a young girl went to amuse her, by making +paper flowers for her, and teaching her to make them: and she wrote to +her these verses--her dying song: + + You've woven roses round my way, + And gladdened all my being; + How much I thank you none can say + Save only the All-seeing.... + + _I'm going through the Eternal gates + Ere June's sweet roses blow; + Death's lovely angel leads me there-- + And it is sweet to go._ + +May 7th, 1850. + +At the end of five days, in the afternoon of Sunday, the twelfth of May, +as gently as one goes to sleep, she withdrew into a better world. + +On Tuesday, her remains were removed to Boston, to be interred in the +cemetery of Mount Auburn. It was a beautiful day, in the fulness of the +spring, mild and calm, and clouded to a solemn shadow. In the morning, +as the company of the dead and living started, the birds were singing +what seemed to her friends a sadder song than they were wont to sing; +and, as the cars flew fast on the long way, the trees bowed their +luxuriant foliage, and the flowers in the verdant fields were swung +slowly on their stems, filling the air with the gentlest fragrance; and +the streams, it was fancied, checked their turbulent speed to move in +sympathy, as from the heart of Nature tears might flow for a dead +worshipper. God was thanked that all the elements were ordered so, that +sweetest incense, and such natural music, and reverent aspect of the +silent world, should wait upon her, as so many hearts did, in this last +journey. She slept all the while, nor waked when, in the evening, in her +native city, a few familiar faces bent above her, with difficult looks +through tears, and scarcely audible words, to bid farewell to her. On +Wednesday she was buried, with some dear ones who had gone before +her--beside her mother and her daughter--in that City of Rest, more +sacred now than all before had made it, to those whose spirits are +attuned to Beauty or to Sorrow--those twin sisters, so rarely parted, +until the last has led the first to Heaven. + +The character of Mrs. Osgood, to those who were admitted to its more +minute observance, illustrated the finest and highest qualities of +intelligence and virtue. In her manners, there was an almost infantile +gaiety and vivacity, with the utmost simplicity and gentleness, and an +unfailing and indefectable grace, that seemed an especial gift of +nature, unattainable, and possessed only by her and the creatures of our +imaginations whom we call the angels. The delicacy of her organization +was such that she had always the quick sensibility of childhood. The +magnetism of life was round about her, and her astonishingly impressible +faculties were vital in every part, with a polarity toward beauty, all +the various and changing rays of which entered into her consciousness, +and were refracted in her conversation and action. Though, from the +generosity of her nature, exquisitely sensible to applause, she had none +of those immoralities of the intellect, which impair the nobleness of +impulse--no unworthy pride, or vanity, or selfishness--nor was her will +ever swayed from the line of truth, except as the action of the judgment +may sometimes have been irregular from the feverish play of feeling. Her +friendships were quickly formed, but limited by the number of genial +hearts brought within the sphere of her knowledge and sympathy. Probably +there was never a woman of whom it might be said more truly that to her +own sex she was an object almost of worship. She was looked upon for her +simplicity, purity, and childlike want of worldly tact or feeling, with +involuntary affection; listened to, for her freshness, grace, and +brilliancy, with admiration; and remembered, for her unselfishness, +quick sympathy, devotedness, capacity of suffering, and high +aspirations, with a sentiment approaching reverence. This regard which +she inspired in women was not only shown by the most constant and +delicate attentions in society, where she was always the most loved and +honored guest, but it is recorded in the letters and other writings of +many of her most eminent contemporaries, who saw in her an angel, haply +in exile, the sweetness and natural wisdom of whose life elevated her +far above all jealousies, and made her the pride and boast and glory of +womanhood. Many pages might be filled with their tributes, which seem +surely the most heartfelt that mortal ever gave to mortal, but the +limits of this sketch of her will suffer only a few and very brief +quotations from her correspondence. Unquestionably one of the most +brilliant literary women of our time is Miss Clarke, so well known as +"Grace Greenwood." She wrote of Mrs. Osgood with no more earnestness +than others wrote of her, yet in a letter to the "Home Journal," in +1846, she says: + + "And how are the critical Caesars, one after another, 'giving in' to + the graces, and fascinations, and soft enchantments of this + Cleopatra of song. She charms _lions_ to sleep, with her silver + lute, and then throws around them the delicate net-work of her + exquisite fancy, and lo! when they wake, they are well content in + their silken prison. + + 'From the tips of her pen a melody flows, + Sweet as the nightingale sings to the rose.' + + "With her beautiful Italian soul--with her impulse, and wild + energy, and exuberant fancy, and glowing passionateness--and with + the wonderful facility with which, like an almond-tree casting off + its blossoms, she flings abroad her heart-tinted and love-perfumed + lays, she has, I must believe, more of the improvisatrice than has + yet been revealed by any of our gifted countrywomen now before the + people. Heaven bless her, and grant her ever, as now, to have + laurels on her brows, and to browse on her laurels! Were I the + President of these United States, I would immortalize my brief term + of office by the crowning of our Corinna, at the Capitol." + +And about the same period, having been introduced to her, she referred +to the event: + + "It seems like a 'pleasant vision of the night' that I have indeed + seen 'the idol of my early dreams,' that I have been within the + charmed circle of her real presence, sat by her very side, and + lovingly watched the shadow of each feeling that moved her soul, + glance o'er that radiant face!'" + +And writing to her: + + "Dear Mrs. Osgood, let me lay this sweet weight off my heart--look + down into my eyes--believe me--long, long before we met, I loved + you, with a strange, almost passionate love. You were my literary + idol: I repeated some of your poems so often, that their echo never + had time to die away; your earlier, bird-like warblings so chimed + in with the joyous beatings of my heart, that it seemed it could + not throb without them; and when you raised 'your lightning glance + to heaven,' and sang your loftiest song, the liquid notes fell upon + my soul like baptismal waters. With an 'intense and burning,' + almost unwomanly ambition, I have still joyed in _your_ success, + and gloried in your glory; and all because Love laid its reproving + finger on the lip of Envy. I cannot tell you how much this romantic + interest has deepened, + + Now I have looked upon thy face, + Have felt thy twining arms' embrace, + Thy very bosom's swell;-- + One moment leaned this brow of mine + On song's sweet source, and love's pure shrine, + And music's 'magic cell!" + +Another friend of hers, Miss Hunter, whose pleasing contributions to our +literature are well known, probably on account of some misapprehension, +had not visited her for several months, but hearing of her illness she +wrote: + + "Learning this, by chance, I have summoned courage once more to + address you--overcoming my fear of being intrusive, and offering as + my apology the simple assertion that it is my _heart_ prompts me. + Till to-day pride has checked me: but you are 'very ill,' and I can + no longer resist the impulse. With the assurance that I will never + again trouble you, that now I neither ask nor expect the slightest + response, suffer me thus to steal to your presence, to sit beside + your bed, and for the last time to speak of a love that has + followed you through months of separation, rejoicing when you have + rejoiced, and mourning when you have mourned. You know how, from + childhood, I have worshipped you, that since our first meeting you + have been my idol, the realization of my dreams; and do not suppose + that because I have failed to inspire you with a lasting interest, + I shall ever feel for you a less deep or less fervent devotion. The + blame or misfortune of our estrangement I have always regarded as + only mine. I know I have seemed indifferent when I panted for + expression. You have thought me unsympathizing when my every nerve + thrilled to your words. I have lived in comparative seclusion; I + have an unconquerable reserve, induced by such an experience; and + when I have been with you my soul has had no voice. + + "The time has been when I could not bear the thought of never + regaining your friendship in this world--when I would say 'The + years! oh, the years of this earth-life, that must pass so slowly!' + And when I saw any new poem of yours, I experienced the most sad + emotions,--every word I read was so like you, it seemed as if you + had passed through the room, speaking to others near me kindly, but + regarding me coldly, or not seeing me. But one day I read in a book + by Miss Bremer, 'It is a sad experience, who can describe its + bitterness! when we see the friend, on whom we have built for + eternity, grow cold, and become lost to us. But believe it not, + thou loving, sorrowing soul--believe it not! continue thyself only, + and the moment will come when thy friend will return to thee. Yes, + _there_, where all delusions cease, thy friend will find thee gain, + in a higher light,--will acknowledge thee and unite herself to thee + forever.' And I took this assurance to my heart.... We may meet in + heaven, if not here. I shall not go see you, though my heart is + wrung by this intelligence of your illness. So good-bye, darling! + May good angels who have power to bless you, linger around your + pillow with as much love as I shall feel for you forever. + + "March 6, 1850." + +I have been permitted to transcribe this letter, and among Mrs. Osgood's +papers that have been confided to me are very many such, evincing a +devotion from women that could have been won only by the most angelic +qualities of intellect and feeling. + +It was the custom in the last century, when there was among authors more +of the _esprit du corps_ than now, for poets to greet each other's +appearance in print with complimental verses, celebrating the qualities +for which the seeker after bays was most distinguished. Thus in 1729, we +find the _Omnium Opera_ of John Duke of Buckingham prefaced by +"testimonials of authors concerning His Grace and his writings;" and the +names of Garth, Roscommon, Dryden, and Prior, are among his endorsers. +There have been a few instances of the kind in this country, of which +the most noticeable is that of Cotton Mather, in whose _Magnalia_ there +is a curious display of erudition and poetical ingenuity, in gratulatory +odes. The literary journals of the last few years furnish many such +tributes to Mrs. Osgood, which are interesting to her friends for their +illustration of the personal regard in which she was held. I cannot +quote them here; they alone would fill a volume, as others might be +filled with the copies of verses privately addressed to her, all through +her life, from the period when, like a lovely vision, she first beamed +upon society, till that last season, in which the salutations in +assemblies she had frequented were followed by saddest inquiries for the +absent and dying poetess. They but repeat, with more or less felicity, +the graceful praise of Mrs. Hewitt, in a poem upon her portrait: + + She dwells amid the world's dark ways + Pure as in childhood's hours; + And all her thoughts are poetry, + And all her words are flowers. + +Or that of another, addressed to her: + + Thou wouldst be loved? then let thy heart + From its present pathway part not! + Being everything, which now thou art, + Be nothing which thou art not. + So with the world thy gentle ways, + Thy grace, thy more than beauty, + Shall be an endless theme of praise, + And love--a simple duty. + +Among men, generally, such gentleness and sweetness of temper, joined to +such grace and wit, could not fail of making her equally beloved and +admired. She was the keeper of secrets, the counsellor in difficulties, +the ever wise missionary and industrious toiler, for all her friends. +She would brave any privation to alleviate another's sufferings; she +never spoke ill of any one; and when others assailed, she was the most +prompt of all in generous argument. An eminent statesman having casually +met her in Philadelphia, afterward described her to a niece of his who +was visiting that city: + + "If you have opportunity do not fail to become acquainted with Mrs. + Osgood. I have never known such a woman. She continually surprised + me by the strength and subtlety of her understanding, in which I + looked for only sportiveness and delicacy. She is entirely a child + of nature and Mrs. ----, who introduced me to her, and who has + known her many years I believe, very intimately, declares that she + is an angel. Persuade her to Washington, and promise her everything + you and all of us can do for her pleasure here." + +For her natural gaiety, her want of a certain worldly tact, and other +reasons, the determinations she sometimes formed that she would be a +housekeeper, were regarded as fit occasions of jesting, and among the +letters sent to her when once she ventured upon the ambitious office, is +one by her early and always devoted friend, Governor ----, in which we +have glimpses of her domestic qualities: + + "It is not often that I waste fine paper in writing to people who + do not think me worth answering. I generally reserve my 'ornamental + hand' for those who return two letters for my one. But you are an + exception to all rules,--and when I heard that you were about to + commence _housekeeping_, I could not forbear sending a word of + congratulation and encouragement. I have long thought that your + eminently _practical_ turn of mind, my dear friend, would find + congenial employment in superintending an 'establishment.' What a + house you will keep! nothing out of place, from garret to + cellar--dinner always on the table at the regular hour--everything + like clock-work--and wo to the servant who attempts to steal + anything from your store-room! wo to the butcher who attempts to + impose upon you a bad joint, or the grocer who attempts to cheat + you in the weight of sugar! Such things never will do with you! + When I first heard of your project, I thought it must be Ellen or + May going to play housekeeping with their baby-things, but on a + moment's reflection I was convinced that you knew more about + managing for a family than either of them--certainly more than May, + and I think, upon the whole, more than even Ellen! Let Mr. Osgood + paint you with a bunch of keys in your belt, and do send me a + daguerreotype of yourself the day after you are installed." + +She was not indeed fitted for such cares, or for any routine, and ill +health and the desire of freedom prevented her again making such an +attempt until she finally entered "her own home" to die. + +There was a very intimate relation between Mrs. Osgood's personal and +her literary characteristics. She has frequently failed of justice, from +critics but superficially acquainted with her works, because they have +not been able to understand how a mind capable of the sparkling and +graceful trifles, illustrating an exhaustless fancy and a natural melody +of language, with which she amused society in moments of half capricious +gaiety or tenderness, could produce a class of compositions which demand +imagination and passion. In considering this subject, it should not be +forgotten that these attributes are here to be regarded as in their +feminine development. + +Mrs. Osgood was, perhaps, as deserving as any one of whom we read in +literary history, of the title of improvisatrice. Her beautiful songs, +displaying so truly the most delicate lights and shadows of woman's +heart, and surprising by their unity, completeness, and rhythmical +perfection, were written with almost the fluency of conversation. The +secret of this was in the wonderful sympathy between her emotions and +faculties, both of exquisite sensibility, and subject to the influences +of whatever has power upon the subtler and diviner qualities of human +nature. Her facility in invention, in the use of poetical language, and +in giving form to every airy dream or breath of passion, was +astonishing. It is most true of men, that no one has ever attained to +the highest reach of his capacities in any art--and least of all in +poetry--without labor--without the application of the "second thought," +after the frenzy of the divine afflatus is passed--in giving polish and +shapely grace. The imagination is the servant of the reason; the +creative faculties present their triumphs to the constructive--and the +seal to the attainable is set, by every one, in repose and meditation. +But this is scarcely a law of the feminine intelligence, which, when +really endowed with genius, is apt to move spontaneously, and at once, +with its greatest perfection. Certainly, Mrs. Osgood disclaimed the +wrestling of thought with expression. For the most part her poems cost +her as little effort or reflection, as the epigram or touching sentiment +that summoned laughter or tears to the group about her in the +drawing-room. + +She was indifferent to fame; she sung simply in conformity to a law of +her existence; and perhaps this want of interest was the cause not only +of the most striking faults in her compositions, but likewise of the +common ignorance of their variety and extent. Accustomed from childhood +to the use of the pen--resorting to it through a life continually +exposed to the excitements of gaiety and change, or the depressions of +affliction and care, she strewed along her way with a prodigality almost +unexampled the choicest flowers of feeling: left them unconsidered and +unclaimed in the repositories of friendship, or under fanciful names, +which she herself had forgotten, in newspapers and magazines,--in which +they were sure to be recognised by some one, and so the purpose of their +creation fulfilled. It was therefore very difficult to make any such +collection of her works as justly to display her powers and their +activity; and the more so, that those effusions of hers which were +likely to be most characteristic, and of the rarest excellence, were +least liable to exposure in printed forms, by the friends, widely +scattered in Europe and America, for whom they were written. But +notwithstanding these disadvantages, the works of Mrs. Osgood with which +we are acquainted, are more voluminous than those of Mrs. Hemans or Mrs. +Norton.[8] Besides the "Wreath of Wild Flowers from New England," which +appeared during her residence in London, a collection of her poems in +one volume was published in New York in 1846; and in 1849, Mr. Hart, of +Philadelphia, gave to the public, in a large octavo illustrated by our +best artists and equalling or surpassing in its tasteful and costly +style any work before issued from the press of this country, the most +complete and judiciously edited collection of them that has appeared. +This edition, however, contains less than half of her printed pieces +which she acknowledged; and among those which are omitted are a tragedy, +a comedy, a great number of piquant and ingenious _vers de societe_, and +several sacred pieces, which strike us as among the best writings of +their kind in our literature, which in this department, we may admit, is +more distinguishable for the profusion than for the quality of its +fruits. + + [8: Besides the books by her which have been referred to, she + published _The Language of Gems_, (London); _The Snow Drop_, + (Providence); _Puss in Boots_, (New York); _Cries of New York_, + (New York); _The Flower Alphabet_, (Boston); _The Rose: Sketches in + Verse_, (Providence); _A Letter About the Lions, addressed to Mabel + in the Country_, (New York). The following list of her prose tales, + sketches, and essays, is probably very incomplete: A Day in New + England; A Crumpled Rose Leaf; Florence Howard; Ida Gray; Florence + Errington; A Match for the Matchmaker; Mary Evelyn; Once More; + Athenais; The Wife; The Little Lost Shoe; The Magic Lute; Feeling + _vs._ Beauty; The Doom; The Flower and Gem; The Coquette; The Soul + Awakened; Glimpses of a Soul, (in three parts); Lizzie Lincoln; + Dora's Reward; Waste Paper; Newport Tableaux; Daguerreotype + Pictures; Carry Carlisle; Valentine's Day; The Lady's Shadow; + Truth; Virginia; The Waltz and the Wager; The Poet's Metamorphosis; + Pride and Penitence; Mabel; Pictures from a Painter's Life; + Georgiana Hazleton; A Sketch; Kate Melbourne; Life in New York; + Leonora L'Estrange; The Magic Mirror; The Blue Belle; and Letters + of Kate Carol, (a series of sketches of men, women and books;) + contributed for the most part to Mr. Labree's _Illustrated + Magazine_.] + +Mrs. Osgood's definition of poetry, that it is the rhythmical creation +of beauty, is as old as Sydney; and though on some grounds +objectionable, it is, perhaps, on the whole, as just as any that the +critics have given us. An intelligent examination, in the light of this +principle, of what she accomplished, will, it is believed, show that she +was, in the general, of the first rank of female poets; while in her +special domain, of the Poetry of the Affections, she had scarcely a +rival among women or men. As Pinckney said, + + Affections were as thoughts to her, the measure of her hours-- + Her feelings had the fragrancy and freshness of young flowers. + +Of love, she sung with tenderness and delicacy, a wonderful richness of +fancy, and rhythms that echo all the cadences of feeling. From the arch +mockery of the triumphant and careless conqueror, to the most passionate +prayer of the despairing, every variety and height and depth of hope and +fear and bliss and pain is sounded, in words that move us to a solitary +lute or a full orchestra of a thousand voices; and with an _abandon_, as +suggestive of genuineness as that which sometimes made the elder Kean +seem "every inch a king." It is not to be supposed that all these +caprices are illustrations of the experiences of the artist, in the case +of the poet any more than in that of the actor: by an effort of the +will, they pass with the liberties of genius into their selected realms, +assume their guises, and discourse their language. If ever there were + + --Depths of tenderness which showed when woke, + That _woman_ there as well as angel spoke, + +they are not to be looked for in the printed specimens of woman's +genius. Mrs. Osgood guarded herself against such criticism, by a +statement in her preface, that many of her songs and other verses were +written to appear in prose sketches and stories, and were expressions of +feeling suitable to the persons and incidents with which they were at +first connected. + +In this last edition, to which only reference will be made in these +paragraphs, her works are arranged under the divisions of _Miscellaneous +Poems_--embracing, with such as do not readily admit another +classification, her most ambitious and sustained compositions; _Sacred +Poems_--among which, "The Daughter of Herodias," the longest, is +remarkable for melodious versification and distinct painting: _Tales and +Ballads_--all distinguished for a happy play of fancy, and two or three +for the fruits of such creative energy as belongs to the first order of +poetical intelligences; _Floral Fancies_--which display a gaiety and +grace, an ingenuity of allegory, and elegant refinement of language, +that illustrate her fairy-like delicacy of mind and purity of feeling; +and _Songs_--of which we shall offer some particular observations in +their appropriate order. Scattered through the book we have a few poems +for children, so perfect in their way as to induce regret that she gave +so little attention to a kind of writing in which few are really +successful, and in which she is scarcely equalled. + +The volume opens with a brief voluntary, which is followed by a +beautiful and touching address to The Spirit of Poetry, displaying the +perfection of her powers, and her consciousness that they had been too +much neglected while ministering more than all things else to her +happiness. If ever from her heart she poured a passionate song, it was +this, and these concluding lines of it admit us to the sacredest +experiences of her life: + + Leave me not yet! Leave me not cold and lonely, + Thou star of promise o'er my clouded path! + Leave not the life that borrows from thee only + All of delight and beauty that it hath! + Thou that, when others knew not how to love me, + Nor cared to fathom half my yearning soul, + Didst wreathe thy flowers of light around, above me, + To woo and win me from my grief's control: + By all my dreams, the passionate and holy, + When thou hast sung love's lullaby to me, + By all the childlike worship, fond and lowly, + Which I have lavish'd upon thine and thee: + By all the lays my simple lute was learning + To echo from thy voice, stay with me still! + Once flown--alas! for thee there's no returning! + The charm will die o'er valley, wood and hill. + Tell me not Time, whose wing my brow has shaded, + Has wither'd Spring's sweet bloom within my heart; + Ah, no! the rose of love is yet unfaded, + Though hope and joy, its sister flowers, depart. + + Well do I know that I have wrong'd thine altar, + With the light offerings of an idler's mind, + And thus, with shame, my pleading prayer I falter, + Leave me not, spirit! deaf, and dumb, and blind! + Deaf to the mystic harmony of nature, + Blind to the beauty of her stars and flowers; + Leave me not, heavenly yet human teacher, + Lonely and lost in this cold world of ours; + Heaven knows I need thy music and thy beauty + Still to beguile me on my dreary way, + To lighten to my soul the cares of duty, + And bless with radiant dreams the darken'd day; + To charm my wild heart in the worldly revel, + Lest I, too, join the aimless, false and vain. + Let me not lower to the soulless level + Of those whom now I pity and disdain! + Leave me not yet!--Leave me not cold and pining, + Thou bird of Paradise, whose plumes of light, + Where'er they rested, left a glory shining-- + Fly not to heaven, or let me share thy flight! + +After this comes one of her most poetical compositions, "Ermengarde's +Awakening," in which, with even more than her usual felicity of diction, +she has invested with mortal passion a group from the Pantheon. It is +too long to be quoted here, but as an example of her manner upon a +similar subject, and in the same rhythm, we copy the poem of "Eurydice:" + + With heart that thrill'd to every earnest line, + I had been reading o'er that antique story, + Wherein the youth, half human, half divine, + Of all love-lore the Eidolon and glory, + Child of the Sun, with music's pleading spell, + In Pluto's palace swept, for love, his golden shell! + + And in the wild, sweet legend, dimly traced, + My own heart's history unfolded seem'd; + Ah! lost one! by thy lover-minstrel graced + With homage pure as ever woman dreamed, + Too fondly worshipp'd, since such fate befell, + Was it not sweet to die--because beloved too well! + + The scene is round me! Throned amid the gloom, + As a flower smiles on Etna's fatal breast, + Young Proserpine beside her lord doth bloom; + And near--of Orpheus' soul, oh, idol blest!-- + While low for thee he tunes his lyre of light, + I see _thy_ meek, fair form dawn through that lurid night! + + I see the glorious boy--his dark locks wreathing + Wildly the wan and spiritual brow; + His sweet, curved lip the soul of music breathing; + His blue Greek eyes, that speak Love's loyal vow; + I see him bend on _thee_ that eloquent glance, + The while those wondrous notes the realm of terror trance. + + I see his face with more than mortal beauty + Kindling, as, armed with that sweet lyre alone, + Pledged to a holy and heroic duty, + He stands serene before the awful throne, + And looks on Hades' horrors with clear eye, + Since thou, his own adored Eurydice, art nigh. + + Now soft and low a prelude sweet uprings, + As if a prison'd angel--pleading there + For life and love--were fetter'd 'neath the strings, + And poured his passionate soul upon the air! + Anon it clangs with wild, exulting swell, + Till the full paean peals triumphantly through Hell. + + And thou, thy pale hands meekly lock'd before thee, + Thy sad eyes drinking _life_ from _his_ dear gaze, + Thy lips apart, thy hair a halo o'er thee + Trailing around thy throat its golden maze; + Thus, with all words in passionate silence dying, + Within thy _soul_ I hear Love's eager voice replying: + + "Play on, mine Orpheus! Lo! while these are gazing, + Charm'd into statues by the god-taught strain, + I, I alone--to thy dear face upraising + My tearful glance--the life of life regain! + For every tone that steals into my heart + Doth to its worn weak pulse a mighty power impart. + + "Play on, mine Orpheus! while thy music floats + Through the dread realm, divine with truth and grace, + See, dear one! how the chain of linked notes + Has fetter'd every spirit in its place! + Even Death, beside me, still and helpless lies, + And strives in vain to chill my frame with his cold eyes. + + "Still, my own Orpheus, sweep the golden lyre! + Ah! dost thou mark how gentle Proserpine, + With clasped hands and eyes whose azure fire + Gleams thro' quick tears, thrilled by thy lay, doth lean + Her graceful head upon her stern lord's breast, + Like an o'erwearied child, whom music lulls to rest! + + "Play, my proud minstrel! strike the chords again! + Lo, Victory crowns at last thy heavenly skill! + For Pluto turns relenting to the strain-- + He waves his hand--he speaks his awful will! + My glorious Greek, lead on! but ah, _still_ lend + Thy soul to thy sweet lyre, lest yet thou lose thy friend! + + "Think not of me! Think rather of the time, + When, moved by thy resistless melody + To the strange magic of a song sublime, + Thy argo grandly glided to the sea; + And in the majesty Minerva gave, + The graceful galley swept, with joy, the sounding wave. + + "Or see, in Fancy's dream, thy Thracian trees, + Their proud heads bent submissive to the sound, + Sway'd by a tuneful and enchanted breeze, + March to slow music o'er the astonished ground; + Grove after grove descending from the hills, + While round thee weave their dance, the glad harmonious rills. + + "Think not of me! Ha! by thy mighty sire, + My lord, my king, recall the dread behest! + Turn not, ah! turn not back those eyes of fire! + Oh! lost, forever lost! undone! unblest! + I faint, I die!--the serpent's fang once more + Is here!--nay, grieve not thus! Life, but _not Love_, is o'er!" + +This is a noble poem, with too many interjections, and occasional +redundancies of imagery and epithet, betraying the author's customary +haste: but with unquestionable signs of that genuineness which is the +best attraction of the literature of sentiment. The longest and more +sustained of Mrs. Osgood's compositions is one entitled "Fragments of an +Unfinished Story" in which she has exhibited such a skill in blank +verse--frequently regarded as the easiest, but really the most difficult +of any--as induces regret that she so seldom made use of it. We have +here a masterly contrast of character in the equally natural expressions +of feeling by the two principal persons, both of whom are women: the +haughty Ida, and the impulsive child of passion, Imogen. It displays in +eminent perfection, that dramatic faculty which Sheridan Knowles and the +late William Cooke Taylor recognised as the most striking in the +composition of her genius. She had long meditated, and in her mind had +perfectly arranged, a more extended poem than she has left to us, upon +Music. It was to be in this measure, except some lyrical interludes, and +she was so confident of succeeding in it, that she deemed all she had +written of comparatively little worth. "These," she said to me one day, +pointing to the proof-leaves of the new edition of her poems, "these are +my 'Miscellaneous Verses:' let us get them out of the way, and never +think of them again, as the public never will when they have MY POEM!" +And her friends who heard the splendid scheme of her imagination, did +not doubt that when it should be clothed with the rich tissues of her +fancy, it would be all she dreamed of, and vindicate all that they +themselves were fond of saying of her powers. It was while her life was +fading; and no one else can grasp the shining threads, or weave them +into song, such as she heard lips, touched with divinest fire, far along +in the ages, repeating with her name. This was not vanity, or a low +ambition. She lingered, with subdued and tearful joy, when all the +living and the present seemed to fail her, upon the pages of the elect +of genius, and was happiest when she thought some words of hers might +lift a sad soul from a sea of sorrow. + +It was perhaps the key-note of that unwritten poem, which she sounded in +these verses upon its subject, composed while the design most occupied +her attention: + + The Father spake! In grand reverberations + Through space roll'd on the mighty music-tide, + While to its low, majestic modulations, + The clouds of chaos slowly swept aside. + + The Father spake: a dream that had been lying + Hush'd, from eternity, in silence there, + Heard the pure melody, and low replying, + Grew to that music in the wondering air-- + + Grew to that music--slowly, grandly waking-- + Till, bathed in beauty, it became a world! + Led by his voice, its spheric pathway taking, + While glorious clouds their wings around it furl'd. + + Nor yet has ceased that sound, his love revealing, + Though, in response, a universe moves by; + Throughout eternity its echo pealing, + World after world awakes in glad reply. + + And wheresoever, in his grand creation, + Sweet music breathes--in wave, or bird, or soul-- + 'Tis but the faint and far reverberation + Of that great tune to which the planets roll. + +Mrs. Osgood produced something in almost every form of poetical +composition, but the necessary limits of this article permit but few +illustrations of the variety or perfectness of her capacities. The +examples given here, even if familiar, will possess a new interest now; +and no one will read them without a feeling of sadness that she who +wrote them died so young, just as the fairest flowers of her genius were +unfolding. One of the most exquisite pieces she had written in the last +few years, is entitled "Calumny," and we know not where to turn for +anything more delicately beautiful than the manner in which the subject +is treated. + + A whisper woke the air, + A soft, light tone, and low, + Yet barbed with shame and wo. + Ah! might it only perish there, + Nor farther go! + + But no! a quick and eager ear + Caught up the little, meaning sound; + Another voice has breathed it clear; + And so it wandered round + From ear to lip, and lip to ear, + Until it reached a gentle heart + That throbbed from all the world apart, + And that--it broke! + + It was the only _heart_ it found, + The only heart 't was meant to find, + When first its accents woke. + It reached that gentle heart at last, + And that--it broke! + + Low as it seemed to other ears, + It came a thunder-crash to _hers_-- + That fragile girl, so fair and gay. + 'Tis said a lovely humming bird, + That dreaming in a lily lay, + Was killed but by the gun's _report_ + Some idle boy had fired in sport-- + So exquisitely frail its frame, + The very _sound_ a death-blow came-- + And thus her heart, unused to shame, + Shrined in _its_ lily too, + (For who the maid that knew, + But owned the delicate, flower-like grace + Of her young form and face!)-- + Her light and happy heart, that beat + With love and hope so fast and sweet, + When first that cruel word it heard, + It fluttered like a frightened bird-- + Then shut its wings and sighed, + And, with a silent shudder, died! + +In some countries this would, perhaps, be the most frequently quoted of +the author's effusions; but here, the terse and forcible piece under the +title of "Laborare est Orare," will be admitted to all collections of +poetical specimens; and it deserves such popularity, for a combination +as rare as it is successful of common sense with the form and spirit of +poetry: + + Pause not to dream of the future before us; + Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us; + Hark, how Creation's deep musical chorus, + Unintermitting, goes up into heaven! + Never the ocean-wave falters in flowing; + Never the little seed stops in its growing; + More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing, + Till from its nourishing stem it is riven. + + "Labor is worship!"--the robin is singing; + "Labor is worship!"--the wild bee is ringing; + Listen! that eloquent whisper upspringing + Speaks to thy soul from out nature's great heart. + From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower; + From the rough sod blows the soft-breathing flower; + From the small insect, the rich coral bower; + Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part. + + Labor is life! 'Tis the still water faileth; + Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth; + Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth; + Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. + Labor is glory!--the flying cloud lightens; + Only the waving wing changes and brightens; + Idle hearts only the dark future frightens; + Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune! + + Labor is rest--from the sorrows that greet us; + Rest from all petty vexations that meet us, + Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us, + Rest from world-syrens that lure us to ill. + Work--and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow; + Work--thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow; + Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow; + Work with a stout heart and resolute will! + + Labor is health! Lo! the husbandman reaping, + How through his veins goes the life current leaping! + How his strong arm, in its stalwart pride sweeping, + True as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides. + Labor is wealth--in the sea the pearl groweth; + Rich the queen's robe from the frail cocoon floweth; + From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth; + Temple and statue the marble block hides. + + Droop not, tho' shame, sin, and anguish are round thee! + Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee; + Look to yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee; + Rest not content in they darkness--a clod! + Work--for some good, be it ever so slowly; + Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly; + Labor!--all labor is noble and holy; + Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God. + +In fine contrast with this is the description of a "Dancing Girl," +written in a longer poem, addressed to her sister soon after her arrival +in London, in the autumn of 1834. It is as graceful as the vision it +brings so magically before us: + + She comes--the spirit of the dance! + And but for those large, eloquent eyes, + Where passion speaks in every glance, + She'd seem a wanderer from the skies. + + So light that, gazing breathless there, + Lest the celestial dream should go, + You'd think the music in the air + Waved the fair vision to and fro! + + Or that the melody's sweet flow + Within the radiant creature play'd + And those soft wreathing arms of snow + And white sylph feet the music made. + + Now gliding slow with dreamy grace, + Her eyes beneath their lashes lost; + Now motionless, with lifted face, + And small hands on her bosom cross'd. + + And now with flashing eyes she springs, + Her whole bright figure raised in air, + As if her soul had spread its wings + And poised her one wild instant there! + + She spoke not; but, so richly fraught + With language are her glance and smile, + That, when the curtain fell, I thought + She had been talking all the while. + +In illustration of what we have said of Mrs. Osgood's delineations of +refined sentiment, we refer to the poems from pages one hundred and +eleven to one hundred and thirty-one, willing to rest upon them our +praises of her genius. It may be accidental, but they seem to have an +epic relation, and to constitute one continuous history, finished with +uncommon elegance and glowing with a beauty which has its inspiration in +a deeper profound than was ever penetrated by messengers of the brain. +The third of these glimpses of heart-life--all having the same air of +sad reality--exhibits, with a fidelity and a peculiar power which is +never attained in such descriptions by men, the struggle of a pure and +passionate nature with a hopeless affection: + + Had we but met in life's delicious spring, + When young romance made Eden of the world; + When bird-like Hope was ever on the wing, + (In _thy_ dear breast how soon had it been furled!) + + Had we but met when both our hearts were beating + With the wild joy, the guileless love of youth-- + Thou a proud boy, with frank and ardent greeting, + And I a timid girl, all trust and truth!-- + + Ere yet my pulse's light, elastic play + Had learn'd the weary weight of grief to know, + Ere from these eyes had passed the morning ray, + And from my cheek the early rose's glow;-- + + Had we but met in life's delicious spring, + Ere wrong and falsehood taught me doubt and fear, + Ere Hope came back with worn and wounded wing, + To die upon the heart it could not cheer; + + Ere I love's precious pearl had vainly lavish'd, + Pledging an idol deaf to my despair; + Ere one by one the buds and blooms were ravish'd + From life's rich garland by the clasp of Care. + + Ah! had we _then_ but met!--I dare not listen + To the wild whispers of my fancy now! + My full heart beats--my sad, droop'd lashes glisten-- + I hear the music of thy _boyhood's_ vow! + + I see thy dark eyes lustrous with love's meaning, + I feel thy dear hand softly clasp mine own-- + Thy noble form is fondly o'er me leaning-- + It is too much--but ah! the dream has flown. + + How had I pour'd this passionate heart's devotion + In voiceless rapture on thy manly breast! + How had I hush'd each sorrowful emotion, + Lull'd by thy love to sweet, untroubled rest. + + How had I knelt hour after hour beside thee, + When from thy lips the rare scholastic lore + Fell on the soul that all but deified thee, + While at each pause I, childlike, pray'd for more. + + How had I watch'd the shadow of each feeling, + That mov'd thy soul-glance o'er that radiant face, + "Taming my wild heart" to that dear revealing, + And glorifying in thy genius and thy grace! + + Then hadst thou loved me with a love abiding, + And I had now been less unworthy thee, + For I was generous, guileless, and confiding, + A frank enthusiast, buoyant, fresh, and free! + + But _now_--my loftiest aspirations perish'd, + My holiest hopes a jest for lips profane, + The tenderest yearnings of my soul uncherish'd, + A soul-worn slave in Custom's iron chain: + + Check'd by these ties that make my lightest sigh, + My faintest blush, at thought of thee, a crime-- + How must I still my heart, and school my eye, + And count in vain the slow dull steps of Time! + + Wilt thou come back? Ah! what avails to ask thee + Since honor, faith, forbid thee to return! + Yet to forgetfulness I dare not task thee, + Lest thou too soon that _easy lesson_ learn! + + Ah! come not back, love! even through Memory's ear + Thy tone's melodious murmur thrills my heart-- + Come not with that fond smile, so frank, so dear; + While yet we may, let us for ever part! + +The passages commencing, "Thank God, I glory in thy love;" "Ah, let our +love be still a folded flower;" "Believe me, 'tis no pang of jealous +pride;" "We part forever: silent be our parting;" are in the same +measure, and in perfect keeping, but evince a still deeper emotion and +greater pathos and power. We copy the closing cantatas, "To Sleep," and +"A Weed"--a prayer and a prophecy--in which the profoundest sorrow is +displayed with touching simplicity and unaffected earnestness. First, to +Death's gentle sister: + + Come to me, angel of the weary hearted; + Since they, my loved ones, breathed upon by thee, + Unto thy realms unreal have departed, + I, too, may rest--even I; ah! haste to me. + + I dare not bid thy darker, colder brother + With his more welcome offering, appear, + For these sweet lips, at morn, will murmur, "Mother," + And who shall soothe them if I be not near? + + Bring me no dream, dear Sleep, though visions glowing + With hues of heaven thy wand enchanted shows; + I ask no glorious boon of thy bestowing, + Save that most true, most beautiful--repose. + + I have no heart to rove in realms of Faery-- + To follow Fancy at her elfin call; + I am too wretched--too soul-worn and weary; + Give me but rest, for rest to me is all. + + Paint not the future to my fainting spirit, + Though it were starr'd with glory like the skies; + There is no gift that mortals may inherit + That could rekindle hope in these cold eyes. + + And for the Past--the fearful Past--ah! never + Be Memory's downcast gaze unveil'd by thee; + Would thou couldst bring oblivion forever + Of all that is, that has been, and will be! + +And more mournful still, the dream of the after days: + + When from our northern woods pale summer flying, + Breathes her last fragrant sigh--her low farewell-- + While her sad wild flowers' dewy eyes, in dying, + Plead for her stay, in every nook and dell. + + A heart that loved too tenderly and truly, + Will break at last; and in some dim, sweet shade, + They'll smooth the sod o'er her you prized unduly, + And leave her to the rest for which she pray'd. + + Ah! trustfully, not mournfully, they'll leave her, + Assured that deep repose is welcomed well; + The pure, glad breeze can whisper naught to grieve her; + The brook's low voice no wrongful tale can tell. + + They'll hide her where no false one's footsteps, stealing, + Can mar the chasten'd meekness of her sleep; + Only to Love and Grief her grave revealing, + And they will hush their chiding _then_--to weep! + + And some, (for though too oft she err'd, too blindly, + She was beloved--how fondly and how well!)-- + Some few, with faltering feet, will linger kindly, + And plant dear flowers within that silent dell. + + I know whose fragile hand will bring the bloom + Best loved by both--the violet's--to that bower; + And one will bid white lilies bless the gloom; + And one, perchance, will plant the passion flower; + + Then do _thou_ come, when all the rest have parted-- + Thou, who alone dost know her soul's deep gloom! + And wreathe above the lost, the broken-hearted, + Some idle _weed_, that _knew not how to bloom_. + +We pass from these painful but exquisitely beautiful displays of +sensitive feeling and romantic fancy, to pieces exhibiting Mrs. Osgood's +more habitual spirit of arch playfulness and graceful invention, +scattered through the volume, and constituting a class of compositions +in which she is scarcely approachable. The "Lover's List," is one of her +shorter ballads: + + "Come sit on this bank so shady, + Sweet Evelyn, sit with me! + And count me your loves, fair lady-- + How many may they be?" + + The maiden smiled on her lover, + And traced with her dimpled hand, + Of names a dozen and over + Down in the shining sand. + + "And now," said Evelyn, rising, + "Sir Knight! your own, if you please; + And if there be no disguising, + The list will outnumber these; + + "Then count me them truly, rover!" + And the noble knight obeyed; + And of names a dozen and over + He traced within the shade. + + Fair Evelyn pouted proudly; + She sighed "Will he never have done?" + And at last she murmur'd loudly, + "I thought he would write but _one_!" + + "Now read," said the gay youth, rising; + "The scroll--it is fair and free; + In truth, there is no disguising + That list is the world to me!" + + She read it with joy and wonder, + For the first was her own sweet name; + And again and again written under, + It was still--it was still the same! + + It began with--"My Evelyn fairest!" + It ended with--"Evelyn best!" + And epithets fondest and dearest + Were lavished between on the rest. + + There were tears in the eyes of the lady + As she swept with her delicate hand, + On the river-bank cool and shady, + The list she had traced in the sand. + + There were smiles on the lip of the maiden + As she turned to her knight once more, + And the heart was with joy o'erladen + That was heavy with doubt before! + +And for its lively movement and buoyant feeling--equally characteristic +of her genius--the following song, upon "Lady Jane," a favorite horse: + + Oh! saw ye e'er creature so queenly, so fine, + As this dainty, aerial darling of mine! + With a toss of her mane, that is glossy as jet, + With a dance and a prance, and a frolic curvet, + She is off! she is stepping superbly away! + Her dark, speaking eye full of pride and of play. + Oh! she spurns the dull earth with a graceful disdain, + My fearless, my peerless, my loved Lady Jane! + + Her silken ears lifted when danger is nigh, + How kindles the night in her resolute eye! + Now stately she paces, as if to the sound + Of a proud, martial melody playing around, + Now pauses at once, 'mid a light caracole, + To turn her mild glance on me beaming with soul; + Now fleet as a fairy, she speeds o'er the plain, + My darling, my treasure, my own Lady Jane! + + Give her rein! let her go! Like a shaft from a bow, + Like a bird on the wing, she is speeding, I trow-- + Light of heart, lithe of limb, with a spirit all fire, + Yet sway'd and subdued by my idlest desire-- + Though daring, yet docile, and sportive but true, + Her nature's the noblest that ever I knew. + How she flings back her head, in her dainty disdain! + My beauty, my graceful, my gay Lady Jane! + +It is among the one hundred and thirteen songs, of which this is one, +and which form the last division of her poems, that we have the greatest +varieties of rhythm, cadence, and expression; and it is here too that we +have, perhaps, the most clear and natural exhibitions of that class of +emotions which she conceives with such wonderful truth. The prevailing +characteristic of these pieces is a native and delicate raillery, +piquant by wit, and poetical by the freshest and gracefullest fancies; +but they are frequently marked by much tenderness of sentiment, and by +boldness and beauty of imagination. They are in some instances without +that singleness of purpose, that unity and completeness, which ought +invariably to distinguish this sort of compositions, but upon the whole +it must be considered that Mrs. Osgood was remarkably successful in the +song. The fulness of our extracts from other parts of the volume will +prevent that liberal illustration of her excellence in this which would +be as gratifying to the reader as to us; and we shall transcribe but a +few specimens, which, by various felicities of language, and a pleasing +delicacy of sentiment, will detain the admiration: + + Oh! would I were only a spirit of song, + I'd float forever around, above you: + If I were a spirit, it wouldn't be wrong, + It couldn't be wrong, to love you! + + I'd hide in the light of a moonbeam bright, + I'd sing Love's lullaby softly o'er you, + I'd bring rare visions of pure delight + From the land of dreams before you. + + Oh! if I were only a spirit of song, + I'd float forever around, above you, + For a musical spirit could never do wrong, + And it wouldn't be wrong to love you! + +The next, an exquisitely beautiful song, suggests its own music: + + She loves him yet! + I know by the blush that rises + Beneath the curls + That shadow her soul-lit cheek; + She loves him yet! + Through all Love's sweet disguises + In timid girls, + A blush will be sure to speak. + + But deeper signs + Than the radiant blush of beauty, + The maiden finds, + Whenever his name is heard; + Her young heart thrills, + Forgetting herself--her duty-- + Her dark eye fills, + And her pulse with hope is stirr'd. + + She loves him yet!-- + The flower the false one gave her, + When last he came, + Is still with her wild tears wet. + She'll ne'er forget, + Howe'er his faith may waver, + Through grief and shame, + Believe it--she loves him yet. + + His favorite songs + She will sing--she heeds no other; + With all her wrongs + Her life on his love is set. + Oh! doubt no more! + She never can wed another; + Till life be o'er, + She loves--she will love him yet! + +And this is not less remarkable for a happy adaptation of sentiment to +the sound: + + Low, my lute--breathe low!--She sleeps!-- + Eulalie! + While his watch her lover keeps, + Soft and dewy slumber steeps + Golden tress and fringed lid + With the blue heaven 'neath it hid-- + Eulalie! + Low my lute--breathe low!--She sleeps!-- + Eulalie! + Let thy music, light and low, + Through her pure dream come and go. + Lute on Love! with silver flow, + All my passion, all my wo, + Speak for me! + Ask her in her balmy rest + Whom her holy heart loves best! + Ask her if she thinks of me!-- + Eulalie! + Low, my lute!--breathe low!--She sleeps!-- + Eulalie! + Slumber while thy lover keeps + Fondest watch and ward for thee, + Eulalie! + +The following evinces a deeper feeling, and has a corresponding force +and dignity in its elegance:-- + + Yes, "lower to the level" + Of those who laud thee now! + Go, join the joyous revel, + And pledge the heartless vow! + Go, dim the soul-born beauty + That lights that lofty brow! + Fill, fill the bowl! let burning wine + Drown in thy soul Love's dream divine! + + Yet when the laugh is lightest, + When wildest goes the jest, + When gleams the goblet brightest, + And proudest heaves thy breast, + And thou art madly pledging + Each gay and jovial guest-- + A ghost shall glide amid the flowers-- + The shade of Love's departed hours! + + And thou shalt shrink in sadness + From all the splendor there, + And curse the revel's gladness, + And hate the banquet's glare; + And pine, 'mid Passion's madness + For true love's purer air, + And feel thou'dst give their wildest glee + For one unsullied sigh from me! + + Yet deem not this my prayer, love, + Ah! no, if I could keep + Thy alter'd heart from care, love, + And charm its griefs to sleep, + Mine only should despair, love, + I--I alone would weep! + I--I alone would mourn the flowers + That fade in Love's deserted bowers! + +Among her poems are many which admit us to the sacredest recesses of the +mother's heart: "To a Child Playing with a Watch," "To Little May +Vincent," "To Ellen, Learning to Walk," and many others, show the almost +wild tenderness with which she loved her two surviving daughters--one +thirteen, and the other eleven years of age now;--and a "Prayer in +Illness," in which she besought God to "take them first," and suffer her +to lie at their feet in death, lest, deprived of her love, they should +be subjected to all the sorrow she herself had known in the world, is +exquisitely beautiful and touching. Her parents, her brothers, her +sisters, her husband, her children, were the deities of her tranquil and +spiritual worship, and she turned to them in every vicissitude of +feeling, for hope and strength and repose. "Lilly" and "May," were +objects of a devotion too sacred for any idols beyond the threshold, and +we witness it not as something obtruded upon the outer world, but as a +display of beautified and dignified humanity which is among the +ministries appointed to be received for the elevation of our natures. +With these holy and beautiful songs is intertwined one, which under the +title of "Ashes of Roses," breathes the solemnest requiem that ever was +sung for a child, and in reading it we feel that in the subject was +removed into the Unknown a portion of the mother's heart and life. The +poems of Mrs. Osgood are not a laborious balancing of syllables, but a +spontaneous gushing of thoughts, fancies and feelings, which fall +naturally into harmonious measures; and so perfectly is the sense echoed +in the sound, that it seems as if many of her compositions might be +intelligibly written in the characters of music. It is a pervading +excellence of her works, whether in prose or verse, that they are +graceful beyond those of any other author who has written in this +country; and the delicacy of her taste was such that it would probably +be impossible to find in all of them a fancy, a thought, or a word +offensive to that fine instinct in its highest cultivation or subtlest +sensibility. It is one of her great merits that she attempted nothing +foreign to her own affluent but not various genius. + +There is a stilted ambition, common lately to literary women, which is +among the fatalest diseases to reputation. She was never betrayed into +it; she was always simple and natural, singing in no falsetto key, even +when she entered the temples of old mythologies. With an extraordinary +susceptibility of impressions, she had not only the finest and quickest +discernment of those peculiarities of character which give variety to +the surface of society, but of certain kinds and conditions of life she +perceived the slightest undulations and the deepest movements. She had +no need to travel beyond the legitimate sphere of woman's observation, +to seize upon the upturnings and overthrows which serve best for +rounding periods in the senate or in courts of criminal justice--trying +everything to see if poetry could be made of it. Nor did she ever demand +audience for rude or ignoble passion, or admit the moral shade beyond +the degree in which it must appear in all pictures of life. She lingered +with her keen insight and quick sensibilities among the associations, +influences, the fine sense, brave perseverance, earnest +affectionateness, and unfailing truth, which, when seen from the +romantic point of view, are suggestive of all the poetry which it is +within the province of woman to write. + +I have not chosen to dwell upon the faults in her works; such labor is +more fit for other hands, and other days; and so many who attempt +criticism seem to think the whole art lies in the detection of +blemishes, that one may sometimes be pardoned for lingering as fondly as +I have done, upon an author's finer qualities. It must be confessed, +that in her poems there is evinced a too unrestrained partiality for +particular forms of expression, and that--it could scarcely be otherwise +in a collection so composed--thoughts and fancies are occasionally +repeated. In some instances too, her verse is diffuse, but generally, +where this objection is made, it will be found that what seems most +careless and redundant is only delicate shading: she but turns her +diamonds to the various rays; she rings no changes till they are not +music; she addresses an eye more sensitive to beauty and a finer ear +than belong to her critics. The collection of her works is one of the +most charming volumes that woman has contributed to literature; of all +that we are acquainted with the most womanly; and destined, for that it +addresses with truest sympathy and most natural eloquence the commonest +and noblest affections, to be always among the most fondly cherished +Books of the Heart. + +Reluctantly I bring to a close these paragraphs--a hasty and imperfect +tribute, from my feelings and my judgment, to one whom many will +remember long as an impersonation of the rarest intellectual and moral +endowments, as one of the loveliest characters in literary or social +history. Hereafter, unless the office fall to some one worthier, I may +attempt from the records of our friendship, and my own and others' +recollections, to do such justice to her life and nature, that a larger +audience and other times shall feel how much of beauty with her spirit +left us. + +This requiem she wrote for another, little thinking that her friends +would so soon sing it with hearts saddened for her own departure. + + The hand that swept the sounding lyre + With more than mortal skill, + The lightning eye, the heart of fire, + The fervent lip are still: + No more in rapture or in wo, + With melody to thrill, + Ah! nevermore! + + Oh! bring the flowers she cherish'd so, + With eager child-like care: + For o'er her grave they'll love to grow, + And sigh their sorrow there; + Ah me! no more their balmy glow + May soothe her heart's despair, + No! nevermore! + + But angel hands shall bring her balm + For every grief she knew, + And Heaven's soft harps her soul shall calm + With music sweet and true; + And teach to her the holy charm + Of Israfel anew. + For evermore! + + Love's silver lyre she played so well, + Lies shattered on her tomb; + But still in air its music-spell + Floats on through light and gloom, + And in the hearts where soft they fell, + Her words of beauty bloom + For evermore! + + + + +Recent Deaths. + + +SAMUEL YOUNG. + +The Hon. Samuel Young, long one of the most eminent politicians of the +democratic party in the State of New-York, died of apoplexy, at his home +at Ballston Spa, on the night of the third of November. Col. Young was +born in Berkshire county, Massachusetts, in 1778. Soon after he +completed his legal studies he emigrated to Ballston Spa, in this State. +The following facts respecting his subsequent career are condensed from +the _Tribune_. + +"He was first chosen to the Legislature in 1814, and was reelected next +year on a split ticket, which for a time clouded his prospects. In 1824, +he was again in the Assembly, was Speaker of the House in that memorable +year, and helped remove De Witt Clinton from the office of Canal +Commissioner. The Fall Election found him a candidate for Governor on +the 'Caucus' interest opposed to the 'People's' demand that the choice +of Presidential Electors be relinquished by the Legislature to the +Voters of the State. Col. Young professed to be personally a 'Peoples' +man, and in favor of Henry Clay for President; the 'Caucus' candidate +being Wm. H. Crawford. De Witt Clinton was the opposing candidate for +Governor, and was elected by 16,000 majority. Col. Young's political +fortunes never recovered from the blow thus inflicted. He had already +been chosen a Canal Commissioner by the Legislature, and he continued to +hold the office till the Political revolution of 1838-9, when he was +superseded by a Whig. He was afterwards twice a State Senator for four +years, and for three years Secretary of State. He carried into all the +stations he has filled signal ability and unquestioned rectitude. He was +a man of strong prejudices, violent temper and implacable resentments, +but a Patriot and a determined foe of time-serving, corruption, +prodigality, and debt. He was a warm friend of Educational Improvement, +and did the cause good service while Secretary of State. For the last +three years he has held no office, but lived in that peaceful retirement +to which his years and his services fairly entitled him. He leaves +behind him many who have attained more exalted positions on a smaller +capital of talent and aptitude for public service. We have passed +lightly over his vehement denunciations of the Internal Improvement +policy during the latter years of his public life. We attribute the +earnestness of his hostility to a temper soured by disappointment, and +especially to his great defeat in '24, at the hands of the illustrious +champion of the Canals. But, though his vision was jaundiced, his +purpose was honest. He thought he was struggling to save the State from +imminent bankruptcy and ruin." + + * * * * * + +Henry T. Robinson, for many years an active maker of political and other +caricatures, by which he made a fortune, here and in Washington, and of +nude and other indecent prints, by the seizure of a large quantity of +which, with other causes, he was impoverished, died at Newark, +New-Jersey, on the third of November. He was born on Bethnal Common in +England, in 1785, and about 1810 emigrated to this country, where he was +one of the first to practise lithography. + + * * * * * + +Joseph Hardy died a few weeks ago at Rathmines, aged ninety-three years. +When twenty years old he invented a machine for doubling and twisting +cotton yarn, for which the Dublin Society awarded him a premium of +twenty guineas. Four years after he invented a scribbling machine for +carding wool, to be worked by horse or water power, for which the same +society awarded him one hundred guineas. He next invented a machine for +measuring and sealing linen, and was in consequence appointed by the +linen board seals-master for all the linen markets in the county of +Derry, but the slightest benefit from this he never derived, as the +rebellion of '98 broke out about the time he had all his machines +completed, and political opponents having represented by memorials to +the board that by giving so much to one man, hundreds who then were +employed would be thrown out of work, the board changed the seal from +the spinning wheel to the harp and crown, thereby rendering his seals +useless, merely giving him 100_l._ by way of remuneration for his loss. +About the year 1810 he demonstrated by an apparatus attached to one of +the boats of the Grand Canal Company at Portobello the practicability of +propelling vessels on the water by paddle wheels; but having placed the +paddles on the bow of the boat, the action of the backwater on the boat +was so great as to prevent its movement at a higher speed than three +miles per hour. This appearing not to answer, without further experiment +he broke up the machinery, and allowed others to profit by the ideas he +gave on the subject, and to complete on the open sea what he had +attempted within the narrow limits of a canal. He also invented a +machine for sawing timber; but the result of all his inventions during a +long life was very considerable loss of time and property without the +slightest recompense from Government, or the country benefited by his +talents. + + * * * * * + +Major-General Slessor died at Sidmouth, Devonshire, on the 11th October, +aged seventy-three. He entered the army in 1794, and served in Ireland +during the rebellion, and subsequently against the French force +commanded by General Humbert, on which last occasion he was wounded. In +1806 he accompanied his regiment (the 35th) to Sicily, and the next year +he served in the second expedition to Egypt, and was wounded in the +retreat from Rosetta to Alexandria. He then served with Sir J. Oswald +against the Greek Islands, and was employed in the Mediterranean. He +also served in the Austrian army, under Count Nugent, and in the +Waterloo campaign. + + * * * * * + +Joseph Signay, Roman Catholic Archbishop of the Ecclesiastical Province +of Quebec, died on the 3d of October. He was born at Quebec November 8, +1778, appointed Coadjutor of Quebec and Bishop of Fussala the 15th of +December, 1826, and was consecrated under that title the 20th of May, +1827. He succeeded to the See of Quebec the 19th of February, 1833, and +was elevated to the dignity of Archbishop by His Holiness Pope Gregory +XVI., on the 12th of July, 1844, and received the "Pallium" during the +ensuing month. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Fouquier, one of the most celebrated physicians of Paris, who was +_le medecin_ of the ex-king Louis Philippe, and Professor of _clinique +interne_ at the Academy, died on the 1st of October. His loss is much +felt among the _savants_. + + * * * * * + +Lieut.-Colonel Cross, K.H., a distinguished Peninsular officer, died +near London on the 27th of October. He served in the Peninsular war from +1808 until its close in 1814, and was at the battle of Waterloo, where +he received a severe contusion. + + * * * * * + +Thomas Amyot, F.R.S., &c.--whose life, extended to the age of +seventy-six, was passed in close intercourse with the literary and +antiquarian circles of London, participating in their pursuits and +aiding their exertions--died on the 28th of September. He was an active +and respected member of almost every metropolitan association which had +for its object the advancement of literature. He was a constant and +valuable contributor to the _Archaeologia_, the private secretary of Mr. +Windham, the editor of Windham's speeches, and for many years treasurer +to the Society of Antiquaries of London, and a director of the Camden +Society. He was a native of Norwich, and obtained the friendship and +patronage of Windham while actively engaged in canvassing in favor of an +opponent of that gentleman for the representation of Norwich in the +House of Commons. A Life of Windham was one of his long-promised and +long-looked-for contributions to the biographies of English statesmen; +but no such work has been published, and there is reason to believe that +very little, if indeed any portion of it, was ever completed for +publication. The journals of Mr. Windham were in the possession of Mr. +Amyot; and if we may judge of the whole by the account of Johnson's +conversation and last illness, printed by Croker in his edition of +Boswell, we may assert that whenever they may be published they will +constitute a work of real value in illustration of political events and +private character,--a model in respect of fullness and yet succinctness, +which future journalists may copy with advantage. Whatever Windham +preserved of Johnson's conversation well merited preservation. Mr. +Amyot's most valuable literary production is, his refutation of Mr. +Tytler's supposition that Richard the Second was alive and in Scotland +in the reign of Henry the Fourth. + + * * * * * + +Madame Branchu, so famous in the opera in the last century, is dead. The +first distinct idea which many have entertained respecting the _Grande +Opera_ of Paris may have been derived from a note in Moore's _Fudge +Family_ in which the "shrill screams of Madame Branchu" were mentioned. +She retired from the theater in 1826, after twenty-five years of _prima +donna_ship--having succeeded to the scepter and crown of Mdlle. Maillard +and Madame St. Huberty. She died at Passy, having almost entirely passed +out of the memory of the present opera-going generation. She must have +been a forcible and impassioned rather than an elegant or irreproachable +vocalist--and will be best remembered perhaps as the original _Julia_ in +"La Vestale" of Spontini. + + * * * * * + +Major-General Wingrove, of the Royal Marines, died on the 7th October, +aged seventy years. He entered the Royal Marines in 1793, served at the +surrender of the Cape of Good Hope in 1795, the battle of Trafalgar, the +taking of Genoa in 1814, was on board the Boyne when that ship singly +engaged three French ships of the line and three frigates, off Toulon, +in 1814, and on board the Hercules in a single action, off Cape Nichola +Mole. In 1841 he was promoted to the rank of a major-general. + + * * * * * + +The Duke of Palmella, long eminent in the affairs of Portugal, died at +Lisbon on the 12th of October. He was born on the 8th of May, 1781, and +had, consequently, completed his sixty ninth year. A very considerable +part of his life was dedicated to the diplomatic service of Portugal, +which he represented at the Congress of Vienna, in 1814; and he was one +of the General Committee of the eight powers who signed the Peace of +Paris. When the debate respecting the slave-trade took place in the +Congress, he warmly opposed the immediate abolition by Portugal, which +had been demanded by Lord Castlereagh. He was also one of the foreign +ministers who signed the declaration of the 13th of March, 1815, against +Napoleon; immediately after which he was nominated representative of +Portugal at the British Court. In 1816, however, he was recalled to fill +the office of Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in Brazil. In +February, 1818, he visited Paris, for the purpose of making some +arrangements relative to Monte Video, with the Spanish Ambassador, Count +Fernan Nunez. After the Portuguese Revolution, he retired for a time +from active life. He was next selected to attend at the coronation of +Queen Victoria; and his great wealth enabled him to vie, on that +occasion, with the representatives of the other courts of Europe. He was +several times called to preside over the councils of his Sovereign, but +only held office for a limited period. Though a member of the ancient +nobility, all his titles were honorably acquired by his own exertions, +and were the rewards of distinguished abilities and meritorious +services. No Portuguese statesman acquired greater celebrity abroad, and +no man acted a more consistent part in all the political vicissitudes of +the last thirty years, throughout which he was a most prominent +character. It is related of the Duke, when Count de Palmella, that +during the contest in Spain and Portugal, Napoleon one day hastily +addressed him with--"Well, are you Portuguese willing to become +Spanish?" "No," replied the Count, in a firm tone. Far from being +displeased with this frank and laconic reply, Napoleon said next day to +one of his officers, "The Count de Palmella gave me yesterday a noble +'No.'" + + * * * * * + +Carl Rottmann, the distinguished Bavarian artist and painter to the +King, died near the end of October. He had been sent by King Ludwig to +Italy and to Greece to depict the scenery and monuments of those +countries. His pictures of the Temple of Juno Lucina, Girgenti, the +theater of Taormina, &c., have never been excelled, and the king had +characterized them by illustrative poems. The Grecian monuments which +Rottmann sketched in 1835 and 1836 are destined for the new Pinakothek; +and the Battle-Field of Marathon is spoken of as a wonderful +composition. The frescoes of Herr Rottmann adorn the ceiling of the +upper story of the palace at Munich. + + * * * * * + +Francois de Villeneuve-Bargemont, Marquis de Trans, a member of the +French Academy of Inscriptions of Belles-Lettres, and author, amongst +other works, of the Histories of King Rene of Anjou, of St. Louis, and +of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, is named in the late Paris +obituaries. + + * * * * * + +The _Augsburg Gazette_ announces the death of the celebrated Bavarian +painter Ch. Schorn, Professor at the Academy of Fine Arts at Munich, on +the 7th October, aged forty-seven. + + * * * * * + +Richard M. Johnson, Ex-Vice-President of the United States, died at +Frankfort, Ky., on the morning of November 19, having for some time been +deprived of his reason. He was about seventy years of age. In 1807 he +was chosen a member of the House of Representatives, which post he held +twelve years. In 1813 he raised 1,000 men, to fight the British and +Indians in the North-west. In the campaign which followed he served +gallantly under Gen. Harrison as Colonel of his regiment. At the battle +of the Thames he distinguished himself by breaking the line of the +British infantry. The fame of killing Tecumseh, in this battle, has been +given to Colonel J., but the act has other claimants. In 1819 he was +transferred from the House of Representatives to the Senate, to serve +out an unexpired term. When that expired he was re-chosen, and thus +remained in the Senate till 1829. Then, another re-election being +impossible, he went back into the House, where he remained till 1839, +when he became Vice-President under Mr. Van Buren. In 1829 the Sunday +Mail agitation being brought before the House, he, as Chairman of the +Committee on Post-Offices and Post-Roads, presented a report against the +suspension of mails on Sunday. It was able, though its ability was much +exaggerated; it disposed of the subject, and Col. J. received what never +belonged to him, the credit of having written it. From 1837 to 1841 he +presided over the Senate. From that time he did not hold any office. + + * * * * * + +William Blacker, Esq., the distinguished agricultural writer and +economist, died on the 20th of October, at his residence in Armagh, in +the seventy-fifth year of his age. Engaged extensively, in early life, +in mercantile pursuits, he devoted himself at a maturer period to the +development of the agricultural and economic resources of Ireland. By +his popularly-written "Hints to Small Farmers," annual reports of +experimental results, essays, &c. he managed to spread, not only a +spirit of inquiry into matters of such vital importance to his country, +but to point out and urge into the best and most advantageous course of +action, the well-inclined and the energetic. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Bell Martin, the author of a very clever novel, lately reprinted by +the Harpers, entitled "Julia Howard" and originally published under the +name of Mrs. Martin Bell, died in this city on the 7th of November. Mrs. +Martin was the daughter of one of the wealthiest commoners of England. +She came to this country it is said entirely for purposes connected with +literature. She was the author of several other works, most of which +were written in French. + + * * * * * + +The _Patria_, of Corfu mentions the death by cholera of Signor Niccolo +Delviniotti Baptistide, a distinguished literary character, and author +of several very interesting works. + + * * * * * + +General du Chastel, one of the remains of the French Imperial Army, died +at Saumur, in October, in the seventy-eighth year of his age. + + * * * * * + +Among the other recent deaths in Europe, we notice that of Mr. Watkyns, +the son-in-law and biographer of Ebenezer Elliot; Dr. Medicus, Professor +of Botany at Munich, and a member of the Academy of Sciences in that +capital; M. Ferdinand Laloue, a dramatic author of some reputation in +Paris; and Dr. C.F. Becker, eminent for his philosophical works on +grammar and the structure of language. + +[Illustration] + + +NICHOLAS WISEMAN, D.D., LL.D., CARDINAL ARCHBISHOP OF WESTMINSTER. + +The topic of the month in Europe has been the public and formal +resumption of jurisdiction by the Pope in England, and the appointment +of the ablest and most illustrious person in the Catholic Church to be +Archbishop of Westminster. Dr. Wiseman is known and respected by all +Christian scholars for his abilities, and their devotion to the +vindication of our common faith. His admirable work on _The Connection +between Science and Revealed Religion_ is a text-book in Protestant as +well as in Roman Catholic seminaries. Cardinal Wiseman is now in his +forty-ninth year, having been born at Seville, on the second of August, +1802. He is descended from an Irish family, long settled in Spain. At an +early age he was carried to England, and sent for his education to St. +Cuthbert's Catholic College, near Durham. Thence he was removed to the +English College at Rome, where he distinguished himself by an +extraordinary attachment to learning. At eighteen he published in Latin +a work on the Oriental languages; and he bore off the gold medal at +every competition of the colleges of Rome. His merit recommended him to +his superiors; he obtained several honors, was ordained a priest, and +made a Doctor of Divinity. He was several years a Professor in the Roman +University, and then Rector of the English College, where he achieved +his earliest success. He went to England in 1835, and immediately became +a conspicuous teacher and writer on the side of the Catholics. In 1836 +he vindicated in a course of lectures the doctrines of the Catholic +Church, and gave so much satisfaction to his party that they presented +him with a gold medal, to express their esteem and gratitude. He +returned to Rome, and seems to have been instrumental in inducing Pope +Gregory XVI. to increase the vicars apostolic in England. The number was +doubled, and Dr. Wiseman went back as coadjutor to Bishop Walsh, of the +Midland district. He was appointed President of St. Mary's College, +Oscott, and contributed, by his teaching, his preaching, and his +writings, very much to promote the spread of Catholicism in England. He +was a contributor to the _Dublin Review_, and the author of some +controversial pamphlets. In 1847 he again repaired to Rome on the +affairs of the Catholics, and no doubt prepared the way for the present +change. His second visit to Rome led to further preferment. He was made +Pro-Vicar Apostolic of the London district; subsequently appointed +coadjutor to Dr. Walsh, and in 1849, on the death of Dr. Walsh, Vicar +Apostolic of the London district. Last August he went again to Rome, +"not expecting," as he says, "to return;" but "delighted to be +commissioned to come back" clothed in his new dignity. In a Consistory +held September 30, Nicholas Wiseman was elected to the dignity of +Cardinal, by the title of Saint Prudentiani, and appointed Archbishop of +Westminster. Under the Pope, he is the head of the Roman Catholic Church +in England, and a Prince of the Church of Rome. + +[Illustration] + + + + +Ladies' Fashions for December. + + +Fig. I. _Promenade Costume._--Robe of striped silk: the ground a richly +shaded brown, and the stripes of the same color, but of darker hue. The +skirt of the dress is quite plain, the corsage high, and the sleeves not +very wide at the ends, showing white under-sleeves of very moderate +size. Mantle of dark green satin. The upper part or body is shaped like +a pardessus, with a small basque at the back. Attached to this body is a +double skirt, both the upper and lower parts of which are set on in +slight fullness, and nearly meeting in front. The body of the mantle, as +well as the two skirts, is edged with quilling of satin ribbon of the +color of the cloak. Loose Chinese sleeves, edged with the same trimming. +Drawn bonnet of brown velvet; under trimming small red flowers; strings +of brown therry velvet ribbon. + +Fig. II.--Back view of dress of claret-colored broche silk; the pattern +large detached sprigs. Cloak of rich black satin. The upper part is a +deep cape, cut so as to fit closely to the figure, and pointed at the +back. By being fastened down at each side of the arms, this cape +presents the effect of sleeves. Round the back, and on that part which +falls over the arms, the cape is edged with a very broad and rich +fringe, composed of twisted silk chenille, and headed by passementerie. +The skirt of the cloak is cut bias way and nearly circular, so that it +hangs round the figure in easy fullness. The fronts are trimmed with +ornaments of passementerie in the form of large flowers. The bonnet is +of green therry velvet, trimmed with black lace, two rows of which are +laid across the front. Under trimming of pale pink roses. + + + + +[Transcriber's Notes: + +Page vi: Transcribed "Bronte" as "Bronte". As originally printed: +"Bronte and her Sisters". + +Transcribed "in" as "on". As originally printed: "Herr Kielhau, in +Geology". + +Pages vi & 142: Transcribed "Charles Rottman" as "Carl Rottmann". + +Page vii: Transcribed "this" as "his". As originally printed: "Swift, +Dean, and this Amours." + +Page 13: Supplied "from" in the following phrase (shown here in +brackets): "It caused Richard Steele to be expelled [from] the House of +Commons". + +Page 13: Transcribed "colleague's" as "colleagues". As originally +printed: "triumphed over his colleague's". + +Page 16: Transcribed "Smollet" as "Smollett". As originally printed: +"the best productions of Mendoza, Smollet, or Dickens" (presumably, +Tobias Smollett). + +Page 20: Transcribed "Uniersberg" as "Untersberg". As originally +printed: "Charlemagne in the Uniersberg at Salzburg". + +Pages 18-22: Alternate spellings of Leipzig/Leipzic have been left as +printed in the original publication. + +Page 24: A closing quotation is missing in the original publication for +material commencing: "we shall see him as he was, both adventurous and +patient.... + +Page 27: Transcribed "Cosmo" as "Cosimo". As originally printed: "but of +Cosmo de Medici, Lorenzo his great descendant". + +Page 28: Transcribed "Eoratii" as "Horatii". As originally printed: "The +Eoratii, one of the master pieces of David". + +Page 73: Transcribed "bonhommie" as "bonhomie". As originally printed: +"the Visconte, with equal _bonhommie_". + +Page 113: Transcribed "vacilliating" as "vacillating". As originally +printed: "made a blind vacilliating attack". + +Page 127: A closing quotation is missing in the original publication for +material commencing: "I have sometimes thought that if you were to stop +a hundred men.... + +Transcribed "habitues" as "habitues". As originally printed: "the more +experienced _habitues_ of office". + +Page 128: Transcribed "Choco and Popayan" as "Choco and Popayan". As +originally printed: "deep and humid woods of the provinces of Choco and +Popayan". + +Transcribed "Caraccas" as "Caracas". As originally printed: "as +identical with the cow tree of Caraccas". + +Page 129: "garnery" in "gathered into the garnery" has been left as +printed in the original publication. Likely misspelling of "granary". + +Page 136: Transcribed "paen" as "paean". As originally printed: "Till the +full paen". + +Page 139: Transcribed "singleness that of purpose" as "that singleness +of purpose". As originally printed: "They are in some instances without +singleness that of purpose". + +Transcribed "waiver" as "waver". As originally printed: "Howe'er his +faith may waiver". + +Page 142: Transcribed "Pinakotheka" as "Pinakothek". As originally +printed: "destined for the new Pinakotheka". + +Transcribed "Francois de Villenueve-Bargemont" as "Francois de +Villeneuve-Bargemont".] + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The International Monthly, Vol. II, +No. I, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, DEC 1, 1850 *** + +***** This file should be named 37872.txt or 37872.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/8/7/37872/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Gary Rees and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by Cornell University Digital Collections) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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