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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/37904-8.txt b/37904-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d2d0e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/37904-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15484 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The International Monthly, Volume 4, No. 4, +November 1, 1851, 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, Volume 4, No. 4, November 1, 1851 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: November 2, 2011 [EBook #37904] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, NOV 1, 1851 *** + + + + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci 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 MAGAZINE + +Of Literature, Art, and Science. + +Vol. IV. NEW-YORK, NOVEMBER 1, 1851. No. IV. + + + + +THE GREAT EXHIBITION OF THE NEW-YORK STATE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT +ROCHESTER. + +[Illustration: EXTERIOR OF THE FAIR.] + + +This is an age of Exhibitions. From the humble collection of cattle and +counter-panes, swine and "garden sauce," at the central village of some +secluded County, up to the stupendous "World's Fair" at London, wherein all +nations and all arts are represented, "Industrial Expositions," as the +French more accurately term them, are the order of the day. And this is +well--nay, it is inspiring. It proves the growth and diffusion of a wider +and deeper consciousness of the importance and dignity of Labor as an +element of national strength and social progress. That corn and cloth are +essential to the comfortable subsistence of the human family, and of every +portion of it, was always plain enough; but the truth is much broader than +that. Not food alone, but knowledge, virtue, power, depend upon the subtle +skill of the artificer's fingers, the sturdy might of the husbandman's arm. +Let these fail, through the blighting influence of despotism, +licentiousness, superstition, or slavery, and the national greatness is +cankered at the root, and its preservation overtasks the ability of +Phocion, of Hannibal, of Cato. A nation flourishes or withers with the +development and vigor of its Industry. It may prosper and be strong without +statesmen, warriors, or jurists; it fades and falls with the decline of its +arts and its agriculture. Wisely, therefore, do rulers, nobles, field +marshals and archbishops, unite in rendering the highest honors to eminence +in the domain of Industry, dimly perceiving that it is mightier and more +enduring than their petty and fragile potencies. The empire of Napoleon, +though so lately at its zenith, has utterly passed away, while that of +Fulton is still in its youth. + +A State Agricultural Society, numbering among its members some thousands of +her foremost citizens, mainly but not wholly farmers, is one of the most +commendable institutions of this great and growing commonwealth. Aided +liberally by the State government, it holds an Annual Fair at some one of +the chief towns of the interior, generally on the line of the Erie Canal, +whereby the collection of stock and other articles for exhibition is +facilitated, and the cost thereof materially lessened. Poughkeepsie, +Albany, Saratoga Springs, Utica, Syracuse (twice), Auburn, Rochester +(twice), and Buffalo, are the points at which these Fairs have been held +within the last ten years. Recently, the railroads have transported cattle, +&c., for exhibition, either at half-price, or entirely without charge, +while the State's bounty and the liberal receipts for admission to the +grounds have enabled the managers to stimulate competition by a very +extensive award of premiums, so that almost every recurrence of the State +Fair witnesses a larger and still more extensive display of choice animals. +Whether the improvement in quality keeps pace with the increase in number +is a point to be maturely considered. + +The Fair of this year was held at ROCHESTER, in a large open field about a +mile south of the city, and of course near the Genesee river. Gigantic +stumps scattered through it, attested how recently this whole region was +covered with the primeval forest. Probably fifty thousand persons now live +within sight of the Rochester steeples, though not a human being inhabited +this then dense and swampy wilderness forty years ago. And here, almost +wholly from a region which had less than five thousand white inhabitants in +1810, not fewer than one hundred thousand persons, two-thirds of them adult +males, were drawn together expressly to witness this exhibition. The number +who entered the gates on Thursday alone exceeded seventy-five thousand, +while the attendance on the two preceding days and on Friday, of persons +who were not present on Thursday, must have exceeded twenty-five thousand. +Of course, many came with no definite purpose, no previous preparation to +observe and learn, and so carried home nothing more than they brought +there, save the head-ache, generated by their irregularities and excesses +while absent; but thousands came qualified and resolved to profit by the +practical lessons spread before them, and doubtless went away richly +recompensed for the time and money expended in visiting the Fair. This +Annual Exhibition is as yet the Farmers' University; they will in time have +a better, but until then they do well to make the most of that which +already welcomes them to its cheap, ready and practical inculcations. + +[Illustration: ROCHESTER.] + +The President of the State Society for this year is Mr. JOHN DELAFIELD, +long a master spirit among our Wall-street financiers, and for some years +President of the Phenix bank. He was finally swamped by the rascality of +the State of Illinois in virtually repudiating her public debt, whereby Mr. +Delafield, who had long acted as her financial agent in New-York, and had +staked his fortune on her integrity, was reduced from affluence to need. +Nothing daunted by this reverse, he promptly transferred his energies from +finance to agriculture, taking hold of a large farm in Seneca County, near +the beautiful village of Geneva; and on this farm he soon proved himself +one of the best practical agriculturists in our State. Before he had been +five years on the soil, he was already teaching hundreds of life-long +cultivators, by the quiet force of his successful example, how to double +the product of their lands and more than double their annual profits. His +enlightened and admirable husbandry has finally called him to the post he +now occupies--one not inferior in true dignity and opportunity for +usefulness to that of Governor of the State. And this is a fair specimen of +the elasticity of the American character and its capacity for adapting +itself to any and every change of circumstances. + +[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE FAIR.] + +The Annual Address at this Fair was delivered by the Hon. STEPHEN A. +DOUGLAS, now U. S. Senator from Illinois, and a very probable "Democratic" +candidate for next President of the United States. It was an able and well +enunciated discourse, devoted mainly to political economy as affecting +agriculture, taking the "free trade" view of this important and difficult +subject, and evidently addressed quite as much to southern politicians as +to New-York farmers; but it embodied many practical suggestions of decided +force and value. This address has already received a very wide circulation. + +A public entertainment was proffered on Thursday evening to the officers of +the State Society, on behalf of the city of Rochester, which was attended +by ex-President TYLER, GOV. WASHINGTON HUNT, ex-Governor and ex-Secretary +MARCY, GEN. WOOL, Governor WRIGHT of Indiana, &c. &c. Senator DOUGLAS +arrived in the train just before the gathering broke up. The presence of +ladies, and the absence of liquors, were the most commendable features of +this festivity, which was convened at an absurdly late hour, and +characterized by an afflictive amount of dull speaking. Such an +entertainment is very well on an occasion like this, merely as a means of +enabling the congregated thousands to see and hear the celebrities convened +with them; but it should be given in the afternoon or beginning of the +evening, should cost very little (the speaking being dog-cheap and the +eatables no object), and should in nearly all respects be just what the +Rochester festival was not. As an exercise in false hospitality, however, +and a beacon for future adventurers in the same line, this entertainment +had considerable merit. + +[Illustration: AZALIA. + +_The best Short-Horned Durham Cow over Three Years Old: Owned by Lewis G. +Morris._] + +[Illustration: LORD ERYHOLM. + +_The best Two Year Old Short-Horned Durham Bull: Owned by Lewis G. +Morris._] + +NEAT CATTLE stood first in intrinsic value among the classes of articles +exhibited at the Fair. Probably not less than One Thousand of these were +shown on this occasion, including imported bulls and cows, working-oxen, +fat steers, blood-heifers, calves, &c. &c. Of these we could not now say +whether the Durham or Devonshire breed predominated, but the former had +certainly no such marked ascendency as at former Fairs. Our impression from +the statements of disinterested breeders was and is, that where cattle are +bred mainly for the market, a larger weight of flesh may be obtained at an +early age from the Durham than from any rival breed, though not of the +finest quality; while for milk or butter the Devon is, and perhaps one or +two other breeds are, preferable. But this is merely the inference of one, +who has no experience in the premises, from a comparison of the statements +of intelligent breeders of widely differing preferences. Probably each of +the half-dozen best breeds is better adapted to certain localities and +purposes than any other; and intelligent farmers assert, that we still need +some breeds not yet introduced in this country, especially the small Black +Cattle of the Scottish Highlands, which, from their hardiness, excellence +of flesh, small cost for wintering, &c., are specially adapted to our own +rugged upland districts, particularly that which half covers the +north-eastern quarter of our State. The subject is one of the deepest +interest to agriculturists, and is destined to receive a thorough +investigation at their hands. + +[Illustration: EARL SEAHAM. + +_The best Short-Horned Durham Bull over Three Years Old: Owned by J. M. +Sherwood and A. Stevens._] + +[Illustration: DEVON. + +_The best Devon Bull over Three Years Old: Owned by W. P. and C. S. +Wainwright._] + +[Illustration: TROMP. + +_The best Hereford Bull, over Three Years Old: Owned by Allen Ayrault._] + +[Illustration: KOSSUTH AND BRISKA. + +_Best Foreign (Hungarian) Cattle, over Two Years Old: Owned by Roswell L. +Colt._] + +Of Horses, the number exhibited was of course much smaller--perhaps two +hundred in all--embracing many animals of rare spirit, symmetry, and +beauty. Some Canadian horses, and a few specimens of a famous Vermont breed +(the Morgan) were among them. Our attention was not specially drawn in this +direction, and we will leave the merits of the rival competitors to the +awards of the judges. + +[Illustration: DEVON HEIFER. + +_Best three-fourth bred Devon Heifer: owned by George Shaeffer._] + +[Illustration: OLD CLYDE. + +_Best Foreign Horse: owned by Jane Ward, Markham, Canada West._] + +[Illustration: CONSTERNATION. + +_Best thorough-bred horse over four years old: owned by John B. Burnet._] + +[Illustration: SOUTH DOWN SHEEP. + +_Best Middle-Wooled Ewe, over Two Years Old: Owned by Lewis G. Morris._] + +Of Sheep, there were a large number present--at a rough guess, Two +Thousand--embracing specimens of widely contrasted varieties. The +fine-wooled Saxonies and Merioes were largely represented; so were +coarse-wooled but fine-fleshed Bakewells and Southdowns. For three or four +years past, the annual product of wool, especially of the finer qualities, +has been unequal to the demand, causing a gradual appreciation of prices, +until a standard has this year been reached above the value of the staple. +Speculators, who had observed the gradual rise through two or three +seasons, rushed in to purchase this year's clip, at prices which cannot be +maintained, and the farmers have received some hundreds of thousands of +dollars more for their wool than the buyers can ever sell it for. This has +naturally reacted on the price of sheep, whereof choice specimens for +breeding have been sold for sums scarcely exceeded during the celebrated +Merino fever of 1816-18. _Bona fide_ sales for $100 each and over have +certainly been made; and it is confidently asserted that picked animals +from the flocks of a famous Vermont breeder were sold, to improve Ohio +flocks, at the late Fair of that State--a buck for $1,000, and six ewes for +$300 each. These reports, whether veritable or somewhat inflated, indicate +a tendency of the times. Where sheep are grown mainly for the wool, it is +as absurd to keep those of inferior grades, as to plant apple-trees without +grafting and grow two or three bushels of walnut-sized, vinegar-flavored +fruit on a tree which might as well have borne ten bushels of Spitzenbergs +or Greenings. But there is room also for improvement and profit in the +breeding of sheep other than the fine-wooled species. The famous +roast-mutton of England ought to be more than rivaled among us; for we have +a better climate and far better sheep-walks than the English in the rugged +mountain districts of New-England, of Pennsylvania, and of our own State. +The breeding of large, fine-fleshed sheep of the choicest varieties, on the +lines of all the railroads communicating with the great cities, is one of +the undertakings which promise largest and surest returns to our farmers, +and it is yet in its infancy. A hundred thousand of such sheep would be +taken annually by New-York and Philadelphia at largely remunerating prices. +Thousands of acres of sterile, scantily timbered land on the Delaware and +its branches might be profitably transformed into extensive sheep-walks, +while they must otherwise remain useless and unimproved for ages. These +lands may now be bought for a song, and are morally certain to be far +higher within the next dozen years. + +[Illustration: LONG-WOOLED SHEEP. + +_Best long-wooled buck and ewe over two years old: owned by J. McDonald and +Wm. Rathbone._] + +Of Swine there were a good many exhibited at the Fair, but we did not waste +much time upon them. The Hog Crop once stood high among the products of the +older States, but it has gradually fallen off since the settlement of the +great West, and the cheapening of intercommunication between that section +and the East, and is destined to sink still lower. Pork can be made on the +prairies and among the nutwood forests and corn-bearing intervales of the +West for half the cost of making it in New-England; no Yankee can afford to +feed his hogs with corn, much less potatoes, as his grandfather freely did. +Only on a dairy farm can any considerable quantity of pork be profitably +made east of the Ohio; and he who keeps but a pig or two to eat up the +refuse of the kitchen cares little (perhaps too little) for the breed of +his porkers. So let them pass. + +"Fancy" Fowls are among the hobbies of our day, as was abundantly evinced +at the State Fair. Coops piled on coops, and in rows twenty rods long, of +Chinese, Dorking, and other breeds of the most popular domestic bird, +monopolized a large share of attention; while geese, ducks, turkies, &c., +were liberally and creditably represented. The "Hen Convention," which was +a pet topic of Boston waggery a year or two since, might have been easily +and properly held at Rochester. Many of these choice barn-yard fowls were +scarcely inferior in size while doubtless superior in flavor to the +ordinary turky, while the farmer who opens the spring with a hundred of +them may half feed his family and at the same time quite keep down his +store-bill with their daily products. Small economies steadily pursued are +the source of thrift and competence to many a cultivator of flinty and +ungenial acres; few farmers can afford to disregard them. If thrice the +present number of fowls were kept among us, their care and food would +scarcely be missed, while their product would greatly increase the +aggregate not only of thrift but of comfort. + +[Illustration: J. DELAFIELD'S CHINESE HOGS.] + +"Floral Hall" was the name of a temporary though spacious structure of +scantling and rough boards, in which were exhibited, in addition to a +profusion of the flowers of the season, a display of Fruits and Vegetables +whereof Rochester might well be proud. This city seems the natural centre +of the finest fruit-growing district on the American continent--yes, in the +whole world. Its high latitude secures the richest flavors, while the harsh +northern winds, which elsewhere prove so baneful, are here softened by +passing over lake Erie or Ontario, and a climate thus produced, which, for +fruit, has no rival. Large delicious grapes of innumerable varieties; +excellent peaches; delicate, juicy, luscious pears; quinces that really +tempt the eye, though not the palate; and a profusion of fair, fragrant, +golden, mammoth apples,--these were among the products of the immediate +vicinity of Rochester exhibited in bounteous profusion. In the department +of Vegetables also there were beets and turnips of gigantic size; several +squashes weighing about one hundred and thirty pounds each; with +egg-plants, potatoes, tomatoes, and other edibles, which were all that +palate could desire. The fertility of western New-York is proverbial; but +it was never more triumphantly set forth than in the fruit and vegetables +exhibited at the State Fair. + +Of butter, cheese, honey, (obtained without destroying the bees,) +maple-sugar &c., the display was much better than we have remarked on any +former occasion. And in this connection the rock salt from our own State +works around Syracuse deserves honorable mention. New-York salt has been +treated with systematic injustice by western consumers. In order to save a +shilling or two on the barrel, they buy the inferior article produced by +boiling instead of the far better obtained by solar evaporation; then they +endeavor to make a New-York standard bushel of fifty six pounds do the work +of a measured bushel of Turks Island weighing eighty pounds; and because +the laws regulating the preservation and decomposition of animal substances +will not thus be swindled, they pronounce the New-York salt impure and +worthless. Now there is no purer, no better salt than the New-York solar; +but, even of this, fifty-six pounds will not do the work of eighty. Buy the +best quality, (and even this is dog cheap,) use the proper quantity, and no +salt in the world will preserve meats better than this. The New-York solar +salt exhibited at Rochester could not be surpassed, and that which had been +_ground_ has no superior in its adaptation to the table. + +There were many tasteful Counterpanes and other products of female skill +and industry exhibited, but the perpetual crowd in the 'halls' devoted to +manufactures allowed no opportunity for their critical examination. Of +stoves and ranges, heating and (let us be thankful for it, even at this +late day) ventilating apparatus and arrangements, there was a supply; and +so of daguerreotypes, trunks, harness, &c. &c. Nothing, however, arrested +our attention in this hall but the specimens of FLAX-COTTON and its various +proportions exhibited by E. G. Roberts, assignee of Claussen's patents for +the United States. We saw one intelligent influential citizen converted +from skepticism to enthusiasm for flax-cotton by his first earnest +examination. It _will_ go inevitably. A cotton fibre scarcely +distinguishable from Sea Island may be produced from flax by Claussen's +process for six cents per pound; and a machine for breaking out the fibre +from the unrotted stalk was exhibited by Mr. Clemmons of Springfield, +Massachusetts, which is calculated materially to expedite the flax-cotton +revolution. This machine renders the entire fibre, with hardly a loss of +two per cent. as 'swingle-tow,' straight and wholly separated from the +woody substance or 'shives,' at a cost which can hardly equal one cent per +pound of dressed flax. Its operation is very simple, and any man who has +seen it work a day may manage it. Its entire cost is from $125 to $200, +according to size. It will be a shame to American agricultural enterprise +if flax-cotton and linen are not both among our country's extensive and +important products within the next three years. + +The department of Agricultural Machinery and Implements was decidedly the +most interesting of any. No other can at all equal it in the rapidity and +universality of progress from year to year. Of Plows, there cannot have +been less than two hundred on the ground, exhibiting a great variety of +novel excellence. One with two shares, contrived to cut two furrows at +once, seemed the most useful of any recently invented. The upper share cuts +and turns the sward to the depth of five inches, which is immediately +buried seven inches deep by the earth turned up by the deeper share. Since +it is impossible to induce one farmer in twenty to subsoil, this, as the +next best thing, ought to be universally adopted. + +Seed-Sowers, Corn-Planters, Reapers, Fanning-Mills, Straw-Cutters, &c., +&c., were abundant, and evinced many improvements on the best of former +years. A Mower with which a man, boy, and span of horses, will cut and +spread ten acres per day of grass, however heavy, on tolerably level +land--both cutting and spreading better than the hand-impelled scythe and +stick will do--was among the new inventions; also two threshers and +cleaners, each of them warranted to thresh and nearly clean, by the labor +of four men, a boy, and two horses, over one hundred bushels of wheat or +two hundred bushels of oats per day. The testimony of candid citizens who +had used them, and the evidence of our own senses, left no doubt on our +mind of the correctness of these assertions. But we do not write to commend +any article, but to call attention to the great and cheering truth which +underlies them all. Agriculture is a noble art, involving the knowledge of +almost all the practical sciences--chemistry, geology, climatology, +mechanics, &c. It is not merely progressive, but rapidly progressing, so +that fifty days' labor on the same soil produce far more grain or hay now +than they did half a century ago. And every year is increasing and +rendering more palpable the pressing need of a PRACTICAL COLLEGE, wherein +Agriculture, Mechanics, and the sciences auxiliary thereto shall be ably +and thoroughly taught to thousands and tens of thousands of our countrymen, +who shall in turn become the disseminators of the truths thus inculcated to +the youth of every county and township in the country. + +And thus shall Agriculture be rendered what it should be--not only the most +essential but the most intellectual and attractive among the industrial +avocations of mankind. + + HORACE GREELEY + +[Illustration: THE VIRGINIA REAPER. + +_Exhibited at the Crystal Palace, and the New-York State Agricultural Fair, +by Cyrus H. McCormick_.] + + + + +WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE. + +[Illustration] + + +Of the large number of young men in this country who write verses, we +scarcely know of one who has a more unquestionable right to the title of +poet than WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE, who has just published, in a very handsome +volume, a collection of his writings, under the title of _Meditations in +America_. Mr. WALLACE has written other things which in their day have been +sufficiently familiar to the public; in what we have to say of his +capacities we shall confine ourselves to the pieces which he has himself +here selected as the truest exponents of his genius, and without giving +them indiscriminate praise shall hope to find in them evidences of peculiar +and remarkable powers, combined with a spirit eminently susceptible to the +influences of nature and of ideal and moral beauty. + +Mr. Wallace is a western man, and was born in Lexington, Kentucky, in the +year 1819. His father was a Presbyterian minister, of good family, and +marked abilities, who died soon after, leaving the future poet to the care +of a mother whose chief ambition in regard to him was that he should be so +trained as to be capable of the most elevated positions in society. After +the usual preparatory studies, he went first to the Bloomington College, +and afterwards to the South Hanover College, in Indiana, and upon +graduating at the latter institution studied the law in his native city. +When about twenty-two years of age, having already acquired considerable +reputation in literature, by various contributions to western and southern +periodicals, he came to the Atlantic states, and with the exception of a +few months passed in Philadelphia, and a year and a half in Europe, he has +since resided in New-York, occupied in the practice of his profession and +in the pursuits of literature. Of his numerous poetical compositions, this +is the first collection, and the only volume, except _Alban, a Romance_, +intended to illustrate the influence of certain prejudices of society and +principles of law on individual character and destiny, which was published +in 1848. + +His works generally are distinguished for a sensuous richness of style, +earnestness of temper, and much freedom of speculation. Throughout the +_Meditations in America_ we perceive that he is most at home in the serious +and stately rhythms and solemn fancies of such pieces as the hymn "To a +Wind Going Seaward," "The Mounds of America," "The Chant of a Soul," &c.; +but he occasionally writes in livelier and less peculiar measures. + +The late Mr. Poe in his _Marginalia_ refers to the following as one of the +finest things in American literature; it is certainly very characteristic. + + +THE CHANT OF A SOUL. + + My youth has gone--the glory, the delight + That gave new moons unto the night, + And put in every wind a tone + And presence that was not its own. + I can no more create, + What time the Autumn blows her solemn tromp, + And goes with golden pomp + Through our unmeasurable woods: + I can no more create, sitting in youthful state + Above the mighty floods, + And peopling glen, and wave, and air, + With shapes that are immortal. Then + The earth and heaven were fair, + While only less than gods seem'd all my fellow-men. + Oh! the delight, the gladness, + The sense yet love of madness, + The glorious choral exultations, + The far-off sounding of the banded nations, + The wings of angels at melodious sweeps + Upon the mountain's hazy steeps,-- + The very dead astir within their coffin'd deeps; + The dreamy veil that wrapp'd the star and sod-- + A swathe of purple, gold, and amethyst; + And, luminous behind the billowy mist, + Something that look'd to my young eyes like GOD. + Too late I learn I have not lived aright, + And hence the loss of that delight + Which put a moon into the moonless night + I mingled in the human maze; + I sought their horrid shrine; + I knelt before the impure blaze; + I made their idols mine. + I lost mine early love--that love of balms + Most musical with solemn psalms + Sounding beneath the tall and graceful palms. + Who lives aright? + Answer me, all ye pyramids and piles + That look like calmest power in your still might. + Ye also do I ask, O continents and isles! + Blind though with blood ye be, + Your tongues, though torn with pain, I know are free. + Then speak, all ancient masses! speak + From patient obelisk to idle peak! + There is a heaving of the plains, + A trailing of a shroud, + A clash of bolts and chains-- + A low, sad voice, that comes upon me like a cloud, + "Oh, misery, oh, misery!"-- + Thou poor old Earth! no more, no more + Shall I draw speech from thee, + Nor dare thy crypts of legendary lore: + Let silence learn no tongue; let night fold every shore. + Yet I have something left--the will, + That Mont Blanc of the soul, is towering still. + And I can bear the pain, + The storm, the old heroic chain; + And with a smile + Pluck wisdom from my torture, and give back + A love to Fate from this my mountain-rack. + I do believe the sad alone are wise; + I do believe the wrong'd alone can know + Why lives the world, why spread the burden'd skies, + And so from torture into godship grow. + Plainer and plainer beams this truth, the more + I hear the slow, dull dripping of my gore; + And now, arising from yon deep, + 'Tis plain as a white statue on a tall, dark steep. + Oh, suffering bards! oh spirits black + With storm on many a mountain-rack + Our early splendor's gone. + Like stars into a cloud withdrawn-- + Like music laid asleep + In dried-up fountains--like a stricken dawn + Where sudden tempests sweep. + I hear the bolts around us falling, + And cloud to cloud forever calling: + Yet WE must nor despair nor weep. + Did WE this evil bring? + Or from our fellows did the torture spring? + Titans! forgive, forgive! + Oh, know ye not 'tis victory but to live? + Therefore I say, rejoice with harp and voice! + I know not what our fate may be: + I only know that he who hath a time + Must also have eternity: + One billow proves and gives a whole wide sea. + On this I build my trust, + And not on mountain-dust, + Or murmuring woods, or starlit clime, + Or ocean with melodious chime, + Or sunset glories in the western sky: + Enough, I _am_, and shall not choose to die. + No matter what my future fate may be: + To live is in itself a majesty! + Oh! there I may again create + Fair worlds as in my youthful state; + Or Wo may build for me a fiery tomb + Like Farinata's in the nether gloom: + Even then I will not lose the name of man + By idle moan or coward groan, + But say, "It was so written in the mighty plan!" + +The next poem is in a vein of lofty contemplation, and the rhetoric is +eminently appropriate and well sustained. It is one of the most striking +pieces in the book. + + +THE MOUNDS OF AMERICA. + + Come to the mounds of death with me. They stretch + From deep to deep, sad, venerable, vast, + Graves of gone empires--gone without a sighn, + Like clouds from heaven. They stretch'd from deep to deep + Before the Roman smote his mailéd hand + On the gold portals of the dreaming East; + Before the Pleiad, in white trance of song, + Beyond her choir of stars went wandering. + The great old Trees, rank'd on these hills of death, + Have melancholy hymns about all this; + And when the moon walks her inheritance + With slow, imperial pace, the Trees look up + And chant in solemn cadence. Come and hear. + "Oh patient Moon! go not behind a cloud, + But listen to our words. We, too, are old, + Though not so old as thou. The ancient towns, + The cities throned far apart like queens, + The shadowy domes, the realms majestical, + Slept in thy younger beams. In every leaf + We hold their dust, a king in every trunk. + We, too, are very old: the wind that wails + In our broad branches, from swart Ethiop come + But now, wail'd in our branches long ago, + Then come from darken'd Calvary. The Hills + Lean'd ghastly at the tale that wan Wind told; + The Streams crept shuddering through the tremulous dark; + The Torrent of the North, from morn till eve, + On his steep ledge hung pausing; and o'er all + Such silence fell, we heard the conscious Rills + Drip slowly in the caves of central Earth. + So were the continents by His crownéd grief + Together bound, before that Genoese + Flamed on the dim Atlantic: so have we, + Whose aspect faced the scene, unchallenged right + Of language unto all, while memory holds. + "O patient Moon! go not behind a cloud, + But hear our words. We know that thou didst see + The whole that we could utter--thou that wert + A worship unto realms beyond the flood-- + But we are very lonesome on these mounds, + And speech doth make the burden of sad thought + Endurable; while these, the people new, + That take our land, may haply learn from us + What wonder went before them; for no word + E'er came from thee, so beautiful, so lone. + Throned in thy still domain, superbly calm + And silent as a god. + Here empires rose and died; + Their very dust, beyond the Atlantic borne + In the pale navies of the charter'd wind, + Stains the white Alp. Here the proud city ranged + Spire after spire, like star ranged after star + Along the dim empyrean, till the air + Went mad with splendor, and the dwellers cried, + "Our walls have married Time!"--Gone are the marts, + The insolent citadels, the fearful gates, + The pictured domes that curved like starry skies; + Gone are their very names! The royal Ghost + Cannot discern the old imperial haunts, + But goes about perplexéd like a mist + Between a ruin and the awful stars. + Nations are laid beneath our feet. The bard + Who stood in Song's prevailing light, as stands + The apocalyptic angel in the sun, + And rained melodious fire on all the realms; + The prophet pale, who shuddered in his gloom, + As the white cataract shudders in its mist; + The hero shattering an old kingdom down + With one clear trumpet's will: the Boy, the Sage, + Subject and Lord, the Beautiful, the Wise-- + Gone, gone to nothingness. + The years glide on, + The pitiless years! and all alike shall fail, + State after State rear'd by the solemn sea, + Or where the Hudson goes unchallenged past + The ancient warder of the Palisades, + Or where, rejoicing o'er the enormous cloud, + Beam the blue Alleghanies--all shall fail: + The Ages chant their dirges on the peaks; + The palls are ready in the peopled vales; + And nations fill one common sepulchre. + Nor goes the Earth on her dark way alone. + Each star in yonder vault doth hold the dead + In its funereal deeps: Arcturus broods + Over vast sepulchres that had grown old + Before the earth was made: the universe + Itself is but one mighty cemetery + Rolling around its central, solemn sun. + + "O patient Moon! go not behind a cloud, + But listen to our words. We, too, must die-- + And thou!--the vassal stars shall fail to hear + Thy queenly voice over the azure fields + Calling at sunset. They shall fade. The Earth + Shall look and miss their sweet, familiar eyes, + And, crouching, die beneath the feet of GOD. + Then come the glories, then the nobler times, + For which the Orbs travail'd in sorrow; then + The mystery shall be clear, the burden gone; + And surely men shall know why nations came + Transfigured for the pangs; why not a spot + Of this wide world but hath a tale of wo; + Why all this glorious universe is Death's. + "Go, Moon! and tell the stars, and tell the suns, + Impatient of the wo, the strength of him + Who doth consent to death; and tell the climes + That meet thy mournful eyes, one after one, + Through all the lapses of the lonesome night, + The pathos of repose, the might of Death!" + The voice is hush'd; the great old wood is still: + The Moon, like one in meditation, walks + Behind a cloud. We, too, have them for thought, + While, as a sun, GOD takes the West of Time + And smites the pyramid of Eternity. + The shadow lengthens over many worlds + Doom'd to the dark mausoleum and mound. + +We do not remember any poem on Mahomet finer than the following: + + +EL AMIN. + + Who is this that comes from Hara? not in kingly pomp and pride, + But a great, free son of Nature, lion-souled and eagle-eyed! + + Who is this before whose presence idols tumble to the sod? + While he cries out--"Allah Akbar! and there is no god but God!" + Wandering in the solemn desert, he has wondered like a child + Not as yet too proud to wonder, at the sun, and star, and wild. + + "Oh, thou moon! who made thy brightness? Stars! who hung you there on high? + Answer! so my soul may worship: I must worship or die!" + + Then there fell the brooding silence that precedes the thunder's roll; + And the old Arabian Whirlwind called another Arab soul. + + Who is this that comes from Hara? not in kingly pomp and pride, + But a great, free son of Nature, lion-souled and eagle-eyed! + + He has stood and seen Mount Hara to the Awful Presence nod; + He has heard from cloud and lightning--"Know there is no god but God!" + + Call ye this man an imposter? He was called "The Faithful," when, + A boy, he wandered o'er the deserts, by the wild-eyed Arab men. + + He was always called "The Faithful." Truth he knew was Allah's breath; + But the Lie went darkly gnashing through the corridors of Death. + + "He was fierce!" Yes! fierce at falsehood--fierce at hideous bits of wood, + That the Koreish taught the people made the sun and solitude. + + But his heart was also gentle, and Affection's graceful palm, + Waving in his tropic spirit, to the weary brought a balm. + + "Precepts?" "Have on each compassion:" "Lead the stranger to your door:" + "In your dealings keep up justice:" "Give a tenth unto the poor." + + "Yet ambitious!" Yes! ambitious--while he heard the calm and sweet + Aiden-voices sing--to trample troubled Hell beneath his feet. + + "Islam?" Yes! "Submit to Heaven!" "Prophet?" To the East thou art! + What are prophets but the trumpets blown by God to stir the heart? + + And the great heart of the desert stirred unto that solemn strain, + Rolling from the trump at Hara over Error's troubled main. + + And a hundred dusky millions honor still El Amin's rod-- + Daily chanting--"Allah Akbar! know there is no god but God!" + + Call him then no more "Impostor." Mecca is the Choral Gate + Where, till Zion's noon shall take them, nations in her morning wait. + +Mr. Wallace has published a few songs. They have not the stately movement +of his other pieces, and the one which follows needs the application of the +file; but it is, like the others, very spirited: + + +AVELINE. + + ----The sunny eyes of the maiden fair + Give answer better than voice or pen + That as he loves he is loved again.--C. C. LEEDS. + + Love me dearly, love me dearly with your heart and with your eyes; + Whisper all your sweet emotions, as they gushing, blushing rise; + Throw your soft white arms about me; + Say you cannot live without me: + Say, you are my Aveline; say, that you are only mine, + That you cannot live without me, young and rosy Aveline! + + Love me dearly, dearly, dearly: speak you love-words silver-clearly, + So I may not doubt thus early of your fondness, of your truth. + Press, oh! press your throbbing bosom closely, warmly to my own: + Fix your kindled eyes on mine--say you live for me alone, + While I fix my eyes on thine, + Lovely, trusting, artless, plighted; plighted, rosy Aveline! + + Love me dearly; love me dearly: radiant dawn upon my gloom: + Ravish me with Beauty's bloom:-- + Tell me "Life has yet a glory: 'tis not all an idle story!" + As a gladdened vale in noonlight; as a weary lake in moonlight, + Let me in thy love recline: + Show me life has yet a splendor in my tender Aveline. + + Love me dearly, dearly, dearly with your heart and with your eyes: + Whisper all your sweet emotions as they gushing, blushing rise. + Throw your soft white arms around me; say you _lived not_ till you found me-- + Say it, say it, Aveline! whisper you are only mine; + That you cannot live without me, as you throw your arms about me, + That you _cannot_ live without me, artless, rosy Aveline! + +Our limits will not permit us to quote any of the remaining poems of this +volume in full, and we conclude our extracts with a few passages penciled +while in a hasty reading. In the piece entitled The Kings of Sorrow, the +poet sings: + + Was HE not sad amid the grief and strife, the Lord of light and life, + Whose torture made humanity divine, upon that woful hill of Palestine? + Then is it not far better thus to be, thoughtful, and brave, and melancholy, + Than given up to idle revelry, amid the unreligious brood of folly? + For our sorrow is a worship, worship true, and pure, and calm, + Sounding from the choir of duty like a high, heroic psalm, + In its very darkness bearing to the bleeding heart a balm. + Brothers, we must have no wailing: do we agonize alone? + Look at all the pallid millions; hear a universal moan, + From the mumbling, low-browed Bushman to a Lytton on his throne. + Nor shall we have coward faltering: Brothers! we must be sublime + By due labor at the forges blazing in the cave of Time; + Knowing life was made for duty, and that only cowards prate + Of a search for Happy Valley and the hard decrees of fate: + Seeing through this night of mourning all the future as a star, + And a joy at last appearing on the centuries afar, + When the meaning of the sorrow, when the mystery shall be plain, + When the Earth shall see her rivers roll through Paradise again. + O! the vision gives to sorrow something white and purple-plumed: + Even the hurricane of Evil comes a hurricane perfumed. + +In the same: + + ... The Storm is silent while we speak; + The awe-struck Cloud hath paused above the peak; + The far Volcano statlier waves on high + His smoking censer to the solemn sky; + And see, the troubled Ocean folds his hands + With a great patience on the yellow sands. + +In Rest: + + So rest! and Rest shall slay your many woes; + Motion is god-like--god-like is repose, + A mountain-stillness, of majestic might, + Whose peaks are glorious with the quiet light + Of suns when Day is at his solemn close. + Nor deem that slumber must ignoble be. + Jove labored lustily once in airy fields; + And over the cloudy lea + He planted many a budding shoot + Whose liberal nature daily, nightly yields + A store of starry fruit. + His labor done, the weary god went back + Up the long mountain track + To his great house; there he did wile away + With lightest thought a well-won holiday; + For all the Powers crooned softly an old tune + Wishing their Sire might sleep + Through all the sultry noon + And cold blue night; + And very soon + They heard the awful Thunderer breathing low and deep. + And in the hush that dropped adown the spheres, + And in the quiet of the awe-struck space, + The worlds learned worship at the birth of years: + They looked upon their Lord's calm, kingly face. + And bade Religion come and kiss each starry place. + +In the same: + + See what a languid glory binds + The long dim chambers of the darkling West, + While far below yon azure river winds + Like a blue vein on sleeping Beauty's breast. + +In The Gods of Old: + + Not realmless sit the ancient gods + Upon their mountain-thrones + In that old glorious Grecian Heaven + Of regal zones. + A languor o'er their stately forms + May lie, + And a sorrow on their wide white brows, + King-dwellers of the sky! + But theirs is still that large imperial throng + Of starry thoughts and firm but quiet wills, + That murmured past the blind old King of Song, + When staring round him on the Thunderer's hills. + +In the same: + + ... Still Love, sublime, shall wrap + His awful eyebrows in Olympian shrouds. + Or take along the Heaven's dark wilderness + His thunder-chase behind the hunted clouds. + And mortal eyes upturned shall behold + Apollo's robe of gold + Sweep through the long blue corridor of the sky + That, kindling, speaks its Deity: + And He, the Ruler of the Sunless Land + Of restless ghosts, shall fitfully illume + With smouldering fires, that stir in caverned eyes, + Hell's mournful House of Gloom. + +In the Hymn to a Wind, Going Seaward: + + Move on! Move on, + Wind of the wide wild West! Tell thou to all + The Isles, tell thou to all the Continents + The grandeur of my land! Speak of its vales + Where Independence wears a pastoral wreath + Amid the holy quiet of his flock; + And of its mountains with their cloudy beards + Tossed by the breath of centuries; and speak + Of its tall cataracts that roll their bass + Amid the choral of the midnight storms; + And of its rivers lingering through the plains + So long, that they seem made to measure time; + And of its lakes that mock the haughty sea; + And of its caves where banished gods might find + Night large enough to hide their crownless heads; + And of its sunsets broad and glorious there + O'er Prairies spread like endless oceans on-- + And on--and on--over the far dim leagues + Till vision shudders o'er immensity. + +In the same: + + ----Troubled France + Shall listen to thy calm deep voice, and learn + That Freedom must be calm if she would fix + Her mountain moveless in a heaving world. + +In a Chant to the East: + + Still! Oh still! + Despite of passion, sin, and ill, + Despite of all this weary world hath brought, + An angel band from Zion's holy hill + Walks gently through the open gate of Thought. + Oh, still! Oh, still! + Despite of passion, sin, and ill, + ONE in red vesture comes in sorrow's time-- + ONE crowned with thorns from that far Orient clime, + Who pitying looks on me + And gently asks, "Poor man, what aileth thee?" + +In the same: + + The nations must forever turn to thee, + Feeling thy lustrous presence from afar; + And feed upon thy splendor as a sea + Feeds on the shining shadow of a star. + +In Wordsworth: + + And many a brook shall murmur in my verse; + And many an ocean join his cloudy bass; + And many a mountain tower aloft, whereon + The black storm crouches, with his deep-red eyes + Glaring upon the valleys stretch'd below; + And many a green wood rock the small, bright birds + To musical sleep beneath the large, full moon; + And many a star shall lift on high her cup + Of luminous cold chrysolite, set in gold + Chased subtilely over by angelic art; + To catch the odorous dews which poets drink + In their wide wanderings; and many a sun + Shall press the pale lips of the timorous morn + Couch'd in the bridal east: and over all + Will brood the visible presence of the ONE + To whom my life has been a solemn chant. + +In the Last Words of Washington: + + There is an awful stillness in the sky, + When after wondrous deeds and light supreme, + A star goes out in golden prophecy. + There is an awful stillness in the world, + When after wondrous deeds and light supreme, + Sceptres refused and forehead crowned with truth, + A Hero dies, with all the future clear + Before him, and his voice made jubilant + By coming glories, and his nation hushed, + As though they heard the farewell of a god. + A great man is to earth as God to Heaven. + +In Greenwood Cemetery: + + O, ye whose mouldering frames were brought and placed + By pious hands within these flowery slopes + And gentle hills, where are ye dwelling now? + For man is more than element! The soul + Lives in the body as the sunbeam lives + In trees or flowers that were but clay without. + Then where are ye, lost sunbeams of the mind? + Are ye where great Orion towers and holds + Eternity on his stupendous front? + Or where pale Neptune in the distant space + Shows us how far, in his creative mood, + With pomp of silence and concentred brows, + The Almighty walked? Or haply ye have gone + Where other matter roundeth into shapes + Of bright beatitude: Or do ye know + Aught of dull space or time, and its dark load + Of aching weariness? + +Mr. Wallace is somewhat too much of a rhetorician, and he has a few defects +of manner which, from this frequent repetition, he seems to regard as +beauties. Peculiar phrases, of doubtful propriety, but which have a musical +roll, occur in many of his poems, so that they become very prominent; this +fault, however, belongs chiefly to his earlier pieces; the extracts we have +given, we think will amply vindicate to the most critical judgments, the +praise here awarded to him as a poet of singular and unusual powers, +original, earnest, and in a remarkable degree _national_. It can scarcely +be said of any of our bards that they have caught their inspiration more +directly from observation and experience, or that their effusions, whatever +the distinction they have in art, are more genuine in feeling. + + + + +AMERICA AS ABUSED BY A GERMAN. + + +Having made it a point to faithfully report all that is said of our country +by foreign travellers or journalists, we deem it a duty to lay before our +readers not only the more agreeable accounts given by those who have +impartially examined our institutions and manners, but also the more +prejudiced relations of those who, urged by interest or ill-nature, have +sketched simply the darker and more irregular outlines. And we are the more +induced to follow this course since we are fully convinced that it is +productive of equal good with the former. We have--particularly to English +eyes--appeared as a people who eagerly devour all that is said to our +discredit, and at the same time fiercely repudiate the slightest +insinuation that we in any thing fall short of perfection. As regards the +latter, we shall content ourselves with remarking, that even the +disposition to deny the existence of imperfection among us, redounds far +more to our credit, than the complacent exaltation of our weaker points to +virtues; while as to the former, we are certain that a higher feeling than +mere nervous, sensitive vanity, induces in us the desire + + "To see ourselves as others see us," + +since there is no nation which more readily avails itself of the remarks of +others, even when by far too bitter or unjust to improve. True to our +national character of youthfulness, we are ever ready to act on every hint. +We are, _par excellence_, a _learning_ nation. Send even the _young_ +Englishman on his continental tour, and the chances are ten to one that he +returns with every prejudice strengthened, and his vanity increased. But +the American--ductile as wax, evinces himself even at an advanced period of +life, susceptible of improvement, yet firm in its retention. That we +earnestly strive in every respect to improve is evident from many "little +things" which foreigners ridicule. For instance, the habitual use of "fine +language," and the attempt to clothe even our ordinary trains of thought in +an elegant garb, which has been time and again cruelly ridiculed by Yankee +goaders, is to a reflecting mind suggestive of commendation, from the very +fact, that an attempt at least is made _to improve_. Better a thousand +times the impulse to progress, even through the whirlwinds of hyperbole and +inflated expression, than the heavy miasma of a patois, the lightest breath +of which at once proclaims the cockney or provincial. + +For the entertainment of those who are willing to live, laugh, and learn, +we are induced to give our readers a few extracts from a recently published +work, by a German, entitled, _Skizzen aus den Vereinigten Staaten von Nord +Amerika: Von_ DR. A. KIRSTEN, (or, _Sketches of the United States of North +America_, by Dr. A. KIRSTEN,) a work in which the author, after exhausting +all the three-penny thunder of ignorant abuse, coolly informs his readers, +that he has by no means represented things in their worst light. The +American public at large are not aware that among the rulers of Germany, +emigration to America is sternly yet anxiously discouraged. Rejoiced as +they are to behold our country a receptacle for the sweepings of their +prisons and _Fuchthaüser_, or houses of correction, they still gaze with an +alarmed glance at the almost incredible "forth-wandering" which has at +times depopulated entire villages, and borne with it an amount of wealth, +which, trifling as it may appear to us, is in a land of economy and poverty +of immense importance. The reader who judges of Germany by Great Britain +and Ireland, is mistaken. That emigration which is to the government of the +latter countries health and safety, brings to the former death and +destruction. As a proof of this, we need only point to the tone of all the +German papers which are in any manner connected with the interests of their +respective courts. In all we find the old song: Depreciation of America, as +far as applicable to the prevention of emigration. To accomplish this end, +writers are hired and poets feed; remedies against emigration are proposed +by political economists, and where possible, even clergymen are induced to +persuade their flocks to nibble still in the ancient stubble, or among the +same old barren rocks. + +Dr. Kirsten, it would appear, is either a natural and habitual grumbler, or +a paid hireling. If the former, we can only pity--if the latter, despise +him. Could our voice be heard by his patrons, we would, however, advise +them to employ a better grumbler--one who can wield lance and sword against +his foes, instead of mops and muddy water. A weaker lancer, or more +impotent and impudent abuser, has rarely appeared, even among our earlier +English decriers. + +Like many other weak-minded individuals, the Herr Doctor appears to have +started under the fullest conviction that our country was, if not a true +"_Schlaraffen Land_," or _Pays de Cocagne_, or Mahomet's Paradise, in which +pigeons ready roasted fly to the mouth, at least a realized _Icarie_, or +perfected Fourier-dom. All the books which he had read, relative to +America, described it in glowing colors, and inclined his mind favorably +toward it. Such was his faith in these books, or also so great his fear, +that these glorious dreams might be dissipated, that he did not even +ascertain or confirm their truth by the personal experience of those who +had been there, and we are informed naively enough in the preface, that +previous to his departure he had but once had an opportunity of conversing +with an educated German, who had resided for a long time in America. Such +weak heedlessness as this does not, to our ears at least, savor of the +characteristic prudence and deliberation of the German, and strongly +confirms us in the belief, that the doctor wandered forth well knowing what +he was about--in other words, that he went his way with his opinions +already cut and dried. + +"After an eight weeks' voyage I arrived in New-York. It was at the end of +August. Even in the vicinity of the Gulf Stream a terrible heat oppressed +us, which increased as we approached land; but it was in that city that I +became aware of what the heat in America really was. Many visits which I +was obliged to make, caused during the day a cruel exhaustion, while at +night I found no refreshment in slumber, partly because the heat was hardly +diminished, and partly from the musquitoes, and to me unaccustomed alarms +of fire, which were nightly repeated, from which I found that life in +America was by no means so agreeable as I had been led to infer from books +and popular report." + +From the single, mysterious, educated German with whom the doctor had +conferred previous to his departure, he had learned that, in the United +States, any thing like marked distinction of class, rank, or caste, did not +exist; and that this was particularly the case among Germans living there. +"The educated and refined knew how to draw into their society the less +gifted, and it was really singular to observe in how short a time the +latter rose to a higher degree of culture. People actually destitute of +knowledge and manners, in fact could not be found. Moreover, I there +anticipated a southern climate, for which I had some years longed." + +How miserably the poor doctor was disappointed in these moderate and +reasonable anticipations, appears from the following lamentable account: + +"Ere long I, indeed, became acquainted with many Germans, who received me +in the kindest manner, and of whom recollections will ever be dear to me. +But this was not the case with the Americans, as I had been led to +anticipate, nor indeed with the Germans, generally. Among these I found +neither connection nor unity, and they mostly led a life such as I had in +Germany never met with, while nothing like social cultivation, in a higher +sense, was to be found. Led into the society of those who by day were +devoted to business, but in the evening scattered themselves, here and +there, without a point of union, I found myself in the noisy, but +pleasure-wanting city, forlorn and unwell. Many, to whom I complained of +what I missed in New-York, thought that it might be found in Philadelphia." + +But even in Philadelphia our pilgrim found not the promised Paradise, where +there was no distinction of rank or family, and where the more educated and +refined would eagerly adopt him, the lowly brother, into their Icarian +circle. Neither did he discover the golden tropical region--the southern +heaven--for which his soul had longed for years. Alas! no. "After a +residence of four weeks in New-York, I repaired to Philadelphia, and there +found that among the Germans, things were the same as in New-York--_in +fact, there was even less unity among them_." But although the doctor did +not discover any Germans inspired with the sublime spirit of harmony, he +certainly appears to have met with several who had acquired the American +virtue of common sense. + +"A German who had been for a long time resident in the United States +asserted that he had, as yet, met with no fellow-countryman, who had been +in the beginning satisfied with America. Others were of the opinion, that I +would first be pleased with the country when I had found a profitable +employment. _And some others, that I would never be satisfied._" + +And so the doctor, ever dependent on others for happiness, looked here and +there, like the pilgrim after Aden, or the hero of the Morning Watch, for +the ideal of his dreams. The so-called entirely German towns in +Pennsylvania were German only in name. The heat disgusted him with the +south--the cold with the north. After residing nine months in Poughkeepsie, +he returned to New-York, and there remained for some time, occupied, as it +would appear, solely with acquiring information. This residence at an end, +he returned to Germany. + +We pass over the first chapters of his work, devoted to an ordinary account +of the climate, animals, and plants of the country, to a more interesting +picture, namely--its inhabitants. From this we learn that the American is +cold, dry, and monosyllabic, in his demeanor and conversation. During his +return to Germany he was delayed for a period of something less than nine +days at Falmouth, England, where, during his daily walks, he experienced +that in comparison with us the English are amiable, communicative, and +agreeable. Indeed, he found that when, during a promenade in America, +strangers returned his greetings, these polite individuals were invariably +Britons, "which proves that while in more recent times, the English have +assumed or approached the customs of other nations, the Americans have +remained true to the character and being of the earlier emigrants, and are +at present totally distinct from the English of to-day. + +"This is especially shown by the demeanor of Americans towards foreigners, +and nearly as much so by their conduct to one another. Regard them where we +will, they are ever the same. In the larger or the smaller towns, in the +streets or in the country, every one goes his own way without troubling +himself about others, and without saluting those with whom he is +unacquainted. Never do we see neighbors associating with each other; and +neighborly friendship is here unknown. If acquaintances meet, they nod to +each other, or the one murmurs, '_How do you do?_' while the other +replies, '_Very well_,' without delaying an instant, unless business +affairs require a conversation. This concluded, they depart without a word, +unless, indeed, as an exception, they wish each other good morning, or +evening. Nor are they less distant in hotels, or during journeys in +railroad cars and steamboats."--"Continued conversations, in which several +take part, are extremely rare. Any one speaking frequently to a stranger, +at table or during a journey, runs the risk not merely of being regarded as +impertinent, but as entertaining dishonest views; and, indeed, one should +invariably be on his guard against Americans who manifest much +friendliness, since, in this manner, pickpockets are accustomed to make +their advances. + +"In a corresponding degree this coldness of disposition is manifested +towards more intimate acquaintances. Never do we observe among friends a +deep and heart-inspired, or even a confiding relationship. Nay, this is not +even to be found among members of the same family. The son or the daughter, +who has not for several days seen his or her parents, returns and enters +the room without a greeting, or without any signs of joy being manifested +by either. Or else the salutation is given and returned in such a manner +that scarcely a glance passes between the parties. The direst calamities +are imparted and listened to with an apathy evincing no signs of emotion, +and a great disaster, occurring on a railroad or steamboat, in the United +States, excites in Germany more attention and sympathy than in the former +country, even when friends and perhaps relatives have thereby suffered. +Even the loss of a member of the family is hardly manifested by the +survivors." + +In a recent English work we were indeed complimented for our _patience_, +but it was reserved for Doctor Kirsten to discover in us, this degree of +iron-hearted, immovable, _nil admirarism_. But when he goes on to assert +that "in the most deadly peril--in such moments as those which precede the +anticipated explosion of a steamboat boiler, even their ladies preserve the +same repose and equanimity," so that any expression from a stranger is +coldly listened to, without producing evident impression, _our_ surprise is +changed to wonder, and we are tempted to inquire, Can it be possible, that +we are such Spartans--endowed with such superior human stoicism? + +"This coldness of the American is legibly impressed on his features. In +both sexes we frequently meet with pretty, and occasionally beautiful, +faces; but seldom, however, do we perceive in either, aught cheerful or +attractive. In place thereof we observe, even in the fairest, a certain +earnestness, verging towards coldness. From the great majority of faces we +should judge that no emotion could be made to express itself upon them, and +such is truly the case. + +"That the nearest acquaintances address each other with _Sir_ and _Master_, +or _Miss_ and _Mistress_, and that husband and wife, parents and children, +yes, even the children themselves employ these titles to each other, has +undoubtedly much to do with their marked and cold demeanor. But this must +have a deeper ground than that merely caused by the use of distant forms of +salutation. + +"And yet, the Americans are by no means of a bad disposition, since they +are neither crafty and treacherous, nor revengeful, nor even prone to +distrust; on the contrary, quite peaceable, and by the better classes, +there is much charity for apparent misery; seldom does one suffering with +bodily ailments leave the house of a wealthy man without being munificently +aided; the which charity is silently extended to him, without a sign of +emotion. Those who are capable of work--no matter what the cause of their +sufferings may be, seldom receive alms, for the Americans go upon the +principle that work is not disgraceful, and without reflecting that the +applicant may not have been accustomed to work, refuse in any manner to aid +him. If any man want work, he can apply to the overseers of the poor, who +are obliged to receive him in a poor-house, and maintain him until he find +such. Much is done at the state's expense for the aged, sick, and insane." + +After this our doctor lets fall a few flattering drops of commendation by +way of admitting that this iron immobility of the American is not without +its good points, but fearing that he has spoken too favorably, he brings up +the chapter by remarking that-- + +"The here-mentioned good traits in the American character can, however, by +no means overbalance or destroy the evil impression which their coldness +produces, but merely soften it." + +From our appearance and deportment he proceeds to a bold, hasty, and +remarkably superficial criticism of education in America. The father of a +family in America, we are informed, is occupied with business from morning +to night, and leaves all care for the education and training of his +children to the mother, who is, however, generally quite incapable to +fulfil such duty. No teacher dare correct a child, for fear of incurring +legal punishment, in consequence of which they grow up destitute of +decency, order, or obedience. Some few, indeed, find their way eventually +into academies and colleges, which are not so badly managed; but, as for +school-boys, since there is no one to insure their regular attendance at +school, they play truant _à discrétion_. As for the children of the lower +and middle classes, they pass their boyhood in idleness, and grow up in +ignorance, until at a later period they enter into business, when they are +compelled to perfect themselves in the arts of reading and writing, yet +they quickly acquire the business spirit of their fathers. + +"The education of the girls is, however, of an entirely different nature. +On them the mothers expend much care and trouble, which is, however, of the +most perverted kind, since it is in its nature entirely external. Before +all, do they seek to give them an air of decency and culture, which is, +nevertheless, more apparent than real. In accordance with the republican +spirit of striving after equality, every mother--no matter how poor, or how +low her rank may be--desires to bring her daughter up in such a manner that +she may be inferior in respectability and external culture to no one." "In +fact, the daughters of the poorest workman bear themselves like those of +the richest merchant. In their mien we see a pride flashing forth, which +can hardly be surpassed by that of the haughtiest daughters of the highest +German nobility. And that their daughters may in every respect equal those +of others, we see poor men lavishing upon them their last penny; and while +the boys run in the streets, covered with ragged and dirty fragments of +clothing, the sisters wear bonnets with veils, bearing parasols, and while +at school, short dresses and drawers." + +After this fearful announcement, we are informed, that the poor girls +profit as little in school as their unhappy brothers, and that no regard is +paid to their future destiny. + +"Even after the maiden has left school, her mother instructs her in no +feminine employment, not even in domestic affairs, and least of all, in +cookery. While the former lives, and the daughter remains unmarried, she +(the mother,) attends to housekeeping, as far as the word can be taken in +the German sense, while her daughter passes the time in reading, more +frequently with bedecking herself, but generally in idleness. When the +daughter, however, marries, we may well imagine how a house is managed in +such hands. The principal business henceforth is self-adornment and +housekeeping. All imaginable care is bestowed upon these branches, but none +whatever on any other. Cookery is of the lowest grade; nearly every day +sees the same dishes, and those, also, which are prepared with the least +trouble. Very frequently, indeed, the husbands are obliged to prepare their +meals before and after their business hours. Knitting and spinning, either +in town or country, is unknown; only manufactured or woven stockings are +worn, and shirts are generally purchased ready-made in the shops." "Washing +is the only work which they undertake, and this is done by young ladies of +wealthy family. This takes place every Monday, for there are very few +families who own linen sufficient for more than a single week's wear. + +"So long as the father lives, his daughters stick to him, useless as they +are, and heavy as the burden may be to him. It is _his_ business to see +where the money comes from wherewith to nourish and decently clothe them: +on this account the servant girls in America generally consist of Irish, +Germans, and blacks. Even these, taking pattern from their mistresses, +refuse to perform duties which are expected from every housemaid in +Germany--for examples, boot-brushing, clothes-cleaning, and the bringing of +water across the way, as well as street and step-cleaning; for which reason +we often see respectable men performing these duties." + +From this terrible plague of daughters, and daughterly extravagance, the +doctor finds that poorer men in America are by no means as well off as +would be imagined from their high wages. "The father with many daughters, +so far from advancing in wealth, generally falls behind. Fearing the cost +of a family, many men remain unmarried, and in no country in the world are +there so many old maids as in the United States." From which the author +finds that dreadful instances of immorality and infanticide result. + +Filial duty, he asserts, is unknown. When the son proposes emigration to +another place, or the undertaking of a new business, he announces it to his +father "perhaps the evening before; while the daughters act in like manner +as regards marriage, or, it may be, mention it to him for the first time +after it has really taken place--from which the custom results that parents +give their children no part of their property before death. Nothing is +known of a true family life, in which parents are intimately allied to +children, or brothers and sisters to each other." We spare our readers the +sneer at those writers who have praised the Americans in their domestic +relations, with which this veracious, high-minded, and unprejudiced chapter +concludes. + +In science and art, we are sunk, it seems, almost beneath contempt; the +former being cultivated only so far as it is conducive to money-making. The +professions of Divinity, Law, and Medicine, are badly and superficially +taught and acquired. "There are, indeed," says the doctor, "in New-York and +Philadelphia, institutions where the student has opportunities of becoming, +if he will, an excellent physician; but these are far from being well +patronized." + +As regards general education, he asserts that, though a few professors in +our colleges are highly educated men, this cannot be said of their pupils, +since the latter set no value on knowledge not directly profitable, "and +the backward condition of ancient languages, natural science, even +geography, history and statistics, save as applicable to their own country, +is really a matter of wonder." + +But in the fine arts, it appears, we are sunk so far beneath contempt that +we really wonder that the doctor should have found it, in this particular, +worth while to abuse us. "There are but two monuments in all America worthy +of mention, and both are in Baltimore. Philadelphia and New-York have +nothing of the kind to show, though each city possesses two public squares +or parks planted with trees, which are well adapted to receive such works +of art, and where the eye sadly misses them." "Public and private +collections of statues and pictures are altogether wanting, and the walls +of the rich are generally devoid of paintings and copper-plate engravings. +What they have generally consists of family portraits, or those of +Washington and other presidents. But to dazzle the eye, we find in the +possession of the wealthy, the most worthless pictures in expensive gold +frames. Of late years a public gallery has been established in New-York for +the sale of such productions. As far however as the works of native artists +are concerned, we find among them none inspired by high art; on the +contrary, they are generally, to the last degree, mediocre affairs, or mere +daubs (_wahre Klecksereien_) not worth hanging up; the better however are +exaggerated and unnatural both in subject and color. This is also the case +with most of the copper-plate engravings exposed for sale in the French +shop-windows, and which appear almost as if manufactured in Paris expressly +for the American taste. The inferior appreciation of art in the Americans +and their delight in extravagance is particularly shown in the political +caricatures, which are entirely deficient in all refined wit, consisting +either of stupid allusions to eminent men or party leaders, or direct and +clumsy exaggerations." + +By way of amends for all this abuse, our author admits that we excel in all +practical arts and labor-saving inventions. "But in proportion to the +backward state of the fine arts, is the advance which the Americans have +made in all pertaining to mechanics, and technical art. Particular +attention is paid to the supplanting of hand labor by machinery. Even the +most trifling apparatus or tool is constructed with regard to practical +use, and it only needs a more careful observation of this to convince us +that in all such matters they have the advantage of Germany. + +"It is often truly startling to see how simply and usefully those articles +used in business are constructed--for example, the one-horse cars (_drays +or trucks?_) and hand-carts, employed in conveying merchandise to and from +stores. As a proof how far the Americans have advanced in mechanic arts, we +may mention that high houses, of wood or brick, several stories high and +entire, are transported on rollers to places several feet distant. +Occasionally, to add a story, the house is raised by screws into the air +and the building substructed. In either case the family remains quietly +dwelling therein." + +But alas, even these few rays of commendatory comfort vanish in the dark, +after reflection, that it is precisely this ingenuity and enterprise in +business and practical matters which unfits us for all the kinder and more +social duties, and renders us insensible to every soothing and refining +influence. No allowance for past events, unavoidable circumstances, or our +possible future destiny, appears to cross the doctor's mind. All is dark +and desolate. True, every man of high and low degree--the laborer and +shop-man--the lawyer and clergyman, pause in the street to study any +mechanical novelty which meets their eye--but ere they do this the doctor +is mindful to suggest _that they pass picture shop-windows without deigning +to glance therein_. The professions are studied like trades, and in matters +of criminal law our condition is truly deplorable. It happened not many +months since, he informs us, that the publisher of a slanderous New-York +paper, was castigated by a lady, with a hunting whip, in Broadway, at noon. +The said lady had been (according to custom) unjustly and cruelly abused in +the journal referred to. So great was her irritation that she actually +followed the editor along the streets, lashing him continually. But the +_finale_ of this startling incident consists of the fact that the lady, on +pleading guilty, was fined six cents. + +There is an obscurity attached to his manner of narrating this anecdote, +which leaves the opinion of the author a little uncertain. Six cents would +in some parts of Germany be a serious fine, worthy of appeal, mercy, and +abatement. In different parts of Suabia and even Baden, notices may be seen +posted up, in which the commission of certain local offences is prohibited +by fines ranging from four to twelve cents. On the whole, as a zealous +defender of the purity and dignity of woman, when unjustly assailed, we are +inclined to think that the author sides with _the_ LADY. + +But we need not follow the doctor further in his career of discontent and +prejudice. Before concluding, we would however caution the reader against +supposing that he expresses views in any degree accordant with the feelings +and opinions of his countrymen. The best, the most numerous, the most +impartial, and we may add, by far the most favorable works on America, are +from German pens. In confirmation of our assertion that his work is +unfavorably regarded at home we may adduce the fact that it has been +severely handled by excellent reviewers among them; take for example the +following, from the Leipzig _Central Blatt_. After favorably noticing the +late excellent work of QUENTIN on the United States, he proceeds to say of +the doctor's _Sketches_, that + +"HERR KIRSTEN seems to desire to be that for North America, which _Nicolai_ +of noted memory was in his own time for Italy. Already, on arrival, we find +him in ill temper, caused by the excessive heat, which ill-humor is +aggravated by his being obliged to make many calls by day, and _the +musquitoes and alarms of fire which disturbed his slumbers during the +night_. In other places he was no better pleased. + +"The Germans were disagreeable on account of their want of unity, the +Americans from their coldness--in short, he missed home life--could not +accustom himself to the new country, and returned after a sojourn of less +than two years to Germany. In 'sketches,' resulting from such +circumstances, we naturally encounter only the darker side of American +life. Much may indeed be true of what he asserts regarding the natural +capabilities, climate, soil, and inhabitants of the land, the manners and +customs of the latter, their common and party spirit, education of +children, and the condition of science and art; but particulars are either +too hastily generalized, or else the better points, as for example, the +characteristic traits of the people, their extraordinary progress in +physical and mental culture, and the excellent management of the country, +are either entirely omitted or receive by far too slight notice. His +narrow-minded and ill-natured disposition to find fault is also shown by +his reproaching the Americans with faults which they share in common with +every nation in America, _ourselves included_, as, for example, excesses +committed by political partisans. Still, the book may not be entirely +without value, at least to those who see every thing on the other side of +the water only in a rosy light, and believe that the German emigrant as +soon as his foot touches shore, enters a state of undisturbed happiness." + +So much for the critical doctor's popularity at home. In conclusion, we may +remark that our main object in this notice, in addition to amusing our +readers, has been to prove by this exception, and the displeasure which it +excites in Germany, the rule, that by the writers of that country our own +has been almost invariably well spoken of. And we have deemed these remarks +the more requisite, lest some reader might casually infer that Dr. Kirsten +expressed the views and sentiments of any considerable number of his +countrymen. + + + + +REMINISCENCES OF THE LATE MR. COOPER.--HIS LAST DAYS. + +A LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF THE INTERNATIONAL. + +BY JOHN W. FRANCIS, M. D., LL. D. + + + NEW-YORK, _October 1st, 1851_. + +MY DEAR SIR,--I readily comply with your wish that I should furnish you +with such reminiscences of the late Mr. Cooper as occur to me, although the +pressure of professional engagements absolutely forbids such details as I +would gladly record. For nearly thirty years I have been the occasional +medical adviser, and always the ardent personal friend of the illustrious +deceased; but our intercourse has been so fragmentary, owing to the +distance we have lived apart, and the busy lives we have both led, that the +impressions which now throng upon and impress me are desultory and varied, +though endearing. I first knew Mr. Cooper in 1823. He at that time was +recognized as the author of "Precaution," of "the Spy," and of "the +Pioneers." The two last-named works had attracted especial notice by their +widely extended circulation, and the novelty of their character in American +literature. He was often to be seen at that period in conversation at the +City Hotel in Broadway, near Old Trinity, where many of our most renowned +naval and military men convened. He was the original projector of a +literary and social association called the "Bread and Cheese Club," whose +place of rendezvous was at Washington Hall. They met weekly, in the +evening, and furnished the occasion of much intellectual gratification and +genial pleasure. That most adhesive friend, the poet Halleck, Chancellor +Kent, G. C. Verplanck, Wiley, the publisher of Mr. Cooper's works, Dekay, +the naturalist, C. A. Davis (Jack Downing), Charles King, now President of +Columbia College, J. Depeyster Ogden, J. W. Jarvis, the painter, John and +William Duer, and many others, were of the confederacy. Washington Irving, +at the period of the formation of this circle of friends, was in England, +occupied with his inimitable "Sketch Book." I had the honor of an early +admittance to the Club. In balloting for membership the bread declared an +affirmative; and two ballots of cheese against an individual proclaimed +non-admittance. + +From the meetings of this society Mr. Cooper was rarely absent. When +presiding officer of the evening, he attracted especial consideration from +the richness of his anecdotes, his wide American knowledge, and his +courteous behavior. These meetings were often signally characterized by the +number of invited guests of high reputation who gathered thither for +recreative purposes, both of mind and body; jurists of acknowledged +eminence, governors of different States, senators, members of the House of +Representatives, literary men of foreign distinction, and authors of repute +in our own land. It was gratifying to observe the dexterity with which Mr. +Cooper would cope with some eastern friend who contributed to our delight +with a "Boston notion," or with Trelawny, the associate of Byron, +descanting on Greece and the "Younger Son," or with any guests of the Club, +however dissimilar their habits or character; accommodating his +conversation and manners with the most marvellous facility. The New-York +attachments of Mr. Cooper were ever dominant. I witnessed a demonstration +of the early enthusiasm and patriotic activity of our late friend in his +efforts, with many of our leading citizens, in getting up the Grand Castle +Garden Ball, given in honor of Lafayette. The arrival of the "Nation's +Guest" at New-York, in 1824, was the occasion of the most joyful +demonstrations, and the celebration was a splendid spectacle; it brought +together celebrities from many remote parts of the Union. Mr. Cooper must +have undergone extraordinary fatigue during the day and following night; +but nearly as he was exhausted, he exhibited, when the public festivals +were brought to a close, that astonishing readiness and skill in literary +execution for which he was always so remarkable. Adjourning near daybreak +to the office of his friend Mr. Charles King, he wrote out more quickly +than any other hand could copy, the very long and masterly report which +next day appeared in Mr. King's paper--a report which conveyed to tens of +thousands who had not been present, no inconsiderable portion of the +enjoyment they had felt who were the immediate participants in this famous +festival. The manly bearing, keen intelligence, and thoroughly honorable +instincts of Mr. Cooper, united as they were with this gift of +writing--soon most effectively exhibited in his literary labors, now +constantly increasing--excited my highest expectations of his career as an +author, and my sincere esteem for the man. There was a fresh promise, a +vigorous impulse, and especially an American enthusiasm about him, that +seemed to indicate not only individual fame, but national honor. Since that +period I have followed his brilliant course with no less admiration than +delight. + +It was to me a cause of deep regret that soon after his return from Europe, +crowned with a distinct and noble reputation, he became involved in a +series of law-suits, growing out of libels, and originating partly in his +own imprudence, and partly in the reckless severity of the press. But these +are but temporary considerations in the retrospect of his achievements; and +if I mistake not, in these difficulties he in every instance succeeded in +gaining the verdict of the jury. It was a task insurmountable to overcome a +_fact_ as stated by Mr. Cooper. Associated as he was in my own mind with +the earliest triumphs of American letters, I think of him as the creator of +the genuine nautical and forest romances of "Long Tom Coffin" and +"Leatherstocking;" as the illustrator of our country's scenes and +characters to the Europeans; and not as the critic of our republican +inconsistencies, or as a litigant with caustic editors. + +It is well known that for a long period Mr. Cooper, at occasional times +only, visited New-York city. His residence for many years was an elegant +and quiet mansion on the southern borders of Otsego Lake. Here--in his +beautiful retreat, embellished by the substantial fruits of his labors, and +displaying everywhere his exquisite taste, his mind, ever intent on +congenial tasks, which, alas! are left unfinished, surrounded by a devoted +and highly cultivated family, and maintaining the same clearness of +perception, serene firmness, and integrity of tone, which distinguished him +in the meridian of his life--were his mental employments prosecuted. He +lived chiefly in rural seclusion, and with habits of methodical industry. +When visiting the city he mingled cordially with his old friends; and it +was on the last occasion of this kind, at the beginning of April, that he +consulted me with some earnestness in regard to his health. He complained +of the impaired tone of the digestive organs, great torpor of the liver, +weakness of muscular activity, and feebleness in walking. Such suggestions +were offered for his relief as the indications of disease warranted. He +left the city for his country residence, and I was gratified shortly after +to learn from him of his better condition. + +During July and August I maintained a correspondence with him on the +subject of his increasing physical infirmities, and frankly expressed to +him the necessity of such remedial measures as seemed clearly necessary. +Though occasionally relieved of my anxieties by the kind communications of +his excellent friend and attending physician, Dr. Johnson, I was not +without solicitude, both from his own statements as well as those of Dr. +Johnson himself, that his disorder was on the increase; certain symptoms +were indeed mitigated, but the radical features of his illness had not been +removed. A letter which I soon received induced me forthwith to repair to +Cooperstown, and on the 27th of August I saw Mr. Cooper at his own +dwelling. My reception was cordial. With his family about him he related +with great clearness the particulars of his sufferings, and the means of +relief to which he was subjected. Dr. Johnson was in consultation. I at +once was struck with the heroic firmness of the sufferer, under an +accumulation of depressing symptoms. His physical aspect was much altered +from that noble freshness he was wont to bear; his complexion was pallid; +his interior extremities greatly enlarged by serous effusion; his debility +so extreme as to require an assistant for change of position in bed; his +pulse sixty-four. There could be no doubt that the long continued hepatic +obstruction had led to confirmed dropsy, which, indeed, betrayed itself in +several other parts of the body. Yet was he patient and collected. That +powerful intellect still held empire with commanding force, clearness, and +vigor. I explained to him the nature of his malady; its natural termination +when uncontrolled; dwelt upon the favorable condition and yet regular +action of the heart, and other vital functions, and the urgent necessity of +endeavoring still more to fulfil certain indications, in order to overcome +the force of particular tendencies in the disorder. I frankly assured him +that within the limits of a week a change in the complaint was +indispensable to lessen our forebodings of its ungovernable nature. + +He listened with fixed attention; and now and then threw out suggestions of +cure such as are not unfrequent with cultivated minds. + +The great characteristics of his intellect were now even more conspicuous +than before. Not a murmur escaped his lips; conviction of his extreme +illness wrought no alteration of features; he gave no expression of +despondency; his tone and his manner were equally dignified, cordial, and +natural. It was his happiness to be blessed with a family around him whose +greatest gratification was to supply his every want, and a daughter for a +companion in his pursuits, who was his intelligent amanuensis and +correspondent as well as indefatigable nurse.[1] + +I forbear enlarging on matters too professional for present detail. During +the night after my arrival he sustained an attack of severe fainting, which +convinced me still further of his great personal weakness. An ennobling +philosophy, however, gave him support, and in the morning he had again been +refreshed by a sleep of some few hours' duration. I renewed to him and to +his family the hopes and the discouragements in his case. Never was +information of so grave a cast received by any individual in a calmer +spirit. He said little as to his prospects of recovery. Upon my taking +leave of him, however, shortly after, in the morning, I am convinced from +his manner that he shared my apprehensions of a fatal termination of his +disorder. Nature, however strong in her gifted child, had now her healthful +rights largely invaded. His constitutional buoyancy and determination, by +leading him to slight that distant and thorough attention demanded by +primary symptoms, doubtless contributed to their subsequent aggravation. + +I shall say but a few words more on this agonizing topic. The letters which +I received, after my return home, communicated at times some cheering facts +of renovation, but on the whole, discouraging demonstrations of augmenting +illness, and lessened hope, were their prominent characteristics. A letter +to me from his son-in-law, of the 14th of September, announced: "Mr. Cooper +died, apparently without much pain, to-day at half-past one, P.M., leaving +his family, although prepared by his gradual failure, in deep affliction. +He would have been sixty-two years old to-morrow." + +A life of such uniform and unparalleled excellence and service, a career so +brilliant and honorable, closed in a befitting manner, and was crowned by a +death of quiet resignation. Conscious of his approaching dissolution, his +intelligence seemed to glow with increased fulness as his prostrated frame +yielded by degrees to the last summons. It is familiarly known to his most +intimate friends, that for some considerable period prior to his fatal +illness, he appropriated liberal portions of his time to the investigation +of scriptural truths, and that his convictions were ripe in Christian +doctrines. With assurances of happiness in the future, he graciously +yielded up his spirit to the disposal of its Creator. His death, which must +thus have been the beginning of a serene and more blessed life to him, is +universally regarded as a national loss. + +Will you allow me to add a few words to this letter, already perhaps of +undue extent. It has been my gratification during a life of some duration +to have become personally acquainted with many eminent characters in the +different walks of professional and literary avocation. I never knew an +individual more thoroughly imbued with higher principles of action than Mr. +Cooper: he acted upon principles, and fully comprehended the principles +upon which he acted. Casual observers could scarcely, at times, understand +and appreciate his motives or conduct. An independence of character worthy +of the highest respect, and a natural boldness of temper which led him to a +frank, emphatic, and intrepid utterance of his thoughts and sentiments, +were uncongenial to that large class of people, who, from the want of moral +courage, or a feeble physical temperament, habitually conform to public +opinion, and endeavor to conciliate the world. Mr. Cooper was one of the +most genuine Americans in his tone of mind, in manly self-reliance, in +sympathy with the scenery, the history, and the constitution of his +country, which it has ever been my lot to know. His genius was American, +fresh, vigorous, independent, and devoted to native subjects. The +opposition he met with on his return from Europe, in consequence of his +patriotic, though, perhaps, injudicious attempts to point out the faults +and duties of his countrymen, threw him reluctantly on the defensive, and +sometimes gave an antagonistic manner to his intercourse; but, whoever, +recognizing his intellectual superiority, and respecting his integrity of +purpose, met him candidly, in an open, cordial and generous spirit, soon +found in Mr. Cooper an honest man, and a thorough patriot. + +How strongly is impressed upon my memory his personal appearance, so often +witnessed during his rambles in Broadway and amidst the haunts of this busy +population. His phrenological development might challenge comparison with +that of the most favored of mortals. His manly figure, high, prominent +brow, clear and fine gray eye, and royal bearing, revealed the man of will +and intelligence. His intellectual hardihood was remarkable. He worked upon +a novel with the patient industry of a man of business, and set down every +fact of costume, action, expression, local feature, and detail of maritime +operations or woodland experience, with a kind of consciousness and +precision that produced a Flemish exactitude of detail, while in portraying +action, he seemed to catch by virtue of an eagle glance and an heroic +temperament, the very spirit of his occasion and convey it to the reader's +nerves and heart, as well as to his understanding. Herein Mr. Cooper was a +man of unquestionable originality. As to his literary services, some idea +may be formed of the consideration in which they are held by the almost +countless editions of many of his works in his own country, and their +circulation abroad by translations into almost every living tongue. + +I may add a word or two on the extent of his sympathies with humanity. What +a love he cherished for superior talents in every ennobling pursuit in +life--how deep an interest he felt in the fortunes of his scientific and +literary friends--what gratification he enjoyed in the physical inquiries +of Dekay and Le Conte, the muse of Halleck and of Bryant, the painting of +Cole, the sculpture of Greenough! Dunlap, were he speaking, might tell you +of his gratuities to the unfortunate playwright and the dramatic performer. +With the mere accumulators of money--those golden calves whose hearts are +as devoid of emotion as their brains of the faculty of cogitation--he held +no congenial communion at any time: they could not participate in the +fruition of his pastime; and he felt in himself an innate superiority in +the gifts with which nature had endowed him. He was ever vigilant, a keen +observer of men and things; and in conversation frank and emphatic. It was +a gratifying spectacle to encounter him with old Col. Trumbull, the +historical painter, descanting on the many excellencies of Cole's pencil, +in the delineation of American forest-scenery--a theme the richest in the +world for Mr. Cooper's contemplation. A Shylock with his money-bags never +glutted over his possessions with a happier feeling than did these two +eminent individuals--the venerable Colonel with his patrician dignity, and +Cooper with his somewhat aristocratic bearing, yet democratic sentiment; +the one fruitful with the glories of the past, the other big with the +stirring events of his country's progress, in the refinement of arts, and +national power. Trumbull was one of the many old men I knew who delighted +in Cooper's writings, and who in conversation dwelt upon his captivating +genius. + +To his future biographer Mr. Cooper has left the pleasing duty rightly to +estimate the breadth and depth of his powerful intellect--psychologically +to investigate the development and functions of that cerebral organ, which +for so many years, with such rapid succession and variety, poured out the +creations of poetic thought and descriptive illustration--to determine the +value of his capacious mind by the influence which, in the dawn of American +literature, it has exercised, in rearing the intellectual fabric of his +country's greatness--and to unfold the secret springs of those +disinterested acts of charity to the poor and needy, which signalized his +conduct as a professor of religious truth, and a true exampler of the +Christian graces. He has unquestionably done more to make known to the +transatlantic world his country, her scenery, her characteristics, her +aboriginal inhabitants, her history, than all preceding writers. His death +may well be pronounced a national calamity. By common consent he long +occupied an enviable place--the highest rank in American literature. To +adopt the quaint phraseology of old Thomas Fuller, the felling of so mighty +an oak must needs cause the increase of much underwood. Who will fill the +void occasioned by his too early departure from among us, time alone must +determine. With much consideration, I remain, + + Dear sir, yours most truly, + JOHN W. FRANCIS. + + +PUBLIC HONORS TO THE MEMORY OF MR. COOPER. + +In the last number of the _International_ we were able merely to announce +the death of our great countryman Mr. Cooper. The following account of +proceedings in reference to the event is compiled mainly from the _Evening +Post_. + +A meeting of literary men, and others, was held at the City Hall in +New-York, on the 25th of September, for the purpose of taking the necessary +measures for rendering fit honors to the memory of the deceased author. +Rufus W. Griswold, calling the meeting to order, said it had been convened +to do justice to the memory of the most illustrious American who had died +in the present century. Since the design of such a meeting had first been +formed, a consultation among Mr. Cooper's friends had been held, and it had +been determined that the present should be only a preparatory meeting, for +the making of such arrangements as should be thought necessary for a more +suitable demonstration of respect for that eminent person, whose name, more +completely than that of any of his cotemporaries and countrymen, had filled +the world. + +On motion of Judge Duer, Washington Irving was elected President of the +meeting. On motion of Joseph Blunt, Fitz Greene Halleck and Rufus W. +Griswold were appointed Secretaries. + +Mr. Blunt said, that as it had been thought proper to consider this +occasion as merely preliminary, and for the purpose of making arrangements +to do honor to the distinguished author who has left us, he would move that +a committee of five be appointed by the chair, to report what measures +should be adopted, by the literary gentlemen of this city and of the +country, so far as they may see fit to join them, for the purpose of +rendering appropriate honors to the memory of the late J. Fenimore Cooper. + +The motion was adopted, and the chair appointed the following gentlemen +members of the committee: Judge Duer, Richard B. Kimball, Dr. Francis, Fitz +Greene Halleck, and George Bancroft; to whom Washington Irving and Rufus W. +Griswold were subsequently added. The meeting then adjourned. + +This committee afterwards met and appointed as a General Committee to carry +out the designs of the meeting: Washington Irving, James K. Paulding, John +W. Francis, Gulian C. Verplanck, Charles King, Richard B. Kimball, Rufus +W. Griswold, Lewis Gaylord Clarke, Francis L. Hawks, John A. Dix, George +Bancroft, Fitz Greene Halleck, John Duer, William C. Bryant, George P. +Morris, Charles Anthon, Samuel Osgood, J. M. Wainright, and William W. +Campbell. + +R. W. Griswold, Donald G. Mitchell, Parke Godwin, C. F. Briggs, and +Starbuck Mayo were appointed a Committee of Correspondence. + +Besides letters from many of the gentlemen present, others had been +received from some twenty of the most eminent literary men of the United +States, all expressing the warmest sympathy in the proposal to do every +possible honor to the memory of Mr. Cooper. We copy from these the +following: + +_From Washington Irving._ + + SUNNYSIDE, Thursday, Sept. 18, 1851. + + MY DEAR SIR:--The death of Fenimore Cooper, though + anticipated, is an event of deep and public concern, + and calls for the highest expression of public + sensibility. To me it comes with something of a shock; + for it seems but the other day that I saw him at our + common literary resort at Putnam's, in full vigor of + mind and body, a very "castle of a man," and apparently + destined to outlive me, who am several years his + senior. He has left a space in our literature which + will not easily be supplied.... + + I shall not fail to attend the proposed meeting on + Wednesday next. Very respectfully, your friend and + servant, + + WASHINGTON IRVING. + + Rev. RUFUS W. GRISWOLD. + +_From William C. Bryant._ + + ROCHESTER, Friday, Sept. 19, 1851. + + MY DEAR SIR:--I am sorry that the arrangements for my + journey to the West are such that I cannot be present + at the meeting which is about to be held to do honor to + the memory of Mr. Cooper, on losing whom not only the + country, but the civilized world and the age in which + we live, have lost one of their most illustrious + ornaments. It is melancholy to think that it is only + until such men are in their graves that full justice is + done to their merit. I shall be most happy to concur in + any step which may be taken to express, in a public + manner, our respect for the character of one to whom we + were too sparing of public distinctions in his + lifetime, and beg that I may be included in the + proceedings of the occasion as if I were present. I am, + very respectfully yours, + + WM. C. BRYANT. + + Rev. R. W. GRISWOLD. + +_From Bishop Doane._ + + RIVERSIDE, Tuesday, Sept. 22, 1851. + + MY DEAR SIR:--...I beg you to say, generally, in your + discretion, that I yield to no one who will be present, + in my estimate of the distinguished talents and + admirable services of Mr. Cooper, or in my readiness to + do the highest honor to his illustrious memory. His + name must ever find a place among the "household words" + of all our hearts; a name as beautiful for its + blamelessness of life, as it is eminent for its + attainments in letters, which has subordinated to the + higher interests of patriotism and piety, the fervors + of fancy and the fascinations of romance. Very + faithfully, your friend and servant, + + G. W. DOANE. + + Rev. RUFUS W. GRISWOLD. + +_From Mr. Bancroft._ + + NEWPORT, R. I., Thursday, Sept. 18, 1851. + + MY DEAR SIR:--I heartily sympathize with the design of + a public tribute to the genius, manly character, and + great career of the illustrious man whose loss we + deplore. Others have combined very high merit as + authors, with professional pursuits. Mr. Cooper was, of + those who have gone from among us, the first to devote + himself exclusively to letters. We must admire the + noble courage with which he entered on a course which + none before him had tried; the glory which he justly + won was reflected on his country, of whose literary + independence he was the pioneer, and deserves the + grateful recognition of all who survive him. + + By the time proposed for the meeting, I fear I shall + not be able to return to New-York; but you may use my + name in any manner that shall strongly express my + delight in the writings of our departed friend, my + thorough respect for his many virtues, and my sense of + that surpassing ability which has made his own name and + the names of the creations of his fancy, household + words throughout the civilized world. I remain, dear + sir, very truly yours, + + GEORGE BANCROFT. + + Rev. R. W. GRISWOLD. + +_From John P. Kennedy._ + + BALTIMORE, October, 1851. + + DEAR SIR:--Your invitation reached me too late to + enable me to participate in the meeting which has just + been held at the City Hall in your city, to render + appropriate honors to the memory of Mr. Cooper. + + I rejoice to see what has been done and what you + propose to do. It is due to the eminent merits of + Fenimore Cooper, that there should be an impressive + public recognition of the loss which our country has + sustained in his death. He stood confessedly at the + head of a most attractive and popular department of our + literature, in which his extraordinary success had + raised him up a fame that became national. The country + claimed it as its own. This fame was acknowledged and + appreciated not only wherever the English tongue is the + medium of thought, but every where amongst the most + civilized nations of Europe. + + Our literature, in the lifetime of the present + generation, has grown to a maturity which has given it + a distinction and honorable place in that aggregate + which forms national character. No man has done more in + his sphere to elevate and dignify that character than + Fenimore Cooper: no man is more worthy than he, for + such services, of the highest honors appropriate to a + literary benefactor. His genius has contributed a rich + fund to the instruction and delight of his countrymen, + which will long be preserved amongst the choicest + treasures of American letters, and will equally induce + to render our national literature attractive to other + nations. We owe a memorial and a monument to the man + who has achieved this. This work is the peculiar + privilege of the distinguished scholars of New-York, + and I have no doubt will be warmly applauded, and if + need be, assisted, by every scholar and friend of + letters in the Union. + + With the best wishes for the success of this + enterprise, I am, my dear sir, very truly yours, + + JOHN P. KENNEDY. + + Rev. RUFUS W. GRISWOLD. + +_From C. J. Ingersoll._ + + FONTHILL, PHILADELPHIA, September, 30th, 1851. + + DEAR SIR:--Your favor, inviting me to a meeting of the + friends of Fenimore Cooper, did not reach me till this + morning, owing probably to irregularity of the + post-office. Otherwise I should have tried to attend + the proposed meeting, not only as a friend of Mr. + Cooper, but as one among those of his countrymen who + consider his memory a national trust for honored + preservation. + + In my opinion of Fenimore Cooper as a novelist he is + entitled to one merit to which few if any one of his + cotemporary European romance writers can lay claim, to + wit, originality. Leatherstocking is an original + character, and entirely American, which is probably one + of the reasons why Cooper was more appreciated in + Continental Europe than even Scott, whose magnificent + fancy embellished every thing, but whose genius, I + think, originated nothing. And then, in my estimate of + Mr. Cooper's superior merits, was manly independence--a + rare American virtue. For the less free Englishman or + Frenchman, politically, there was a freeness in the + expression as well as adoption of his own views of men + and things. And a third kindred merit of Cooper was + high-minded and gentlemanly abstinence from + self-applause. No distinguished or applauded man ever + was less apt to talk of himself and his performances. + Unlike too many modern poets, novelists, and other + writers, apt to become debauchees, drunkards, + blackguards and the like (as if, as some think, genius + and vice go together), Mr. Cooper was a gentleman + remarkable for good plain sense, correct deportment, + striking probity and propriety, and withal + unostentatiously devout. Not meaning to disparage any + one in order by odious comparisons to extol him, I deem + his Naval History a more valuable and enduring + historical work than many others, both English and + American, of contemporaneous publication and much wider + dissemination. In short, if the gentlemen whose names I + have seen in the public journals with yours, proposing + some concentrated eulogium, should determine to appoint + a suitable person, with time to prepare it, I believe + that Fenimore Cooper may be made the subject of + illustration in very many and most striking lights, + justly reflecting him, and with excellent influence on + his country. + + I do not recollect, from what I read lately in the + newspapers, precisely what you and the other gentlemen + associated with you in this proceeding propose to do, + or whether any thing is to take place. But if so, + whatever and wherever it may be, I beg you to use this + answer to your invitation, and any services I can + render, as cordial contributions, which I shall be + proud and happy to make. I am very respectfully your + humble servant, + + C. J. INGERSOLL. + + Rev. RUFUS W. GRISWOLD. + +_From G. P. R. James._ + + STOCKBRIDGE, Mass., 23d September, 1851. + + DEAR DOCTOR GRISWOLD:--I regret extremely that it will + not be in my power to be present at the meeting to + testify respect for the memory of Mr. Cooper. I grieve + sincerely that so eminent a man is lost to the country + and the world; and though unacquainted with him + personally, I need hardly tell you how highly his + abilities as an author, and his character, were + appreciated by yours faithfully, + + G. P. R. JAMES. + +_From Mr. Everett._ + + CAMBRIDGE, 23d September, 1851. + + DEAR SIR:--I received this afternoon your favor of the + 17th, inviting me to attend and participate in the + meeting to be held in your City Hall, for the purpose + of doing honor to the memory of the late Mr. Fenimore + Cooper. + + I sincerely regret that I cannot be with you. The state + of the weather puts it out of my power to make the + journey. The object of the meeting has my entire + sympathy. The works of Mr. Cooper have adorned and + elevated our literature. There is nothing more purely + American, in the highest sense of the word, than + several of them. In his department he is _facile + princeps_. He wrote too much to write every thing + equally well; but his abundance flowed out of a full, + original mind, and his rapidity and variety bespoke a + resolute and manly consciousness of power. If among his + works there were some which, had he been longer spared + to us, he would himself, on reconsideration, have + desired to recal, there are many more which the latest + posterity "will not willingly let die." + + With much about him that was intensely national, we + have but one other writer (Mr. Irving), as widely known + abroad. Many of Cooper's novels were not only read at + every fireside in England, but were translated into + every language of the European continent. + + He owed a part of his inspiration to the magnificent + nature which surrounded him; to the lakes, and forests, + and Indian traditions, and border-life of your great + state. It would have been as difficult to create + Leatherstocking anywhere out of New-York, or some state + closely resembling it, as to create Don Quixotte out of + Spain. To have trained and possessed Fenimore Cooper + will be--is already--with justice, one of your greatest + boasts. But we cannot let you monopolize the care of + his memory. We have all rejoiced in his genius; we have + all felt the fascination of his pen; we all deplore his + loss. You must allow us all to join you in doing honor + to the name of our great American novelist. I remain, + dear sir, with great respect, very truly yours, + + EDWARD EVERETT. + + Rev. RUFUS W. GRISWOLD. + +Letters of similar import were received from Richard H. Dana, George +Ticknor, William H. Prescott, John Neal, and many other eminent men, all +approving the design to render the highest honors to the illustrious +deceased. + +At the meeting of the New-York Historical Society, on the evening of +Tuesday, the 7th of October, after the transaction of the regular business, +the following resolutions were moved by Rev. Rufus W. Griswold, and +seconded by Mr. George Bancroft:-- + + _Whereas_, It has pleased Almighty God to remove from + this life our illustrious associate and countryman, + JAMES FENIMORE COOPER, while his fame was in its + fulness, and his intelligence was still unclouded by + age or any infirmity, therefore: + + Resolved, That this society has heard of the death of + James Fenimore Cooper with profound regret: + + That it recognizes in him an eminent subject and a + masterly illustrator of our history: + + That, in his contributions to our literature he + displayed eminent genius and a truly national spirit: + + That, in his personal character, he was honorable, + brave, sincere, and generous, as respectable for + unaffected virtue as he was distinguished for great + capacities: + + That this society, appreciating the loss which, + however heavily it has fallen upon this country and + the literary world, has fallen most heavily upon his + family, instructs its officers to convey to his family, + assurances of respectful sympathy and condolence. + +Dr. JOHN W. FRANCIS addressed the society in a very interesting speech, in +support of these resolutions. Among the great men of letters, he said, whom +our country has produced, there were none greater than Mr. Cooper. I knew +him for a period of thirty years, and during all that time I never knew any +thing of his character that was not in the highest degree praiseworthy. He +was a man of great decision of character, and a fair expositor of his own +thoughts on every occasion--a thorough American, for I never knew a man who +was more entirely so in heart and principle. He was able, with his vast +knowledge, and a powerful physical structure, to complete whatever he +attempted. He had studied the history of this country with a large +philosophy, and understood our people and their character better than any +other writer of the age. He was not only perfectly acquainted with our +general history, but was thoroughly conversant with that of every state, +county, village, lake, and river. And with his vast knowledge he was no +less remarkable for ability as a historian than for his intrepidity of +personal character. I could not, said Dr. Francis, allow this opportunity +to pass without paying my tribute to the merits of this truly great man. + +Mr. GEORGE BANCROFT next addressed the society. My friend, he said, has +spoken of the illustrious deceased as an American--I say that he was an +embodiment of the American feeling, and truly illustrated American +greatness. We were endeavoring to hold up our heads before the world, and +to claim a character and an intellect of our own, when Cooper appeared with +his powerful genius to support our pretensions. He came forth imbued with +American life, and feeling, and sentiment. Another like Cooper cannot +appear, for he was peculiarly suited to his time, which was that of an +invading civilization. The fame and honor which he gained, were not +obtained by obsequious deference to public opinion, but simply by his great +ability and manly character. Great as he was in the department of romantic +fiction, he was not less deserving of praise in that of history. In Lionel +Lincoln he has described the battle of Bunker Hill better than it is +described in any other work. + +In his naval history of the United States he has left us the most masterly +composition of which any nation could boast on a similar subject. Mr. +Bancroft proceeded in a masterly analysis of some of Mr. Cooper's +characters, and ended with an impressive assertion of the purity of his +contributions to our literature, the eminence of his genius, and the +dignity of his personal character. + +Dr. HAWKS spoke with his customary eloquence of the personal character of +Mr. Cooper, his indefectible integrity, his devotion to the best interests +of his country, and his religious spirit. He approved the resolutions which +had been offered to the society. + +The Rev. SAMUEL OSGOOD said: + + It must seem presumptuous in me, Mr. President, to try + to add any thing to the tribute which has been paid to + the memory of Cooper, by gentlemen so peculiarly + qualified from their experience and position to speak + of the man and his services. But all professions have + their own point of view, and I may be allowed to say a + few words upon the relation of our great novelist to + the historical associations and moral standards of our + nation. I cannot claim more than a passing acquaintance + with the deceased, and it belongs to friends more + favored to interpret the asperities and illustrate the + amenities which are likely to mark the character of a + man so decided in his make and habit. With his position + as an interpreter of American history and a delineator + of American character, we are in this society most + closely concerned. None in this presence, I am sure, + will rebuke me for speaking of the novelist as among + the most important agents of popular education, + powerful either for good or ill. + + Is it not true, Sir, that the romance is the prose epic + of modern society, and that we now look to its pages + for the most graphic portraitures of men, manners, and + events? Social and political life is too complex now + for the stately march of the heroic poem, and this age + of print needs not the carefully measured verse to make + sentences musical to the ear, or to save them from + being mutilated by circulation. The romance is now the + chosen form of imaginative literature, and its gifted + masters are educators of the popular ideal. What epic + poem of our times begins to compare in influence over + the common mind with the stories of Scott and Cooper? + Our novelist loved most to treat of scenes and + characters distinctively national, and his name stands + indelibly written on our fairest lakes and rivers, our + grandest seas and mountains, our annals of early + sacrifice and daring. With some of his criticisms on + society, and some of his views of political and + historical questions, I have personally little + sympathy. But, when it is asked, in the impartial + standard of critical justice, what influence has he + exerted over the moral tone of American literature, or + to what aim has he wielded the fascinating pen of + romance, there can be but one reply. With him, fancy + has always walked hand in hand with purity, and the + ideal of true manhood, which is everywhere most + prominent in his works, is one of which we may well be + proud as a nation and as men. + + The element of will, perhaps more strongly than + intellectual analysis, or exquisite sensibility, or + high imagination, is the distinguished characteristic + of his heroes, and in this his portraitures are good + types of what is strongest in the practical American + mind. His model man, whether forester, sailor, servant, + or gentleman, is always bent on bringing some especial + thing to pass, and the progress from the plan to the + achievement is described with military or naval + exactness. Yet he never overlooks any of the essential + traits of a noble manhood, and loves to show how much + of enterprise, courage, compassion, and reverence, it + combines with practical judgment and religious + principle. + + It has seemed to me that his stories of the seas and + the forests are fitted to act more than ever upon the + strong hearts in training for the new spheres of + triumph which are now so wonderfully opening upon our + people. Who does not wish that his noted hero of the + backwoods might be known in every loghouse along our + extending frontier, and teach the rough pioneer always + to temper daring by humanity? Who can ever forget that + favorite character, as dear to the reader as to the + author--that paladin of the forest, that lion-heart of + the wilderness, Leatherstocking, fearless towards + man--gentle towards woman--a rough-cast gentleman of + as true a heart as ever beat under the red cross of the + crusader. The very qualities needed in those old times + of frontier strife are now needed for new emergencies + in our more peaceful border life, and our future + depends vastly upon the characters that give edge to + the advancing mass of our population now crowding + towards the rocky mountains and the Pacific coast. It + is well that this story-teller of the forest has been + so true to the best traits of our nature, and in so + many points is a moralist too. As a romancer of the + sea, Cooper's genius may perhaps be but beginning to + show its influence, as a new age of commercial + greatness is opening upon our nation. + + Mr. Cooper did not shrink from battle scenes and had no + particular dread of gunpowder, yet his best laurels + upon the ocean have been won in describing feats of + seamanship and traits of manhood that need no bloody + conflict for their display, and may be exemplified in + fleets as peaceful and beneficent as ever spread their + sails to the breezes to bear kindly products to + friendly nations. As we sit here this evening under the + influence of the hour, the images of many a famous + exploit on the water seems to come out from his + well-remembered pages and mingle themselves with recent + scenes of marine achievement. Has not the "Water Witch" + herself reappeared of late in our own bay, and laden + not with contraband goods, but a freight of + stout-hearted gentlemen, borne the palm as "Skimmer of + the Seas," from all competitors in presence of the + royalty and nobility of England? And the Old Ironsides, + has not she come back again, more iron-ribbed than + ever--not to fight over the old battles which our naval + chronicler was so fond of rehearsing, but under the + name of the Baltic or (better omen) the Pacific, to win + a victory more honorable and encouraging than ever was + carried by the thundering broadsides of the noble old + Constitution! The commanders and pilots so celebrated + by the novelist, have they not successors indomitable + as they? and just now our ship-news brings good tidings + of their achievements, as they tell us of the Flying + Cloud that has made light of the storms of the fearful + southern cape, and of the return of the adventurous + fleet that has stood so well the hug of the Polar + icebergs, and shown how nobly a crew may hunt for men + on the seas with a Red Rover's daring and a Christian's + mercy. + + It is well that the most gifted romancer of the sea is + an American, and that he is helping us to enact the + romance of history so soon to be fact. The empire of + the waters, which in turn has belonged to Tyre, Venice, + and England, seems waiting to come to America, and no + part of the world now so justly claims its possession + as that state in which Cooper had his home. Who does + not welcome the promise of the new age of powerful + commerce and mental blessing? Who does not feel + grateful to any man who gives any good word or work to + the emancipation of the sailor from his worst enemies, + and to the freedom of the seas from all the violence + that stains its benignant waters? While proud of our + fleet ships, let us not forget elements in their + equipment more important than oak and iron. In this age + of merchandise, let us adorn peace with something of + the old manhood that took from warfare some of its + horrors. Did time allow, I might try to illustrate the + power of an attractive literature in keeping alive + national associations and moulding national character, + but I am content to leave these few fragmentary words + with the society as my poor tribute to a writer who + charmed many hours of my boyhood, and who has won + regard anew as the entertaining and instructive + beguiler of some recent days of rural recreation. May + we not sincerely say that he has so used the treasures + of our national scenery and history as to elevate the + true ideal of true manhood, and quicken the nation's + memory in many respects auspiciously for the nation's + hopes? + +It is understood that a public discourse on the life and genius of Mr. +Cooper will be delivered by one of the most eminent of his contemporaries, +at Tripler Hall, early in December, and that measures will be adopted to +secure the erection of a suitable monument to his memory in one of the +public squares or parks of the city. On this subject Mr. Washington Irving +has written the following letter: + + SUNNYSIDE, October, 1851. + + MY DEAR SIR:--My occupations in the country prevent my + attendance in town at the meeting of the committee, but + I am anxious to know what is doing. I signified at our + first meeting what I thought the best monument to the + memory of Mr. Cooper--a statue. It is the simplest, + purest, and most satisfactory--perpetuating the + likeness of the person. I understand there is an + excellent bust of Mr. Cooper extant, made when he was + in Italy. He was there in his prime; and it might + furnish the model for a noble statue. Judge Duer + suggested that his monument should be placed at + Washington, perhaps in the Smithsonian Institute. I was + rather for New-York, as he belonged to this State, and + the scenes of several of his best works were laid in + it. Besides, the seat of government may be changed, and + then Washington would lose its importance; whereas + New-York must always be a great and growing + metropolis--the place of arrival and departure for this + part of the world--the great resort of strangers from + abroad, and of our own people from all parts of the + Union. One of our beautiful squares would be a fine + situation for a statue. However, I am perhaps a little + too local in my notions on this matter. Cooper + emphatically belongs to the nation, and his monument + should be placed where it would be most in public view. + Judge Duer's idea therefore may be the best. There will + be a question of what material the statue (if a statue + is determined on) should be made. White marble is the + most beautiful, but how would it stand our climate in + the open air? Bronze stands all weathers and all + climates, but does not give so clearly the expression + of the countenance, when regarded from a little + distance. + + These are all suggestions scrawled in haste, which I + should have made if able to attend the meeting of the + committee. I wish you would drop me a line to let me + know what is done or doing. + + Yours very truly, + + WASHINGTON IRVING. + + The Rev. RUFUS GRISWOLD. + +The plan thus recommended by Mr. Irving will undoubtedly be approved by the +committee and the public, and there is little doubt that it will soon be +carried into execution. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] The accomplished authoress of "Rural Hours."--_Ed. International._ + + + + +THE LONDON TIMES ON AMERICAN INTERCOMMUNICATION. + + +We are by no means confident that the Mexican War, with all its victories, +was more serviceable to our reputation in Europe, than the single victory +of Mr. Stevens, in his yacht America, off the Isle of Wight. This triumph +has been celebrated in a dinner at the Astor House, but the city might have +well afforded to welcome the returning owner of the America with an +illumination, or the fathers, in council assembled, might have voted him a +statue. Mr. Collins and Mr. Stevens have together managed to deprive +England of the "trident of the seas," and as soon as it was transferred +there began a shower of honors, which continues still, from the _Times_ +down to the very meanest of its imitators. From that time the Americans +have had all the "solid triumphs" in the Great Exhibition. We have been +regarded as a wonderful people, and our institutions as the most +interesting study that is offered for contemporary statesmen and +philosophers. We copy below a specimen of the leaders with which the +_Times_ has honored us, and commend it to our readers, not more for its +tone than for the valuable information contained in it:-- + + LOCOMOTION BY RIVER AND RAILWAY IN THE UNITED STATES. + + England has been so dazzled by the splendor of her own + achievements in the creation of a new art of transport + by land and water within the last thirty years, as to + become in a measure insensible to all that has been + accomplished in the same interval and in the same + department of the arts elsewhere, improvements less + brilliant, indeed, intrinsically, than the stupendous + system of inland transport, which we lately noticed in + these columns, and having a lustre mitigated to our + view by distance, yet presenting in many respects + circumstances and conditions which may well excite + profound and general interest, and even challenge a + respectful comparison with the greatest of those + advances in the art of locomotion of which we are most + justly proud. + + It will not, therefore, be without utility and + interest, after the detailed notice which we have + lately given of our own advances in the adaptation of + steam to locomotion, to direct attention to the + progress in the same department which has been + simultaneously made in other and distant countries, and + first, and above all, by our friends and countrymen in + the other hemisphere. + + The inland transport of the United States is + distributed mainly between the rivers, the canals, and + the railways, a comparatively small fraction of it + being executed on common roads. Provided with a system + of natural water communication on a scale of magnitude + without any parallel in the world, it might have been + expected that the "sparse" population of this recently + settled country might have continued for a long period + of time satisfied with such an apparatus of transport. + It is, however, the character of man, but above all of + the Anglo-Saxon man, never to rest satisfied with the + gifts of nature, however munificent they be, until he + has rendered them ten times more fruitful by the + application of his skill and industry, and we find + accordingly that the population of America has not only + made the prodigious natural streams which intersect its + vast territory over so many thousands of miles, + literally swarm with steamboats, but they have, + besides, constructed a system of canal navigation, + which may boldly challenge comparison with any thing of + the same kind existing in the oldest, wealthiest, and + most civilized States of Europe. + + It appears from the official statistics that, on the + 1st of January, 1843, the extent of canals in actual + operation amounted to 4,333 miles and that there were + then in progress 2,359 miles, a considerable portion of + which has since been completed, so that it is probable + that the actual extent of artificial water + communication now in use in the United States + considerably exceeds 5,000 miles. The average cost of + executing this prodigious system of artificial water + communication was at the rate of 6,432_l._ per mile, so + that 5,000 miles would have absorbed a capital of above + 32,000,000_l._ + + This extent of canal transport, compared with the + population, exhibits in a striking point of view the + activity and enterprise which characterize the American + people. In the United States there is a mile of canal + navigation for every 5,000 inhabitants, while in + England the proportion is 1 to every 9,000 inhabitants, + and France 1 to every 13,000. The ratio, therefore, of + this instrument of intercommunication in the United + States is greater than in the United Kingdom, in + proportion to the population, as 9 to 5, and greater + than in France in the ratio of 13 to 5. + + The extent to which the American people have + fertilized, so to speak, the natural powers of those + vast collections of water which surround and intersect + their territory, is not less remarkable than their + enterprise in constructing artificial lines of water + communication. Besides the internal communication + supplied by the rivers, properly so called, a vast + apparatus of liquid transport is derived from the + geographical character of their extensive coast, + stretching over a space of more than 4,000 miles, from + the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the delta of the + Mississippi, indented and serrated with natural harbors + and sheltered bays, fringed with islands forming + sounds, throwing out capes and promontories which + inclose arms of the sea in which the waters are free + from the roll of the ocean, and which, for all the + purposes of navigation, have the character of rivers + and lakes. The lines of communication formed by the + vast and numerous rivers are, moreover, completed in + the interior by chains of lakes presenting the most + extensive bodies of fresh water in the known world. + + Whatever question may be raised on the conflicting + claims for the invention of steam navigation, it is an + incontestable fact that the first steamboat practically + applied for any useful purpose was placed on the + Hudson, to ply between New-York and Albany, in 1808; + and, from that time to the present that river has been + the theatre of the most remarkable series of + experiments of locomotion on water ever recorded in the + history of man. The Hudson is navigable by steamers of + the largest class as high as Albany, a distance of + nearly 150 miles from New-York. The steam navigation + upon this river is entitled to attention, not only + because of the immense traffic of which it is the + vehicle, but because it forms a sort of model for all + the rivers of the Atlantic States. Two classes of + steamers work upon it--one appropriated to the swift + transport of passengers, and the other to the towing of + the vast traffic which is maintained between the city + of New-York and the interior of the State of that name, + into the heart of which the Hudson penetrates. + + The passenger steamers present a curious contrast to + the sea-going steamers with which we are familiar. Not + having to encounter the agitated surface of the ocean, + they are supplied with neither rigging nor sails, are + built exclusively with a view to speed, are slender and + weak in their structure, with great length in + proportion to their beam, and have but small draught of + water. The position and form of the machinery are + peculiar. The engines are placed on deck in a + comparatively elevated situation. It is but rarely that + two engines are used. A single engine placed in the + centre of the deck drives a crank constructed on the + axle of the enormous paddle-wheels, the magnitude of + which, and the velocity imparted to them, enable them + to perform the office of fly-wheels. These vessels, + which are of great magnitude, are splendidly fitted up + for the accommodation of passengers, and have been + within the last ten or twelve years undergoing a + gradual augmentation of magnitude, to which it would + seem to be difficult to set a limit. + + In the following table, which we borrow from the work + on _Railway Economy_, from which we have already + derived so large a portion of our information, are + given the dimensions and the details of fourteen of the + principal steamers plying on the Hudson in the year 1838:-- + + |Length of deck. + | |Breadth of beam. + | | |Draught. + | | | |Diameter of wheels. + | | | | |Length of paddles. + | | | | | |Depth of paddles. + | | | | | | |Number of engines. + | | | | | | | |Diameter of cylinder. + | | | | | | | | |Length of stroke. + | | | | | | | | | |Number of + | | | | | | | | | |revolutions. + | | | | | | | | | | |Part of stroke + | | | | | | | | | | |at which steam +Names. | | | | | | | | | | |is cut off. +-------------+----+----+----+----+----+---+--+----+----+----+-----+ + | ft.| ft.| ft.| ft.| ft.|ft.| | in.| ft.| | | +Dewit Clinton| 230|28 |5·5 |21 |13·7|36 |1 |65 | 10 |29 |·75 | +Champlain | 180|27 |5·5 |22 |15 |34 |2 |44 | 10 |27·5|·50 | +Erie | 180|27 |5·5 |22 |15 |34 |2 |44 | 10 |27·5|·50 | +North America| 200|30 |5 |21 |13 |30 |2 |44·5| 8 |24 |·50 | +Independence | 148|26 | -- | -- | -- |-- |1 |44 | 10 | -- | -- | +Albany | 212|26 | -- |24·5|14 |30 |1 |65 | -- |19 | -- | +Swallow | 233|22·5|3·75|24 |11 |30 |1 |46 | -- |27 | -- | +Rochester | 200|25 |3·75|23·5|10 |24 |1 |43 | 10 |28 | -- | +Utica | 200|21 |3·5 |22 | 9·5|24 |1 |39 | 10 | -- | -- | +Providence | 180|27 |9 | -- | -- |-- |1 |65 | 10 | -- | -- | +Lexington | 207|21 | -- |23 | 9 |30 |1 |48 | 11 |24 | -- | +Narraganset | 210|26 |5 |25 |11 |30 |1 |60 | 12 |20 |·50 | +Massachusetts| 200|29·5|8·5 |22 |10 |28 |2 |44 | 8 |26 | -- | +Rhode Island | 210|26 |6·5 |24 |11 |30 |1 |60 | 11 |21 | -- | + +----+----+----+----+----+---+--+----+----+----+-----+ +Averages | 200|26 |5·6 |24·8|11 |30 |--|50·8| 10 |24·8| -- | +-------------+----+----+----+----+----+---+--+----+----+----+-----+ + + The changes more recently made all have a tendency to + increase the magnitude and power of those vessels--to + diminish their draught of water--and to increase the + play of the expansive principle. Vessels of the largest + class now draw only as much water as the smallest drew + a few years ago, four feet five inches being regarded + as the _maximum_. + + It appears from the following table that the average + length of these prodigious floating hotels is above 300 + feet; some of them approaching 400. In the passenger + accommodation afforded by them no water communication + in any country can compete. Nothing can exceed the + splendor and luxury with which they are fitted up, + furnished, and decorated. Silk, velvet, the most costly + carpetings and upholstery, vast mirrors, gilding, and + carving, are profusely displayed in their decoration. + Even the engine-room in some of them is lined with + mirrors. In the Alida, for example, the end of the + engine-room is one vast mirror, in which the movements + of the brilliant and highly-finished machinery are + reflected. All the largest class are capable of running + from twenty to twenty-two miles an hour, and average + nearly twenty miles without difficulty. + + In the annexed table are exhibited the details of ten + of the most recently constructed passenger vessels:-- + +---------------+------------------------+----------------+------------------ + | DIMENSIONS OF | ENGINE. | PADDLE- + | VESSEL. | | WHEEL. + +------------------------+----------------+------------------ + | |Diameter of | + | |cylinder. | + |Length. | |Length of |Diameter. + | |Breadth. | |stroke. | |Length of + | | |Depth of | | |Number | |bucket. +Names. | | |Hold. | | |of | | |Depth of + | | | |Tonnage.| | |strokes.| | |bucket. +---------------+----+-----+----+--------+---+---+--------+----+----+-------- + | ft.| ft. | ft.| |in.|ft.| | ft.|ft. | in. +Isaac Newton |333 |40·4 |10·0| |81 |12 | 18-1/2 |39·0|12·4| 32 +Bay State |300 |39·0 |13·2| |76 |12 | 21-1/2 |38·0|10·3| 32 +Empire State |304 |39·0 |13·6| |76 |12 | 21-1/2 |38·0|10·3| 32 +Oregon |308 |35·0 | -- | |72 |11 | 18 |34·0|11·0| 28 +Hendrick Hudson|320 |35·0 | 9·6| 1,050 |72 |11 | 22 |33·0|11·0| 33 +C. Vanderbilt |300 |35·0 |11·0| 1,075 |72 |12 | 21 |35·0| 9·0| 33 +Connecticut |300 |37·0 |11·0| |72 |13 | 21 |35·0|11·6| 36 +Commodore |280 |33·0 |10·6| |65 |11 | 22 |31·6| 9·0| 33 +New-York |276 |35·0 |10·6| |76 |15 | 18 |44·6|12·0| 36 +Alida |286 |28·0 | 9·6| |56 |12 | 24-1/2 |32·0|10·0| 32 +---------------+----+-----+----+-------+----+----+-------+----+----+-------- +Averages |310 |35·8 |11·0| |71·8|12·1|20·8 |35·0|10·8| 37 +---------------+----+-----+----+-------+----+----+-------+----+----+-------- + + It may be observed, in relation to the navigation of + those eastern rivers (for we do not here speak of the + Mississippi and its tributaries), that the occurrence + of explosions is almost unheard of. During the last ten + years not a single catastrophe of this kind has been + recorded, although cylindrical boilers ten feet in + diameter, composed of plating 5-16ths of an inch thick, + are commonly used with steam of 50lb. pressure. + + Previously to 1844 the lowest fare from New-York to + Albany, a distance of 145 miles, was 4s. 4d.; at + present the fare is 2s. 2d.--and for an additional sum + of the same amount the passenger can command the luxury + of a separate cabin. When the splendor and magnitude of + the accommodation is considered, the magnificence of + the furniture and accessories, and the luxuriousness of + the table, it will be admitted that no similar example + of cheap locomotion can be found in any part of the + globe. Passengers may there be transported in a + floating palace, surrounded with all the conveniences + and luxuries of the most splendid hotel, at the average + rate of twenty miles an hour, for less than _one-sixth + of a penny per mile_! It is not an uncommon occurrence + during the warm season to meet persons on board these + boats who have lodged themselves there permanently, in + preference to hotels on the banks of the river. Their + daily expenses in the boat are as follows: + + Fare 2_s._ 2_d._ + Separate bedroom 2 2 + Breakfast, dinner, and supper 6 6 + ------ + Total daily expense for board, lodging, 10 10 + attendance, and travelling 150 miles, + at 20 miles an hour + + Such accommodation is, on the whole, more economical + than a hotel. The bedroom is as luxuriously furnished + as the handsomest chamber in an hotel or private house, + and is much more spacious than the room similarly + designated in the largest packet ships. + + The other class of steamers, used for towing the + commerce of the river, corresponds to the goods trains + on railways. No spectacle can be more remarkable than + this class of locomotive machines, dragging their + enormous load up the Hudson. They may be seen in the + midst of this vast stream, surrounded by a cluster of + twenty or thirty loaded craft of various magnitudes. + Three or four tiers are lashed to them at each side, + and as many more at their bow and at their stern. The + steamer is almost lost to the eye in the midst of this + crowd of vessels which cling around it, and the moving + mass is seen to proceed up the river, no apparent agent + of propulsion being visible, for the steamer and its + propellers are literally buried in the midst of the + cluster which clings to it and floats round and near + it. + + As this _water-goods train_, for so it may be called, + ascends the river, it drops off its load, vessel by + vessel, at the towns which it passes. One or two are + left at Newburgh, another at Poughkeepsie, two or three + more at Hudson, one or two at Fishkill, and, finally, + the tug arrives with a residuum of some half-dozen + vessels at Albany. + + The steam navigation of the Mississippi and the other + western rivers is conducted in a manner entirely + different from that of the Hudson. Every one must be + familiar with the lamentable accidents which happen + from time to time, and the loss of life from explosion + which continually takes place on those rivers. Such + catastrophes, instead of diminishing with the + improvement of art, seem rather to have increased. + Engineers have done literally nothing to check the + evil. + + In a Mississippi steamboat the cabins and saloons are + erected on a flooring six or eight feet above the deck, + upon which and under them the engines are placed, which + are of the coarsest and most inartificial structure. + They are invariably worked with high-pressure steam, + and in order to obtain that effect which in the Hudson + steamers is due to a vacuum, the steam is worked at an + extraordinary pressure. We have ourselves actually + witnessed boilers of this kind, on the western rivers, + working under a full pressure of 120lb. per square inch + above the atmosphere, and we have been assured that + this pressure has been recently considerably increased, + so that it is not unfrequent now to find them working + with a bursting pressure of 200lb. per square inch! + + As might naturally be expected, the chief theatre of + railway enterprise in America is the Atlantic States. + The Mississippi and its tributaries have served the + purposes of commerce and intercommunication to the + comparatively thinly scattered population of the + Western States so efficiently that many years will + probably elapse, notwithstanding the extraordinary + enterprise of the people, before any considerable + extent of railway communication will be established in + this part of the States. Nevertheless, the traveller in + these distant regions encounters occasionally detached + examples of railways even in the valley of the + Mississippi. In the State of Mississippi there are five + short lines, ten or twelve in Louisiana, and a limited + number scattered over Florida, Alabama, Illinois, + Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio. These, however, are + generally detached and single lines, unconnected with + the vast network which we shall presently notice. To + the traveller in these wild regions the aspect of such + artificial agents of transport in the midst of a + country, a great portion of which is still in the state + of native forest, is most remarkable, and strongly + characteristic of the irrepressible spirit of + enterprise of its people. Travelling in the back woods + of Mississippi, through native forests, where till + within a few years human foot never trod, through + solitudes, the silence of which was never broken, even + by the red man, we have been sometimes filled with + wonder to find ourselves transported by an engine + constructed at Newcastle-on-Tyne, and driven by an + artisan from Liverpool, at the rate of twenty miles an + hour. It is not easy to describe the impression + produced by the juxtaposition of these refinements of + art and science with the wildness of the country, where + one sees the frightened deer start from its lair at the + snorting of the ponderous machine and the appearance of + the snakelike train which follows it. + + The first American railway was opened for passengers on + the last day of 1829. According to the reports + collected and given in detail in the work already + quoted, it appears that in 1849, after an interval of + just twenty years, there were in actual operation 6,565 + miles of railway in the States. The cost of + construction and plant of this system of railways + appears by the same authority to have been + 53,386,885_l._, being at the average rate of 8,129_l._ + per mile. + + The reports collected in Dr. Lardner's work come up to + the middle of 1849. We have, however, before us + documents which supply data to a more recent period, + and have computed from them the following table, + exhibiting the number of miles of railway in actual + operation in the United States, the capital expended in + their construction and plant, and the length of the + lines which are in process of construction, but not yet completed:-- + +---------------------------------------------------------------------------- + | Railways | Cost of | Projected |Cost per + | in | Building and | and in | Mile. + | operation. | Plant. | progress. | +------------------------+-------------+--------------+-------------+-------- + | Miles. | £ | Miles. | £ +Eastern States, | | | | +including Maine, New | | | | +Hampshire, Vermont, | | | | +Massachusetts, Rhode | | | | +Island, and Connecticut| 2,845 | 23,100,987 | 567 | 8,123 + | | | | +Atlantic States, | | | | +including New-York, the | | | | +Jerseys, Pennsylvania, | | | | +Delaware, and Maryland | 3,503 | 27,952,500 | 2,020 | 7,979 + | | | | +Southern States, | | | | +including Virginia, the | | | | +Carolinas, Georgia, | | | | +Florida, and Alabama | 2,103 | 8,253,130 | 1,283 | 3,919 + | | | | +Western States, | | | | +including Mississippi, | | | | +Louisiana, Texas, | | | | +Tennessee, Kentucky, | | | | +Ohio, Michigan, Indiana,| | | | +Illinois, Missouri, | | | | +Iowa, and Wisconsin | 1,835 | 7,338,290 | 5,762 | 3,999 + |-------------+--------------+-------------+-------- +Totals and averages | 10,289 | 66,653,907 | 9,632 | 6,478 +------------------------+-------------+--------------+-------------+-------- + + It must be admitted that the results here exhibited + present a somewhat astonishing spectacle. It appears + from this statement that there are in actual operation + in the United States 10,289 miles of railway, and that + there are 9,632 projected and in process of execution. + So that when a few years more shall have rolled away, + this extraordinary people will actually have 20,000 + miles of iron road in operation. + + It appears from the above report, compared with the + previous report quoted from Dr. Lardner, that the + average cost of construction has been diminished as the + operations progressed. According to Dr. Lardner, the + average cost of construction of the 6,500 miles of + railway in operation in 1849 was 8,129_l._ per mile + whereas, it appears from the preceding table that the + actual cost of 10,289 miles now in operation has been + at the average rate of 6,478_l._ per mile. On + examining the analysis of the distribution of these + railways among the States, it appears that this + discordance of the two statements is apparent rather + than real, and proceeds from the fact that the railways + opened since Dr. Lardner's report, being chiefly in the + southern and western States, are cheaply constructed + lines, in which the landed proprietors have given to a + great extent their gratuitous co-operation, and in + which the plant and working stock is of very small + amount, so that their average cost per mile is a little + under 4,000_l._--the average cost per mile in the + eastern and northern States corresponding almost to a + fraction with Dr. Lardner's estimate. It is also worthy + of observation that the distribution of this network of + railways is extremely unequal, not only in quantity, + but in its capability, as indicated by its expense of + construction. Thus, in the populous and wealthy States + of Massachusetts, New-Jersey, and New-York, the + proportion of railways to surface is considerable, + while in the southern and western States it is + trifling. In the following table is given the number of + miles of surface for each mile of railway in some of + the principal States:-- + + Square miles of surface for each mile of railway. + + Massachusetts 7 + New-Jersey 22 + New-York 28 + Maryland 31 + Ohio 58 + Georgia 76 + + When it is considered that the railways in this country + have cost upon an average about 40,000_l._ per mile, + the comparatively low cost of the American railways + will doubtless appear extraordinary. + + This circumstance, however, is explained partly by the + general character of the country, partly by the mode of + constructing the railways, and partly by the manner of + working them. With certain exceptions, few in number, + the tracts of country over which these lines are + carried, is nearly a dead level. Of earthwork there is + but little; of works of art, such as viaducts and + tunnels, commonly none. Where the railways are carried + over streams or rivers, bridges are constructed in a + rude but substantial manner of timber supplied from the + roadside forest, at no greater cost than that of hewing + it. The station houses, booking offices, and other + buildings, are likewise slight and cheaply constructed + of timber. On some of the best lines in the more + populous States the timber bridges are constructed with + stone pillars and abutments, supporting arches of + trusswork, the cost of such bridges varying from 46s. + per foot, for 60 feet span, to 6_l._ 10s. per foot for + 200 feet span, for a single line, the cost on a double + line being 50 per cent. more. + + When the railways strike the course of rivers such as + the Hudson, Delaware, or Susquehanna--too wide to be + crossed by bridges--the traffic is carried by steam + ferries. The management of these ferries is deserving + of notice. It is generally so arranged that the time of + crossing them corresponds with a meal of the + passengers. A platform is constructed level with the + line of railway and carried to the water's edge. Upon + this platform rails are laid by which the wagons which + bear the passengers' luggage and other matters of light + and rapid transport are rolled directly upon the upper + deck of the ferry boat, the passengers meanwhile going + under a covered way to the lower deck. The whole + operation is accomplished in five minutes. While the + boat is crossing the spacious river the passengers are + supplied with their breakfasts, dinner, or supper, as + the case may be. On arriving at the opposite bank the + upper deck comes in contact with a like platform, + bearing a railway upon which the luggage wagons are + rolled; the passengers ascend, as they descended, under + a covered way, and, resuming their places in the + railway carriages, the train proceeds. + + But the prudent Americans have availed themselves of + other sources of economy by adopting a mode of + construction adapted to the expected traffic. Formed to + carry a limited commerce the railways are generally + single lines, sidings being provided at convenient + situations. Collision is impossible, for the first + train that arrives at a siding must enter it and remain + there until the following train arrives. This + arrangement would be attended with inconvenience with a + crowded traffic like that of many lines on the English + railways, but even on the principal American lines the + trains seldom pass in each direction more than twice a + day, and their time and place of meeting is perfectly + regulated. In the structure of the roads, also, + principles have been adopted which have been attended + with great economy compared with the English lines. The + engineers, for example, do not impose on themselves the + difficult and expensive condition of excluding all + curves but those of large radius, and all gradients + exceeding a certain small limit of steepness. Curves of + 500 feet radius, and even less, are frequent, and + acclivities rising at the rate of 1 foot in 100 are + considered a moderate ascent, while there are not less + than 50 lines laid down with gradients varying from 1 + in 100 to 1 in 75, nevertheless these lines are worked + with facility by locomotives, without the expedient, + even, of assistant or stationary engines. The + consequences of this have been to reduce in an immense + proportion the cost of earthwork, bridges, and + viaducts, even in parts of the country where the + character of the surface is least favorable. But the + chief source of economy has arisen from the structure + of the line itself. In many cases where the traffic is + lightest the rails consist of flat bars of iron, 2-1/2 + inches broad and 6-10ths of an inch thick, nailed and + spiked to planks of timber laid longitudinally on the + road in parallel lines, so as to form what are called + continuous bearings. Some of the most profitable + American railways, and those of which the maintenance + has proved least expensive, have been constructed in + this manner. The road structure, however, varies + according to the traffic. Rails are sometimes laid + weighing only from 25lb. to 30lb. per yard. In some + cases of great traffic they are supported on transverse + sleepers of wood like the European railways, but in + consequence of the comparative cheapness of wood and + the high price of iron, the strength necessary for the + road is mostly obtained by reducing the distance + between the sleepers so as to supersede the necessity + of giving greater weight to the rails. + + The same observance of the principles of economy is + maintained with regard to their locomotive stock. The + engines are strongly built, safe and powerful, but are + destitute of much of that elegance of exterior and + beauty of workmanship which has excited so much + admiration, in the machines exhibited in the Crystal + Palace. The fuel is generally wood, but on certain + lines near the coal districts coal is used. The use of + coke is nowhere resorted to. Its expense would make it + inadmissible, and in a country so thinly inhabited the + smoke proceeding from coal is not objected to. The + ordinary speed, stoppages included, is from 14 to 16 + miles an hour. Independently of other considerations, + the light structure of many of the roads would not + allow a greater velocity without danger; nevertheless + we have frequently travelled on some of the better + constructed lines at the ordinary speed of the English + railways, say 30 miles an hour and upwards. + + Notwithstanding the apparently feeble and unsubstantial + structure of many of the lines, accidents to passenger + trains are scarcely ever heard of. It appears by + returns now before us that of 9,355,474 passengers + booked in 1850 on the crowded railways of + Massachusetts, each passenger making an average trip of + 18 miles, there were only 15 who sustained accidents + fatal to life or limb. It follows from this, by the + common principles explained by us in a former article, + that when a passenger travels one mile on these + railways the chances against an accident producing + personal injury, even of the slightest kind, are + 11,226,568 to 1, and of course in a journey of 100 + miles the chances against such accident are 112,266 to + 1. We have shown in a former article that the chances + against accident on an English railway, under like + circumstances, are 85,125 to 1. The American railways + are, therefore, safer than the English in the ratio of + 112 to 85. + + The great line of communication is established, 400 + miles in length, between Philadelphia and Pittsburg, on + the left bank of the Ohio, composed partly of railway + and partly of canal. The section from Philadelphia to + Columbia (82 miles) is railway; the line is then + continued by canal for 172 miles to Holidaysburg; it is + then carried by railway 37 miles to Johnstown, whence + it is continued 104 miles further to Pittsburg by + canal. The traffic on this mixed line of transport is + conducted so as to avoid the expense and inconvenience + of transhipment of goods and passengers at the + successive points where the railway and canals unite. + The merchandise is loaded and the passengers + accommodated in the boats adapted to the canals at the + dépôt in Market-street, Philadelphia. These boats, + which are of considerable magnitude and length, are + divided into segments by partitions made transversely + and at right angles to their length, so that such boat + can be, as it were, broken into three or more pieces. + These several pieces are placed each on two railway + trucks, which support it at the ends, a proper body + being provided for the trucks adapted to the form of + the bottom and keel of the boat. In this manner the + boat is carried in pieces, with its load, along the + railway. On arriving at the canal the pieces are united + so as to form a continuous boat, which being launched, + the transport is continued on the water. On arriving + again at the railway the boat is once more resolved + into its segments, which, as before, are transferred to + the railway trucks and transported to the next canal + station by locomotive engines. Between the dépôt in + Market-street and the locomotive station which is + situated in the suburbs of Philadelphia the segments of + the boat are drawn by horses on railways conducted + through the streets. At the locomotive station the + trucks are formed into a continuous train and delivered + over to the locomotive engine. As the body of the truck + rests upon a pivot, under which it is supported by + wheels, it is capable of revolving, and no difficulty + is found in turning the shortest curves, and these + enormous vehicles, with their contents of merchandise + and passengers, are seen daily issuing from the gates + of the dépôt in Market-street, and turning with + facility the corners at the entrance of each successive + street. + + By a comparison of the returns published by Dr. + Lardner, in his work already quoted, with the more + recent results which we have already given, it will + appear that within the last two years not less than + 3,700 miles of railway have been opened for traffic in + the United States. Among these are included several of + the most important lines, among which are more + especially to be noticed the great artery of railway + communication extending across the State of New York to + the shores of Lake Erie, the longest line which any + single company has yet constructed in the United + States, its length being 467 miles. The total cost of + this line, including the working stock, has been + 4,500,000_l._ sterling, being at the average rate of + 9,642_l._ per mile--a rate of expense about 50 per + cent. above the average cost of American railways taken + collectively. This is explained by the fact that the + line itself is one constructed for a large traffic + between New York and the interior, and therefore built + to meet a heavy traffic. Although it is but just + opened, its average receipts have amounted to + 11,000_l._ per week, which have given a net profit of + 6-1/2 per cent. on the capital, the working expenses + being taken at 50 per cent. of the gross receipts. One + of the great lines in a forward state, and likely to be + opened by the close of the present year, connects New + York with Albany, following the valley of the Hudson. + It will no doubt create surprise, considering the + immense facility of water transport afforded by this + river, that a railway should be constructed on its + bank, but it must be remembered that for a considerable + interval during the winter the navigation of the Hudson + is suspended from the frost. + + A great line of railway, which will intersect the + States from south to north, connecting the port of + Mobile on the Gulf of Mexico with Lake Michigan and the + lead mines of Galena on the Upper Mississippi, is also + in progress of construction, large grants of land being + conceded to the company by the Federal Government. This + line will probably be opened in 1854. + + It is difficult to obtain authentic reports from which + the movement of the traffic on the American railways + can be ascertained with precision. Dr. Lardner, + however, obtained the necessary statistical data + relating to nearly 1,200 miles of railway in the States + of New England and New York, from which he was enabled + to collect all the circumstances attending the working + of these lines, the principal of which are collected in + the following table:-- + +Tabular analysis of the average daily movement of the traffic on 28 of the +principal railways in the States of New England and New York. + +PASSENGER TRAFFIC.--Number booked 23,981 + Mileage 437,350 + Receipts £2,723 + Mileage of trains 8,091 + + GOODS TRAFFIC.--Tons booked 6,547 + Mileage 248,351 + Receipts £1,860 + Mileage of trains 4,560 + +Total length of the above railways in the State of New York 490 miles +Ditto, in the States of New England 670 " + ----- + Total 1,160 miles. + +Average cost of construction and stock in the State of New + York £7,010 +Ditto, in the States of New England £10,800 +General average £9,200 + + | Receipts | Expenses. | Profits. +--------------------------------------+----------+------------+---------- +Total average receipts, expenses, | | | + and profits per day in the State of | £ | £ | £ + New York | 1,654 | 684 | 970 + | | | +Ditto, States of New England | 3,040 | 1,505 | 1,535 + +----------+------------+---------- + Totals | 4,694 | 2,189 | 2,505 + | | | Per cent. + | Per mile | Per mile | per annum + |of railway| run by | on + | per day. | trains. | capital. +--------------------------------------+----------+------------+---------- + | £ | | +Receipts | 4,05 | 7s. 5d. | 16,1 +Expenses | 1,89 |3s. 5-1/2d. | 7,5 + +----------+------------+---------- + Profits | 2,16 |2s.11-1/2d. | 8,6 + +Expense per cent. of receipts 46,8 +Average receipts for passengers booked 27,0d. +Average distance travelled per passenger 18,2 miles +Average receipts per passenger per mile 1,47d. +Average number of passengers per train 54,0 +Total average receipts per passenger train per mile 7s. +Average receipts per ton of goods booked 6s. 8-1/2d. +Average distance carried per ton 38,0 miles +Average receipts per ton per mile 1s. 8d. +Average number of tons per train 54,5 +Total average receipts per goods per mile 8,2s. + + The railways, of whose traffic we have here given a + synopsis, are those of the most active and profitable + description in the United States. It would, therefore, + be a great error to infer from the results here + exhibited general conclusions as to the financial + condition of the American railways. It appears, on the + other hand, from a more complete analysis, that the + dividends on the American lines, exclusive of those + contained in the preceding analysis, are in general + small, and in many instances nothing. It is, therefore, + probable that in the aggregate the average profits on + the total amount of capital invested in the American + railways does not exceed, if it indeed equal, the + average profits obtained on the capital invested in + English railways, which we have in a former article + shown to produce little more than 3 per cent. + + The extraordinary extent of railway constructed at so + early a period in the United States has been by some + ascribed to the absence of a sufficient extent of + communication by common roads. Although this cause has + operated to some extent in certain districts it is by + no means so general as has been supposed. In the year + 1838 the United States' mails circulated over a length + of way amounting on the whole to 136,218 miles, of + which two-thirds were land transport, including + railways as well as common roads. Of the latter there + must have been about 80,000 miles in operation, of + which, however, a considerable portion was + bridle-roads. The price of transport in the stage + coaches was, upon an average, 3.25d. per passenger per + mile, the average price by railway being about 1.47d. + per mile. + + Of the entire extent of railway constructed in the + United States, by far the greater portion, as has been + already explained, consists of single lines, + constructed in a light and cheap manner, which in + England would be regarded as merely serving temporary + purposes; while, on the contrary, the entire extent of + the English system consists, not only of double lines, + but of railways constructed in the most solid, + permanent, and expensive manner, adapted to the + purposes of an immense traffic. If a comparison were to + be instituted at all between the two systems, its basis + ought to be the capital expended, and the traffic + served by them, in which case the result would be + somewhat different from that obtained by the mere + consideration of the length of the lines. It is not, + however, the same in reference to the canals, in which + it must be admitted America far exceeds all other + countries in proportion to her population. + + The American railways have been generally constructed + by joint stock companies, which, however, the State + controls much more stringently than in England. In some + cases a major limit to the dividends is imposed by the + statute of incorporation, in some the dividends are + allowed to augment, but when they exceed a certain + limit the surplus is divided with the State; in some + the privilege granted to the companies is only for a + limited period, in some a sort of periodical revision + and restriction of the tariff is reserved to the State. + Nothing can be more simple, expeditious, and cheap than + the means of obtaining an act for the establishment of + a railway company in America. A public meeting is held + at which the project is discussed and adopted, a + deputation is appointed to apply to the Legislature, + which grants the act without expense, delay, or + official difficulty. The principle of competition is + not brought into play as in France, nor is there any + investigation as to the expediency of the project with + reference to future profit or loss as in England. No + other guarantee or security is required from the + company than the payment by the shareholders of a + certain amount, constituting the first call. In some + States the non-payment of a call is followed by the + confiscation of the previous payments, in others a fine + is imposed on the shareholders, in others the share is + sold, and if the produce be less than the price at + which it was delivered the surplus can be recovered + from the shareholder by process of law. In all cases + the act creating the companies fix a time within which + the works must be completed, under pain of forfeiture. + The traffic in shares before the definite constitution + of the company is prohibited. + + Although the State itself has rarely undertaken the + execution of railways, it holds out in most cases + inducements in different forms to the enterprise of + companies. In some cases the State takes a great number + of shares, which is generally accompanied by a loan + made to the company, consisting in State Stock + delivered at par, which the company negotiate at its + own risk. This loan is often converted into a + subvention. + + The great extent of railway communication in America in + proportion to its population must necessarily excite + much admiration. If we take the present population of + the United States at 24,000,000, and the railways in + operation at 10,000 miles, it will follow that in round + numbers there is one mile of railway for every 2,400 + inhabitants. Now, in the United Kingdom there are at + present in operation 6,500 miles of railway, and if we + take the population at 30,000,000, it will appear that + there is a mile of railway for every 4,615 inhabitants. + It appears, therefore, that in proportion to the + population the length of railways in the United States + is greater than in the United Kingdom in the ratio of + 46 to 24. + + On the American railways passengers are not differently + classed or received at different rates of fare as on + those of Europe. There is but one class and one fare. + The only distinction observable arises from color. The + colored population, whether emancipated or not, are + generally excluded from the vehicles provided for the + whites. Such travellers are but few, and are usually + accommodated either in the luggage van or in the + carriage with the guard or conductor. But little + merchandise is transported, the cost of transport being + greater than goods in general are capable of paying; + nevertheless, a tariff regulated by weight alone, + without distinction of classes, is fixed for + merchandise. + + Although Cuba is not yet _annexed_ to the United + States, its local proximity here suggests some notice + of a line of railway which traverses that island, + forming a communication between the city of Havana and + the centre of the island. This is an excellently + constructed road, and capitally worked by British + engines, British engineers, and British coals. The + impressions produced in passing along this line of + railway, though different from those already noticed in + the forests of the far west, is not less remarkable. We + are here transported at 30 miles an hour by an engine + from Newcastle, driven by an engineer from Manchester, + and propelled by fuel from Liverpool, through fields + yellow with pineapples, through groves of plantain and + cocoa-nut, and along roads inclosed by hedge-rows of + ripe oranges. + + To what extent this extraordinary rapidity of + advancement made by the United States in its inland + communications is observable in other departments will + be seen by the following table, exhibiting a + comparative statement of those _data_, derived from + official sources, which indicate the social and + commercial condition of a people through a period which + forms but a small stage in the life of a nation: + + 1793. 1851. +Population 3,939,325 24,267,488 +Imports £6,739,130 £38,723,545 +Exports £5,675,869 £32,367,000 +Tonnage 520,704 3,535,451 +Lighthouses, beacons, and lightships 7 373 +Cost of their maintenance £2,600 £115,000 +Revenue £1,230,000 £9,516,000 +National expenditure £1,637,000 £8,555,000 +Post offices 209 21,551 +Post roads (miles) 5,642 178,670 +Revenue of Post-office £22,800 £1,207,000 +Expenses of Post-office £15,650 £1,130,000 +Mileage of mails ---- 46,541,423 +Canals (miles) 0 5,000 +Railways (miles) 0 10,287 +Electric telegraph (miles) 0 15,000 +Public libraries (volumes) 75,000 2,201,623 +School libraries (volumes) 0 2,000,000 + + If they were not founded on the most incontestable + statistical data, the results assigned to the above + table would appear to belong to fable rather than + history. In an interval of little more than half a + century it appears that this extraordinary people have + increased above 500 per cent. in numbers; their + national revenue has augmented nearly 700 per cent., + while their public expenditure has increased little + more than 400 per cent. The prodigious extension of + their commerce is indicated by an increase of nearly + 500 per cent. in their imports and exports and 600 per + cent. in their shipping. The increased activity of + their internal communications is expounded by the + number of their post offices, which has been increased + more than a hundred-fold, the extent of their post + roads, which has been increased thirty-six-fold, and + the cost of their post-office, which has been augmented + in a seventy-two-fold ratio. The augmentation of their + machinery of public instruction is indicated by the + extent of their public libraries, which have increased + in a thirty-two-fold ratio, and by the creation of + school libraries, amounting to 2,000,000 volumes. They + have completed a system of canal navigation, which, + placed in a continuous line, would extend from London + to Calcutta, and a system of railways which, + continuously extended, would stretch from London to Van + Diemen's Land, and have provided locomotive machinery + by which that distance would be travelled over in three + weeks, at the cost of 1-1/2d. per mile. They have + created a system of inland navigation, the aggregate + tonnage of which is probably not inferior in amount to + the collective inland tonnage of all the other + countries in the world, and they possess many hundreds + of river steamers, which impart to the roads of water + the marvellous celerity of roads of iron. They have, in + fine, constructed lines of electric telegraph which, + laid continuously, would extend over a space longer by + 3,000 miles than the distance from the north to the + south pole, and have provided apparatus of transmission + by which a message of 300 words despatched under such + circumstances from the north pole might be delivered + _in writing_ at the south pole in one minute, and by + which, consequently, an answer of equal length might be + sent back to the north pole in an equal interval. + + These are social and commercial phenomena for which it + would be vain to seek a parallel in the past history of + the human race. + + + + +THE LAST EARTHQUAKE IN EUROPE. + + +A correspondent of the _Athenæum_ gives the following account--the best we +have yet seen--of the recent earthquake at Amalfi, in the kingdom of +Naples:-- + + "I have, however, seen several persons from Malfi; and + from their narratives will endeavor to give you some + idea of this awful visitation. The morning of the 14th + of August was very sultry, and a leaden atmosphere + prevailed. It was remarked that an unusual silence + appeared to extend over the animal world. The hum of + insects ceased--the feathered tribes were mute--not a + breath of wind moved the arid vegetation. About + half-past two o'clock the town of Malfi rocked for + about six seconds, and nearly every building fell in. + The number of edifices actually levelled with the earth + is 163--of those partially destroyed 98, and slightly + damaged 180. Five monastic establishments were + destroyed, and seven churches including the cathedral. + The awful event occurred at a time when most of the + inhabitants of a better condition were at dinner; and + the result is, that out of the whole population only a + few peasants laboring in the fields escaped. More than + 700 dead bodies have already been dug out of the ruins, + and it is supposed that not less than 800 are yet + entombed. A college accommodating 65 boys and their + teachers is no longer traceable. But the melancholy + event does not end here. The adjoining village of + Ascoli has also suffered:--32 houses laving fallen in, + and the church being levelled with the ground. More + than 200 persons perished there. Another small town, + Barile, has actually disappeared; and a lake has arisen + from the bowels of the earth, the waters being warm and + brackish. + + "I proceed to give a few anecdotes, as narrated by + persons who have arrived in Naples from the scene of + horror:--'I was travelling,' says one, 'within a mile + of Malfi when I observed three cars drawn by oxen. In a + moment the two most distant fell into the earth; from + the third I observed a man and a boy descend and run + into a vineyard which skirted the road. Shortly after, + I think about three seconds, the third car was + swallowed up. We stopped our carriage, and proceeded to + the spot where the man and boy stood. The former I + found stupified--he was both deaf and dumb; the boy + appeared to be out of his mind, and spoke wildly, but + eventually recovered. The poor man still remains + speechless.' Another informant says:--'Malfi, and all + around present a singular and melancholy appearance: + houses levelled or partially fallen in--here and there + the ground broken up--large gaps displaying volcanic + action--people wandering about stupified--men searching + in the ruins--women weeping--children here and there + crying for their parents, and some wretched examples of + humanity carrying off articles of furniture. The + authorities are nowhere to be found.' A third person + states:--'I am from Malfi, and was near a monastery + when the earthquake occurred. A peasant told me that + the water in a neighboring well was quite hot,--a few + moments after I saw the building fall. I fell on the + ground, and saw nothing more. I thought that I had had + a fit.' + + "The town of Malfi--or, Amalfi--is 150 miles from + Naples, and about the centre of the boot. It is + difficult, therefore, to gain information. The + government, I should add, sent a company of sappers and + miners to assist the afflicted _nine days after the + earthquake_!--and a medical commission is to set off + to-morrow. In conclusion, I may observe, that Vesuvius + has for a long time been singularly quiet. The shock of + the earthquake was felt slightly, though sensibly, from + Naples round to Sorrento. I have just heard that the + shocks have not ceased in the district of Malfi; and it + is supposed that volcanic agency is still active. + Indeed, my informant anticipates that an eruption will + take place; and probably some extraordinary phenomena + may appear in this neighborhood. The volcanic action + appears to have taken the direction of Sicily, as + reports have arrived stating that the shocks were felt + in that direction far more strongly than in that of + Naples. I shall send you further particulars as soon as + I can do so with certainty." + + + + +MR. JEFFERSON ON THE STUDY OF THE ANGLO-SAXON LANGUAGE. + + +The trustees of the University of Virginia have had printed a few copies of +_An Essay towards facilitating Instruction in the Anglo-Saxon and Modern +Dialects of the English Language_: _By_ THOMAS JEFFERSON. The MS. has been +preserved in the library of their University ever since Mr. Jefferson's +death. It is a very characteristic production, and is printed in a thin +quarto volume, prefaced by the following letter from Mr. Jefferson to +Herbert Croft, LL.B., of London: + + MONTICELLO, _Oct. 30th, 1798_. + + Sir; The copy of your printed letter on the English and + German languages, which you have been so kind as to + send me, has come to hand; and I pray you to accept of + my thanks for this mark of your attention. I have + perused it with singular pleasure, and, having long + been sensible of the importance of a knowledge of the + Northern languages to the understanding of English, I + see it, in this letter, proved and specifically + exemplified by your collations of the English and + German. I shall look with impatience for the + publication of your "English and German Dictionary." + Johnson, besides the want of precision in his + definitions, and of accurate distinction in passing + from one shade of meaning to another of the same word, + is most objectionable in his derivations. From a want + probably of intimacy with our own language while in the + Anglo-Saxon form and type, and of its kindred languages + of the North, he has a constant leaning towards Greek + and Latin for English etymon. Even Skinner has a little + of this, who, when he has given the true Northern + parentage of a word, often tells you from what Greek + and Latin source it might be derived by those who have + that kind of partiality. He is, however, on the whole, + our best etymologist, unless we ascend a step higher to + the Anglo-Saxon vocabulary; and he has set the good + example of collating the English word with its kindred + word in the several Northern dialects, which often + assist in ascertaining its true meaning. + + Your idea is an excellent one, in producing authorities + for the meanings of words, "to select the prominent + passages in our best writers, to make your dictionary a + general index to English literature, and thus to + intersperse with verdure and flowers the barren deserts + of Philology." And I believe with you that "wisdom, + morality, religion, thus thrown down, as if without + intention, before the reader, in quotations, may often + produce more effect than the very passages in the books + themselves;"--"that the cowardly suicide, in search of + a strong word for his dying letter, might light on a + passage which would excite him to blush at his want of + fortitude, and to forego his purpose;"--"and that a + dictionary with examples at the words may, in regard to + every branch of knowledge, produce more real effect + than the whole collection of books which it quotes." I + have sometimes myself used Johnson as a Repertory, to + find favorite passages which I wished to recollect, but + too rarely with success. + + I was led to set a due value on the study of the + Northern languages, and especially of our Anglo-Saxon, + while I was a student of the law, by being obliged to + recur to that source for explanation of a multitude of + law-terms. A preface to Fortescue on Monarchies, + written by Fortescue Aland, and afterwards premised to + his volume of Reports, developes the advantages to be + derived to the English student generally, and + particularly the student of law, from an acquaintance + with the Anglo-Saxon; and mentions the books to which + the learner may have recourse for acquiring the + language. I accordingly devoted some time to its study, + but my busy life has not permitted me to indulge in a + pursuit to which I felt great attraction. While engaged + in it, however, some ideas occurred for facilitating + the study by simplifying its grammar, by reducing the + infinite diversities of its unfixed orthography to + single and settled forms, indicating at the same time + the pronunciation of the word by its correspondence + with the characters and powers of the English alphabet. + Some of these ideas I noted at the time on the blank + leaves of my Elstob's Anglo-Saxon Grammar: but there I + have left them, and must leave them, unpursued, + although I still think them sound and useful. Among the + works which I proposed for the Anglo-Saxon student, you + will find such literal and verbal translations of the + Anglo-Saxon writers recommended, as you have given us + of the German in your printed letter. Thinking that I + cannot submit those ideas to a better judge than + yourself, and that if you find them of any value you + may put them to some use, either as hints in your + dictionary, or in some other way, I will copy them as a + sequel to this letter, and commit them without reserve + to your better knowledge of the subject. Adding my + sincere wishes for the speedy publication of your + valuable dictionary, I tender you the assurance of my + high respect and consideration. + + THOMAS JEFFERSON." + +Of the Essay itself we have room for only the initial paragraph, which is +as follows: + + "The importance of the Anglo-Saxon dialect towards a + perfect understanding of the English language seems not + to have been duly estimated by those charged with the + education of youth; and yet it is unquestionably the + basis of our present tongue. It was a full-formed + language; its frame and construction, its declension of + nouns and verbs, and its syntax were peculiar to the + Northern languages, and fundamentally different from + those of the South. It was the language of all England, + properly so called, from the Saxon possession of that + country in the sixth century to the time of Henry III. + in the thirteenth, and was spoken pure and unmixed with + any other. Although the Romans had been in possession + of that country for nearly five centuries from the time + of Julius Cæsar, yet it was a military possession + chiefly, by their soldiery alone, and with dispositions + intermutually jealous and unamicable. They seemed to + have aimed at no lasting settlements there, and to have + had little familiar mixture with the native Britons. In + this state of connection there would probably be little + incorporation of the Roman into the native language, + and on their subsequent evacuation of the island its + traces would soon be lost altogether. And had it been + otherwise, these innovations would have been carried + with the natives themselves when driven into Wales by + the invasion and entire occupation of the rest of the + Southern portion of the island by the Anglo-Saxons. The + language of these last became that of the country from + that time forth, for nearly seven centuries; and so + little attention was paid among them to the Latin, that + it was known to a few individuals only as a matter of + science, and without any chance of transfusion into the + vulgar language. We may safely repeat the affirmation, + therefore, that the pure Anglo-Saxon constitutes at + this day the basis of our language. That it was + sufficiently copious for the purposes of society in the + existing condition of arts and manners, reason alone + would satisfy us from the necessity of the case. Its + copiousness, too, was much favored by the latitude it + allowed of combining primitive words so as to produce + any modification of idea desired. In this + characteristic it was equal to the Greek, but it is + more specially proved by the actual fact of the books + they have left us in the various branches of history, + geography, religion, law, and poetry. And although + since the Norman conquest it has received vast + additions and embellishments from the Latin, Greek, + French, and Italian languages, yet these are but + engraftments on its idiomatic stem; its original + structure and syntax remain the same, and can be but + imperfectly understood by the mere Latin scholar. Hence + the necessity of making the Anglo-Saxon a regular + branch of academic education. In the sixteenth and + seventeenth centuries it was assiduously cultivated by + a host of learned men. The names of Lambard, Parker, + Spelman, Wheeloc, Wilkins, Gibson, Hickes, Thwaites, + Somner, Benson, Mareschal, Elstob, deserve to be ever + remembered with gratitude for the Anglo-Saxon works + which they have given us through the press, the only + certain means of preserving and promulgating them." + + + + +THE OBELISKS OF EGYPT. + + +In the last number of the _International_ we gave an interesting article +from the London _Times_ respecting "Cleopatra's Needle." The subject of its +removal has since been largely discussed in England, and Mr. Tucker, a +civil engineer, has been sent out to Alexandria to "report on the condition +and site of the obelisk," and Lord Edward Russell has been appointed to the +Vengeance to proceed to Egypt for the purpose of bringing it to England. On +the publication of these facts Mr. Nathaniel Gould writes to the _Times_ as +follows: + + How far a "man-of-war" is a proper vessel for this + purpose may be seen hereafter. The Premier is, however, + ready enough to appropriate some little _éclat_ to a + member of his own family. I stated that, so far as I + could make out, the bringing the obelisk of Luxor to + Paris had cost the French Government 40,000_l._; but it + is stated by Mr. Gliddon, late United States Consul at + Cairo, that it actually cost France 2,000,000f., or + 80,000_l._! Private offers have been made to bring the + Needle to England for from 7,000_l._ to 12,500_l._ + within a twelvemonth; it remains to be seen what it + will cost when brought on Government account. + + Notwithstanding that so much has of late appeared upon + the subject of Egyptian obelisks, but little has been + given of value to the public touching the nature, + origin, inscriptions, numbers, and localities of these + curious and interesting objects. Perhaps, Sir, you may + not think it out of the way to give room for such + information as I have got together in my researches, + while contemplating the removal of the obelisk from + Alexandria. Obelisks are of Egyptian invention, and are + purely historical records, placed in pairs before + public buildings, stating when, by whom, and for what + purpose the building was erected, and the divinity or + divinities to whom it was dedicated. + + We read that the ancient Hebrews set up stones to + record signal events, and such stones are called by + Strabo "books of history;" but, as they were + uninscribed, the Egyptian monoliths are much more so. + The Celts, too, have left similar stones in every + country in which they settled, as our own islands + sufficiently prove, whether in those of the Channel or + of Ireland and Scotland. The Scandinavian nations have + in more recent periods left similar records, some of + them inscribed with Runic characters, which, like the + hieroglyphics of Egypt, are now translated. + + Egyptian obelisks are all of very nearly similar + proportions, however they may differ in height; the + width of the base is usually about one-tenth of the + length of the shaft, up to the finish or pyramidion, + which, again, is one-tenth of the length of the shaft. + The image of gold set up by king Nebuchadnezzar agrees + with these proportions--viz., sixty cubits high and six + cubits wide. They are generally cut out of granite, + though there are two small ones in the British Museum + of basalt, and one at Philoe of sandstone. The + pyramidions of several appear to be rough and + unfinished, leading some persons to suppose that they + were surmounted with a cap of bronze, or of rays. Bonom + writes, that Abd El Latief saw bronze coverings on + those of Luxor and that of Materiah in the 13th + century; with such a belief it is not improbable that + the obelisk of Arles, in France, found and re-erected + to the glory of the Great Louis, was surmounted with a + gilt sun. The temples of Egypt may be considered not + only as monuments of the intelligence and ancient + civilization of mankind, as vignettes in the great book + of history, but also as possessing a peculiar interest, + as belonging to a people intimately connected with + sacred records. + + As regards the original sites of the obelisks, none are + found on the west bank of the Nile, neither are any + pyramids found on the eastern bank of Egypt Proper; + this caused Bonomi to think that obelisks were intended + as decorations to the temples of the living, symbolized + by the rising sun, and pyramids decorations of the + temples of the dead, symbolized by its setting. The + greater number of obelisks are engraven on the four + faces; some are engraven on one face only, and some + have never been inscribed. Some of the faces are + engraven in one column, some in two, and some in three + columns. In some instances the side or lateral columns + have been additions in after times, in different and + inferior styles of engraving; and in some instances the + name of the king, within the oval or cartouche, has + been erased and another substituted. The inscriptions + are hieroglyphic or sacred writing, which have been + unintelligible till within the last few years. The + French occupation of Egypt commenced that discovery, + which has been perfected by the key of Young and the + alphabet of Champollion--though mainly perhaps indebted + to the Rosetta Stone, found in 1799, engraven in three + characters, hieroglyphic, Demotic and Greek. The more + ancient inscriptions are beautifully cut, and as fresh + as if just from the tool, and are curiously caved + inwardly, and exquisitely polished. + + It would take too much of your space and of my time to + give a history of the progress of this wonderful + discovery, by which we now know more of the Egyptian + history before the time of Abraham than of England + before Alfred the Great, or of France before + Charlemagne. Some of these monuments are considered to + date as far back as 2,000 years before the Christian + era. It is sufficiently evident, from the small number + that are known to exist, that they were a most costly + production, requiring a long time for their completion, + and the most elaborate skill of the most perfect + sculptors to execute. Bonomi, to whose indefatigable + research, and clear and positive style of writing, and + condensation of his knowledge I am indebted, out of his + papers read before the Royal Society of Literature (of + which I am a member), gives us an account of all the + known obelisks. + + The number of Egyptian obelisks now standing is 30; of + which there are remaining in Egypt, 8; in Italy, 14; in + Constantinople, 2; in France, 2; in England, 4. The + loftiest is that of the "Lateran," at Rome, which is + 105 feet, though 4 feet were cut from its broken base, + to enable it to stand when re-erected. The shortest is + the minor "Florentine," which is 5 feet 10 inches. The + number of prostrate obelisks known is 12, viz.: at + Alexandria, 1; in the ruins of Saan, or Tanais, 9; at + Carnack, 2; all in Egypt, and all colossal, and of the + 18th and 20th dynasties. Thus it seems that, like the + cedars of Lebanon, there are more in other parts of the + world than in the country of their original location. + + The 12 obelisks at Rome were conveyed thither by the + Cæsars to adorn the eternal city; that of the Lateran + was brought by Constantine from Heliopolis to + Alexandria, and from Alexandria by Constantius, and + placed in the "Circus Maximus." It was brought from + Alexandria in an immense galley. When the barbarians + sacked Rome they overthrew all the obelisks, which were + broken in their fall; this was in three pieces, and the + base so destroyed that when raised by Fontana in 1588, + by order of Sixtus V., above 4 feet were cut from its + base; it is now 105 feet 7 inches in shaft. It is + sculptured on all four sides, and the same subject on + each. There are three columns--the inner the most + ancient and best cut. The obelisk of the Piazza del + Popolo was brought from Heliopolis by Augustus, and, + like the preceding, was broken in three pieces, and + required above three feet to be cut off its damaged + base. This, too, was re-erected by order of Sixtus V., + in 1589. Its height, as now shortened, is 87 feet 5 + inches. It is sculptured on all four sides in three + columns of different age and excellence. The obelisk of + "Piazza Rotunda" was re-erected by Clement XI., A. D., + 1711. It is 19 feet 9 inches shaft. It has only one + column of hieroglyphics, with the name of Rameses on + each. Those of Materiah and the Hippodrome at + Constantinople also have but one centre column + engraved. So much for some of those at Rome. Of the + four in England, two small ones, of basalt, are in the + British Museum; they are only 8 feet 1 inch in height. + That at Alnwick Castle was found in the Thebaid, and + presented to Lord Prudhoe by the Pacha in 1838, and got + to England by Bonomi. It is of red granite, 7 feet 3 + inches in height, and 9-3/4 inches at the base. It is + inscribed on one face only. That at Corfe Castle was + brought over for Mr. Bankes by the celebrated Belzoni. + It is of granite, and 22 feet in height. + +Mr. Gould proceeds to repeat the particulars respecting Cleopatra's Needle, +which were contained in the October number of this magazine. Signor +Tisvanni D'Athanasi also writes to the _Times_, proposing to undertake the +removal of this obelisk, and says: + + "Every body knows that from the time of the Romans up + to the present century the only colossal objects which + have been transported from Egypt, with the exception of + the obelisk of Luxor, are the two sphynxes which are + now at St Petersburgh, and which were found and sent to + Alexandria through my means." + + + + +DR. LATHAM ON THE MOSKITO KINGDOM. + + +The last portion of Dr. ROBERT G. LATHAM'S learned work on the Ethnology of +the British Colonies and Dependencies, treats of American ethnology, a +branch of the subject which, though extensively investigated, is greatly in +want of systematic arrangement. Some of Dr. Latham's views are novel. The +following sketch of the Nicaraguan Indians is interesting at the present +moment for political reasons:-- + + "The Moskito Indians are no subjects of England, any + more than the Tahitians are of France, or the Sandwich + Islanders of America, France, and England conjointly. + The Moskito coast is a Protectorate, and the Moskito + Indians are the subjects of a native king. The present + reigning monarch was educated under English auspices at + Jamaica, and, upon attaining his majority, crowned at + Grey Town. I believe that his name is that of the + grandfather of our late gracious majesty. King George, + then, King of the Moskitos, has a territory extending + from the neighborhood of Truxillo to the lower part of + the River San Juan; a territory whereof, inconveniently + for Great Britain, the United States, and the commerce + of the world at large, the limits and definition are + far from being universally recognized. Nicaragua has + claims, and the Isthmus canal suffers accordingly. The + King of the Moskito coast, and the Emperor of the + Brazil, are the only resident sovereigns of the New + World. The subjects of the former are, really, the + aborigines of the whole line of coast between Nicaragua + and Honduras--there being no Indians remaining in the + former republic, and but few in the latter. Of these, + too--the Nicaraguans--we have no definite ethnological + information. Mr. Squier speaks of them as occupants of + the islands of the lakes of the interior. Colonel + Galindo also mentions them; but I infer, from his + account, that their original language is lost, and that + Spanish is their present tongue; just as it is said to + be that of the aborigines of St. Salvador and Costa + Rica. This makes it difficult to fix them. And the + difficulty is increased when we resort to history, + tradition, and archæology. History makes them + Mexicans--Asteks from the kingdom of Montezuma, and + colonists of the Peninsula, just as the Phoenicians + were of Carthage. Archæology goes the same way. A + detailed description of Mr. Squier's discoveries is an + accession to ethnology which is anxiously expected. At + any rate, stone ruins and carved decorations have been + found; so that what Mr. Stephenson has written about + Yucatan and Guatemala, may be repeated in the case of + Nicaragua. Be it so. The difficulty will be but + increased, since whatever facts make Nicaragua Mexican, + isolate the Moskitos. They are now in contact with + Spaniards and Englishmen--populations whose + civilization differs from their own; and populations + who are evidently intrusive and of recent origin. + Precisely the same would be the case if the Nicaraguans + were made Mexican. The civilization would be of another + sort; the population which introduced it would be + equally intrusive; and the only difference would be a + difference of stage and degree--a little earlier in the + way of time, and a little less contrast in the way of + skill and industry. But the evidence in favor of the + Mexican origin of the Nicaraguans is doubtful; and so + is the fact of their having wholly lost their native + tongue; and until one of these two opinions be proved, + it will be well to suspend our judgment as to the + isolation of the Moskitos. If, indeed, either of them + be true, their ethnological position will be a + difficult question. With nothing in Honduras to compare + them with--with nothing tangible, or with an apparently + incompatible affinity in Nicaragua--with only very + general miscellaneous affinities in Guatemala--their + ethnological affinities are as peculiar as their + political constitution. Nevertheless, isolated as their + language is, it has undoubtedly general affinities with + those of America at large; and this is all that it is + safe to say at present. But it is safe to say this. We + have plenty of data for their tongue, in a grammar of + Mr. Henderson's, published at New-York, 1846. The chief + fact in the history of the Moskitos is that they were + never subject to the Spaniards. Each continent affords + a specimen of this isolated freedom--the independence + of some exceptional and impracticable tribes, as + compared with the universal empire of some encroaching + European power. The Circassians in Caucasus, the + Tshuktshi Koriaks in North-Eastern Asia, and the + Kaffres in Africa, show this. Their relations with the + buccaneers were, probably, of an amicable description. + So they were with the negroes--maroon and imported. And + this, perhaps, has determined their _differentiæ_. They + are intertropical American aborigines, who have become + partially European, without becoming Spanish. Their + physical conformation is that of the South rather than + the North American; and, here it must be remembered, + that we are passing from one moiety of the new + hemisphere to the other. With a skin which is + olive-colored rather than red, they have small limbs + and undersized frames; whilst their habits are, + _mutatis mutandis_, those of the intertropical African. + This means, that the exuberance of soil, and the heat + of the climate, make them agriculturists rather than + shepherds, and idlers rather than agriculturists, since + the least possible amount of exertion gives them roots + and fruits, whilst it is only those wants which are + compatible with indolence that they care to satisfy. + They presume rather than improve upon the warmth of + their suns, and the fertility of the soil. When they + get liquor, they get drunk; when they work hardest, + they cut mahogany. Canoes and harpoons represent the + native industry. Wulasha is the name of their evil + spirit, and Liwaia that of a water-dog. I cannot but + think that there is much intermixture amongst them. At + the same time, the data for ascertaining the amount are + wanting. Their greatest intercourse has, probably, been + with the negro; their next greatest with the + Englishman. Of the population of the interior we know + next to nothing. Here their neighbors are Spaniards. + They are frontagers to the river San Juan. This gives + them their value in politics. They are the only well + known extant Indians between Guatemala and Veragua. + This gives them their value in ethnology. The + populations to which they were most immediately allied + have disappeared from history. This isolates them; so + that there is no class to which they can be + subordinated. At the same time, they are quite as like + the nearest known tribes as the American ethnologist + is prepared to expect. What they were in their truly + natural state, when, unmodified by either Englishman or + Spaniard, Black or Indian, they represented the + indigenous civilization (such as it was) of their + coast, is uncertain." + + + + +GOLD-QUARTZ AND SOCIETY. + + +The Burns Ranch Union Mining Company in California have published a +prospectus--we suppose to facilitate the sale of their stock--and the +writer indulges in some speculations respecting the influence of the +discovery that the chief mineral riches of the new state are in mines, +instead of the sands of rivers, thus: + + It appears to be the destiny of America to carry on the + greatness of the future, and that Providence--which + shapes the ends of nations as well as of persons, at a + time when it was most needful for the prosecution of + her mission, when war and the expedients of political + strategy are out of vogue, and the people is most + powerful of which the individual civilization, energy, + ambition, and resources are greatest--that Providence, + at this crisis, has opened the veins of the Continent, + slumbering so many thousand years, in order that we + might derive from them all that remained necessary for + investing the United States with the leadership of the + world. + + The first intelligence of the discovery of gold in + California fell upon the general mind like news of a + great and peculiar revolution. It was at once--even + before the statements on the subject assumed a definite + or certain form--it was at once felt that a new hour + was signally on the dial-plate of history. Immediately, + those immense fortunes which were acquired by the + Portuguese and Spaniards nearly four centuries + ago--fortunes which, in the decline of nations, have + still remained in families as the sign and substance of + the only nobility and power which mankind at large + acknowledge--those astonishing fortunes which raised + the enterprising poor man to the dignity and happiness + of the most elevated classes in society, were recalled, + and made suggestive of like successes to new and more + hardy adventurers. The reports came with increased + volume; every ship confirmed the rumors brought by its + predecessor, and new intelligence, that, in its turn, + tasked the popular credulity; and it came soon to be + understood that we had found a land literally flowing + with gold and silver, as that promised to the earlier + favorites of Heaven did with milk and honey. As many as + were free from controlling engagements, and had means + with which to do so, started for our El Dorado, making + haste, in fear that the wealth of the country would + quickly be exhausted--not dreaming, even yet, that + there was any thing to be acquired but flakes and + scales and scattered masses of ore, which would be + exhausted by the first hunters who should scour the + rivers and turn the surface soil. + + But at length the geologists began to apprehend, what + experience soon confirmed, that, extraordinary as were + the amounts of gold found in drifts of gravel, and + deposits that had been left in the beds of streams, + these were merely the signs of far greater + riches--merely indexes of the presence of rocks and + hills, and underlayers of plains, impregnated with + gold, in quantities that the processes of nature could + never disclose, and that would reward only the + scientific efforts of miners having all the mechanical + appliances which the laborious experiments of other + nations had invented. The fact of the existence of + veins of gold in vast quartz formations, and ribs of + gold in hills, was as startling almost as the first + news of the presence of the precious metal in the + country. This at once changed the prospect, and from a + game of chance, elevated the pursuit of gold in + California to a grand industrial purpose, requiring an + energy and sagacity that invest it with the highest + dignity, and to such energy and sagacity promising, + with absolute certainty, rewards that make it worthy of + the greatest ambition. + + Now, men of character and capital--the class of men + whose speculating spirit is held in subjection by the + most exact reason--began to turn to the subject their + investigations, and to connect with it their plans. + This will account for the fact that has so much + astonished the world, which had supposed our Pacific + colony to be composed of the reckless, profligate and + desperate only--the fact, that when California made her + constitution of government, it shot at once in + unquestionable wisdom directly and far in advance of + all the states on the Atlantic, presenting to mankind + the very highest type of a free government that had + ever been conceived. The demonstration that California + was a _mine_, like other mines in all but its + surpassing richness, elevated it from a scene of + gambling to one for the orderly pursuit of riches, and + by the splendor of its promises, drew to it the most + sagacious and most heroical intelligences of the time. + + Astonishing as are the present and prospective results + of the discovery in California, however, we are not to + suppose that there is any possibility of a decline in + the value of the precious metals. In absolute material + civilization, the world in the last three-quarters of a + century has advanced more than it had in any previous + three full centuries; and the supply of gold, for + currency and the thousand other objects for which it + was demanded, was becoming alarmingly insufficient, so + that the addition of more than thirty per cent. to the + total annual product of the world, which we are led by + the officially-stated results thus far to expect from + California, will merely preserve the historical and + necessary proportion and standard value. + + + + +INEDITED LETTER OF DR. FRANKLIN. + + +The following characteristic and interesting letter by Dr. Franklin is +first printed in the _International_. Captain Falconer, to whom it is +addressed, took Dr. Franklin to France when he was appointed commissioner, +and proceeded thence with his ship to London. The letter is directed _To +Captain Nathaniel Falconer, at the Pennsylvania Coffee-house, Birchin Lane, +London_, and the autograph is in the collection of Mr. George W. Childs, of +Philadelphia: + + PASSY, July 28, 1783. + + DEAR FRIEND:--I received your favor of the 18th. + Captain Barney brought us the dispatches we so long + expected. Mr. Deane as you observe is lost. Dr. + Bancroft is I believe steady to the interest of his + country, and will make an agreeable passenger if you + can take him. You desire to know something of the + state of affairs here. Every thing goes well with + respect to this court and the other friendly powers; + what England is doing or means to do, or why the + definitive treaty is so long delayed, I know perhaps + less than you do; as, being in that country, you may + have opportunities of hearing more than I can. For + myself, I am at present as hearty and well as I have + been these many years; and as happy as a man can be + where every body strives to make him so. The French are + an amiable people to live with; they love me, and I + love them. Yet I do not feel myself at home, and I wish + to die in my own country. Barney will sail this week + with our dispatches. A good voyage to you, my friend, + and may God ever bless you. + + B. FRANKLIN. + CAPTAIN FALCONER. + + + + +A BALLAD OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. + +FROM A FORTHCOMING VOLUME OF POEMS BY GEORGE H. BOKER. + + "The ice was here, the ice was there, + The ice was all around."--COLERIDGE. + + + O, whither sail you, Sir John Franklin? + Cried a whaler in Baffin's Bay. + To know if between the land and the pole + I may find a broad sea-way. + + I charge you back, Sir John Franklin, + As you would live and thrive; + For between the land and the frozen pole + No man may sail alive. + + But lightly laughed the stout Sir John, + And spoke unto his men:-- + Half England is wrong, if he is right; + Bear off to westward then. + + O, whither sail you, brave Englishman? + Cried the little Esquimaux. + Between the land and the polar star + My goodly vessels go. + + Come down, if you would journey there, + The little Indian said; + And change your cloth for fur clothing, + Your vessel for a sled. + + But lightly laughed the stout Sir John, + And the crew laughed with him too:-- + A sailor to change from ship to sled, + I ween, were something new! + + All through the long, long polar day, + The vessels westward sped; + And wherever the sail of Sir John was blown, + The ice gave way and fled. + + Gave way with many a hollow groan, + And with many a surly roar; + But it murmured and threatened on every side, + And closed where he sailed before. + + Ho! see ye not, my merry men, + The broad and open sea? + Bethink ye what the whaler said, + Think of the little Indian's sled! + The crew laughed out in glee. + + Sir John, Sir John, 'tis bitter cold, + The scud drives on the breeze, + The ice comes looming from the north, + The very sunbeams freeze. + + Bright summer goes, dark winter comes-- + We cannot rule the year; + But long ere summer's sun goes down, + On yonder sea we'll steer. + + The dripping icebergs dipped and rose, + And floundered down the gale; + The ships were staid, the yards were manned, + And furled the useless sail. + + The summer's gone, the winter's come, + We sail not on yonder sea: + Why sail we not, Sir John Franklin? + A silent man was he. + + The summer goes, the winter comes-- + We cannot rule the year: + I ween, we cannot rule the ways, + Sir John, wherein we'd steer. + + The cruel ice came floating on, + And closed beneath the lee, + Till the thickening waters dashed no more; + 'Twas ice around, behind, before-- + My God! there is no sea! + + What think you of the whaler now? + What of the Esquimaux? + A sled were better than a ship, + To cruise through ice and snow. + + Down sank the baleful crimson sun, + The northern light came out, + And glared upon the ice-bound ships, + And shook its spears about. + + The snow came down, storm breeding storm, + And on the decks was laid; + Till the weary sailor, sick at heart, + Sank down beside his spade. + + Sir John, the night is black and long, + The hissing wind is bleak, + The hard, green ice is strong as death:-- + I prithee, Captain, speak! + + The night is neither bright nor short, + The singing breeze is cold, + The ice is not so strong as hope-- + The heart of man is bold! + + What hope can scale this icy wall, + High over the main flag-staff? + Above the ridges the wolf and bear + Look down with a patient, settled stare, + Look down on us and laugh. + + The summer went, the winter came-- + We could not rule the year; + But summer will melt the ice again, + And open a path to the sunny main, + Whereon our ships shall steer. + + The winter went, the summer went, + The winter came around; + But the hard, green ice was strong as death, + And the voice of hope sank to a breath, + Yet caught at every sound. + + Hark! heard you not the noise of guns? + And there, and there again? + 'Tis some uneasy iceberg's roar, + As he turns in the frozen main. + + Hurra! hurra! the Esquimaux + Across the ice-fields steal: + God give them grace for their charity! + Ye pray for the silly seal. + + Sir John, where are the English fields, + And where are the English trees, + And where are the little English flowers + That open in the breeze? + + Be still, be still, my brave sailors! + You shall see the fields again, + And smell the scent of the opening flowers, + The grass, and the waving grain. + + Oh! when shall I see my orphan child? + My Mary waits for me. + Oh! when shall I see my old mother + And pray at her trembling knee? + + Be still, be still, my brave sailors! + Think not such thoughts again. + But a tear froze slowly on his cheek; + He thought of Lady Jane. + + Ah! bitter, bitter grows the cold, + The ice grows more and more; + More settled stare the wolf and bear, + More patient than before. + + Oh! think you, good Sir John Franklin, + We'll ever see the land? + 'Twas cruel to send us here to starve, + Without a helping hand. + + 'Twas cruel, Sir John, to send us here, + So far from help or home, + To starve and freeze on this lonely sea: + I ween, the Lords of the Admiralty + Had rather send than come. + + Oh! whether we starve to death alone, + Or sail to our own country, + We have done what man has never done-- + The open ocean danced in the sun-- + We passed the Northern Sea! + + + + +REMARKABLE PROPHECY. + +TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF M. LAHARPE FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE. + +BY H. J. BEYERLE, M.D. + + +It seems to me as if it had been but yesterday, and yet it happened in the +beginning of the year 1788. We were at table with one of our colleagues of +the Academy, a respectable and lively gentleman. The company was numerous, +and selected from all ranks: nobles, judges, professional men, +academicians, &c. We had enjoyed ourselves as is customary at a well-loaded +table. At the desert, the _malvasier_ and Cape wine exalted the pleasure +and increased in a good company that kind of liberty which does not remain +within precise limits. + +People in the world had then arrived at the point where it was allowed to +say every thing, if it was the object to excite laughter. Chamfort had read +to us some of his blasphemous and unchaste tales, and the noble ladies +heard them without even taking for refuge to the fan. Then followed a whole +volley of mockery on religion. One mentioned a tirade from the Pucelle; the +other reminded us of those philosophical stanzas of Diderot, wherein he +says: "With the intestines of the last priest tie up the throat of the last +king;" and all clapped approbation. Another rises, holds up the full +tumbler, and cries: "Yes, gentlemen, I am just as certain that there is no +God, as I am certain that Homer was a fool!" and really, he was of the one +as certain as he was of the other: we had just spoken of Homer and of God, +and there were guests present, too, who had said something good of the one +and of the other. + +The conversation now became more serious. We spoke with astonishment of the +revolution Voltaire had effected, and we agreed that it is the most +distinguished foundation of his fame. He had given the term to his +half-century; he had written in such a manner, that he is read in the +anteroom as well as in the hall. + +One of the guests told us with great laughter, that his hairdresser, as he +powdered him, said, "You see, sir, though I am only a miserable fellow, I +yet have not more religion than others." We concluded that the revolution +would soon be completed, and that superstition and fanaticism must +absolutely yield to philosophy; we calculated the probability of the time, +and who of this company may have the happiness to live to see the reign of +reason. The older ones were sorry that they could not flatter themselves to +see this; those younger rejoiced with the hope that they shall live to the +time, and we particularly congratulated the Academy for having introduced +the great work, and that they have been the chief source, the centre, the +mainspring of freedom of thought. + +One of the guests had taken no part in this gay conversation, and had even +scattered a few jokes in regard to our beautiful enthusiasm. It was M. +Cazotte, an agreeable and original gentleman; but who, unfortunately, was +prepossessed by the idle imaginations of those who believe in a higher +inspiration. He took the word, and said, in the most serious manner: "Sirs, +rejoice; you all will be witnesses of that great and sublime revolution for +which you wish so much. You are aware that I make some pretensions to +prophecy. I repeat it to you, you will all see it!" + +"For this a man needs no prophetic gifts," was answered him. + +"This is true," he replied, "but probably a little more for what I have to +tell you yet. Do you know what will arise from this revolution (where, +namely, reason will triumph in opposition to religion)? what her immediate +consequence, her undeniable and acknowledged effects will be?" + +"Let us see," said Condorcet, with his affected look of simplicity, "a +philosopher is not sorry to meet a prophet." + +"You, M. Condorcet," continued M. Cazotte, "you will be stretched out upon +the floor of a dungeon, there to yield up your ghost. You will die of +poison, which you will swallow to save yourself from the hangman--of the +poison which the good luck of the times, which then will be, will have +compelled you always to have carried with you." + +This at first excited great astonishment, but we soon remembered that the +good Cazotte occasionally dreamed waking, and we all laughed heartily. + +"M. Cazotte," said one of the guests, "the tale you relate to us here is +not as merry as your 'Devil in Love' (a romance which Cazotte had written). +What kind of a devil has given you the dungeon, the poison, and the +hangman?--what has this in common with philosophy, and with the reign of +Reason?" + +"This is just what I told you," replied Cazotte. "In the name of +philosophy, in the name of humanity, of liberty, of reason, it shall be +that you shall take such an end; and then reason will still reign, for she +will have temples; yes, at the same time there will be no temples in all +France, but temples of Reason." + +"Truly," said Chamfort, with a scornful smile, "you will not be one of the +priests in these temples?" + +"This I hope," replied Cazotte, "but you, M. de Chamfort, who will be one +of them--and very worthy you are to be one--you will open your veins with +twenty-two incisions of the razor--and yet you will only die a few months +afterwards." + +They look at each other, and continue to laugh. Cazotte continues: + +"You, M. Vicq d'Azyr, you will not open your veins yourself; but afterwards +you will get them opened six times in one day, and during the night you +will die." + +"You, M. Nicolli, you will die on the scaffold." + +"You, M. Bailly, on the scaffold!" + +"You, M. Malesherbes--you, on the scaffold!" + +"God be thanked," exclaimed M. Roucher, "it appears M. Cazotte has it to do +only with the Academy; he has just started a terrible butchery among them; +I--thanks to heaven--" + +Cazotte interrupted him: "you?--you, too, will die on the scaffold." + +"Ha! this is a bet," they exclaimed from all sides; "he has sworn to +extirpate everything!" + +_Cazotte._--"No, it is not I that has sworn it." + +"Then we must be put under the yokes of the Turks and Tartars?--and yet--" + +_Cazotte._--"Nothing less: I have told you already; you will then be only +under the reign of philosophy and reason; those who shall treat you in this +manner, will all be philosophers, will always carry on the same kind of +conversation which you have peddled out for the last hour, will repeat all +your maxims; they will, like you, cite verses from Diderot and the +Pucelle." + +It was whispered into one another's ear: "You all see that he has lost his +reason--(for he remains very serious while he is talking)--Do you not see +that he is joking?--and you know that he mixes something mysterious into +all his jokes." "Yes," said Chamfort, "but I must confess his mysteries are +not agreeable, they are too scaffoldish! And when shall all this occur?" + +_Cazotte._--"Six years will not expire, before all I told you will be +fulfilled." + +"There are many wonders." This time it was I (namely Laharpe) who took the +word, "and of me you say nothing?" + +"With you," replied Cazotte, "a wonder will take place, which will at least +be as extraordinary; you will then be a Christian!" + +Here was a universal exclamation. "Now I am easy," cried Chamfort, "if we +don't perish until Laharpe is a Christian, we shall be immortal!" + +"We, of the female sex," then said the Duchess de Grammont, "we are lucky +that we shall be counted as nothing with the revolutions. When I say +nothing, I do not mean to say as if we would not mingle ourselves a little +into them; but it is assumed that nobody will, on that account, loath at us +or at our sex." + +_Cazotte._--"Your sex will this time not protect you, and you may ever so +much desire not to mingle into anything; you will be treated just like men, +and no distinction will be made!" + +_Duchess._--"But what do you tell us here, M. Cazotte? You preach to us the +end of the world!" + +_Cazotte._--"That I do not know; but what I do know, is, that you, Madame +Duchess, will be led to the scaffold, you, and many other ladies, and on +the public cart, with your hands tied on your back!" + +_Duchess._--"In this case, I hope I shall have a black trimmed coach?" + +_Cazotte._--"No, madam! Nobler ladies than you, shall, like you, be drawn +on that same cart, with the hands tied on the back!" + +_Duchess._--"Nobler ladies? How? the princesses by birth?" + +_Cazotte._-"Nobler yet!" + +Now was observed a visible excitement in the whole company, and the master +of the table took on a dark appearance; they began to see that the joke had +been carried too far. + +Madame de Grammont, to scatter the clouds which the last answer had +occasioned, contented herself by saying in a facetious tone: "You shall see +that he will not even allow me the comfort of a father confessor!" + +_Cazotte._--"No, madam! you will not get one; neither you nor any one else! +The last one executed, who, out of mercy, will have received a father +confessor"--here he stopped a moment-- + +_Duchess._--"Well, who will be the fortunate one, when this fortunate +preference will be granted?" + +_Cazotte._--"It will be the only preference that he shall yet keep; and +this will be the king of France!" + +Now the host arose from the table, and all with him. He went to Cazotte, +and said with an excited voice, "My dear M. Cazotte, this lamentable jest +has lasted long. You carry it too far, and within a degree where you place +the company in which you are, and yourself, into danger." + +Cazotte answered not, and made himself ready to go away, when madame +Grammont, who always tried to prevent the matter from being taken +seriously, and exerted herself to restore the gaiety of the company, went +to him, and said: "Now, M. Prophet! you have told us all our fortunes, but +you say nothing of your own fate?" + +He was silent and cast down his eyes; then he said: "Have you, madame, +read, in Josephus, the history of the siege of Jerusalem?" + +_Duchess._--"Certainly! who has not read it? but you seem to think that I +have not!" + +_Cazotte._--"Well, madame, during the siege a man went round the city, upon +the walls, for seven days, in the face of the besiegers and the besieged, +and cried continually, with a mournful voice, 'Wo unto Jerusalem! Wo unto +Jerusalem!' but on the seventh day he cried, 'Wo unto me!' and at that +moment he was dashed to pieces by an immense stone, which the machines of +the enemy had thrown." + +After these words, M. Cazotte bowed himself, and went away. + +In relation to the above extraordinary prediction, a certain M.... has +inserted the following article in the public journals of Paris: "That he +well knew this M. Cazotte, and has often heard from him the announcement +of the great oppression which was to come over France, and this at a time +when not the least of it was suspected. The attachment to the monarchy was +the reason why, on the second of September, 1792, he was brought to the +abbey, and was saved from the hands of the bloodthirsty rabble only through +the heroic courage of his daughter, who mitigated the raging populace. This +same rabble which wanted to destroy him, led him to his house in triumph. +All his friends came to congratulate him, that he had escaped death. A +certain M. D... who visited him after the terrible days, said to him: "Now, +you are saved!"--"I believe it not," answered Cazotte; "in three days I +shall be guillotined!"--"How can this be?" replied M. D... Cazotte +continued: "Yes, my friend, in three days I will die on the scaffold!" As +he said this he was very much affected, and added: "Shortly before your +arrival, I saw a gend'armes enter, who fetched me by order of Petion; I was +under the necessity of following him: I appeared before the mayor of Paris, +who ordered me to the _Conciergerie_, and thence I came before the +revolutionary tribunal. You see, therefore (by this vision, namely, which +Cazotte had seen), my friend, that my hour has arrived; and I am so much +convinced of this, that I am arranging my papers. Here are papers for which +I care very much, which you will deliver to my wife; I entreat you to give +them to her, and to comfort her."" + +M. D... declared this all folly, and left him with the conviction, that his +reason had suffered by the sight of the scenes of terror from which he had +escaped. + +The next day he came again; but he learned that a gensd'arme had taken M. +Cazotte to the Municipality. M. D... went to Petion; arrived at the +mayoralty, he heard that his friend had just been taken to prison; he +hurried thither; but he was informed that he could not speak to him, he +would be tried before the revolutionary tribunal. Soon after this, he heard +that his friend had been condemned and executed. + + + + +GREENWOOD. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. + +BY MAUNSELL B. FIELD. + + I would that I were dreaming, + Where lovely flowers are gleaming, + And the tall green grass is streaming + O'er the gone--for ever gone. + + MOTHERWELL. + + + The evening glories of a summer sky + Brimming the heart with yearnings to be blest; + The wood-bird's wailing as he soars on high + Winging his weary way to distant nest; + The murmuring billows as they kiss the strand, + Bearing dim memories of stranger land; + + The sad mysterious voices of the night, + Bathing the soul in reverie and love; + The low wind, whispering of its former might + To the tall trees that sigh the hills above, + Like angel-tones that roll from sphere to sphere + And dimly echo to the faithful ear; + + The flitting shadows glancing o'er the sail + Of some proud ship that's dreaming on the sea; + The lighthouse fires that fitful glow and pale; + The far-off strains of martial minstrelsy; + Wechawken's hoary head o'er hill and dell, + Gloomy and proud, a giant sentinel; + + Such the soft charms, thou Paradise of Death! + My languid spirit hath erewhile confest, + When wearied with the city's tainted breath, + Fever'd and faint I've sought thy shades of rest, + Where all combines in heaven, and earth, and sea, + To image life, death, immortality!-- + + Here where the dusky savage twanged his bow + In the old time at startled doe or fawn, + Raised the shrill war-whoop at the approach of foe, + His wild eye flashing with revenge and scorn; + Here where the Indian maiden told her love + To the soft sighing spirits of the grove. + + Here, where the bloody fiend of frantic war + Flapped its red wings o'er hill-top and o'er plain-- + Where the sharp musket ring, and cannon roar, + Crashed o'er the valley, thundered o'er the main, + No sound is heard, save the sweet symphony + Of Nature's all-pervading harmony. + + Here the pale willow, drooping o'er the wave, + Dips its long tresses in the silvery flood; + Here the blue violet, blooming o'er the grave, + Distils its fragrance to the enamored wood, + While the complaining turtle's mournful woe + Steals on the ear in murmurs soft and low. + + Here its cold shaft the polished marble rears; + Here, eloquent of grief, the sculptured urn + Bares its white bosom to the dewy tears, + Dropt pure from heaven, far purer to return! + Here the grim granite's sempeternal pile + In monumental grandeur stands the while. + + Where the still stars with gentlest radiance shine + On forest green and flower-enamelled vale, + Two simple columns circled by one vine, + Tell to the traveller's eye the tender tale + Of constancy in life and death--and love, + Not e'en the horrors of the tomb could move. + + Here strained, and struggling with the unequal might + Of sea and tempest, the poor foundering bark, + And the snapp'd cable, chiselled on yon height, + Where calmly sleeps the wave-tossed pilot mark; + Hope, with her anchor, pointing to the sky, + Triumphant hails the spirit flight on high! + + Hark! how the solemn spirit dirge ascends + In floating cadence on the evening air, + Where with clasped hands the weeping angel bends + In human grief o'er her that's buried there; + The gentle maid, in festive garments hurled + From life's gay glitter to the gloomy world! + + Thy childish laughter lingers on mine ear, + Thy fairy form still floats before mine eye; + Still is the music of thy footsteps near, + Visioned to sense by tenderest memory; + Thy soul too pure for purest mortal love, + Enraptured seraphs snatched to realms above! + + Here where the sparkling fountain flings its spray + In sportive freedom, frolicksome and wild, + Mocking the wood-nymphs with its gladsome lay, + Serenely sleeps the dark-eyed forest child-- + Her kinsman's glory and her nation's pride! + A chieftain's daughter and a warrior's bride! + + Oft shall the pale face, pensive o'er thy mound, + Weep for the white man's shame, the red man's wrong; + Oft from spring warblers, o'er this hallowed ground, + Shall gush the tenderest melody of song, + For the poor pilgrim to that distant shore, + Her fathers loved, their sons shall see no more! + + Pause, weary wanderer, pause! In yon lone glade + Where silence reigns in deep funereal gloom, + Where the pale moonbeams struggle through the shade, + Open the portals of "The Stranger's Tomb!" + No holier symbol taught since time began + The sacred sympathy of man for man! + + Dear Greenwood! when the solemn heights I tread, + And catch the gray old ocean's sullen roar, + Chanting the dirge of the mighty dead, + Over whose graves the oblivious billows pour, + A tearful prayer is gushing from my breast, + "Here in thy peaceful bosom may I rest!-- + + "Rest till the signal calls the ransomed throng + With shouts their Saviour and their God to greet; + Rest till the harp, the trumpet, and the song + Summon the dead, Death's conqueror to meet; + And love, imperfect, man's best gift below, + In heaven eternal rapture shall bestow!" + + + + +AN AUGUST REVERIE. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE + +BY A. OAKLEY HALL. + + +I have "laid" the tiniest ghost of my professional duties. I shook off city +dust twenty hours ago, and my lungs are rejoicing this August morning with +the glorious breezes that sweep from the summits of the "Trimountains" of +Waywayanda lake--that stretches its ten miles expanse before my freshened +vision. + +Waywayanda lake? + +A Quere. Shall I play geographer to those who are learned in the +nomenclature of snobbism? Who allow innkeepers and railroad guides to +assassinate Aboriginal terms in order that petty pride may exult in petty +fame? No! But if snobbism has a curiosity, I refer it to the first +landscape painter of its vicinage: or the nearest fisherman amateur: or the +Recorder of New-York: or sportsman Herbert and the pages of his "Warwick +Woodlands;" a list of references worthy of the spot. + +And as I gaze and breathe I feel as if the waters before me had bubbled +from the fountains of rejuvenescence for which Ponce de Leon so +enthusiastically searched in the everglades of Florida; and as if, too, I +had just emerged from their embraces. + +My pocket almanac says that I am living in the dogdays. Perhaps so. But +"Sirius" hath no power around these mountains and primeval solitudes. Were +the fiercest theological controversialist at my elbow, he would be as cool +as an Esquimaux. + +I feel at peace with all things. My friend M. says the conscience lieth in +the stomach. Perhaps so; and perhaps I owe my quietude of spirit to the +influence of as comforting a breakfast as ever blessed the palate of a +scientific egg-breaker. + +Shall I join forces with the laughing beauties who are handling maces in +the billiard room of the inn hard by? Shall I challenge my "Lady Gay +Spanker" of last night's acquaintance to a game of bowling? Shall I tempt +the unsophisticated pickerel of the lake under the shadow of yonder +frowning precipice, with glittering bait? Shall I clamber the mountain side +and feast my vision with an almost boundless view--rich expanses of farm +land stretching away for miles and miles, and edging themselves in the blue +haze of the horizon where the distant Catskill peaks rise solitary in their +sublimity? + +It is very comfortable here. Is there always poetry in motion? How far +distant are the confines of dreamland: that magical kingdom where the tired +soul satiates itself in the intoxications of fancy? + +I had just carefully deposited upon a velvety tuft of grass Ik Marvel's +"Reveries of a Bachelor." I had arrived at the conclusion that its pages +should be part and parcel of the landscape about. Surely there is a unison +between them both. There are always certain places where only certain +melodies can be sung to the proper harmony of the heart-strings. Who ever +learned "Thanatopsis" on the summit of the Catskills, and afterwards forgot +a line of it? Now I have seen these same "Reveries" of the said bachelor +upon many a centre-table: in the lap of many a town beauty, half cushioned +in the velvet of a drawing room sofa: but the latter half of the volume +never looked so inviting as it does here just in the middle of one of +nature's lexicons. May the page of it never be blurred. + +Reveries of a Bachelor! + +'Tis a sugared pill of a title. Its morals are sad will o' wisps. And if +the definition "that happiness consists in the search after it" be true, it +is so when the definition settles itself on the mind of a bachelor. Hath +_he_ reveries half so sweet for morsels under the tongues of memory and +fancy as those which come nigh to the brain of the married man? As sure as +the lesser is always included in the greater: as certain as the maxim _de +minimis lex non curat_: the reveries of the first are but bound up in the +reveries of the last; one is a _pleasing_ romance, the other its enchanting +sequel. + +What is that yonder? There is a merry-faced form in the distant haze, +shaking a dreamy negative with his head. A head whose reality is miles and +miles away, airing its brow of single blessedness in foreign travel. + +Let us argue the point: he smiles as if willing. Man socially is at least a +three volumed work: however much longer the James-like pen of destiny may +extend him. Volume first--bachelor. Volume second--husband. Volume +third--father. There _may_ be a dozen more--there _should_ be none less. + +You have been a bachelor: you are a husband and a father. You always had, +perhaps, a bump of self-esteem attractive to the digits of Fowler. You +never believed half so well of yourself as when one morning at your +business you were first asked concerning the well being of your _family_. +At the moment, you were in a fog, like the young attorney upon the first +question of his first examination: next, memory rallied and your face +brightened; your stature increased as you replied. You felt you were going +up in the social numeration table of life. Two years ago you were a unit: +you next counted your importance by tens over the parson's shoulder; when +your child was born you felt that the leap to hundreds in the scale was far +from enough and should have been higher. + +Before the publication of your third volume--the father--you had been +measurably blind. Your mental sight was afflicted with amaurosis. Like the +philosopher of old you are now tempted to grasp every one by the hand and +cry "Eureka." How indignantly you take down "Malthus" from your upper +library shelf and bury him on the lowest among the books of possible +reference. Your political views upon education are cured of their jaundice. +You pray of Sundays in the service for the widow and the orphan with a +double unction. You walk the streets with a new mantle of comfort. The +little beggar child whose importunities of the last wet day at the street +crossings excited your petulance, upon the next wet day invites your +sympathies. You stop and talk to her, nor perceive until you have +ascertained where her hard-hearted parents live, and that she is uncommonly +bright for the child of poverty and wretchedness, and that you have a half +dollar unappropriated--nor perceive until these are found out, I say, that +your umbrella has been dripping upon the skirts of your favorite coat, and +that you have stood with one foot in a puddle. How this would have annoyed +you years ago. But now--? How unconcernedly of the curious looks from +pedestrians around do you stop the careless nurse in Broadway, who has +allowed her infant charge to fall asleep in a painful attitude, and lay +"it" tenderly and comfortably in position. You recall to mind with much +remorse the execrations of five years ago, when the moanings of a dying +babe in the next apartment to your own at the hotel disturbed your rest; +and you wonder whether the mother still thinks of the little grave and the +white slab which a sympathetic fancy _now_ brings up before you. + +You are at your business: the lamps are lighting: in the suggestions of +profit by an hour or longer at the desk you recognize an unholy temptation. +Now, as often before, through all the turmoils of business memory suggests +the lines of Willis: + + "I sadden when thou smilest to my smile, + Child of my love! I tremble to believe + That o'er the mirror of thine eye of blue + The shadow of my soul must always pass-- + That soul which from its conflicts with the world + Comes _ever_ to thy guarded cradle home, + And careless of the staining dust it brings, + Asks for its idol!" + +And you dwell on them. You bless the author first, and truly think how +cruelly unjust are they who can call into torturing question the loyalty as +husband and father of him whose soul could plan and whose pen could write +such holy lines. And then you think deeper of the sentiments. And then the +profit-tempter hides himself in the farthest corner of the money-drawer; +and you begin to think your clerk a very clever manager: and wonder if +_his_ remaining will not do as well--poor fellow, he's _only_ a bachelor. +And then you decide that he will, and so yourself, "careless of the +staining dust" your coming brings, fly to "the guarded cradle home." + +You have been in Italy. Or you have studied the pictures in the _Louvre_. +But the hours which you passed before the canvas whereon was embodied +Madonna and child never seemed so agreeable in their realization as they +now appear in the glass of memory, as you see the child of your love in the +arms of your life companion whose eyes, always bright to yours, and +brighter still at your coming after absence, grow brightest when they are +lifted from the slumbering innocence beneath them. Men call you rough in +your bearing, perhaps. What would they say to see how gently your arms +receive the sleeping burthen and transfer it softly to its snowy couch? +Your step abroad is heavy and impetuous: how noiselessly it falls upon the +floor--_now!_ And how the modulated voice accords with every present +thought! + +You cannot give the child a sweeter sleep by watching over him so intently: +and yet you choose to stay. Moments are not so precious to you that at this +one household shrine they will become valueless in some most chastened +heart-worship! Your infant does not when awake understand the language +which your affection addresses: and yet you look with rapture to the +future, when the now inquiring eye will become one of understanding; when +the cautiously put forth arms will clasp in loving confidence; when the +fond endearing name now half intelligibly and doubtingly lisped forth will +be uttered in the boldness of love. + +The shadowy form in the distant cloud over the lake has been listening +intently. It listens still; and the face of it bends towards me as if to +say, there's a hidden truth and mysterious sympathy in all you say; and yet +the language soundeth strangely in these bachelor ears-- + +Bachelor ears! + +Listless and deaf, as yet, to all the sweeter human music of our nature. +Deafer yet to the clarion call of emulation in the race of life and +struggles for power, rank, and fame. Deafest of all to that which spurreth +on man to be a king of kings among the great men of his race. + +You are a father, then, I say; and working in your mental toil by night and +day, in the severest and darkest frowning of all professions. But in the +crowded senate-room, and in the close committee-chamber; and in the +court-room among the multitudes of faces all about, (some of these +anticipating in their changing features defeat and disgrace,) there is a +_something_ which overrides all agitation: clears the heavy brain, and oils +the tongue with every pungency of rhetoric. + +What is that "something?" + +Were I home and in my library the downturned leaf of the duodecimo +biography in the left corner of the first shelf would tell it you at a +glance. The biography of Lord Erskine; marked at the page which speaks of +his dauntless legal debut in the Sandwich case, when not the necessity of +speaking in a crowded court-room from the obscure back benches: when not +the sarcastic eyes of a hundred (etiquette-ly termed) brethren; when not +the awful presence of Lord Mansfield nor his rebuking interruption at a +critical sentence frightened the self-possession of the enthusiastic +advocate, or stopped the current of his eloquent invective. The biography, +which goes on to tell how, when the speech was ended, all the attorneys in +the room flocked around the debutant with retainers--needed, more than all +the smiles and congratulations to be drawn from earnest heart-wells: and +how the advocate replied--(when some one, timid of the judge, asked how the +barrister had the courage to stand the rebuking interruption, and never to +quail with embarrassment before it)--_I felt my little children tugging at +my gown and crying, now is the time, father, to get us bread_. + +How eloquent! + +How worthy of a father's heart! And in the reference, the dullest mind +cannot fail to read the "something" which, to every father in a like +position, nerves the will, disarms all agitation, clears the heavy brain, +and oils the tongue with every pungency of rhetoric. + +--The shadowy form turns closer towards me as my reverie yet chains me to +the lake side, where the mountain breezes still are freshening all the +August air.-- + +You have a purpose now in life, which, like the messenger of the king, that +every morning knocked at his bedroom door to say, "Oh king, remember all +this day that you are mortal," hourly brings to mind the bright reward of +every toil and every aspiration. Besides a physical frame there is a mental +constitution hinging on your own. There's a long life far beyond your own +brief years of breath to provide for. Your name is to be perpetuated. In +the very evening of your life there is to be a star that is now in its +morning of existence, which will cheer and enliven. You feel all this as in +some sad hour of the sickly night; you pace your room with the little +sufferer wrestling with disease, and you feel that in the future will be +found ample rewards for all your present bitter draughts of anxiety. + +Wrestling with disease! + +The thought is ugly to the mental sight. I pause to brush its cobweb from +my August Reverie as an idle vaporish thing. But the shadowy form, in the +edge of the distant cloud, over the far off waters of the lake, hisses the +words back into my brain. And then it comes nearer. And then the atmosphere +grows more dreamy and hazy about. And I half feel the mountain breezes, and +half miss them from off my temples. And next I feel my thoughts less +concentrate, as the shadowy form I know so well seems to be looking under +my half-closed lids, and dwelling on the words I brushed like +cob-webs--"wrestling with disease." + +And I think of the still chamber, with the blue edge of the bracket, as it +is rimmed with the faintest glimmer of the turned-down gas. And I see the +half-closed shutters. And the tumbler with its significant spoon on the +mantel. And the pale watcher by the ghostly curtains of the bed. And I am +bending silently and almost pulseless over the sleeping boy, upon whose +face each minute the fever-flushes play like summer lightning under a satin +cloud. + +And days go by. There is a strange hush in the household, with a horridly +sensitive jarring from the vehicles in the street, which never, never were +before so noisy, neither have the thronging passengers from the pavements +ever gossipped so discordantly, as they go under the windows of the silent +house. There's a strange echo of infantile prattle by the niches on the +landings of the stairs, and from the couches, and behind the curtains; but +the substantive music, whence the conjured-up echo came, is nowhere found. +Then the echo itself becomes but an illusion. And Memory is strangely and +impassionately chid for its creation. + +I pass into a little room scarcely wide enough to wheel a sofa within. It +seems as boundless in its desolation as an untenanted temple-ruin. There +are mournful spirits in the little atmosphere which sting me to the +heart--not to be torn away. The little cotton-dog, and morocco-ball, and +jingling-bells, and coral-toys, so strangely scattered all about, are +prodigious ruins to the sight. There's a gleeful laugh, a cunning smile, an +artless waving of the hands, which should be here as tenants of the room. +All gone! all gone into that hushed and silent chamber where yet the +patient-watcher is by the snowy curtains; and the sickly blue still edges +the rim of the bracket light, and the fever-flushes still play about the +wasted cheek. + +How long to last? What next to come? And the shadowy form no longer can +peep under the all-closed eyelids, but enters its whisperings through the +delicate passages of the ear into the brain, which tortures in a maze of +bitter conjecture and horrid contemplation. And my reverie becomes a +painful nightmare dream. + + * * * * * + +But the mountain-breezes, and the uprising-to-meridian sun, are merciful. +The shadowy form my reverie hinged itself upon is blown away. The open eyes +once more glance upon the glassy waters of the lake close by the shore, and +onward to the dancing ripples far away. And a merry prattling voice, from +out of loving arms, is coming nearer and nearer over the velvety lawn--a +voice so full of spirit, and life, and health, and sparkling innocence of +care, that in a moment the frightful nightmare-dream is quite forgotten. + +More-- + +My reverie turns itself into a lesson of bright reality; a present study of +budding mind; a jealous watch of care encroaching upon innocence; a kindly +outpouring of the father's manly heart upon the shrine of his idol. + +Could such a reverie better end? + + + + +HEROINES OF HISTORY--LAURA. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE BY MARY E. HEWITT. + + +Laura, rendered immortal by the love and lyre of Petrarch, was the daughter +of Audibert de Noves, who was of the _haute noblesse_ of Avignon. He died +in the infancy of Laura, leaving her a dowry of one thousand gold crowns, +(about fifty thousand dollars,) a magnificent portion for those times. She +was married at the age of eighteen to Hugh de Sade, a young noble only a +few years older than his bride, but not distinguished by any advantages +either of person or mind. The marriage contract is dated in January, 1325, +two years before her first meeting with Petrarch; and in it her mother, the +Lady Ermessende, and her brother, John de Noves, stipulate to pay the dower +left by her father; and also to bestow on the bride two magnificent dresses +for state occasions; one of green, embroidered with violets; the other of +crimson, trimmed with feathers. In all the portraits of Laura now extant, +she is represented in one of these two dresses, and they are frequently +alluded to by Petrarch. He tells us expressly that when he first met her at +matins in the church of Saint Claire, she was habited in a robe of green +spotted with violets. Mention is also made of a coronal of silver with +which she wreathed her hair; of her necklaces and ornaments of pearls. +Diamonds are not once alluded to because the art of cutting them had not +then been invented. From all which it appears that Laura was opulent, and +moved in the first class of society. It was customary for women of rank in +those times to dress with extreme simplicity on ordinary occasions, but +with the most gorgeous splendor when they appeared in public. + +There are some beautiful descriptions of Laura surrounded by her young +female companions, divested of all her splendid apparel, in a simple white +robe and a few flowers in her hair, but still preëminent over all by her +superior loveliness. + +She was in person a fair, Madonna-like beauty, with soft dark eyes, and a +profusion of pale golden hair parted on her brow, and falling in rich curls +over her neck. The general character of her beauty must have been pensive, +soft, unobtrusive, and even somewhat languid. This softness and repose must +nave been far removed from insipidity, for Petrarch dwells on the rare and +varying expression of her loveliness, the lightning of her smile, and the +tender magic of her voice, which was felt in the inmost heart. He dwells on +the celestial grace of her figure and movements, and describes the beauty +of her hand and the loveliness of her mouth. She had a habit of veiling her +eyes with her hand, and her looks were generally bent on the earth. + +In a portrait of Laura, in the Laurentinian library at Florence, the eyes +have this characteristic downcast look. + +Laura was distinguished, then, by her rank and fortune, but more by her +loveliness, her sweetness, and the untainted purity of her life and manners +in the midst of a society noted for its licentiousness. Now she is known as +the subject of Petrarch's verses, as the woman who inspired an immortal +passion, and, kindling into living fire the dormant sensibility of the +poet, gave origin to the most beautiful and refined, the most passionate, +and yet the most delicate amatory poetry that exists in the world. + +Petrarch was twenty-three years of age when he first felt the power of a +violent and inextinguishable passion. At six in the morning on the sixth of +April, A. D. 1327, (he often fondly records the exact year, day and hour,) +on the occasion of the festival of Easter, he visited the church of Saint +Claire at Avignon, and beheld, for the first time, Laura de Sade. She was +just twenty years of age, and in the bloom of beauty--a beauty so touching +and heavenly, so irradiated by purity and smiling innocence, and so adorned +by gentleness and modesty, that the first sight stamped the image in the +poet's heart, never thereafter to be erased. + +Petrarch beheld the loveliness and sweetness of the young beauty, and was +transfixed. He sought acquaintance with her, and while the manners of the +times prevented his entering her house, he enjoyed many opportunities of +meeting her in society, and of conversing with her. He would have declared +his love, but her reserve enforced silence. "She opened my breast and took +my heart into her hand, saying 'speak no word of this,'" he writes. Yet the +reverence inspired by her modesty and dignity was not always sufficient to +restrain her lover. Being alone with her on one occasion, and she appearing +more gracious than usual, Petrarch tremblingly and fearfully confessed his +passion; but she, with altered looks, replied, "I am not the person you +take me for!" Her displeasure froze the very heart of the poet, so that he +fled from her presence in grief and dismay. + +No attentions on his part could make any impression on her steady and +virtuous mind. While love and youth drove him on, she remained impregnable +and firm; and when she found that he still rushed wildly forward, she +preferred forsaking to following him to the precipice down which he would +have hurried her. Meanwhile, as he gazed on her angelic countenance, and +saw purity painted on it, his love grew spotless as herself. Love +transforms the true lover into a resemblance of the object of his passion. +In a town, which was the asylum of vice, calumny never breathed a taint +upon Laura's name: her actions, her words, the very expression of her +countenance, and her slightest gestures were replete with a modest reserve +combined with sweetness, and won the applause of all. + +Francesco Petrarch was of Florentine extraction, and the son of a notary, +who, being held in great esteem by his fellow-citizens, had filled several +public offices. + +When the Ghibelines were banished Florence, in 1302, Petraccolo was +included in the number of exiles; his property was confiscated, and he +retired with his wife, Eletta Canigiani, whom he had lately married, to the +town of Arrezzo, in Tuscany. And here on the night of the 20th of July, +1304, Petrarch first saw the light. When the child was seven months old his +mother was permitted to return from banishment, and she established herself +at a country house belonging to her husband near Ancisa, a small town +fifteen miles from Florence. The infant who, at his birth, it was supposed +would not survive, was exposed to imminent peril during this journey. In +fording a rapid stream, the man who had charge of him carried him, wrapped +in swaddling clothes, at the end of a stick; he fell from his horse, and +the babe slipped from the fastenings into the water; but he was saved, for +how could Petrarch die until he had seen his Laura? + +The youth of Petrarch was obscure in point of fortune, but it was attended +by all the happiness that springs from family concord, and the excellent +character of his parents. At the age of fifteen he was sent to study in the +university of Montpellier, then frequented by a vast concourse of students. +His father intended his son to pursue the study of the law, as the +profession best suited to ensure his reputation and fortune; but to this +pursuit Francesco was invincibly repugnant. He was soon after sent to +Bologna, where, as at Montpellier, he continued to display great taste for +literature, much to his father's dissatisfaction. + +At Bologna, Petrarch made considerable progress in the study of the law, +moved thereto, doubtless, by the entreaties of his excellent parent. + +After three years spent at Bologna, Petrarch was recalled to France by the +death of his father. Soon after his mother died also, and he and his +brother were left entirely to their own guidance, with very slender means, +and those diminished by the dishonesty of those whom his father named as +trustees to their fortune. Under these circumstances Petrarch entirely +abandoned the profession of the law, as it occurred to both him and his +brother that the clerical profession was their best resource in a city +where the priesthood reigned supreme. They resided at Avignon, and became +the favorites and companions of the ecclesiastical and lay nobles who +formed the papal court. His talents and accomplishments were of course the +cause of this distinction; besides that his personal advantages were such +as to prepossess every one in his favor. He was so handsome as frequently +to attract observation when he passed along the streets. When, to the +utmost simplicity and singleness of mind, were added splendid talents, the +charm of poetry, so highly valued in the country of the Troubadours, an +affectionate and generous disposition, vivacious and pleasing manners, an +engaging and attractive exterior; we cannot wonder that Petrarch was the +darling of his age, the associate of its greatest men, and the man whom +princes delighted to honor. + +The passion of Petrarch for Laura was purified and exalted at the same +time. She filled him with noble aspirations, and divided him from the +common herd. He felt that her influence made him superior to vulgar +ambition, and rendered him wise, true, and great. She saved him in the +dangerous period of youth, and gave a worthy aim to all his endeavors. The +manners of his age permitted one solace; a Platonic attachment was the +fashion of the day. The Troubadours had each a lady to adore, to wait upon, +and to celebrate in song; without its being supposed that she made him any +return beyond a gracious acceptance of his devoirs, and allowing him to +make her the heroine of his verses. Petrarch endeavored to merge the living +passion of his soul into this airy and unsubstantial devotion. Laura +permitted the homage: she perceived his merit and was proud of his +admiration; she felt the truth of his affection, and indulged the wish of +preserving it and her own honor at the same time. Without her +inflexibility, this had been a dangerous experiment: but she always kept +her lover distant from her; rewarding his reserve with smiles, and +repressing by frowns all the overflowings of his heart. + +By her resolute severity, she incurred the danger of ceasing to be the +object of his attachment, and of losing the gift of an immortal name, which +he has conferred upon her. But Petrarch's constancy was proof against +hopelessness and time. He had too fervent an admiration of her qualities +ever to change: he controlled the vivacity of his feelings, and they became +deeper rooted. "Untouched by my prayers," he says, "unvanquished by my +arguments, unmoved by my flattery, she remained faithful to her sex's +honor; she resisted her own young heart, and mine, and a thousand, thousand +things, which must have conquered any other. She remained unshaken. A woman +taught me the duty of a man! to persuade me to keep the path of virtue, her +conduct was at once an example and a reproach." + +But whether, in this long conflict, Laura preserved her heart untouched, as +well as her virtue immaculate; whether she shared the love she inspired; or +whether she escaped from the captivating assiduities and intoxicating +homage of her lover, "fancy free;" whether coldness, or prudence, or pride, +or virtue, or the mere heartless love of admiration, or a mixture of all +together, dictated her conduct, is at least as well worth inquiry as the +color of her eyes, or the form of her nose, upon which we have pages of +grave discussion. She might have been _coquette par instinct_, if not _par +calent_; she might have felt, with feminine _tacte_, that to preserve her +influence over Petrarch, it was necessary to preserve his respect. She was +evidently proud of her conquest: she had else been more or less than woman; +and at every hazard, but that of self-respect, she was resolved to retain +him. If Petrarch absented himself for a few days, he was generally better +treated on his return. If he avoided her, then her eye followed him with a +softer expression. When he looked pale from sickness of heart and agitation +of spirits, Laura would address him with a few words of pitying tenderness. +When he presumed on this benignity, he was again repulsed with frowns. He +flew to solitude,--solitude! Never let the proud and torn heart, wrung with +the sense of injury, and sick with unrequited passion, seek that worst +resource against pain, for there grief grows by contemplating itself, and +every feeling is sharpened by collision. Petrarch sought to "mitigate the +fever of his heart" amid the shades of Vaucluse, a spot so gloomy, and so +solitary, that his very servants forsook him; and Vaucluse, its fountains, +its forests, and its hanging cliffs, reflected only the image of Laura. + +He passed several years thus, cut off from society; his books were his +great resource; he was never without one in his hand. Often he remained in +silence from morning till night, wandering among the hills when the sun was +yet low; and taking refuge, during the heat of the day, in his shady +garden. At night, after performing his clerical duties (for he was canon of +Lombes), he rambled among the hills; often entering, at midnight, the +cavern, whose gloom, even during the day, struck his soul with awe. "Fool +that I was!" he exclaims in after life, "not to have remembered the first +school-boy lesson--that solitude is the nurse of love!" + +While living at Vaucluse, Petrarch, invited to Rome by the Roman Senate, +repaired thither to receive the laurel crown of poesy. The ceremony was +performed in the Capitol with great solemnity, in presence of all the +nobles and high-born ladies of the city. Leaving Rome soon after his +coronation, he repaired to Parma, where Clement VI. rewarded him for +subsequent political services by naming him prior of Migliarino in the +diocese of Pisa. + +Petrarch returned to Avignon. The sight of Laura gave fresh energy to a +passion which had survived the lapse of fifteen years. She was no longer +the blooming girl who had first charmed him. The cares of life had dimmed +her beauty. She was the mother of many children, and had been afflicted at +various times by illness. Her home was not happy. Her husband, without +loving or appreciating her, was ill-tempered and jealous. Petrarch +acknowledged that if her personal charms had been her sole attraction he +had already ceased to love her. But his passion was nourished by sympathy +and esteem; and, above all, by that mysterious tyranny of love, which, +while it exists, the mind of man seems to have no power of resisting, +though in feebler minds it sometimes vanishes like a dream. Petrarch was +also changed in personal appearance. His hair was sprinkled with gray, and +lines of care and sorrow trenched his face. On both sides the tenderness of +affection began to replace, in him the violence of passion, in her the +coyness and severity she had found necessary to check his pursuit. The +jealousy of her husband opposed obstacles to their seeing each other. They +met as they could in public walks and assemblies. Laura sang to him, and a +soothing familiarity grew up between them as her fears became allayed, and +he looked forward to the time when they might sit together and converse +without dread. + +At length he resolved to leave Laura and Avignon forever; and instead of +plunging into solitude, to seek the wiser resource of travel and society. +Laura saw him depart with regret. When he went to take leave of her, he +found her surrounded by a circle of her ladies. Her mien was dejected; a +cloud overcast her face, whose expression seemed to say, "Who takes my +faithful friend from me?" Petrarch was struck to the heart by a sad +presentiment: the emotion was mutual; they both seemed to feel that they +should never meet again. + +Petrarch departed. The plague, which had been extending its ravages over +Asia, entered Europe. It spread far and wide: nearly one half the +population of the world became its prey. Petrarch saw thousands die around +him, and he trembled for his friends. He heard that it was at Avignon. A +thousand sad presentiments haunted his mind. At last the fatal truth +reached him, Laura was dead! By a singular coincidence, she died on the +anniversary of the day when he first saw her. She was taken ill on the +third of April, and languished but three days. As soon as the symptoms of +the plague declared themselves, she prepared to die: she made her will, +which is dated on the third of April, and received the sacraments of the +church. On the sixth she died, surrounded by her friends and the noble +ladies of Avignon, who braved the dangers of infection to attend on one so +lovely and so beloved. On the evening of the same day on which she died, +she was interred in the chapel of the Cross which her husband had lately +built in the church of the Minor Friars at Avignon. + +Her tomb was discovered and opened in 1533, in the presence of Francis the +First, whose celebrated stanzas on the occasion are well known. + +Of the fame which, even in her lifetime, love and poetical adoration of +Petrarch had thrown around his Laura, a curious instance is given which +will characterize the manners of the age. When Charles of Luxembourg +(afterwards Emperor) was at Avignon, a grand fête was given, in his honor, +at which all the noblesse were present. He desired that Petrarch's Laura +should be pointed out to him; and when she was introduced, he made a sign +with his hand that the other ladies present should fall back; then going up +to Laura, and for a moment contemplating her with interest, he kissed her +respectively on the forehead and on the eyelids. + +Petrarch survived her twenty-six years, dying in 1374. He was found +lifeless one morning in his study, his hand resting on a book. + + + + +THE KING AND OUTLAW. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. + + + Robin Hood was a gentleman, + An outlaw bold was he; + He lost his Earldom and his land, + And took to the greenwood tree. + + The king had just come home from war + With the Soldan over sea; + And Robin dwelt in merry Sherwood, + And lived by archerie. + + Five bucks as fat as fat could be, + Were bleeding on the ground, + When up there came a hunter bright, + With a horn and leashéd hound. + + "Who's this, who's this, i' th' merry greenwood? + Who's this with horn and hound? + We'll hang him, an' he pay not down + For his life a thousand pound. + + "Come hither, hither, Friar John, + And count your rosarie, + And shrive this sinful gentleman, + Under the greenwood tree!" + + "Stand back, stand back, thou wicked Friar, + Nor dare to stop my way; + I'll tear your cowl and cassock off, + And hurl your beads away!" + + "Nay! hold your hands, my merry man! + I like his gallant mood; + Sir Hunter pray you take a staff, + And play with Robin Hood." + + They played an hour with quarter staffs, + A good long hour or more, + And Robin Hood was beat at the game, + That never was beat before. + + "Hold off, hold off," he said at length, + And wiped the blood away; + "Thou art a noble gentleman, + Come dine with me to-day." + + "With the quarter staff, as a yeoman might, + For love I played with thee; + Now draw thy sword, as fits a knight, + And play awhile with me." + + They fought an hour with rapiers keen, + A weary hour or more, + And Robin Hood began to fail, + That never failed before. + + But still he fought as best he might, + In the summer's burning heat, + Till he sank at last with loss of blood, + And fell at the Stranger's feet. + + He brought him water from the spring, + And took him by the hand; + "Rise up!" he said, "my good old Earl, + The best man in the land! + + "Rise up, rise up, Earl Huntington, + No longer Robin Hood; + I will be king in London town, + And you in green Sherwood!" + + + + +SAINT ESCARPACIO'S BONES. + +TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE. + + +Upon a fine May morning in the year 1585, a Spanish vessel lay at anchor in +the Port of St. Jago, in the island of Cuba. She was about to sail for +Cadiz, the passengers were on board, and the sailors at their several +stations, awaiting the word of command. The captain, a small, tight-built, +shrewd-looking man, with the voice and manner of a naval officer, which, +indeed, he had formerly been, was brave and experienced, and although +somewhat wild and daring, he was a good fellow at heart, but now and then +violent and headstrong to a fault, in short, Captain Perez was the terror +of his men. + +He was walking the deck with rapid strides, and exhibiting the greatest +impatience, now stopping to observe the direction of the wind, and casting +a glance at the shore, then resuming his walk with a preliminary stamp of +disappointment and vexation; no one, in the meanwhile, daring to ask why he +delayed getting under way. + +At length strains of church music at a distance are heard on board the +vessel, and all eyes are directed to the shore. A long procession of monks, +holding crosses and lighted wax tapers, and singing, is seen approaching +the beach opposite the vessel. The procession moves slowly and solemnly to +the cadence of the music. Between two rows of monks dressed in deep black +is a coffin richly decorated with all the symbols of the Catholic faith, +and covered with garlands and chaplets, and, what is singular, the coffin +is carried with difficulty by six stout negroes. Four venerable Jesuits +support the corners of the pall, and, immediately behind the coffin, walks +alone, with a grave and dignified step, the Right Reverend Father Antonio, +superior of the Jesuit missionaries of the island of Cuba. An immense crowd +of citizens, the garrison of the island, and the military and civil +authorities, piously form the escort. + +Suddenly the singing ceases, the procession halts, the coffin is placed on +elevated supporters. Father Antonio approaches it, and, kissing the pall +with reverence, exclaims, with a solemnity befitting the occasion, + +"Adieu! Saint Escarpacio, thou worthy model of our order, adieu! In +separating myself from thy holy remains, I fulfil thy last wishes; may they +piously repose in our happy Spain, and may thy saintly vows and aspirations +be thus accomplished. But before their departure from our shores, we +conjure thee, holy saint, to look down from thy holy place of rest in +heaven, and deign to bless this people, and us, thy mourning friends on +earth." + +The whole assembly then knelt upon the ground, after which the negroes, +resuming their heavy burden, carried it on board a boat, closely followed +by Father Antonio. With vigorous rowing the boat soon reached the vessel's +side, and the coffin was hoisted on board. + +"You are very late, reverend father," said Captain Perez, "and you know +_wind and tide wait for no man_. I ought to have been far on my way long +before this hour." + +"We could not get ready sooner, my son," the holy father replied, "but fear +not, God will reward you for the delay, and these precious remains will +speed you on your voyage. I hope you have made your own private cabin, as +you promised, worthy of their reception?" + +"Yes, certainly, I have." + +"You must not for a moment lose sight of the coffin." + +"Make yourself easy on that point, holy father; I shall watch over it as if +it were my own. Hollo there forward, bear a hand aft," the captain cried. + +Four sailors place themselves at the corners of the coffin, but they can +hardly raise it from the deck; two more are called, and the six, bending +under its weight, succeed in carrying it down into the cabin, followed by +the Captain and by Father Antonio. + +When the coffin was properly bestowed, the reverend father addressed +Captain Perez in the most earnest and solemn manner: + +"I hope you will be found worthy of the great confidence and trust I now +repose in you. These precious remains should occupy your every moment, and +you will sacredly and faithfully account to me for their safety--the +smallest negligence will cost you dear. On your arrival at Cadiz, you will +deliver the coffin to none other than Father Hieronimo, and not to him +even, unless he shall first place in your hands a letter from me--you +understand my instructions and commands? Now depart, and may God speed you +on your way." + +Father Antonio then came upon deck, and bestowed his benediction upon the +vessel, and upon all it contained; after which, descending to the boat, he +was rowed to the shore. As he placed himself at the head of the procession, +the singing recommenced, the anchor was weighed, and, to the sound of +music, the cheering of the people, and the roar of cannon, the vessel moved +slowly on her destined voyage. + +When fairly at sea, the wind was favorable, and all went well. The second +evening out, Captain Perez was alone in his private cabin, and in a +contemplative mood, when the feeble light of the single lamp glancing +across the coffin, as the vessel rocked from side to side, attracted his +attention, and led him to think about the singularity of its great weight. + +"It is very strange," he said musingly, "six stout fellows to carry a man's +dry bones!--it cannot be possible. But what does the coffin contain if it +does not contain the saint's bones? Father Antonio was very, _very_ +particular. I should really like to know what there is in the coffin. It +took a good half dozen strong healthy negroes, and then as many sailors, to +carry it: what can there be in the coffin? Why, after all, I _can_ know if +I please. I have but to take out a few screws, it can be done without the +slightest noise, and I am alone, and the cabin door is easily fastened." + +Suiting the action to his soliloquy, he bolted the door of the cabin, took +from his tool-chest a screw-driver, and, after a moment's indecision, began +cautiously to loosen one of the screws in the lid of the coffin, his hands +all the while trembling violently. + +"If," thought he, "I am committing a heinous sin, if the saint should start +up, and if, in his anger, he should in some appalling manner punish my +sacrilegious meddling with his bones?" + +A cold sweat overspread his bronzed visage, and he stood still a moment, +hesitating as to whether he should go on. But curiosity conquered, and he +rallied his energies with the reflection, that if he opened the coffin, +Saint Escarpacio himself well knew it was only to find out what made his +bones so heavy; there could be no impiety in that--quite the contrary. His +conscience was by this time somewhat fortified, his superstitious fears +gradually grew fainter, and keeping his eyes steadily fixed upon the lid of +the coffin--to be sure the saint did not stir--he slowly and silently took +out the first screw. He then stopped short: the saint showed no signs of +anger. + +"I knew it," said Perez, going to work more boldly upon the second screw, +"I knew there was nothing sinful in opening the coffin, for the sin lies in +the intention." + +All the screws were soon drawn out, and to gratify his curiosity it only +remained to raise the coffin lid, and here his heart beat violently--but +courage--Perez did raise the lid, _and, and, he saw--no saint, but hay--the +hay is carefully removed--then strips of linen--they are removed--then hay +again, but no saint, nothing like the bone of a saint--but a wooden box_. + +"Well, that is odd," thought Perez, "and what can there be in it? I must +open the box, but how? there is no key, what is to be done? Shall I force +the lock, or break the cover of the box? Either attempt would make a noise, +which the passengers or sailors might hear, but what is to be done? Good +Saint Escarpacio, take pity on me, and direct me how to open the box," +whispered Perez, and there was perhaps a little irony in the supplication. + +In feeling among the hay surrounding the box, Perez found a key at one of +its corners secured by a small iron chain. + +"Ah! ha! I have it at last" Perez cried, "_the key, the key_," and quickly +putting it into the key-hole, he opened the Box--and he saw--what? +_Leathern bags filled to the top_ according to the beautifully written +tickets, with GOLD PISTOLES--SILVER CROWNS, closely ranged in shining +piles--all in the most perfect order. "But what is this? a letter? I must +read it," exclaimed the excited Perez--"_by your leave, gentle wax_," and +he tears the letter open. It began thus: + +"Father Antonio, of Cuba, to the reverend fathers in Cadiz, greeting. + +"As agreed between us, Most Reverend Fathers, I send you THREE HUNDRED +THOUSAND LIVRES, in the name, and under the semblance of Father Escarpacio, +whose bones I am supposed to be sending to Spain. The annexed memorandum of +accounts will show that this sum comprises the whole of our little +gleanings and savings up to this time, for the benefit of our Holy Order. +You will pardon I am sure this innocent artifice on our part, Most Reverend +Fathers, as it will prove a safeguard to the treasure, and avoid awakening +the avarice and cupidity of the person to whom I am obliged to intrust it. +(Signed) ANTONIO, of Cuba." + +"Three hundred thousand livres! there are, then, three hundred thousand +livres," exclaimed Perez in amazement, as he realized that this immense sum +lay in real gold and silver coin before his eyes. "Oh, reverend, right +reverend and worthy fellows of the crafty Ignatius! you are indeed cunning +foxes! a hundred to one your trick was not discovered, for who but a Jesuit +could have imagined it, and who could have guessed that the coffin +contained _money_? And so these bags of gold are your _holy remains_, and I +too, old sea shark as I am, to be humbugged like a land lubber, with your +procession and your mummery--but I am deceived no longer, my eyes are +opened; and by my patron saint, trick for trick my pious masters--bones you +shall have, and burn me for a heretic, if you get any thing better than +bones;" and he began to untie and examine the contents of the money-bags. +"Let me consider" said he, "I want some bones, and where the devil shall I +find them?" + +He was on his knees, his body bent over the box, with his hands in the open +gold-bags. His agitated countenance expressed with energy the mingled +emotions, of desire to keep the rich booty all to himself, and of fear that +in some mysterious manner it might elude his grasp--but he must, he _must_ +have it. + +"A lucky thought strikes me," said he; "what a fool I am to give myself any +trouble about it. What says my bill of lading? '_Received from the Reverend +Father Antonio, a coffin containing bones, said to be those of Saint +Escarpacio._' A coffin containing bones, said to be those, &c.--very good, +and have I seen the bones, _said_ to be delivered to me, and _said_ to be +the saint's bones? certainly not, and the coffin might contain--any thing +else--_the said coffin containing_--what you please--how should I know? +_said to be the bones of Saint Escarpacio_," &c. &c. + +In short, Captain Perez began noiselessly and methodically to empty the box +of its bags of gold and piles of silver, taking care to stow the treasure +away in a chest, to which he alone had access. He then filled the box with +whatever was at hand, bits of rusty iron, lead, stones, shells, old junk, +hay, &c., substituting as nearly as possible pound for pound in weight if +not in value, conscientiously adding some bones which were far removed from +_canonisation_, and at last carefully screwing down the lid, the right +reverend father Antonio himself, had he been on board, could not have +discovered that the coffin had been touched by mortal hand. + +In about a month the vessel arrived at the port of Cadiz. The quarantine +for some unexplained reason was much shorter than usual, and had hardly +expired, when a venerable Jesuit was the first person who stood before the +captain, a few minutes only after he had taken possession of his lodgings +on shore. + +"I would speak with Captain Perez," said the Jesuit, gravely. + +"I am he," the captain replied, somewhat disconcerted at the abruptness of +the inquiry. Quickly recovering his presence of mind, however, he added, +with perfect calmness, "You have probably come, holy father, to take charge +of the precious remains intrusted to my care by Father Antonio, of Cuba?" +The Jesuit bowed his head, in token of assent. + +"And I have the honor of addressing Father Hieronimo?" + +"You have," was the reply. + +"You are no doubt the bearer of a letter for me, from Father Antonio?" + +"Here it is," said Father Hieronimo, handing Captain Perez a letter. + +"I beg a thousand pardons, holy father," the captain said, with much +humility, "but I hope you will not take offence at these necessary +precautions?" + +"On the contrary they speak in your favor." + +"I see all is right," said the captain, "and I will go myself and order the +coffin brought on shore." + +The captain went immediately on board, Father Hieronimo meanwhile placing +himself at an open window whence he could over-look the vessel and watch +every movement. The coffin was brought on shore by eight sailors, who, +bending under its weight, slowly approach the captain's quarters. + +"How heavy it is, how _very_ heavy," said the Jesuit, rubbing his hands in +exultation. + +Captain Perez had of course accompanied the coffin from the vessel, and now +that he was about to deliver it into Father Hieronimo's keeping, he said to +him, in a solemn and impressive manner, + +"I place in your hands, holy father, the precious remains intrusted to my +care." + +"I receive them with pious joy." + +"The responsibility was great." + +"It will henceforth be mine." + +"It was a precious treasure." + +"Very precious." + +"I have watched over it with vigilance." + +"God will reward you." + +"I hope so." + +"From this hour every thing will prosper with you." + +"Do you think so, holy father?" + +"I am sure of it. I must now bid you adieu." + +"You have forgotten, holy father, to give me a receipt; but if--" + +"You are right," said the Jesuit, "it had escaped me." And he seated +himself at a table on which lay writing materials, first sending a servant +for his carriage. + +The receipt spoke of the piety and zeal of Captain Perez in the most +flattering terms; and, while the captain was reading it with becoming +humility, the carriage drew up opposite to the coffin, which was soon +resting upon the cushioned seats within the vehicle. + +"I go immediately to Madrid," said Father Hieronimo. "You can no doubt +imagine the impatience of the holy fathers to possess the sacred relics; +they have waited so long. Once more adieu, believe me we shall never forget +you." + +With these words, and a parting benediction on Perez, Father Hieronimo +stepped into the carriage, and, with his holy remains by his side, started +at a brisk trot of his well-fed mules on the road to Madrid. When fairly +out of sight and hearing of Captain Perez, the good father laughed aloud. +"The captain, poor simple soul," said he, "suspects nothing." + +And Perez, he too would have laughed aloud if he had dared; indeed he could +with difficulty restrain himself in presence of his crew. "The crafty old +fox," he said exultingly, "he has got his holy remains--ha! ha!--and he +_suspects nothing_." + +A day or two after the delivery of the coffin, Captain Perez sailed for +Mexico. + +After an interval of ten years, during which period, according to the +Jesuit's prediction, prosperity had constantly waited upon Perez, he became +weary of successful enterprise, and tired of the roving and laborious life +he was leading. Worth a million, and a bachelor, he wisely resolved to give +the remainder of his days to enjoyment. Seville was judiciously selected +for his residence, where a magnificent mansion, extensive grounds, a well +furnished cellar, good cooks, chosen friends, with all the other et ceteras +which riches can bring, enabled him to pass his days and nights joyously. +Captain Perez was indeed a _happy dog_. + +One night he was at table, surrounded by his friends of both sexes. The +cook had done his duty; there were excellent fruits from the tropics; there +were wines in abundance and variety, and with songs and laughter the very +windows rattled, when Perez, the jolly Perez, _half seas over_, begged a +moment's silence. + +"I say, my worthy friends, I have something to tell you better than all +your singing. I must tell you a story that will make you split your +sides--a real good one, about a capital trick I served them poor devils the +Jesuits. You must know I was lying at anchor in Cuba, and--" + +Suddenly the door of the apartment is thrown open with great violence, and +a monk, clothed in deep black, enters, followed by a guard of _alguazils_ +armed to the teeth. + +"Profane impious wretches!" he cried, in a voice of appalling harshness, +"is it thus you do penance for your sins? Is it in riotous feasting and +drunkenness you spend the holy season of Lent?" Then, turning to Captain +Perez, he said, "Follow me to the palace of the Holy Inquisition. Before +that tribunal you must answer for your sacrilegious conduct." + +The guests were stupefied with fear, and Perez, now completely sobered, +stared in affright at the monk. + +"Do you recollect me, Captain Perez?" said the monk. + +"No--but--it appears to me I have somewhere seen--" + +"I am Father Antonio, of Cuba," cried the monk, fixing his eyes, sparkling +with savage fury, upon Perez. + +"And you are a member of the Holy Inquisition?" Perez faltered out in +trembling accents. + +"I am. Again I say, follow me on the instant." + +Poor Captain Perez, or rather rich Captain Perez, at the early day in which +he lived had, perhaps, never heard the avowal made by a man who, in +speaking of honesty and dishonesty, declared _honesty to be the best +policy, for_, said he, _I have tried both_. + +That the captain was not born to be hanged is certain; and although from +childhood a sojourner upon the ocean, it was not his destiny to be drowned. +There is a tradition handed down, that had it not been for very +considerable donations, under his hand and seal, to a religious community +in Spain, a method of bidding adieu to this life more in accordance with +the pious notions prevalent three hundred years ago, would certainly have +been chosen for our hero. Indeed, there were not wanting many +heretic-hating persons who affirmed that an _auto-da-fe_ was got up +expressly for the occasion. But we have ascertained beyond a doubt that he +reformed in his manner of living, that he secured to the Holy Order the +donations already mentioned, that the reverend fathers kindly took from his +legal heirs all trouble in the division of his riches, and that he died in +his bed at last, as a pious Catholic should die, and was buried in +consecrated ground, with every rite and ceremony belonging to the community +he had so munificently contributed to enrich. + + + + +DIRGE FOR AN INFANT. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. + + + He is dead and gone--a flower + Born and withered in an hour. + Coldly lies the death-frost now + On his little rounded brow; + And the seal of darkness lies + Ever on his shrouded eyes. + He will never feel again + Touch of human joy or pain; + Never will his once-bright eyes + Open with a glad surprise; + Nor the death-frost leave his brow-- + All is over with him now. + + Vacant now his cradle-bed, + As a nest from whence hath fled + Some dear little bird, whose wings + Rest from timid flutterings. + Thrown aside the childish rattle, + Hushed for aye the infant prattle-- + Little broken words that could + By none else be understood + Save the childless one that weeps + O'er the grave where now he sleeps. + Closed his eyes, and cold his brow-- + All is over with him now! + + R. S. CHILTON. + + + + +THE CHIMES. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. BY E.W. ELLSWORTH. + + + It was evening in New England, + And the air was all in tune, + As I sat at an open window, + In the emerald month of June. + + From the maples by the roadway, + The robins sang in pairs, + Listening and then responding, + Each to the other's airs. + + Sounds of calm that wrought the feeling + Of the murmur of a shell, + Of the drip of a lifted bucket + In a wide and quiet well. + + And I thought of the airs of bargemen, + Who tunefully recline, + As they float by Ehrenbreitstein, + In the twilight of the Rhine. + + And then of an eve in Venice, + And the song of the gondolier, + From the far lagunes replying + To the wingéd lion pier. + + And then of the verse of Milton, + And the music heard to rise, + Through the solemn night from angels + Stationed in Paradise. + + Thus I said it is with music, + Wheresoe'er at random thrown, + It will seek its own responses, + It is loth to die alone. + + Thus I said the poet's music, + Though a lovely native air, + May appeal unto a rhythm + That is native everywhere. + + For although in scope of feeling, + Human hearts are far apart, + In the depths of every bosom, + Beats the universal heart; + + Beats with wide accordant motion, + And the chimes among the towers + Of the grandest of God's temples + Seem as if they might be ours. + + And we grow in such a seeming, + Till indeed we may control + To an echo, our communion + With the good and grand in soul. + + As an echo in a valley + May revive a cadence there, + Of a bell that may be swaying + In a lofty Alpine air. + + As a screen of tremulous metal, + From the rolling organ tone, + Rings out to a note of the music + That can never be its own. + + As an earnest artist ponders + On a study nobly wrought, + Till his fingers gild his canvas + With a touch of the self-same thought. + + But the sun had now descended + Far along his cloudy stairs, + And the night had come like the angels + To Abraham, unawares. + + + + +A STORY WITHOUT A NAME.[2] + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ. + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +Mrs. Hazleton fancied herself in high good luck; for just as she was +passing through the door into the hall, Lady Hastings' maid crossed and +made her a curtsey. Mrs. Hazleton beckoned her up, saying in a quiet, easy, +every-day tone, "I suppose your lady is awake by this time?" + +"No, madam," replied the maid, "she is asleep still. She did not take her +nap as early as usual to-day; for Mistress Emily was with her, and my lady +would not go to sleep till she went out to take a walk." + +Mrs. Hazleton was somewhat alarmed at this intelligence; for she had not +much confidence in her good friend's discretion. "How is Miss Emily?" she +said in a tender tone. "She seemed very sad and low when last I saw her." + +"She is just the same, Madam," replied the maid. "She did not seem very +cheerful when she went out, and has been crying a good deal to-day." + +Mrs. Hazleton was better satisfied, and paused for an instant to think; but +the maid interrupted her cogitations by saying--"I think I may wake my lady +now, if you please to come up, Madam." + +"Oh, dear, no," replied Mrs. Hazleton. "Do not wake her. I will go in +quietly and sit with her till she wakes naturally. It is a pity to deprive +her of one moment's calm sleep. You needn't come, you needn't come. I will +ring for you when your mistress wakes;" and she quietly ascended the +stairs, though the maid offered some civil remonstrances to her undertaking +the task of watching by her sleeping mistress. + +The most careful affection could not have prompted greater precautions in +opening the door of the sick lady's chamber, than those which were taken by +Mrs. Hazleton. It was a good solid door, however, well seasoned, and well +hung, and moved upon its hinges without noise. She closed it with the same +care, and then with a soft tread glided up to the side of the bed. + +Lady Hastings was sleeping profoundly and quietly; and as she lay in an +attitude of easy grace, a shadow of her youthful beauty seemed to have +returned, and all the traces of after cares and anxiety were banished for +the time. On the table, near the bed-head, stood the vial of medicine, with +the glass and spoon; and Mrs. Hazleton eyed it for a moment or two without +touching it. She saw that she had hit the color exactly; but the quantity +in that vial, and the one she had with her, was somewhat different. She +felt puzzled and doubtful. She asked herself--"Would the difference be +discovered when the time came for giving her the medicine?" and a certain +degree of trepidation seized her. But she was bold, and said to +herself--"They will never see it. They suspect nothing. They will never see +it." She took the vial from her pocket, and held it for an instant or two +in her hand. Again a doubt and hesitation took possession of her. She gazed +at the sleeper with a haggard eye. The face was so calm, so sweet, so +gentle in expression, that the pleasant look perhaps did move her a little +with remorse. The voice within said again, and again, "Forbear!" She tried +to deafen herself against it, or to fill the ear of conscience with +delusive sounds. "She is dying," she said--"She will die--she cannot +recover. It is but taking away a few short hours, in order to stop that +fatal marriage, which shall never be. I am becoming a fool--a weak +irresolute fool." + +Just as she thus thought, Lady Hastings moved uneasily, as if to wake from +her slumber. That moment was decisive. With a hurried hand, and quick as +light, Mrs. Hazleton changed the two vials, and concealed the one which she +had taken away. + +Then it was, probably for the first time, that all the awful consequences +of the deed, for time and for eternity, flashed upon her. The scales fell +from her eyes: no longer passion, or mortified vanity, or irritated pride, +or disappointed love, distorted the objects or concealed their forms. She +stood there consciously a murderer. She trembled in every limb; and, unable +to support herself, sunk down in the chair that stood near. + +Had Lady Hastings slept on, Mrs. Hazleton would have been saved; for her +impulse was immediately to reverse the very act she had done--all would +have been saved--all to whom that act brought wretchedness. But the +movement of the chair--the sound of the vial touching the marble table--the +rustle of the thick silk--dispelled what remained of slumber, and Lady +Hastings opened her eyes drowsily, and looked round. At the very moment she +would have given worlds to recall it. The deed became irrevocable. The +barrier of Fate fell: it was amongst the things done; it was written in the +book of God as a great crime committed. Nothing remained but to insure, +that the end she aimed at would be obtained; that the evil consequences, in +this world at least, should be averted from herself. There was a terrible +struggle to recover her self-command--a wrestling of the spirit--against +the turbulent and fierce emotions which shook the body. She was still much +agitated when Lady Hastings recognized her and began to speak; but her +determination was taken to obtain the utmost that she could from the act +she had committed--to have the full price of her crime. She was no Judas +Iscariot, to be content with the thirty pieces of silver for the innocent +blood, and then hang herself in despair. Oh no! She had sold her own soul, +and she would have its price. + +But yet, as I have said, the struggle was terrible, and lasted longer than +usual with her. + +"Dear me, my kind friend, is that you?" said Lady Hastings. "Have you been +here long? I did not hear you come in." + +Her words, and her tone, were gentle and affectionate. All the coldness and +the sharpness of the preceding day seemed to have passed away, and to have +been forgotten; but words and tone were equally jarring to the feelings of +Mrs. Hazleton. The sharpest language, the most angry manner, would have +been a relief to her. They would have afforded her some sort of +strength--some sort of support. + +It is painful enough to hear sweet music when we are very sad. I have known +it rise almost to agony; but the tones of friendship and regard, of +gentleness and tender kindness, to the ear of hatred and malice, must be +more terrible still. + +"I have been here but a moment," said Mrs. Hazleton, gloomily--almost +peevishly. "I suppose it was my coming in woke you; but I am sure I made as +little noise as possible." + +"Why, what is the matter?" said Lady Hastings. "You look quite pale and +agitated, and you speak quite crossly." + +"Your sudden waking startled me," said Mrs. Hazleton; "and, besides, you +looked so ill, my dear friend. I almost thought you were dead till you +began to move." + +There was malice in the sentence, simple as it seemed, and it had its +effect. Nervous, hypochondriac, Lady Hastings was frightened at the mere +sound, and her heart beat strangely at the very thought of being supposed +dead. It seemed to her to augur that she was very ill; that she was much +worse than her friends allowed her to believe; that they anticipated her +speedy dissolution, and she remained silent and sad for several minutes, +giving Mrs. Hazleton time to recover herself completely. She was a little +piqued too at the abruptness of Mrs. Hazleton's manner. Neither the speech, +nor the mode, nor the speaker, pleased her; and she replied at +length--"Nevertheless, I feel a good deal better to-day. I have slept well +for, I dare say, a couple of hours; and my dear child Emily has been with +me all the morning. I must say she bears opposition and contradiction very +sweetly." + +She knew that would not please Mrs. Hazleton, and she laid some emphasis on +the words by way of retaliation. It was petty, but it was quite in her +character. "Now I think of it," she added, "you promised to tell me what +you discovered in regard to Marlow's relationship to Lord Launceston. I +find--but never mind. Tell me what you have found out." + +Mrs. Hazleton hesitated. The first impulse was to tell a lie--to assert +that Marlow was not the old earl's heir; but there was something in Lady +Hastings' manner which made her suspect that she had received more certain +information, and she made up her mind to speak the truth. + +"It is very true," she said; "Mr. Marlow is the old lord's nearest male +relation, and heir to his title. I suspect," she added with a silly +sounding laugh, "you have found this out yourself, my dear friend, and have +made your peace with Emily, by withdrawing your opposition to her +marriage." + +Her heart was very bitter at that moment; for she really did suspect all +that she said. The idea presented itself to her mind (producing a feeling +of fierce disappointment), of all her efforts being rendered fruitless, her +dark schemes frustrated, her cunning contrivances without effect, at the +very moment when the crime, by which she proposed to insure success, was so +far consummated as to be beyond recall. She was relieved on that score in a +moment. + +"Oh dear no," cried Lady Hastings. "I promised you, my dear friend, that I +would say nothing till I saw you, and I have said nothing either to my +husband or Emily. But I will of course now tell her all immediately, and I +do confess it will give me greater satisfaction than any act of my whole +life, to withdraw the opposition to her marriage which has made her so +miserable, and to bid her be happy with the man of her own choice--an +excellent good young man he is too. He has been laboring, I find, for the +last fortnight or three weeks, night and day, in our service, and has +detected the horrible conspiracy by which my husband was deprived of his +rights and property. I shall tell Emily, with great joy, as soon as ever +she comes back, that were it for nothing but this zeal in our cause, I +would receive him joyfully as my son-in-law." + +"You had better wait till to-morrow morning," said Mrs. Hazleton, in a cold +but significant tone. + +"Oh dear no," said Lady Hastings, somewhat petulantly, "I have waited quite +long enough--perhaps too long. You surely would not have me protract my +child's anxiety and sorrow unnecessarily. No, I will tell her the moment +she returns. She read me part of a letter from Marlow to-day, which shows +me that he has lost no time in seeking to serve us and make us happy, and I +will lose no time in making my child and him happy also." + +"As you please," replied Mrs. Hazleton; "I only thought that in this +changeable world, there are so many unexpected things occurring between one +day and another, it might be well for you to pause and consider a +little--in order, I mean, that after-thought may not show you reason to +withdraw your consent, as you now withdraw your objection." + +"My consent once given, shall never be withdrawn," replied Lady Hastings, +in a determined tone. + +Mrs. Hazleton looked at the vial by the bedside, and then at her watch. +"You had better avoid all agitation," she said, "and at all events before +you speak with Emily, take a dose of the medicine, which Short tells me he +has given you to soothe and calm your spirits--shall I give you one now?" + +"No, I thank you," replied Lady Hastings, briefly; "not at present." + +"Is it not the time?" said Mrs. Hazleton, looking at her watch again: "the +good man told me you were to take it very regularly." + +"But he told me," replied Lady Hastings, "that nobody was to give it to me +but Emily, and she will be back at the right time, I am sure. What o'clock +is it?" + +"Past five," replied Mrs. Hazleton, advancing the hour a little. + +"Then it wants three quarters of an hour to the time," said Lady Hastings, +"and Emily has only gone to take a walk. We are expecting Marlow to-night, +so she will not go far I am sure." + +Mrs. Hazleton fell into profound thought. In proposing to give Lady +Hastings the portion herself, she had deviated a little from her original +plan. She had intended all along, that the mortal draught should be +administered by the hand of Emily, and she had only been tempted to depart +from that purpose by the fear of Lady Hastings withdrawing her opposition +to her daughter's marriage with Marlow before the deed was fully +accomplished. There was no help for it, however. She was obliged to take +her chance of the result; and while she mused at that moment, vague +notions--what shall I call them?--not exactly schemes or purposes, but +rather dreams of turning suspicion upon Emily herself, of making men +believe--suspect, even if they could not prove--that the daughter knowingly +deprived the mother of life, crossed her imagination. She meditated rather +longer than was quite decorous, and then suddenly recollecting herself she +said, "By the way, has Emily yet condescended to particularize her +astounding charges against your poor friend? I am really anxious to hear +them, and although I confess that the matter has afforded me some +amusement, it has brought painful feelings and doubts with it too. I have +sometimes fancied, my dear friend, that there is a slight aberration in +your poor Emily's mind, and I can account for her conduct in this instance +by no other mode. You know her grandfather, Sir John, had moments when he +was hardly sane. I have heard your own good father declare upon one +occasion, that Sir John was as mad as a lunatic. Tell me then, has Emily +brought forward any proofs, or alluded to these accusations since I saw +you? You said she would explain all in a few hours." + +"She has not as yet explained all," replied Lady Hastings, "but I cannot +deny that she has alluded to the charges, and repeated them all +distinctly. She said that the delay had been rather longer than she +expected; but that as soon as Mr. Dixwell came, every thing should be +told." + +"The suspense is unpleasant," said Mrs. Hazleton, somewhat sarcastically; +"I trust the young lady does not play with the feelings of her lover as she +does with those of her friends, otherwise I should pity Marlow." + +Lady Hastings was a good deal nettled. "I do not think he much deserves +your pity," she replied; "and besides, I think he is quite satisfied with +Emily's conduct, as I am also. I am quite confident she has good reason for +what she says, my dear Madam--not that I mean to assert that the charges +are true, by any means--she may be mistaken, you know--she may be +misinformed--but that she brings them in good faith, and fully believes +that she can prove them distinctly, I do not for a moment doubt. If she is +wrong, nobody will be more grieved, or more ready to make atonement than +herself; but whether she is right or wrong, remains to be proved." + +"All that I have to request then is," said Mrs. Hazleton, "that you will be +kind enough to let me know, immediately you are yourself informed, what are +the specific charges, and upon what grounds they rest. That they must be +false, I know; and therefore I shall give myself no uneasiness about them. +All I regret is, that you should be troubled about what must be frivolous +and absurd. Nevertheless, I must beg you to let me hear immediately." + +"Sir Philip will do that," replied Lady Hastings, coldly. "If Emily is +right in her views, the matter will require the intervention of a man. It +will be too serious for a woman to deal with." + +"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Hazleton, with an air of offended dignity. "Good +morning, my dear Lady;" and she quitted the room. + +She paused upon the broad staircase for two or three minutes, leaning upon +the balustrade in deep thought; but when she descended to the hall, she +asked a servant who stood there if Mistress Emily had returned. The man +replied in the negative, and she then inquired for Sir Philip, asking to +see him. + +The servant said he was in his library, and proceeded to announce her. She +followed him so closely as to enter the room almost at the same moment, and +beheld Sir Philip Hastings, with his head leaning on his hand, sitting at +the table and gazing earnestly down upon it. There was a book before him, +but it was closed. + +"I beg pardon for intruding, my dear sir," said Mrs. Hazleton, "but I +wished to ask if you know where Emily is. I want to speak with her." + +"I know nothing about her," said Sir Philip, abruptly; and then muttered to +himself, "would I knew more." + +"I thought I saw her in the fields as I came," said Mrs. Hazleton, +"gathering flowers and herbs--she is fond of botany, I believe." + +"I know not," said Sir Philip, recovering himself a little. "Pray be +seated. Madam--I have not attended much to her studies lately." + +"Thank you, I must go," said Mrs. Hazleton. "Perhaps I shall meet her as I +drive along. Do not let me interrupt you, do not let me interrupt you;" and +she quietly quitted the room. + +"Gathering herbs!" said Sir Philip Hastings, "what new whim is this?" + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +Emily Hastings was not three hundred yards from the house when Mrs. +Hazleton drove away from the house door. She had never been more than three +hundred yards from it during that day. She had gathered no herbs, she had +wandered through no fields; but, at her mother's earnest request, she had +gone out to breathe the fresh air for half an hour, and had ascended +through the gardens to a little terrace on the hill, where she had +continued to walk up and down under the shade of some tall trees; had seen +Mrs. Hazleton arrive, and saw her depart. The scene which the terrace +commanded was very beautiful in itself, and the house below, the +well-cultivated gardens, a fountain here and there, neat hedge-rows, and +trim, well-ordered fields, gave the whole an air of home comfort, and +peaceful affluence, such as few countries but England can display. + +I have shown, or should have shown, that Emily was somewhat of an +impressible character, and the brightness and the pleasant character of the +scene had its usual effect in cheering. Certainly, to any one who had stood +near her, looking over even that fair prospect, she herself would have been +the loveliest object in it. Every year had brought out some new beauty in +her face, and without diminishing one charm of extreme youth, had expanded +her fair form into womanly richness. The contour of every limb was perfect: +the whole in symmetry complete; and her movements, as she walked to and +fro, upon the terrace, were all full of that easy, floating grace, which +requires a combination of youth and health, and fine proportion, and a +pure, high mind. If there was a defect it was that she was somewhat pale +that day; for she had not slept at all during the preceding night from +agitated feelings, and busy thoughts that would not rest. But the slight +degree of languor, which watching and anxiety had given, was not without +its own peculiar charm, and the liquid brightness of her eyes seemed but +the more dazzling for the drooping of the eyelid, with its long sweeping +fringe. + +There was a mixture, too, strange as it may seem to say so, of sadness and +cheerfulness, in the expression of her face that day--perhaps I should say +an alternation of the two expressions; but the change from the one to the +other was too rapid for distinctness; and the well of feelings from which +the expressions flowed, was of very mingled waters. The scene of death and +suffering which she had lately witnessed at the cottage, her father's wild +and gloomy manner, her mother's sickness, the displeasure of one parent, +however unjust, and the opposition of another, to her dearest wishes, +however unreasonable, naturally produced anxiety and sadness. But then +again, on the other hand, Marlow's letter had cheered and comforted her +much; the prospect of seeing him so speedily, rejoiced her more than she +had even anticipated, and the certainty that a few short hours would remove +for ever all doubts as to her conduct, her thoughts and her feelings, from +the mind of both her parents, and especially from that of her father, gave +her strength and happy confidence. + +Poor Emily! How lovely she looked as she walked along there with the ever +varying expressions fluttering over her face, and her rich nut brown hair, +free and uncovered, floating in curls on the sportive breath of the breeze. + +When first she came out the general tone of her feelings was sad; but the +bright hopes seemed to gain vigor in the open air, and her mind fixed more +and more gladly on the theme of Marlow's letter. As it did so she extracted +fresh motives of comfort from it. He had given her many details in regard +to his late proceedings. He had openly and plainly spoken of the conduct of +Mrs. Hazleton, and told her he could prove the facts which he asserted. He +had not even hinted at an injunction to secrecy, and although her first +impulse had been to wait for his arrival and let him explain the whole +himself, yet, as it was now getting late in the day, and he had not +come--as the obligation to secrecy, laid upon her by John Ayliffe, might +not be removed till the following morning, and her mother was evidently +anxious and uneasy for want of all explanations--Emily thought she might be +fully justified in reading more of Marlow's letter to Lady Hastings than +she had hitherto done, and showing her that she had asserted nothing +without reasonable cause. The sight of Mrs. Hazleton's carriage arriving +confirmed her in this intention. She knew that fair lady to possess very +great influence over her mother's mind. She believed that influence to have +been always exerted balefully, and she judged it better, much better, to +cut it short at once, rather than suffer it to endure even for another day. + +When she saw the carriage drive away, then, she returned rapidly to the +house, went to her room to get Marlow's letter, and then proceeded to her +mother's chamber. + +"Mrs. Hazleton has been here, my love," said Lady Hastings, as soon as +Emily approached, "and really, she has been very strange and disagreeable. +She seems not to have the slightest consideration for me; but even in my +weak state, says every thing that can agitate and annoy me." + +"I trust, my dear mother, that you will see her no more," said Emily. "The +full proofs of what I told you concerning her, I cannot yet give; but +Marlow lays me under no injunction to secrecy, and I have brought his +letter to read you the part in which he speaks of her. That will show you +quite enough to convince you that Mrs. Hazleton should never be permitted +within these doors again." + +"Oh read it, pray read it, my dear," said Lady Hastings. "I am all anxiety +to know the facts; for really one does not know how to behave to this +woman, and I feel in a very awkward position towards her." + +Emily sat down by the bedside and read, word for word, all that Marlow had +written in reference to Mrs. Hazleton, which was interspersed, here and +there, with many kindly and respectful expressions towards Lady Hastings +and her husband, which he knew well would be gratifying to her whom he +addressed. His statements were all clear and precise, and from them Lady +Hastings learned he had obtained proof, from various different sources, +that her seeming friend had knowingly and willingly supplied John Ayliffe +with the means of carrying on his fraudulent suit against Sir Philip +Hastings: that she had been his counsel and coöperator in all his +proceedings, and had suggested many of the most criminal steps he had +taken. The last passage which Emily read was remarkable: "To see into the +dark abyss of that woman's heart, my dearest Emily," he said, "is more than +I can pretend to do; but it is perfectly clear that she has been moved in +all her proceedings for some years, by bitter personal hatred towards Sir +Philip, Lady Hastings, and yourself. Mere self-interest--to which she is by +no means insensible on ordinary occasions--has been sacrificed to the +gratification of malice, and she has even gone so far as to place herself +in a situation of considerable peril for the purpose of ruining your +excellent father, and making your mother and yourself unhappy. What offence +has been committed by any of your family to merit such persevering and +ruthless hatred, I cannot tell. I only know that it must have been +unintentional; but that it has not been the less bitterly revenged. Perhaps +the disclosures which must be made as soon as I return, may give us some +insight into the cause; but at present I can only tell you the result." + +"My dear Emily," said Lady Hastings, "your father should know this +immediately. He has been very sad and gloomy since his return. I really +cannot tell what is the matter with him; but something weighs upon his +spirits, evidently; but this news will give him relief, or, at all events, +will divert his thoughts. It was very natural, my dear girl, that you +should first tell your mother, but I really think that we must now take +him into our councils." + +"I will go and ask him to come here, at once," said Emily. "I think my dear +father has not understood me rightly lately, and has chilled me by cold +looks and words when I would fain have spoken to him, and poured my whole +thoughts into his bosom. Oh, I shall be glad to do any thing to regain his +confidence; and although I know it must be regained in a very, very short +space of time, yet I would gladly do any thing to prevent its being +withheld from me even a moment longer." + +She took a step towards the door as she spoke; but Lady Hastings, +unhappily, called her back. "Stay, my Emily," she said. "Come hither, my +dear child; I have something to say that will cheer you and comfort you, +and give you strength to meet any little crosses of your father's with +patience and resignation. He has been sorely tried, and is much troubled. +But I was going to say, dear Emily," and she threw her arms round her +daughter's neck as she leaned over her, "that I have been thinking much of +all that was said the other day, in regard to your marriage with Marlow. I +see that your heart is set upon it, and that you can only be happy in a +union with him. I know him to be a good and excellent young man; and after +all that he has done to serve us, I must not interpose your wishes any +longer; although, perhaps, I might have chosen differently for you had the +choice rested with me. I give you, therefore, my full and free consent, +Emily, and trust you will be as happy as you deserve, my dear girl. I think +you might very well have made a higher alliance, but----" + +"But none that would have made me half so happy," replied Emily, embracing +her mother. "Oh, dear mother, if you could know the load you take from my +heart, you would be amply repaid for any sacrifice of opinion you make to +your child's happiness. I cannot conceive any situation more painful to be +placed in than a conflict between two duties. My positive promise to +Marlow, my obedience to you, are now reconciled, and I thank you a thousand +thousand times for having thus relieved me from so terrible a struggle." + +The tears rose in her eyes as she spoke, and Lady Hastings made her sit +down by her bedside, saying--"Nay, my dear child, do not suffer yourself to +be so much agitated. I did not know till the other day," she said, feeling +some self-reproach at having been brought to play the part she had acted +lately, "I did not know till the other day that you were really so much in +love, my Emily. But I have known what such feelings are, and can sympathize +with you. Indeed I should have yielded long ago if it had not been for the +persuasions of that horrid Mrs. Hazleton. She always stood in the way of +every thing I wanted to do, and would not even let me know the truth about +your real feelings--pretending all the time to be my friend too!" + +"She has been a friend to none of us, I fear," replied Emily, "and to me +especially an enemy; although I cannot at all tell what I ever did to merit +such pertinacious hatred as she seems to feel towards me." + +"Do you know, my child," said Lady Hastings, with a meaning smile, "I have +been sometimes inclined to think that she wished to marry Marlow herself?" + +Emily started and looked aghast, and then that delicate feeling, that +sensitiveness for the dignity of woman's nature, which none, I suspect, but +woman's heart can clearly comprehend, caused her cheek to glow like a rose +with shame at the very thought of a woman loving unloved, and seeking +unsought. She felt, however, at once, that there might be--that there +probably was--much truth in what her mother said, that she had touched the +true point, and had discovered one at least of the causes of Mrs. +Hazleton's strange conduct. Nevertheless, she answered, "Oh, dear mother, I +hope it is not so. Sure I am that Marlow would never trifle with any +woman's love, and I cannot think that Mrs. Hazleton would so degrade +herself as even to dream of a man who never dreamt of her; besides, she is +old enough to be his mother." + +"Not quite, my child, not quite," replied Lady Hastings. "She is, I +believe, younger than I am; and though old enough to be your mother, Emily, +I could not have been Marlow's, unless I had married at ten years old. +Besides, she is very beautiful, and she knows it, and may have thought that +such beauty as hers, and her great wealth, might well make up for a small +difference of years." + +"Perhaps you are right," replied Emily, thoughtfully, as many a +circumstance flashed upon her memory, which had seemed to her dark and +mysterious in times past; but to which the cause suggested by her mother +seemed now to afford a key. "But if it was me, only, she hated," added +Emily, "why should she so persecute my father and yourself?" + +"Perhaps," replied Lady Hastings, speaking with a clear-sighted wisdom +which she seldom evinced, "perhaps because she knew that the most terrible +blows are those which are aimed at us through those we love. Besides, one +cannot tell what offence your father may have given. He is very plain +spoken, and not accustomed to deal very tenderly. Now Mrs. Hazleton is not +well pleased to hear plain truths, nor to bear with patience any sharpness +or abruptness of manner. Moreover, my child, I have heard that it was old +Sir John Hastings' wish, when we were all young and free, that your father +should marry Mrs. Hazleton. But he preferred another, perhaps less worthy +of him in every respect." + +"Oh, no, no," cried Emily, with eager affection. "More worthy of him a +thousand times in all ways. More good--more kind--more beautiful." + +"Nay, nay, flatterer," said Lady Hastings, with a smile. "I was well enough +to look at once, Emily, and more to his taste. That is enough. My glass +tells me clearly that I cannot compete with Mrs. Hazleton now. But it is +growing dark, my dear, I must have lights." + +"I will ring for them, and then go and seek my father," replied Emily. + +She rang, and the maid appeared from the anteroom, just as Lady Hastings +was saying that it was time to take her medicine. Emily took up the vial +and the spoon, poured out the quantity prescribed, with a steady hand, very +unlike that with which Mrs. Hazleton had held the same bottle an hour +before, and having put the dose into a wine-glass, handed it to her mother. + +"Bring lights," said Lady Hastings, addressing her maid; and the moment +after, she raised the glass to her lips, and drank the contents. + +"It tastes very odd, Emily," she said, "I think it must be spoiled by the +heat of the room." + +"Indeed," said Emily. "That is very strange. The last vial kept quite well. +But Mr. Short will be here to-night, and we will make him send some more." + +She paused for a moment or two, and then added, "Now, shall I go for my +father?" + +"No," said Lady Hastings, somewhat faintly; "wait till the girl comes back +with the lights." + +She was silent for a few moments, and then raised herself suddenly on her +arm, saying in a tone of great alarm, "Emily, Emily! I feel very ill.--Good +God, I feel very ill!" + +Emily sprang to her side and threw her arm round her; but the next instant +Lady Hastings uttered a fearful scream, like the cry of a sea-bird, and her +head fell back upon her daughter's arm. + +Emily rang the bell violently: ran to the door and shrieked loudly for aid; +for she saw too well that her mother was dying. + +The maid, several of the other servants, and Sir Philip Hastings himself, +rushed into the room. Lights were brought: Mr. Short was sent for; but ere +the servant had well passed the gates, Lady Hastings, after a few +convulsive sobs, had yielded up her spirit. + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +When the surgeon entered the room of Lady Hastings there was a profound +silence. Sir Philip Hastings was standing by his wife's bedside, motionless +as a statue; gazing with a knitted brow and fixed stony eye upon the +features of her whom he had so well and constantly loved. Emily lay +fainting upon the floor, with her head supported by one of the maids, while +another tried to recall her to life. Two more servants were in the room, +but they, like all the rest, remained silent in presence of the awful scene +before them. The windows were not yet closed, and the faint, struggling, +gray twilight came in, and mingled sombrely with the pale light of the wax +candles, giving even a more deathlike hue to the face of the corpse, and +throwing strange crossing lights and shades upon features which remained +convulsed even after the agony of death was past. + +"Good God! Sir Philip, what is this I hear?" exclaimed Mr. Short before he +caught the whole particulars of the scene. + +Sir Philip Hastings made no answer. He did not even seem to hear; and the +surgeon advanced to the bedside, and gazed for an instant on the face of +Lady Hastings. He took her hand in his. It was still warm; but when he put +his fingers on her wrist, no pulse vibrated beneath his touch. The heart, +too, was quite still: not a flutter indicated a lingering spark of +vitality. The breath was gone; and though the surgeon sought on the +dressing-table for a small mirror, and applied it to the lips, it remained +undimmed. He shook his head sadly; but yet he made some efforts. Ho took a +vial of essence from his pocket, and applied it to the nostrils; he opened +a vein, and a few drops of blood issued from it, but stopped immediately; +and several other experiments he tried, that not a lingering doubt might +remain of death having taken possession completely. + +At length he ceased, saying, "It is in vain. How did this happen? It is +very strange. There was not an indication of such an event yesterday. She +was decidedly better." + +"And so she was this morning, sir," said Lady Hastings' maid; "she slept +quite well too, sir, before Mrs. Hazleton came." + +Sir Philip Hastings remained profoundly silent; but Mr. Short gave a sudden +start at the name of Mrs. Hazleton, and asked the maid when that lady had +left her mistress. + +"Not half an hour before her death, sir," replied the maid; "and even for a +little time after she was gone, my lady seemed quite well and cheerful with +Mistress Emily." + +"Were you with her when she was seized so suddenly?" asked the surgeon. + +"No, sir," said the maid. "No one was with her but Mistress Emily. My lady +had sent me away for lights; but just when I was coming up the stairs, I +heard my young lady ringing the bell violently, and screaming for help, and +in two minutes after I came in my lady was dead." + +"I must hear the first symptoms," said Mr. Short, "and this dear young lady +needs attending to. If I know her right, this shock will well nigh kill +her." + +He moved towards Emily as he spoke, but in passing across, his eye lighted +upon the vial which was standing upon the table at the bedside, with the +spoon and wine-glass which had been used in administering the medicine. +Something in the appearance of the bottle seemed to strike him suddenly, +and he raised it sharply and held it to the candle. "Good God!" exclaimed +Mr. Short; "Good God!" and his face turned as pale as death, and a fit of +trembling seized upon him. + +It was several moments before he uttered another word. He put his hand to +his brow, and seemed to think deeply and anxiously. Then he examined the +bottle again, took out the cork, held it to his nostrils, tasted a single +drop poured upon the end of his finger, and shook his head sadly and +solemnly. Every eye but those of the maid, who was supporting Emily's head, +was now turned upon him. There was something in his manner so unusual, so +strange, that even the attention of Sir Philip Hastings was attracted by +it; and he looked gloomily at the surgeon for a moment, as if in a dreamy +wonder at his proceedings. + +At length, Mr. Short spoke again. "Can any body tell me," he said, "when +Lady Hastings took a dose of this stuff?" + +No one remarked the irreverent term which he applied to the contents of the +vial; for every one who listened to him would probably have given it the +same name, had it been a mithridate; but the maid of the deceased lady +replied at once, "Only a few minutes before she died, sir. I saw her take +it myself." + +"Who gave it to her?" demanded the surgeon, sternly. + +"My young lady, sir," answered the maid, "just before I went for the +lights, and I am sure she did not give her a drop too much of it; for she +measured it out carefully in the spoon before she put it into the glass." + +Mr. Short remained silent again, and Sir Philip Hastings spoke for the +first time with a great effort. + +"What is the matter, sir?" he asked, gloomily; "you seem confounded, +thunder-struck. What has befallen to draw your eyes from that?" and he +pointed to the bed of his dead wife. + +"I am bound to say, Sir Philip," replied Mr. Short, "that it is my belief +that the dose given to Lady Hastings from that bottle, has been the cause +of her death. In a word, I believe it to be poison." + +Sir Philip Hastings gazed in his face with a wild look of horror. His teeth +chattered in his head, his whole frame shook visibly to the eyes of those +around, but he uttered not a word, and it was the maid who answered, +exclaiming in a shrill voice, "Oh, how horrible! How could you send my lady +such stuff?" + +"I never sent it to her, woman!" said Mr. Short, sternly; "if you had eyes +you would see that it is not of the same color, nor has it the same taste +of that which I sent. It is different in every respect; and if no other +proof were wanting that which I sent Lady Hastings was harmless, it would +be sufficient to say, that the last vial I brought was delivered to you +yourself yesterday quite full, that Lady Hastings ought to have taken four +or five doses of that medicine between that time and this, and----" + +"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the maid, interrupting him, "she took it quite +regularly. I saw Mistress Emily give her three doses myself." + +"Well, did those hurt her?" asked Mr. Short, sharply. + +"I can't say they did," replied the woman, "indeed she always seemed better +a little while after taking them." + +"Well that shows that this is not the same," said Mr. Short; "besides, this +bottle has never come out of my surgery. I always choose mine perfectly +clear and white, that I may be enabled to see if the medicine is at all +troubled or not. This has a green tinge, and must have come from some +common druggist's, and the stuff that it contains must be strictly +analyzed." + +As he spoke, Sir Philip Hastings strode up to him, grasped his hand, and +wrung it hard, saying in a hollow husky tone, and pointing to the bottle, +"What is it you mean? What is it all about? What is that?" + +"Poison! Sir Philip," replied Mr. Short, moved by the feelings of the +moment beyond all his ordinary prudence; "poison! and I very much fear that +it has been administered to your poor lady intentionally." + +"Gathering herbs!--gathering herbs!" screamed Sir Philip Hastings, like a +madman; and tearing the hair out of his head, he rushed away from the room, +and locked himself into his library. + +No one could tell to what his words alluded, nor did they trouble +themselves much to discover; for every one at once concluded that the shock +of his wife's sudden death, and the discovery of its terrible cause, had +driven him insane. + +"Oh, do run after my master, sir," cried the maid; "he has gone into the +library, I heard him bang the door." + +"Has he got any arms there?" asked Mr. Short, "there used to be pistols at +the Hall." + +"No, sir, no," exclaimed one of the house-maids, "they are not there. They +are in his dressing-room out yonder." + +"Well, then, I will leave him alone for the present," said the surgeon; +"here is one who demands more immediate care. Poor young lady! If she +should discover, in her present state of grief, how her mother has died, +and that her hand has been employed to produce such a catastrophe, it will +destroy either her life or her intellect." + +"But who could have done it, sir?" exclaimed Lady Hastings' maid. + +"Never you mind that for the present," said Mr. Short; "I have my +suspicions; but they are no more than suspicions at present. You stay with +me here, and let the other woman carry your poor young lady to her room. I +will be with her presently, and will give her what will do her good. One +of you, as soon as possible, send me up a man-servant--a groom would be +best." + +His orders were obeyed promptly; for he spoke with a tone of decision and +command which the terrible circumstances of the moment enabled him to +assume; although in ordinary circumstances he was a man of mild and gentle +character. + +As soon as poor Emily was borne away to her own chamber, Mr. Short turned +to the maid again, inquiring, "How long had Mistress Hazleton gone when +your mistress was seized with these fatal convulsions?" + +"About half an hour, sir," said the maid. "It couldn't have been longer. +Mrs. Hazleton came when my lady was asleep, and went in alone, saying she +would not disturb her." + +"Ha!" cried the surgeon; "was she with her for any time alone?" + +"All the time that she staid, sir," replied the maid; "for I did not like +to go in, and Mistress Emily was walking on the terrace up the hill." + +"I suppose then you cannot tell how long Mrs. Hazleton remained alone with +your lady before she woke?" + +"Yes, I can pretty nearly, sir," answered the maid, "for though Mrs. +Hazleton told me not to come in with her, and said she would ring when my +lady waked, I came after her into the anteroom, and sat there all the time. +For about five minutes, or it might be ten, all was quiet enough; but at +the end of that time I heard my lady and Mrs. Hazleton begin to speak." + +"You heard no other sounds previously?" asked the surgeon. + +"Nothing but the rustle of Mrs. Hazleton's gown, as she moved about once or +twice," said the maid, "and of that I can't be rightly sure." + +"You did not by chance look through the key-hole?" asked Mr. Short. + +"No, that I didn't," said the maid, tossing her head, "I never did such a +thing in my life." + +"Well, well. Get me a sheet of paper," replied the surgeon, "and a pen and +ink--oh, they are here are they?" But before he could sit down to write, a +groom crept in through the half-open door, and received orders from the +surgeon to saddle a horse instantly and return. Mr. Short then sat down and +wrote as follows: + +"MR. ATKINSON:--As you are high constable of Hartwell, I write as a justice +of the peace for the county of ----, to authorize and require you to follow +immediately the carriage of The Honorable Mistress Hazleton, to apprehend +that lady and to keep her in your safe custody, taking care that her person +be immediately searched by some proper person, and that any vials, bottles, +powders, or other objects whatsoever bearing the appearance of drugs or +medicines, or of having contained them, be carefully preserved, and marked +for identification. I have not time or means to fill up a regular warrant; +but I will justify you in, and be responsible for, whatever you may do to +insure that Mrs. Hazleton has no means or opportunity allowed her of +concealing or making away with any thing she has carried away from this +house, where Lady Hastings has just deceased from the effects of poison. +You had better take the fresh horse of the bearer, and lose not an instant +in overtaking the carriage." + +He then signed his name just as the groom returned; but ere he gave the man +the paper he added in a postscript: + +"You had better search the carriage minutely, and make any preliminary +investigation that you may think fit before I arrive. The hints given above +will be sufficient for your guidance." + +"Take this paper immediately to Jenny Best's cottage," said Mr. Short to +the groom. "Ask if Mr. Atkinson is there. Should he be so, give it to him, +and let him take your horse if he requires it. Should you not find him +there, seek for him either at the house of Mr. Dixwell, or at the farm +close by. Should he be at neither of those places, follow him on to his +house near Hartwell at full speed. Do you understand?" + +"Oh, quite well, sir," said the groom, who was a shrewd, keen fellow; and +he left the room without more words. + +When he got down to the hall door, however, he thought he might as well +know more of his errand, and read the paper which he had received with the +butler and the footman. A brief consultation followed between them, and not +a little horror and anger was excited by the information they had gained +from the paper, for Lady Hastings had been well loved by her servants, and +Mrs. Hazleton was but little loved by any of her inferiors in station. + +"Go you on, John, as fast as possible," said the footman. "I'll get a horse +and come after you as fast as possible with Harry; for this grand dame has +three servants with her, and mayn't choose to be taken easily." + +"Ay, come along, come along," said the groom; "we'll run her down, I'll +warrant," and hurrying away he got to his horse's back. + +In the mean time Mr. Short had proceeded to the room of poor Emily +Hastings, whom he found recovering from her fainting fit, and sobbing in +the bitterness of grief. + +"Oh, Mr. Short," she said, "this is very terrible. There surely was +something wrong about that medicine, for my poor mother was taken ill the +moment she had swallowed it. She had had the same quantity three times +to-day before; but she said that it tasted strange and unpleasant. It could +not surely have been spoiled by keeping so short a time, and that could not +have killed her even if it had been so. Pray do examine it." + +"I will, I will, my dear," replied Mr. Short kindly, "but I don't think +the medicine I sent could spoil, and if it did it could have no evil +effect. Now quiet yourself, my dear Mistress Emily; I am going to give you +a draught which will soothe your nerves, and fit you better to bear all +these terrible things." + +He then had recourse to the little store of medicines he usually carried in +his pocket, and administered first a stimulant and then a somewhat powerful +narcotic. For about ten minutes he remained seated by Emily's bedside with +her own maid standing at the foot, and during that time the poor girl spoke +once or twice, asking anxiously after her father, and expressing a great +desire to go to him. Gradually, however, her eyelids began to droop, her +sentences remained unfinished, and, in the end, she fell into a deep and +profound sleep. + +"She will not wake for six or eight hours," said Mr. Short, addressing the +maid. "But when she does wake it would be better you should be with her, my +good girl. If you like, therefore, you can go and take some rest in the +meanwhile; but order yourself to be called at the end of five hours." + +"If you are quite sure that she will remain asleep, sir," said the maid, "I +will lie down, for I am sure sorrow wearies one more than work." + +"She won't wake," said Mr. Short, "for six hours at least. I will now go +and see Sir Philip," and descending the stairs, he knocked at the door of +the library, thinking that probably he should find it locked. The stern +voice of Sir Philip Hastings, however, said "Come in," in a wonderfully +calm tone; and when the surgeon entered he found Sir Philip seated at the +library table, and apparently reading a Greek book, the contents of which +Mr. Short could not at all divine. + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +I must now follow the groom on his road, first to the cottage of good Jenny +Best, where he learned that Mr. Atkinson had gone away some five minutes +before, and then to the house of the neighboring farm, where he found the +person he sought still seated on his horse, but talking to the tenant at +the door. + +"Here, Mr. Atkinson," cried the groom as he came up; "here's a note for you +from Mr. Short the surgeon--a sort of warrant, I believe; for he's a +justice of the peace, you know, as well as a surgeon. Read it quick, Mr. +Atkinson, read it quick; for it won't keep hot long; and if that woman +isn't caught I think I'll hang myself." + +"Bring us a light, farmer," said Mr. Atkinson, "quickly. What is all this +about, John?" + +"Why, Madam Hazleton has poisoned my lady, and she's as dead as a door +nail," said the groom, "that's all; and bad enough too. Zounds, I thought +she'd do some mischief; she was always so hard upon her horses." + +"Good heaven!" exclaimed Mr. Atkinson, "you do not mean to say that she has +certainly poisoned Lady Hastings?" + +"Why, Mr. Short believes it, and every one believes it," answered the +groom. + +Mr. Atkinson might have endeavored to reduce the number comprised in the +term "every body" to its just proportions; but before he could do so, the +farmer returned with a light shaded from the wind by his hat; and the good +high constable of Hartwell, bending over his saddle, read hurriedly Mr. +Short's brief note. + +"What's the matter? what's the matter?" cried the farmer; and great was his +surprise and consternation to hear that Lady Hastings was dead, and that +strong suspicion existed of her having been poisoned by Mrs. Hazleton. +There is a stern, dogged love of justice, however, in the English peasant, +which rises into energy and excitement; and the farmer was instantly heard +calling for his horse. + +"Zounds, I'll ride with you, Atkinson," he said. "This great dame has got +so many servants, she may think fit to set the law at defiance; but she +must be taught that high people cannot poison other people any more than +low ones. But you go on; you go on. I'll catch you up, perhaps. If not, +I'll come in time, don't you be afraid." + +"I'm going along too," said the groom, "and two others are coming; so if +her tall men show fight, I think we'll leather their jackets." + +Away they went as fast as they could go, and to say truth, Mr. Atkinson was +not at all sorry to have some assistance; for without ever committing any +one act which could be characterized as criminal, unjust, or wrong, within +the knowledge of her neighbors, Mrs. Hazleton had somehow impressed the +minds of all who surrounded her with the conviction, that hers was a most +daring and remorseless nature. The general world received their impression +of her character--and often a false one, be it good or evil--by her greater +and more important actions: the little circle that surrounds us forms a +slower but more certain judgment from minute but often repeated traits. + +On rode Mr. Atkinson and the groom, as fast as their horses could carry +them. Wherever there was turf by the roadside they galloped; and at the +rate of progression made by carriages in that day, they made sure they must +be gaining very rapidly upon the object of their pursuit. When first they +set out it was very dark; but at the end of twenty minutes, in which period +they had ridden somewhat more than four miles, the edge of the moon began +to appear above the horizon, and her light showed them well nigh another +mile on the road before them. Still no carriage was in sight, and the groom +exclaimed, "Dang it, Mr. Atkinson, we must spur on, or she will get home +before we catch her." + +It is impossible to run after any thing without feeling some of the +eagerness of the fox-hound, and it is not to be denied that Mr. Atkinson +shared in some degree in the impetuous spirit of the chase with the groom. +He said nothing about it, indeed; but he made his spurs mark his horse's +sides, and on they went up the opposite slope at a quicker pace than ever. +From the top was a very considerable descent into the bottom of the valley, +in which Hartwell is situated; but the moon had not yet risen high enough +to illuminate more than half the scene, and darkness, doubly dark, seemed +to have gathered over the low grounds beneath the eyes of the two horsemen. + +Mr. Atkinson thought he perceived some large object below, moving on +towards Hartwell; but he could not be sure of it till he had descended some +way down the hill, when the carriage of Mrs. Hazleton, mounting a little +rise into the moonlight, became plainly visible to the eye. The groom took +off his cap and waved it, saying, "Tally ho!" but neither he nor his +companion paused in their rapid course, but went thundering down at the +risk of their necks, and of their horses' knees. The carriage moved slowly; +the pursuers went very fast: and at the end of about four minutes they had +reached and passed the two mounted men-servants, who, as customary in those +days, rode behind the vehicle. Robberies on the highway were by no means +uncommon; so that it was the custom for the attendants upon a carriage to +travel armed, and Mrs. Hazleton's two men instantly laid their hands upon +the holsters of their pistols, when those too rapid riders passed them at +such a furious pace. Mr. Atkinson, however, was not a man to be easily +frightened from anything he undertook, and wheeling his horse sharply when +in a little advance of the coachman, he exclaimed, "In the King's name I +command you to stop. I am James Atkinson, high constable of Hartwell. You +know me, sir; and I command you in the King's name to stop!" + +"Why, Master Atkinson, what is all this about?" cried the coachman. "There +is nobody but Mrs. Hazleton here. Don't you know the carriage?" + +"Quite well," replied Mr. Atkinson; "but you hear what I say, and will +disobey at your peril. John, ride round to the other side, while I speak to +the lady here." + +Now Mrs. Hazleton had heard the whole of this conversation, and had there +been sufficient light, Mr. Atkinson, whose eye was turned towards where she +sat, would have seen her turn deadly pale. It might naturally be supposed +that in any ordinary circumstances she would have directed her first +attention to the side from which the sounds proceeded; but so far from that +being the case, she instantly put her hand in her pocket, and was almost in +the act of throwing something into the road, when John the groom presented +himself at the window, and she stopped suddenly. + +"What is it, Mr. Atkinson?" she exclaimed, turning to the other window, and +speaking in a tone of high indignation. "Why do you presume to stop my +carriage on the King's highway?" + +"Because I am ordered, Madam, by lawful authority, so to do," replied Mr. +Atkinson. "I am sorry, Madam, to tell you that you must consider yourself +as a prisoner." + +Mrs. Hazleton would fain have asked upon what charge; but she did not dare, +and for a moment strength and courage failed her. It was but for a moment, +however, and in the next she exclaimed in a loud and more imperious tone +than ever, "This is a pretence for robbery or insult. Drive on, coachman. +Mathew--Rogerson--clear the way!" + +She reckoned wrongly, however, if she counted upon any great zeal in her +servants. The two men hesitated; for the King's name was a tower of +strength which they did not at all like to assail. Their mistress repeated +her order in an angry tone, and one of them, with habitual deference to her +commands, went so far as to cock the pistol which he now held in his hand; +but at that moment the adverse party received an accession of strength +which rendered all assistance hopeless. The other two servants of Sir +Philip Hastings came down the hill at full speed, and a gentleman, followed +by a servant, rode up from the side of Hartwell, and addressed Mr. Atkinson +by his name. + +"Ah, Mr. Marlow!" said Mr. Atkinson. "You come at a very melancholy moment, +sir, and to witness a very unpleasant scene; but, nevertheless, I must +require your assistance, sir, as this lady seems inclined to resist the +law." + +"What is the matter?" asked Marlow. "I hope there is no mistake here. If I +see rightly this is Mrs. Hazleton's carriage. What is she charged with?" + +"Murder, sir," replied Mr. Atkinson, who had been a little irritated by the +lady's resistance, and spoke more plainly than he might otherwise have +done. "The murder of Lady Hastings by poison." + +It was spoken. She heard the words clearly and distinctly. She had been +detected. Some small oversight--some accidental circumstance--some +precaution forgotten--some accidental word, or gesture, had betrayed the +dark secret, revealed the terrible crime. It was all known to men, as well +as to God, and Mrs. Hazleton sunk back in the carriage overpowered by the +agony of detection. + +"Oh, ho; here come the other men," said Mr. Atkinson, as the two servants +of Sir Philip Hastings rode up. "Now, coachman, drive on till I tell you to +stop. You, John, keep close to the other window, and watch it well. I will +take care of this one. The others come behind. Mr. Marlow, you had perhaps +better ride with us for half a mile or so; for I must stop at the house of +Widow Warmington, as I have orders to make a strict search." + +"Oh, take me to my own house--take me to my own house," said Mrs. Hazleton, +in a faint tone. + +"I dare not venture to do that, Madam," said Mr. Atkinson; "for we are +nearly three miles distant, and accidents might happen by the way which +would defeat the ends of justice. I must have a full search made at the +very first place where I can procure lights. That will be at Mrs. +Warmington's; but she is a friend of your own, Madam, and you will be +received there with all kindness." + +Mrs. Hazleton did not reply; and the carriage drove on, Mr. Atkinson +keeping a keen watch upon one window, and the groom riding close to the +other. + +A few minutes brought them to the house of the shrewd widow, and the bell +was rung sharply by one of the servants. A woman servant appeared in answer +to the summons, and without asking whether her mistress was at home, or +not, Atkinson took the candle from her hand, saying, "Lend me the light for +a moment. I wish to light Mrs. Hazleton into the house. Now, Madam, will +you please to descend.--John, dismount, and come round here; assist Mrs. +Hazleton to alight, and come with us on her other side." + +Mrs. Hazleton saw that she could not double or turn there. She withdrew her +hand from her pocket where she had hitherto held it, resumed her forgotten +air of dignity, and though, to say the truth, she would rather have met her +"dearest foe in heaven," than have entered that house so escorted, she +walked with a firm step and dauntless eye, with the high constable on one +side, and the groom on the other. + +"They shall not see me quail," she said to herself. "They shall not see me +quail. I know the worst, and I can meet it--I have had my revenge." + +In the mean time, the maid had run in haste to tell her mistress the +marvels of the scene she had just witnessed, and Mrs. Warmington had +gathered enough, without divining the whole, to rejoice her with +anticipated triumph. The arrest of Shanks the attorney on a charge of +conspiracy and forgery, had set going the hundred tongues of Rumor, few of +which had spared the name of Mrs. Hazleton; and Mrs. Warmington, at the +worst, suspected that her dear friend was implicated in the guilt of the +attorney. That, however, was sufficient to give the widow considerable +satisfaction, for she had not forgotten either some coldness and neglect +with which Mrs. Hazleton had treated her for some time, or her impatient +and insolent conduct that morning; and though upon the strength of her +plumpness, and easy manners, people looked upon Mrs. Warmington as a very +good natured person, yet fat people can be very vindictive sometimes. + +"Good gracious me, my dear, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mrs. Warmington, +as the prisoner was brought in, while Mr. Atkinson, speaking to those +behind, exclaimed, "Let no one touch or approach the carriage till I +return." + +Mrs. Hazleton made no answer to her dear friend's questions, and the high +constable, taking a little step forward, said, "I beg pardon, Mrs. +Warmington, for intruding into your house; but I have been ordered to +apprehend this lady, and to have her person and her carriage strictly +searched, without giving the opportunity for the concealment or destruction +of any thing. It seems to me that Mrs. Hazleton has something bulky in that +left hand pocket. As I do not like to put my hand rudely upon a lady, may I +ask you, Madam, to let me see what that pocket contains?" + +Without the slightest hesitation, but with a good deal of curiosity, Mrs. +Warmington advanced at once and took hold of the rich silk brocade of the +prisoner's gown. + +"Out, woman!" cried Mrs. Hazleton, with the fire flashing from her eyes; +and she struck her. + +But Mrs. Warmington did not quit her hold or her purpose. "Good gracious, +what a termagant!" she exclaimed, and at once thrust her right hand into +the pocket, and drew forth the vial which had been sent by the surgeon to +Lady Hastings. + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Warmington. "Why, this is the very bottle I saw +you mixing stuff in this morning, when you seemed so angry and vexed at my +coming into the still-room.--No, it isn't the same either; but it was one +very like this, only darker in the color." + +"Ha!" said Mr. Atkinson. "Madam, will you have the goodness to put a mark +upon that bottle by which you can know it again?--Scratch it with a diamond +or something." + +"Oh, poor I have no diamonds," said Mrs. Warmington. "My dear, will you +lend me that ring?" + +Mrs. Hazleton gave her a withering glance, but made no reply; and Marlow +pointed to two peculiar spots in the glass of the bottle, saying, "By those +marks it will be known, so that it cannot be mistaken." His words were +addressed to Mr. Atkinson; for he felt disgusted and sickened by the +heartless and insulting tone of Mrs. Warmington towards her former friend. + +At the sound of his voice--for she had not yet looked at him--Mrs. Hazleton +started and looked round. It is not possible to tell the feelings which +affected her heart at that moment, or to picture with the pen the varied +expressions, all terrible, which swept over her beautiful countenance like +a storm. She remembered how she had loved him. Perhaps at that moment she +knew for the first time how much she had loved him. She felt too, how +strongly love and hate had been mingled together by the fiery alchemy of +disappointment, as veins of incongruous metals have been mixed by the great +convulsions of the early earth. She felt too, at that moment, that it was +this love and this hate which had been the cause of her deepest crimes, and +all their consequences--the awful situation in which she there stood, the +lingering tortures of imprisonment, the agonies of trial, and the bitter +consummation of the scaffold. + +"Oh, Marlow, Marlow," she cried--in a tone for the first time +sorrowful--"to see you mingling in these acts!" + +"I have nothing to do with the present business, Mrs. Hazleton," replied +Marlow, "but I am bound to say that in consequence of information I have +procured, it would have been my duty to have caused your apprehension upon +other charges, had not this, of which I know nothing, been preferred +against you. All is discovered, madam; all is known. With a slight clue, at +first, I have pursued the intricate labyrinth of your conduct for the last +two years to its conclusion, and every thing has been made plain as day." + +"You, Marlow, you?" cried Mrs. Hazleton, fixing her eyes steadfastly upon +him, and then adding, as he bowed his head in token of assent, "but all is +not known, even to you. You shall know all, however, before I die; and +perhaps to know all may wring your heart, hard though it be. But what am I +talking of?" she continued, her face becoming suddenly suffused with +crimson, and her fine features convulsed with rage. "All is discovered, is +it? And you have done it? What matters it to me, then, whose heart is +wrung--or what becomes of you, or me, or any one? A drop more or less is +nothing in the overflowing well. Why should I struggle longer? Why should I +hide any thing? Why should I fly from this charge to meet another? I did +it--I poisoned her--I put the drug by her bedside. It is all true--I did it +all--I have had my revenge as far as it could be obtained, and now do with +me what you like. But remember, Marlow, remember, if Emily Hastings marries +you, she does it with a mother's curse upon her head--a curse that will +fall upon her heart like a milldew, and wither it for ever--a curse that +will dry up the source of all fond affections, blacken the brightest hours, +and embitter the purest joys--a dying mother's curse! She knows it--she has +heard it--it can never be recalled. I have put that beyond fate. Ha ha! It +is upon you both; and if you venture to unite your unhappy destinies, may +that curse cling to you and blast you for ever." + +She spoke with all the vehemence of intense passion, breaking, for the +first time in life, through strong habitual self-control; and when she had +done, she cast herself into a chair, and covered her eyes with her hands. + +She wept not; but her whole frame heaved and shivered, with the terrible +emotion that tore her heart. + +In the mean time, Marlow and Mrs. Warmington and the high constable spoke +upon it, consulting what was to be done with her. The prison system of +England was at that time as bad as it could be, and those who condemned and +abhorred her the most, were anxious to spare her as long as possible the +horrors of the jail. At length, after many difficulties, and a good deal of +hesitation, Mr. Atkinson agreed, at the suggestion of Mrs. Warmington, to +leave her in the house where she then was, under the charge of a constable +to be sent for from Hartwell. There was a high upper room from which there +was no possibility of escape, with an antechamber in which the constable +could watch, and there he was determined to confine her till she could be +brought before the magistrate on the following day. + +"I must have her thoroughly searched in the first place," said Mr. +Atkinson; "for she may have some more of the poison about her, and in her +present state, after all she has confessed, she is just as likely to +swallow it as not. However, Mr. Marlow, you had better, I think, ride on as +fast as possible to see Sir Philip Hastings, and tell him what has occurred +here. If I judge rightly, your presence will be very needful there." + +"It will indeed," said Marlow, a sudden vague apprehension of he knew not +what, seizing upon him; "God grant I have not tarried too long already;" +and quitting the room, he sprang upon his horse's back again. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[2] Continued from page 327. + + + + +TWO SONNETS. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. + + +TRUTH. + + For constant truth my aching spirit yearns, + And finds no comfort in a glorious cheat; + On the firm rock I wish to set my feet, + And look upon the star that changeless burns; + Yon gorgeous clouds that in the sunset glow, + With fire-wrought domes for angel-palace meet, + Beneath my gaze their surface beauties fleet; + With parting light how dull their splendors grow. + I cannot worship vapors, and the hue + That on the dove's neck flickers, as it veers, + Bewilders, but not charms me; whilst the blue + Of the clear sky gives comfort 'mid all fears, + And but to think on that unshadowed white, + The angels walk in, makes my dark path bright. + + +THE FUTURE. + + Eternal sunshine withers; constant light + Would make the beauty of the world look wan; + The storm that sleeps with dark'ning terror on, + Leaves verdant freshness where it seemed to blight; + Most dreary is the land where comes no night, + For there the sun is chill, and slowly drawn + Round the horizon, spreads a sickly dawn, + No promise of a day more warm and bright. + Bless then the clouds and darkness, for we can + Discern with awe through them what angel faces + Watch and direct, and from their holy places + Smile with sublime benignity on man; + And dearly cherish sickness, pain, and sorrow, + As gloomy heralds of a bright to-morrow. + + V. + + + + +THE COUNT MONTE-LEONE: OR, THE SPY IN SOCIETY.[3] + +TRANSLATED FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE FROM THE FRENCH OF H. DE. +ST. GEORGES. + + +VIII.--THE GARRET. + +Half demented, Monte-Leone left the Duke's Hotel. His existence had become +a terrible dream, a hideous nightmare, every hour producing a new terror +and surprise. D'Harcourt was gone. He went to find Von Apsberg. "He at +least will speak. He will say something about this atrocious accusation. He +will explain the meaning of the perfidious reply of the chief of police. If +he repeated this atrocious calumny, if he persisted in thinking him guilty, +his heart would be open to Monte-Leone's blows. He would at least crush and +bury one of his enemies." + +A new misfortune awaited him. The doctor was not to be found. The police +had occupied the house at the time that the Vicomte was being arrested. The +doctor had beyond a doubt been previously informed of their coming and +escaped, but his papers were seized. All the archives and documents of +Carbonarism fell into the hands of M. H----. One might have said some evil +genius guided the police and led them in their various examinations into +the invisible mines of their prey. Furniture, drawers, and all were +examined. Count Monte-Leone, when he heard of the disappearance of the +Doctor and of the seizure of his papers, felt an increase of rage. The +discovery of the archives ruined for a long time, if not for ever, the +prospects of the work to which Monte-Leone had consecrated his life. The +flight of Matheus also deprived him of any means of extricating himself +from the cloud of mystery which surrounded him, and made futile any hope of +vengeance. Taddeo alone remained, and he was protected by the oath he had +taken to the Marquise. One other deception yet awaited him. A devoted +member of the Carbonari, on the next day, came to Monte-Leone's house and +informed the Count that on the day after the Vicomte's arrest and the +escape of Matheus, a similar course had been adopted against Rovero, who +was indebted for his liberty only to information from Signor Pignana on the +night before the coming of the police. A note from Aminta told Monte-Leone +of the disappearance of Rovero. The Count was then completely at sea, and +he was abandoned by all to a horrible imputation which he could neither +avenge nor dispute. He could, therefore, only suffer and bide his time. +Resignation, doubt, and delay, were terrible punishments to his energetic +and imperative character. One hope remained, which, if realized, would +enable him to contradict all the imputations on his honor. This was, that +he would be able to share the fate of his comrades, not of Von Apsberg and +Taddeo, who had escaped, but of those who languished in the cells of _la +Force_ and the _Conciergerie_. The Count knew that the police, from the +perusal of the archives, must be aware of his position, and awaited hourly +and daily his arrest. This did not take place, though he perpetually +received anonymous letters of the most perplexing and embarrassing +character, charging him, in the grossest terms of the language, with being +a spy and a traitor to the association to which he had pledged his life and +his honor. He resolved at last to play a desperate game--to exhibit an +unheard of energy and power. He repudiated the disdainful impunity which +apparently was inflicted on him intentionally. He surrendered himself to +the police.... + +While Count Monte-Leone acted thus courageously, the following scene took +place in a hotel whither our readers have been previously taken. + +A man apparently about thirty years old sat pale and downcast at a table, +writing with extreme rapidity. Occasionally he rested his weary head on his +hand, and his eyes wandered across the sky which he saw through a +trap-window, so usual in that room of houses known as the garret.[4] He +then glanced on the paper, and wrote down the inspirations he seemed to +have evoked from the abode of angels. He was the occupant of a garret, +which, though small, seemed so disguised by taste and luxury that the +narrow abode appeared even luxurious. The table at which the writer sat was +of Buhl, and was ornamented by vases of Sevres ware. The wooden bedstead +was hidden by a silken coverlet, and a large arm-chair occupied a great +portion of the room. On the small chimney-piece of varnished stone was a +china vase filled with magnificent flowers from hot-houses, above which +arose a superb camelia. A curtain of blue shut out the glare of the sun. It +was easy to see that female taste had presided over the arrangements of +this room. A beautiful woman really had done so. The inmate of the room was +Doctor von Apsberg. The girl of whom we have spoken was Marie d'Harcourt. + +On the day of René's arrest, a fortnight before the one we write of, the +Doctor was alone when the secret panel was opened. Pignana suddenly +appeared before the Doctor and told him that his house as well as the +Doctor's was surrounded by suspicious looking people. Pignana therefore +advised him to go at once. Von Apsberg was about to go to his bureau and +take possession of his papers. The police did not allow him time to do so; +they knocked at that very moment at the door and entered the house before +Von Apsberg had time to leave. It will be remembered that the studio of +the Doctor in which the archives were kept, was in the third story of the +house. Matheus was, therefore, forced to fly through the opening, into +Pignana's house, and with his ear to the wall listened to the noise made by +the police, with thankfulness for the secret passage. He heard a deep voice +say, "If your Jacobin Doctor has escaped, you shall answer for it." This +was said to Mlle. Crepineau. The good maiden swore the Doctor was absent, +as she thought, or feigned to think. Another voice, with a deep southern +accent, said the following words, which the young Doctor heard with +surprise and fear: + +"The one you seek is gone. If, though, you would find him, press that +copper nail which you see on the third row of books. You will find the +means of his escape into the next house." + +A cry was heard from the interior of the room. A female voice thus spoke to +the man who had just spoken: "Señor Muñez, it is abominable for you thus to +betray the poor fellows. You are a bad and heartless man." + +When the Doctor heard thus revealed the secret of his retreat, he had +pushed through the inner door, and it was well he did, for it gave him time +to leave the room. The door of the library offered but a feeble resistance, +which was soon overcome, and Pignana's house was carefully entered and +searched. + +He at once conceived an idea of a plan of escape. He said to Pignana, "Not +a word; but follow me." Von Apsberg, accompanied by Pignana, left the place +where they were concealed, went into the yard, and proceeded to a shed +which was separated from his house by a few badly joined planks. One of +these he removed, passed through the opening, and stood in an outhouse +where he remembered he had once made some anatomical inquiries. + +"But you are going back," said Pignana, "you will again fall in the hands +of the enemy." + +"You would be a bad general, Pignana," said Von Apsberg; "this is a common +_ruse de guerre_, and is known as a counter-march. These places have been +explored by the enemy, and consequently they will return no more. While the +agents are looking where we are not, we will return where they have been." + +When night came, and at this time of the year it was at four o'clock, +Pignana told his companion of his plan. He purposed to scale the wall of +the yard by means of the trellices of the vines. When once on the other +side they would be in the garden of the Duke d'Harcourt, from which the +young physician expected to go to the hotel to obtain protection from the +Vicomte. The execution of this plan was easy for one as thin as d'Harcourt, +but was impracticable to a person with an abdomen like Pignana. As soon as +night had come, the latter said to Von Apsberg, "Go through the air, +Doctor, if you can. I intend to adopt a more earthly route--through the +door of the house, even if, much to Mlle. Crepineau's terror, I have the +audacity to assume the guise of the suicide, and terrify her into opening +the door for me. Besides, I am but slightly compromised, and will extricate +myself. Adieu, then, Doctor," said he, "and good luck to you amid the +clouds!" Von Apsberg clasped his hand, hurried from his retreat, ascended +the wall, passed it, and a few minutes after was in the Duke's garden. +Taking advantage of the darkness he went to the hotel, every window of +which, to his surprise, he found closed. He went without being seen to the +door of the reception rooms on the ground floor. The window had not been +shut since the arrest of the Vicomte. The Doctor entered it. At the back of +this room was a boudoir à la Louis XIV., of rare elegance, and appropriated +to Marie d'Harcourt. Amid the darkness he heard a strange sound of sighs +and sobs. The Doctor drew near, expecting that there was some pain for him +to soothe. "Who is there?" said the Duke d'Harcourt. + +"It is I, my lord, Doctor Matheus." + +"You here, sir!" said the Duke; "they told me that, like my unfortunate +son, you were arrested; and for the same offence." + +"What say you, sir?" said Von Apsberg, with deep distress; "René, dear +René, arrested?" + +"Yes, sir," said the old Duke; "arrested and torn from his father's arms. +Yet the blow did not overwhelm me. This, though, will take place ere long, +and the executioner's axe will strike father and son at once." + +A footman appeared with lights, and the Doctor saw the whole family +weeping. His head rested on Marie's shoulder, and the long white hair of +the old man was mingled with the young girl's dark locks, and seemed like +the silvery light of the moon resting on her brown hair. The Duke saw at a +glance how the Doctor participated in all his sorrows, and how the fate of +his son lacerated the heart of his visitor. He gave his hand to the Doctor. + +"I forgive you," said he, "the part you have had in my son's error, when I +remember how you love him, and the care you have taken of Marie." + +"Alas! Monsieur," said Von Apsberg; "that duty I can discharge no longer. +The fate of René must be mine, to-morrow, to-day, in a few moments--for I +came to seek for concealment. If, though, he has lost his liberty; if all +his plans are destroyed, why should I any longer contend against +misfortune? Adieu, Duke! I will rejoin René, share his misfortune, and +defend his life; if not against men, at least against the cruel disease +which menaces his career." + +As she heard these words, the cheeks of Marie d'Harcourt became pale as +marble, and she said, in tones of deep distress, "Father, will you suffer +him to go thus?" + +Von Apsberg looked at her with trouble and surprise. + +"No, my child," said the Duke, "the Doctor will not leave us; and we will +protect him." Von Apsberg then told the bold means by which he had entered +the house. + +"No one saw," said the Duke, "_how_ you came hither?" + +"No one." + +"There is no suspicion?" + +"None." + +Assisted by Marie, the Duke contrived a plan for an impenetrable asylum for +the Doctor. In the right wing of the hotel were many rooms intended for +servants, and uninhabited; for, since the death of his other sons, the Duke +had greatly reduced his household. In one of these rooms, carefully decked +and furnished, by Marie's care, Doctor Matheus was fixed. The old secretary +of the Duke d'Harcourt alone was in the secret, and this worthy man took +charge of the food of the Doctor, who saw no one except Marie and her +father. The young girl gradually became bolder, and touched with pity at +the loneliness of the prisoner, obeyed the dictates of her own heart and +went frequently to the young Doctor's room to be sure that he was in want +of nothing. Like a consoling angel, she came with her celestial presence to +adorn the captive's retreat, and restore something of happiness to his +heart. Von Apsberg, who had been for some days left alone, had reflected +deeply on his political opinions and on their consequences. The immense +difference between all old principles and the innovating ideas of +Carbonarism caused him to doubt the triumph of the latter; the great +discouragement which Monte-Leone's _apparent treason_ had produced, and the +fate of his associates, produced a deep impression on him. Amid all these +gloomy thoughts, one fresh and prominent idea reinvigorated his mind, and +gave him ineffable joy. + +Without wishing to analyze his feelings towards Marie, the Doctor was under +their influence. He did not dream of ever possessing that aristocratic +heart from which he was separated by rank, birth, and fortune. The heart of +man, nevertheless, is so constituted, that the most honest and loyal man is +never exempt from a shadow of egotism. Perhaps, therefore, in the Doctor's +mind there was a feeble hope of approaching that class whose position he so +envied. Let this be as it may, abandoning himself to the luxury of seeing +always by his side this beautiful creature, whose health his care had +already revived, the Doctor blessed his captivity, and lived in anxious +expectation of the hours when Marie used to visit him. Von Apsberg +possessed that Platonic heart which enabled him to look on Marie as a +creature of pure poetry. He entertained so respectful a tenderness for the +young girl, that he distrusted her no more than she did him. + +On the day we found the Doctor writing in his retreat with such ardor, he +was writing out a _regime_ for his patient. He told her what to do, and, as +if gifted with prescience, provided for her future life. + +"If," said he, "I be discovered--if the future have in reserve for the +heiress d'Harcourt"--and his heart felt as if a sharp iron had transfixed +it--"if a noble marriage separate me from her; at least in this painful +study of her health she will be able to contend against her family disease, +and perhaps will be indebted to me for life, happy and unsuffering." The +idea seemed too much for the strength of the young physician as he saw thus +fade before him all hope of a union with Marie. Steps just then were heard +outside his room just as he was concluding the sad _memoire_ we have spoken +of. + +The Doctor, in obedience to the request of his host, answered no knock, and +gave no evidence of life, except at a concerted signal known only to three +persons--the Duke, his daughter, and D'Arbel. Therefore he listened. The +person who advanced paused for a time before his door, and then left +rapidly as it had come. Von Apsberg, however, by means of that lover's +intuition, guessed who it was. The eyes of his heart pierced the opacity of +the door, to enable him to admire the charming angel who had alighted at +his door and flown away. Before this angel had disappeared from the long +corridor which led to the Doctor's room, the door was opened, and he paused +to glance at the young girl who was ready to escape. Marie returned to the +Doctor, and advanced slowly towards him. + +"Ah! Monsieur," said she to Matheus, "it is wrong in you not to keep your +promise better. You promised my father never to open the door without a +signal--" + +"Why then, Mademoiselle, did you not give the signal?" + +"I did not come to see you," said Marie; "but I brought you books and +flowers. I am so afraid you will grow weary in this little room, where you +are always alone and sad." + +As she spoke, the angel girl went to the Doctor's room, as she would have +done to her brother's, without any hesitation or trouble. She was robed in +innocence; and if her heart beat a little louder than usual then, the child +attributed it entirely to the rapidity with which she had ascended the +stairs. The Doctor took the books and flowers which she had placed at his +door, and put them in the vase on the mantle. He was glad to be able to +look away from Marie's face, for he felt that his countenance told all he +thought. + +"I took the most amusing books from my little library," said she. "One +learned as you are, always immersed in study, may not approve of my choice. +Perhaps though, Monsieur, as you read them you will think of your +patient--" + +"Ah! I do so always," said Von Apsberg. "I was thinking of you when you +came." + +"You were writing," said Marie, as she looked at the sheet Von Apsberg +pointed out to her. + +"Ah! Mademoiselle, I wrote for you. You must follow one rule of conduct in +relation to your health, when you are separated from your father--when you +are married." + +"Married!" said Mlle. d'Harcourt, and she grew pale. "I never thought of +being married." + +"But marry you must. You will marry rich; and, Mlle., a husband worthy of +you. Ere long you will have many suitors." + +"Monsieur," said the girl, "our house now is hung with mourning. The life +of my brother is in danger, and my health, as you said, is frail and +feeble. All this you know is altogether contradictory to what you say. As +for myself," said she, with an emotion she experienced for the first time, +"I am happy as I now am, and desire no other position, I must leave you, +though," added she: "for now my father must have come from the prison where +he obtained leave to visit my brother. I am anxious to hear from him. The +Duke and myself will soon tell you about him." + +Light as a vapor, rapid as a cloud, the young girl left the Doctor's room, +to his eyes radiant with the lustre she left behind her. + + +IX.--THE CONCIERGERIE. + +Eight days after the conversation between Von Apsberg and Marie, the Doctor +heard a knock at his door. The latter was reading over for the twentieth +time one of the books which had been brought him. This book was Telemachus, +the poetical romance one might have fancied Homer himself had dreamed of, +and which Virgil and Ovid had written--the book in which morals are +enwrapped in so dense a covering of flowers, that a reader often refuses to +glance at the serious part of the work, and pays attention only to the +graceful superficies. Von Apsberg, however, read the book, not for its own +sake, but for the sake of her who had given it to him. Marie had read every +page, and her hands had turned over every leaf. This fact gave the history +of the son of Ulysses an immense value in the eyes of the young Doctor, and +made Telemachus, not Fenelon's, but Marie d'Harcourt's book. The knock at +the Doctor's door was followed by the concerted signal. He opened it, and +saw the Duke's old secretary. "Monsieur," said he, "as the Duke is absent, +I am come to say that Mlle. Marie is ill. I know your care will be useful. +She does not, though, send for you, being too feeble to come up stairs, and +afraid to ask you to come down." + +"Monsieur d'Arbel, let no one into the hotel; and tell Mlle. I will visit +her. + +"She will see you, Monsieur, in the window next to the drawing-room. I will +send the servants out of the way, so that you can see Mlle. Marie without +fear of discovery." + +All the Secretary's arrangements were carried out, and a few minutes after +Matheus waited on his fair patient. She was ill. Since her conversation +with the Doctor, her health had really changed. Something mental seemed to +influence it. Her complexion, sullied by the tears she had shed since her +brother's arrest, was faded, and a flush was visible on her cheeks alone. +These symptoms made the Doctor unhappy. He, therefore, approached Marie +with great uneasiness. + +She said: "How kind you are, Doctor, to risk your liberty: I could not +otherwise have seen you. I have not strength enough." + +"I will try soon to confer it on you, if God grants me power to attend to +you." + +"I shall die," said she with an anxious voice, which penetrated the +Doctor's very heart, "if you cannot." + +"For your sake," said Matheus, "I will defend my liberty by every means in +my power, for I wish to restore your health, and preserve an existence +indispensable to your father's happiness." + +"How I suffer," said Marie, placing her hand on her snowy brow. "I have an +intense pain, which passes from temple to temple, and gives me much +suffering." + +"Do you sleep well?" asked Matheus. + +"No, no, for many days I have not slept, or if I have, phantoms have +flitted across my slumbers." She blushed as she spoke. This the Doctor did +not see, for he was searching out a remedy. + +"Well," said he, "I think we must use a remedy which has hitherto +succeeded. Magnetism will enable you to sleep, and perhaps will soothe your +sufferings." Rising, then, he placed his hand on the patient's brow, as he +had done a few months before when the Marquise had experienced such good +effects from it. He placed his hands on the young girl's temples, and then +made passes across her face, the result of which was that she sank softly +to sleep. The state of somnambulism ensued, and Marie unfolded the +condition of her heart to the young physician. While he was thus engaged +the Duke entered. + +"You here, Doctor?" said he; "how imprudent!" + +"_She_ was suffering," said the physician; "now she sleeps." The Duke +thanked Von Apsberg for his care, but seemed to centre all his hope in the +young Doctor, as the sailor devotes himself to the lord of storms and +waves. Now, though, every word the Duke said seemed a reproach. He +shuddered as he thought of the confessions of Mlle. d'Harcourt, and asked +himself if he participated in her sentiments or had suffered her to divine +his. All his delicacy and loyalty revolted from the idea that this +confession would cost the unfortunate father the life of his daughter.[5] +Von Apsberg saw that henceforth it would be impossible for him to remain +longer at the Duke's hotel, and that it would be criminal to remain with +one the secret thoughts of whom he knew. He, therefore, made up his mind to +speak to the Duke. Just then Marie, who had been for some time free from +any magnetic influence, awoke calm and smiling. "How deliciously I have +slept," said she; "how well I am!" + +The Duke kissed her affectionately. He said, "All this you owe to the +Doctor; and I thank heaven amid our misfortunes that he has been preserved +to us. I am glad I have been able to rescue him from his persecutors, and +preserve my daughter's health by means of his own watchful care." + +Marie gave the Doctor her hand. The young girl did not remember what she +had said while she slept. This slumber of the heart, however, could not +last, and the young Doctor knew it. He resolved on the painful sacrifice +which, but for the waking of his patient, he would at once have +communicated to the Prince. + +The reflections of the night confirmed the Doctor in the course he had +resolved to adopt. On the next day he put on a long cloak, which disguised +his stature, and went to the room of the Duke, after having also put on a +wig which René often wore when he visited Matheus, and which the Duke had +sent for to enable him in case of a surprise to leave unrecognized. + +The distress of the Duke at the Vicomte's imprisonment increased every day. +He had only once been able to reach his son, and had contrived to inspire +the captive with hopes of liberty he was far from entertaining himself. The +Vicomte was actively watched, and his most trifling actions were observed. +Ever alone in the sad cell in which he had been confined, ennui and despair +took possession of him, and his brilliant mind, to which mirth and activity +had been indispensable, became downcast and miserable. Since the visit of +his father, also, his delicate chest had begun to suffer. What the Doctor +especially apprehended for his friend was the possibility of cold and +dampness producing a dangerous irritation of the respiratory organs. This +took place; for nothing could be more humid and icy than the cell of René. +He had a dry and incessant cough. The keepers paid no attention to it, and +the keeper of the Conciergerie treated it as a simple cold of no +importance. The Vicomte was unwilling to inform his father of it lest he +should be uneasy, and the mere indisposition rapidly became a serious and +terrible disease. This was the state of things when Von Apsberg presented +himself before the Duke. "What is the matter?" said the old man. "Are you +discovered and forced to leave us?" + +"Duke," said the Doctor, "let me first express my deepest thanks for your +generous hospitality. Let me tell you how much your kindness has soothed +the cruel suffering to which I have been subjected day and night for three +weeks. I would, had it not been for your kindness, have weeks ago shared +the captivity of René; and the hope I entertained of being of use to your +daughter, alone prevented me from surrendering myself to despair at the +prospect of a crushed and prospectless life, when I saw my brethren +arrested in consequence of one whom I had always looked on as a devoted +friend." + +"Do not speak to me of that man," said the Duke in a terrible tone, "for my +son, in my presence, charged him with having betrayed him." + +"I have spoken to you of my gratitude," said the Doctor, "that you might +not doubt it now at our separation." + +"What danger now menaces you?" said the Duke, "why do you leave us?" + +"To avoid being ungrateful," said Von Apsberg. "That you may never accuse +your guest of selfishness, and that he may always deserve the esteem with +which you honor him." + +"What is the meaning of this mysterious language?" + +"Grant me," said the young physician, with a trembling voice, "the boon of +being permitted to keep the cause of my departure a secret. You would be as +sorry to hear as I would be to tell you." + +"No," said the old man, "I will not consent to this. You shall not quit the +house which shelters you from your enemies: no, you shall not. Ah! sir," +continued the Duke, "if you will not remain for your own sake do so for +mine, for you alone have preserved the life of my daughter thus far." The +Doctor said, as he gave a paper to the Duke: "Here is the result of my +study, in which I have traced out all the means known to science calculated +to strengthen the health of your daughter, and to parry the dangers which +menace her." + +"Doctor," said the Duke, "do not distress me by leaving the hotel. Do not +make me perpetually miserable, Doctor, I am already unfortunate enough." + +"Well," said the young man, unable to resist his prayers any longer, "you +shall know what forces me to go, and shall yourself judge of my duty." He +fell at the Duke's feet, and told him all he had learned during Marie's +slumber, his combats with himself, and his resolution. + +"You are an honest man," said the Duke, with an expression of poignant +grief, and lifting him up: "but I am a most unfortunate father." + +D'Asbel just then came in with a letter. + +"From my son," said the Duke, and he opened it. The features of the old man +assumed, as he read, such an expression of terror, that Von Apsberg and the +Secretary advanced towards him and sustained him, for he seemed ready to +faint. "Read," said he, with a voice half indistinct, and he gave the +Doctor the letter. It was as follows: + +"MY DEAR FATHER:--I can conceal no longer that I am dying. One man alone, +who has often soothed me by his care and advice, can now save me. This is +Von Apsberg. I cannot, though, ask him to accompany you, for he would +endanger his own liberty. Come, then, dear father, to see me for the last +time." + +"Let us go, sir," said the Doctor. "Let us not delay a minute, for in an +hour--it may be too late." + +"But you expose your life, Doctor, by going among your enemies," said the +Duke. + +"But I will save his," said Von Apsberg. The Duke rushed into his arms. + +Half an hour afterwards two men entered the Conciergerie. They were the +Vicomte's father and an English doctor whom the Duke brought to see his +son. The Director of the prison did not dare to refuse a father and +physician permission to see a sick son and patient. With the turnkeys they +passed an iron grate, beyond which was seen a vaulted passage, which, in +the darkness, seemed interminable. On the inner side of the grate sat a +morose looking man, whom nature seemed to have created exclusively to live +in one of these earthly hells. His only duty was to open and shut the +grate, to which he seemed as firmly attached as one of its own bars. His +duty was not without danger, for in case of a mutiny, the Cerberus had +orders to throw on the outside the heavy key he was intrusted with, and +thus expose himself, without means of escape, to the rage of the criminals. +They showed this man their pass. The key turned in the lock, and the grate +permitted them to enter. It then swung to, filling the vaulted passage with +its clash. Near this was a dark room, in which were several dark-browed +jailers and gend'armes. + +The Duke and the Doctor were minutely examined. One of them, whose features +hidden by a dirty cap might recall one of the persons of this history, left +the group, opened the grate, and disappeared rapidly, just as a new jailer +guided the visitors to a long corridor in one of the cells, on opening +which was the Vicomte D'Harcourt. On a miserable pallet, in a kind of dark +cellar, into which the day seemed to penetrate reluctantly, through a +grated window, was René D'Harcourt, the last hope of an illustrious house, +without air or any of the attentions his situation demanded. The Duke wept +to see him. René, with hollow cheeks, and eyes sparkling with a burning +fever, arose with pain and extended his arms to his father, who embraced +him tenderly. + +Fifteen days had expanded his disease, the germs of which had long slept in +his system. The bad air and icy dew, amid which he lived, the absence of +constant and vigilant care, in such cases so indispensable, had, as it +were, conspired against him. A violent and dry cough every moment burst +from his chest, and at every access his strength seemed more and more +feeble. Had he sooner informed his father of his condition, beyond doubt, +some active remedy would have been used, not for pity's sake, for at that +time little was shown to conspirators, but from fear of the liberal press, +whose censure the administration dreaded. René, however, was too disdainful +of the persons he called his executioners to ask any favors. The physician +of the prison, as we have said, was satisfied with ordering a few trifling +palliatives. The Vicomte was dying without his even being aware of it. When +the turnkey had introduced the Duke and the Englishman he left, telling +them that in a few minutes he would return. Then the Vicomte saw that a +stranger was with his father. The latter approached, and taking the young +man's hand pressed it to his heart with an affection which told the +prisoner who visited him. + +"Von Apsberg! Ah! father, I knew he would come." + +"Be silent, dear René; be silent," said the Doctor, "for your sake and +mine. Forget that I am your friend, and remember me only as a doctor. Tell +me how you suffer. Speak quick, for time is precious. Tell me nothing--and +do not exhaust yourself in describing--what is plain enough, I am sorry to +say. I see, I read in your eyes, what is your condition." + +To hide his tears Von Apsberg looked away. A father's heart though could +not be deceived, and the Duke had seen the Doctor's tears. The old man +said, "Save, Doctor, save my son." + +Von Apsberg made an effort to surmount the grief which overcame him. + +"We will save him," said he, calmly; "there is a remedy for such cases, +which in a few hours will terminate the progress of the malady, and enable +us to adopt other means. He took a card from his pocket and wrote a +prescription, which he ordered to be sent immediately to the nearest +apothecary. He yet had the card in his hand when the door of the cell was +violently thrown open, and several men accompanied by gend'armes rushed in +and seized the Doctor. + +"Arrest him," said an officer. "It is he, the German physician whom we have +so long sought for. He has been recognized." Nothing could equal the effect +of this scene. The Vicomte made useless attempts to leave his bed and +assist his friend. The Duke was pale and agitated; and Von Apsberg, calm +and resigned, gave himself up to the men who surrounded him. In anxiety for +René he had forgotten himself. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "you may do as you please with me, but, for heaven's +sake, let me remain a few moments with this young man, and one of you hurry +for this prescription I have written." + +"A paper," said the principal agent with joy, when he saw what Von Apsberg +had in his hand. "It is, perhaps, a plan of escape. This must be taken to +the Director for the _Procureur du Roi_. Another scheme, perhaps, of the +Jacobin has come to light----" He put the paper in his huge pocket. + +"Take this man away, said he to the gens d'armes, and do not let him speak +a word to the prisoner." Rushing on Von Apsberg like famished wolves, they +bore him away, and left the Duke alone with his son. The shock had done the +prisoner much injury. He sunk back on his bed with a violent cough, and +felt a mortal coldness glide over his frame and chill his blood. + +"A doctor, a doctor," said the Duke, rushing towards the door. "A +physician, for heaven's sake. My son is dying." The door did not close. The +poor father leaning over his child pressed his lips to his burning brow, +and then supported his head, from time to time attempting to warm his icy +hands with his breath. He continued to call in heaven's name for a +physician. + +Half an hour after Von Apsberg's arrest, and while the Duke yet pressed his +son's inanimate body, three men appeared in the room. They were the +Director, Doctor, and Jailer of the prison. + +"Monsieur," said the Duke to the Director, rising to his full stature, and +with a tone of painful solemnity, "you are an accomplice in a great crime, +and before the country and king, I, Duke d'Harcourt, peer of France, and +grand cordon of the Saint Esprit, will accuse you." + +"What mean you, sir?" said the Director, with a terror he could not +conceal. "Of what do you complain?" + +"That you have placed in a cell, without air and light, as if he were +sentenced to death, a man against whom there is now a mere suspicion; for +he has not been tried. I complain that you have wrested from me a physician +I have brought hither to attend to my son--and that with horrible brutality +you have taken possession of a prescription for a remedy which might have +preserved him, and have by this means deprived him of life." + +The Duke spoke but too truly, for a kind of suffocation took possession of +the young man. His breast seemed oppressed, and every sign of death was +visible. + +The Director muttered some apology in defence of himself, but the Duke +said, "Not another word here, sir; accomplish your task in peace; or at +least, give me back the paper. It is the life of my son----" + +As the Director was about to go in person for it, the Doctor called him +back and pointed to the patient over whose countenance death began to +steal. He said, "It is too late!" + +The Vicomte arose with difficulty and said, "Father, forgive me the wrong I +have done. Forgive me, as I forgive others. No, no, not so; for there is +one person I cannot forgive!" He looked around with an expression of +intense hatred and contempt. "He has ruined and destroyed me, and all of +us; he has delivered us to our enemies,--_that_ man, hear all of you, is +Count Monte-Leone!" His head sank on his breast, and his last breath +mingled with the kisses of his father. + +"I have no son!" said the old man in despair; and he sank by the side of +the child God had taken away from him. + + +X.--THE CONFESSION. + +As we have seen in a previous chapter, Count Monte-Leone went to the +Prefect of Police to surrender himself to his enemies. The Count did not +hesitate, for he preferred a sudden and cruel death to the intolerable life +he now led. The Prefect was as civil as possible, and altogether different +from what he would have been three days before to a person pointed out as +one of the agents. The reason was, that after the energetic protestation of +the Count in the presence of M. H---- at the Duke d'Harcourt's, grave +doubts had arisen in the mind of the chief of the political police in +relation to the services said to have been rendered by the Neapolitan. +Making use then of the police itself, and causing the man who said he was +an agent of the Count's to be watched, his conviction of the +non-participation of Monte-Leone in the treachery became almost certain, +and he began to tremble at the idea that he had been made a dupe in this +affair, and at the probable consequences. The first of these was the fear +of ridicule, that powerful instrument against a police; next, the just +recrimination to which the Count might subject them as having slandered +him; and the capital error of having left at liberty the most powerful of +the Carbonari in Europe, under the belief that he was an ally of the +Government--to which he was a mortal foe. All this crowd of faults H---- +had committed in his blind confidence, and had led astray the police and +all the agents. Thus uneasy, the Chief of Police saw that but one course of +safety was left him. This was both bold and adroit, for it foresaw danger +and prepared a conductor to turn its thunders aside. H---- went to the +Prefect and owned all. The first anger of the latter having passed away, +the two chiefs saw with terror that they were equally compromised--the one +for acting, and the other for suffering his subordinate to act. They, +therefore, adopted the only course left them, Machiavelian it is true, but +which extricated them from a great difficulty. This course was, to deny all +participation in the malicious reports circulated in relation to the Count, +but to suffer the public to imagine what it pleased, and attribute their +inaction to carelessness for the result, or to the mystery necessary to be +observed in police matters. Count Monte-Leone, too, since the arrest of his +accomplices, and the discovery of his friends, was not greatly to be +feared, especially as he was now repelled by society as a double traitor. + +Two things alone disturbed H----. The first was the course of the strange +man who had used the Count's name to unveil so completely the plans of the +conspiracy. He, however, was soon restored to confidence by remembering +that he was now strictly carrying out this man's plans. Besides, in case of +need, there were a thousand methods of securing this man's eternal silence. +As for the pass in Monte-Leone's name, which might be a terrible arm in the +possession of the Count in case he attacked the Government, H----learned +much to his satisfaction, from Salvatori himself, that it had been +destroyed. The Prefect, therefore, did not hesitate to receive the Count. +"Sir," said the latter, "a horrible slander is circulated against me. In +disregard of my character and name I have been charged with being one of +your agents, and beg you to contradict this." + +"The Prefect says your honor is above any such suspicion, and I should fear +I injured you even by referring to so idle a tale." + +"But one of your principal officers has given credit to this rumor by the +perfidious reply he made a few days since, when the Vicomte d'Harcourt was +arrested." + +The Prefect rang his bell and sent for M. H----. When the latter arrived, +he asked him, sternly, if he had seemed to believe that Count Monte-Leone +had any participation in the acts of the Police. + +H---- said, "The Count is in error, if he understood me thus. I did not +believe that his self-accusation was true, for I could not realize that one +so exalted in rank as the Count, could be guilty of conspiracy. I had no +idea of insulting him, as he thinks. Were it not likely to give the affair +too much gravity, I would every where repel it." + +This amazed the Count. His mind, which seemed to give way beneath so many +blows, had looked on this man's reply as an answer. The object of this +perfidy yet escaped him; and reason and good sense could form no idea of +the motive. + +"You see, Count," said the Prefect, "all think you so far above the calumny +of which you complain, that we would not dare even to defend you; the +character of the department makes it impossible for us to mix in +discussions about reputations." + +"I have already asked this gentleman," and the Count pointed to M. H----, +"to furnish a striking proof that I am not the creature they say I am. I +now ask you the same favor." The two officials were annoyed. "I am as +guilty as those you have arrested," continued he, "and demand a fate like +that of my associates." + +The Prefect said, "I never act except from the orders of a higher +authority, and have none in relation to you. I prefer to think that your +devotion to those you call your associates has caused you to exaggerate +your complicity, and when that is proven you will find us just and stern to +yourself, as we have been to them." The Prefect bowed and returned to his +private office, and the Count left in indescribable agitation. He was +deprived of his last justification, of one he wished to buy at the price of +his life. His rage and despair had no limits. He was to experience a new +shock in the death of Vicomte d'Harcourt, which was circulated through all +Paris. He also heard that the Duke charged him with being the cause of his +death, and with having denounced him. + +We will now leave our hero for a few moments, to refer to a terrible event +which at this crisis overwhelmed the Royal family and France with grief. +This circumstance, yet enwrapped in mystery, was the death of the Duke de +Berry. This Prince, the hope of France, expiring in the spring time of life +beneath the dagger of a vulgar assassin; the obscurity which covered the +details of the murder distressed all Europe. There was a general outcry +against secret societies. The one, the chief members of which were now in +prison, was especially thought guilty of having instigated the murder. The +chiefs of the Carbonari _ventas_ saw their chains grow heavier and their +prisons become dungeons. Ober, the banker F----, General A----, and Von +Apsberg, were not spared: their papers were examined, their past life +scrutinized in search of some connection with this odious murder. The trial +of the ruffian was anxiously waited for, in the hope that something would +connect him with Carbonarism. Nothing, however, was found in the whole of +the long and minute examination; and it soon became evident that the crime +had been committed by a fanatic who was isolated, without adherents, +instigators, or accomplices. Thus at least France thought of the result of +the trial. This was the impression produced by the execution of Louvel. + +The liberals, who had been for a time terrified by the reports circulated +in relation to their partisans, began to regain their courage, and, +fortified by their acquittal, complained of the calumnies circulated in +relation to them. The first reproach cast on Government, and especially on +the ministry of Decazes, was great injustice towards the Carbonari. The +ministry was accused of having invented a conspiracy and +conspirators--questions of political humanity were mooted--and true or +imaginary tortures, to which the prisoners had been subject, were +recounted. French generosity and pity became interested for the sake of +victims who languished in chains. One voice, though, was heard above all +others, and spoke so distinctly, that it touched every heart and mind. It +reached the very throne, and aroused one of those powerful influences which +truth alone can. This voice was that of the Duke d'Harcourt--a king in +virtue and feeling. His word was a law people of every shade of opinion +listened to, in consequence of the admiration caused by his life and +conduct. The Duke, who was entitled to sympathy from the successive death +of his sons, accused those who had taken the last from him of barbarity. He +told of the death of the Vicomte while suspected of a crime which perhaps +was imaginary; and in the sublime tones of his despair uttered loud charges +against the fallen administration. The new one trembled before a unanimous +sentiment, and sought to win popularity from clemency. This sentiment, +which in Louis XVIII. was innate, his ministers echoed. One by one the +prisons were opened and their sad inmates restored to life and light. The +chief Carbonari were less fortunate than their followers. Their trial +progressed, and though many abortive schemes were discovered, no act was +found. There were ideas, utopias, and social paradoxes, but nothing +positive. F----, B----, Ober and their associates, whose friends acted +busily, were subjected to some months' imprisonment, which, added to their +previous incarceration, seemed to their judges a sufficient punishment for +their hopes, which, though criminal, had never been realized. General A---- +was exiled, and Von Apsberg was detained for a long time in the +conciergerie. He was ultimately released. As for Taddeo, all the inquiries +of Aminta and of the Prince de Maulear, who loved him as a son, were vain. +Every day increased their uneasiness on this account, bringing to light the +disappointment of some hope. Thus a year passed.... + +Early in April, 1821, a man of about forty sat on a bench in a little +garden attached to a modest country abode near Neuilly. The garden was on +the Seine, which was the limit of a kind of town. The man of whom we speak +was almost bent beneath the double weight of grief and suffering. His +features were sharp and thin, his eyes sunken, and his hair, almost white, +gave him the appearance of one far more advanced in age. In this person +prematurely old and wretched, none would have recognized the brilliant and +elegant Count Monte-Leone, who once had been so deservedly admired. A deep +sorrow had crushed his strong constitution--months to him had become +years--and he had suffered all that a mind, richly endowed as his was, +could. Pursued by the atrocious slanders we refer to, he had given way +beneath the blow. In vain had he striven for some time after his useless +visit to the Prefect against them. The hideous monster which pursued him +redoubled its attacks, and cries of reprobation burst from every lip. The +relations and friends of the prisoners reproached him, and adversity seemed +to have seized him with its iron claw. In vain did he protest and call for +proof. All appealed to the circumstances. His many duels made people say in +his favor only this, "_Brave as he is, he is a spy!_" Despair, then, took +possession of him, and he fled from the world which cursed him, and hid +himself. One reason alone restrained him from suicide. This was, that he +knew another life depended on his, and clung to it as the ivy does to the +oak. The Count lived that another might not die. This person was an angel +rather than a woman. It was Aminta. Watching the unfortunate man as a +mother watches a child, braving the public opinion which dishonored him she +adored, Aminta rarely left the Count, whose tears fell on her heart like +burning lava. + +The Marquise had purchased an establishment near the house of Monte-Leone, +with whom she passed all her time; for her visits made his desolate heart +more serene. On the day we speak of, the Count sat in the garden, and old +Giacomo advanced towards him, taking care to announce himself with a slight +cough. "Monseigneur," said he, "it is I, your intendant. I am come to speak +to you." + +"I have no intendant," said the Count, "a miserable outlaw like myself can +indulge in no such luxury. Do not call me Monseigneur; the title now is +become an ironical insult." + +"It, however, is your excellency's name, and _that_ the slanderous villains +cannot deprive you of." + +"They have done more than that," said the Count, with a bitter smile; "they +have destroyed my honor. You shall not call me thus any longer." + +"Very well," said the good man, whom the Marquise had told not to thwart +his master; "I will call Monseigneur, Count only. You are Monseigneur, for +all that." + +"Enough," said the Count, "go away, you fatigue me, you injure me." + +"I injure you," said Giacomo, "when you know I would die for you?" + +The Count looked around on the companion of all his life; he saw the tears +the old man shed, and threw himself into his arms. "Ah! you love me in +spite of all--" + +"And so does _she_," said Giacomo, whose features became kindled with +pleasure at this sudden exhibition of his master's love; "yes, that noble, +true woman loves you dearly." + +"Aminta!" said the Count, "ah! but for her you would have no master." + +"Monseigneur,--no--Count!" said the old valet; "Madame la Marquise has come +hither." + +"Let her come--let her come--when she is with me, I pass my only happy +hours." + +"True," said Giacomo, "but she is not alone--" + +"Who accompanies her? Who has come to see the informer? Who dares to brave +the leprosy?" + +The old man said, "The Prince de Maulear." + +"The Prince! The Prince in my house! No, no! Tell him to go, that I see no +one! I will see no one--" + +"You will see me, Monsieur?" said the old nobleman, advancing with Aminta +on his arm. + +"What do you wish, sir?" said Monte-Leone; "if you insult me again, you +are indeed cruel." + +"Monte-Leone," said Aminta, "the Prince is your friend. His words will be +of service; I brought him hither." + +The Count sank on his seat and was silent. + +"Count," said the Prince, "had I not been confined at one of my estates for +eight months by an obstinate _gout_, you would have seen me long since." + +"Ah!" said the Count, with surprise. + +"You would have seen me brought to you by repentance for the injury I did +you. I gave way, Monte-Leone, to an indignant feeling I shall regret all my +life. Reflection has enlightened me. The account I have heard from my +daughter-in-law, the resources which you concealed, and especially your +despair, the wasted condition of your health, the ravages of your misery, +her love, her respect, have long told me how unjust I was to you." + +The Count looked at the Prince with mingled astonishment and doubt. The +Prince said, "As men of our rank are glad to confess their faults, and ask +pardon for them, I beg you, sir, to forgive me." The Prince bowed to +Monte-Leone, who seemed overcome by emotion. + +Taking the Prince's hand he placed it on his heart and said, "Now, sir, +feel this palpitation, and tell me whether the heart of a bad or guilty man +ever beat thus with joy, at justice being done him." + +From this day Monte-Leone enjoyed two of the greatest pleasures of life--a +tender love, and a noble friendship.... + +A month after the first visit of the Prince de Maulear to the house at +Neuilly, the following scene took place in a sad room of the _rue Casette_ +in the Faubourg St. Germain. + +A sick woman lay on a bed, and a stern dark man sat beside her. "I tell +you," said she, "I want a priest, and it is cruel for you to refuse me +one." + +"Bah! Signora, you are not sick enough for that. Why have a confidant in +our affairs? Confession is of no use except to the dying!" + +"I am very sick," said she, "and my strength every day decreases!" + +"Well, let us come to terms, then, Duchess. You shall have a priest--but +you do not intend to make your confession only to him, I know." + +"Your old ideas again, Stenio!" said La Felina. + +"They are not my ideas. Did you not say once when you were very sick, '_No, +I will not die until I am completely avenged. I wish to know whence came +the shaft which crushed him. I wish him to curse me as I have cursed +him!_'" + +"True!" said the Duchess, who, as she listened to the Italian, seemed lost +in thought. "It is true, I said all that." + +"Well, the time is come. You fear you are dying, and would not leave your +work incomplete!" + +"But if I tell all," said La Felina, "do you fear nothing for yourself?" + +"That man is now but a shadow," said Salvatori, "and now in my strong hand +I can grasp him, as he once grasped me, with his iron nerves, when he +stabbed me. Besides, no one would believe him. _Is he not a spy?_" + +The first words of the Italian, "_That man is but a shadow_," had arrested +La Felina's attention. She said, "Is he much changed? is he very sick?" She +could not restrain her accent. + +"He? yes, indeed; he is dying. Public contempt has completely crushed the +proud giant. We have effected that. Besides," continued he, "in order to +make a suitable return for the touching interest you inspired me with just +now, I must tell you I am going. You have made me rich, and if I were so +unfortunate as to lose you--Ah, words never kill," added he, as he saw how +terrified La Felina was--"I would not remain an hour in this accursed +country." + +"Very well," said she; "give me writing materials." She wrote a few lines +with a trembling hand. + +"To the Count," said she, giving them to Salvatori; "I expect him +to-morrow." + +"Very well," said the Italian, sternly. "This will kill him." + +Scarcely had he left the room when La Felina rang her bell, and the servant +who had always accompanied her entered. The Duchess drew her towards her, +and placing her lips close to the ear of the woman, as if she was afraid +some one would hear her, whispered a few words and sank back completely +exhausted. + +Such was the Duchess of Palma, the famous singer of San Carlo, whom we find +dying in this unknown and obscure retreat. The hand of God, who does not +always punish the soul of the criminal alone, but who sometimes strikes the +living body, weighed heavily on her. The Duke, weary of the ties imposed by +marriage on him, and becoming more and more infatuated with his thin +_danseuse_, sought for an opportunity to throw off his chains. He soon +found one. Feigning to be jealous, the Duke, in consequence of some vague +rumors, obtained the key of the bureau in which the Duchess kept the +"confessions of the heart," as she called the detail of her brief amour +with Monte-Leone. Having gotten possession of this paper, the Duke made a +great noise, threatened her with a suit, and easily obtained the separation +he desired so much. There was a general burst of indignation. The nobles +who had been furious at the _mesalliance_ of the Duke, were more so at the +ingratitude of the guilty wife and low-born woman, who had usurped a rank +and title of which she showed herself so unworthy. The Duchess disappeared +suddenly from the world, which gladly rejected one it had so unwillingly +received. La Felina took refuge in a small house in the retired quarter we +have mentioned. For, like _Venus attached to her prey_, she would not +leave Paris, in which she could not divest herself of the idea that +Monte-Leone, completely reinstated, would some day become Aminta's husband. +Sickness had gradually enfeebled her, and Salvatori, who was master of her +secrets, had established himself in her house. Taking advantage of her +complicity, he had, by means of cunning and terror, became in a manner the +master and tyrant, now that her health was gone, of one to whom he had been +an abject slave. For this reason he had, as we have seen, treated her with +such cruel disdain. + +On the very day this scene took place, Monte-Leone received the following +note: "A woman, whose handwriting you will recognize, has but a few hours +to live. Come to see her for the sake of that pity she deserves. Do not +resist the prayers of one who is on her death-bed." Below was the address +of the Duchess. + +The Count had long lost sight of La Felina; he knew she was separated from +her husband, but was so indifferent that he had not even asked why. Always +kind and generous, he thought duty required him to go, and on the next day +at noon, rang at La Felina's door. Stenio had preceded him a few moments, +and in the next room prepared to enjoy the scene. No sooner had the Count +entered the bedroom than Salvatori thought he heard steps in a boudoir +connected with it, and which opened on a back stairway. Uneasy at this +noise, for which he could not account, he was yet unable to satisfy +himself; for to do so, he would have been again obliged to cross the +Duchess's room, and the Count was already with her. + +When the Count and La Felina met, a cry of astonishment burst from the lips +of each. They seemed to each other two spectres. + +"Count," said the Duchess, in faint and broken voice, "the time is come +when the truth must be told, ere the tongue on which it depends be cold in +the grave. You are, therefore, about to hear the truth as the dying tell it +who have lost all dread of men and their wrath." + +"Speak out, Signora; my life has been so strange that nothing now can +surprise me," said the Count. + +"You will be astonished; for I am about to read the riddle, the mystery, +which you have so long attempted to penetrate." The Count was attentive. +"You have," said La Felina, "sought to know who was the secret enemy who +deprived you of name and fame. I am about to tell you." The Count seemed +surprised. "Do not interrupt me," said she. "This enemy has followed your +steps and poisoned your life. Thus has it been effected: You were ruined, +really ruined, but twice have fifty thousand francs been sent to you, and +you have been made to believe that this was but a restoration of your +fortune." + +"Did it not come from Lamberti?" said the Count. + +"No; bankrupts never pay. A forged letter from this banker insisted on +silence in relation to this restoration, and thus the mysterious resources +were created which awakened the suspicions of the world, and caused the +report that you were an agent of the police to be believed." + +The Count grew pale with horror. + +"Wait," said La Felina. "A man, a devil, purchased by your enemy, in +obedience to orders, went to the house of Matheus, your associate in +Carbonarism. This devil opened the drawer in which the archives of the +association were kept, and taking possession of the lists, substituted +copies for the originals." + +"Infamous," said Monte-Leone. + +"This devil did more. He dared to procure you a pass as a 'Spy in Society.' +This pass your friend Taddeo Rovero saw." + +"My God, my God, can I hear aright?" + +"This man did not think you were as yet sufficiently degraded in the eyes +of the world and your brethren. Taking advantage of a visit you paid me, he +went into your carriage with a cloak like yours over his shoulders, and was +driven to the Prefecture of Police." + +"This is hell itself," said the Count. + +"Did I not say this man was a demon?" said La Felina, coldly. "All this +evidence was accumulated against you. The French Government was deceived, +and did not exert severity towards the powerful chief of the Carbonari, now +become, as it believed, its agent. The world and public opinion did their +work." + +"Why was all this? what was the motive?" + +"You had destroyed the happiness of your enemy, and in return the sacrifice +of your honor was exacted; you had deserted one who adored you, and sought +to marry another; to prevent this she disgraced you. Now, Count +Monte-Leone," said La Felina, rising up, "is it necessary for me to name +that woman? Do you know me?" + +"Wretch!" said the Count, "are you not afraid that I will kill you?" + +"Why?" said she, "am I not dying?" + +"Well," said he, "you shall carry to the tomb one crime in addition to the +offences you have revealed to me. With honor you destroyed my life." Taking +a pistol from his bosom he placed it to his brow, and was about to fire-- + +At the last words of the Count a door was thrown open, and an arm seized +Monte-Leone's hand. He looked around and saw the Duke D'Harcourt. + +"Count," said he, "one person alone can restore you the honor of which you +have been so rudely deprived. That person is the Duke D'Harcourt." + +"The voice of the man, of the father," said he, and his eyes became +suffused with tears, "who charged you publicly with having denounced his +son, and surrendered him to the executioners, with having killed him. + +"Ah! God himself sends you hither," said the Count, with an indescribable +accent of hope. "Yes, yes; you have heard all, and will be believed. +Monsieur," said he, with great animation, "have you not heard all? You know +how I have been treated by those monsters. You will say so. Tell me that +you will. I cast myself at your feet to implore you." + +"Count," said the Duke, lifting up Monte-Leone and embracing him, "I am the +guilty man, for louder than any one I have uttered an anathema on the +innocent. I have appealed to man and God for vengeance." + +"Yes," said the Count, "and touched by the immensity of my sufferings God +has led you hither." + +"Yes, God," said the Duke, "and _she_;" pointing to La Felina, whose eyes +brightened up with animation, strangely contrasted with the morbid palor of +her face. + +"_She?_" said the Count. + +"Yes," said the Duke. "Stricken down by repentance, she besought me +yesterday to come hither to hear her confession." + +Scarcely had the Duke pronounced these words, than a cry of hatred, savage +as that of the jackal, was heard in the next room. + +"Save me, save me," said the Duchess, calling Monte-Leone to her, and +sheltering herself behind his body, "_He_ will murder me." + +"_He?_" said the Duke and Count together. + +"Whom do you refer to?" said Monte-Leone. + +"To Stenio Salvatori, the accomplice in this tissue of crime." + +The two noblemen rushed towards the room where the cry had been heard. A +door leading to the stairway was open, and there was no one visible. When +they returned, the invalid giving way to so severe a shock and exertion was +dying. She had only strength to repeat the request she had urged on Stenio +the day before. "A priest, for heaven's sake, a priest, that I may repeat +to God what I have said to man." + +The door opened and an ecclesiastic appeared. + +"Quick, father, quick," said the Duchess. "Tell me that God, like man, will +forgive me." + +The priest stood for a few minutes in the middle of the room, apparently +overpowered by emotion. He said, "One person must forgive you, Madame, and +that person is the individual whose life you have made miserable, whom you +have made use of to strike this innocent man;" and he pointed to the Count. +"I, as well as the Duke, was in the adjoining room, and have heard all. +That pardon I give you." + +The Duchess said, "Then Rovero, too, forgives me;" before she had finished +his name, Monte-Leone clasped Taddeo in his arms. + +Two days after, a funeral portage proceeded to a place of eternal rest. +Three men followed a body to the grave. They were Monte-Leone, the Duke +d'Harcourt, and the Abbé Rovero. Love and friendship having been both +betrayed, as he thought, Taddeo sought for consolation in religion. The +Divinity, he knew, did not betray those who love him. A fugitive and an +outlaw, he had sought refuge in a seminary, and subsequently had become a +priest. Chance had assigned him to a church near La Felina's house, and he +had been pointed out by the Duchess's confidential servant, as a priest +worthy her mistress's confidence. Heaven had accomplished the rest. + +All Paris, at that time, was filled with a strange report, and with +amazement learned the truth in relation to Monte-Leone. A letter from the +Duke d'Harcourt appeared in the journals of the day and unfolded this +terrible drama. The Duke told Paris and all Europe, what he had overheard +in the Duchess's boudoir. + +It said, if any voice should do justice to this injured man, it is that of +a father who wrongfully accused him of being the death of a son. The moral +reaction in favor of the Count was as sudden as the censure the world had +heaped on him had been. The person who, next to Monte-Leone, enjoyed this +complete reparation, was the adorable woman who had never doubted the honor +of the man she loved. + +The King sent for the Duke d'Harcourt; he understood and participated in +the grief of an unfortunate father, for he, also, had lost the heir of his +throne. When the old noble left the King he bore with him the pardon of +René's young friend, the generous Von Apsberg. The Duke went to the +conciergerie, and on the Doctor, in his gratitude, asking after Marie, the +former said, "She is a patient who will give you a great deal of trouble, +both her health and her heart being seriously affected. You will have two +grave diseases to attend to, and the husband must assist the physician." + + +EPILOGUE. + +A month after these events--on the first of May, that festival of sunlight, +flowers, and universal rejoicings--two couples, followed by many friends +and brilliant attendants, went from the small house on the banks of the +Seine, to the village church of Neuilly. The Prince de Maulear, made young +by happiness, had Marie d'Harcourt on his arm. The Duke escorted the +Marquise, and the Count and Von Apsberg followed them. The priest stood at +the foot of the altar. This priest, who made four persons happy, but who +looked to heaven alone for his own happiness, was Taddeo Rovero. + +The three fiery Carbonari gradually felt their revolutionary ardor grow +dull. The reason is, these three men were now attached to the society they +had sought to destroy, by strong ties. Two were bound to it by family +bonds, and the other by religion. + +_Carbonarism_ was not crushed in Europe, by the disasters of the French +association. It slumbered for ten years, but awoke in 1830. The tree has +grown, and the world now gathers its bitter fruits. + +Stenio Salvatori received in Italy the punishment due his great crimes in +France. His vile heart became the sheath of the stiletto of one of the +brethren of the _Venta_ of CASTEL LA MARC. + +Our old acquaintance, Mlle. Celestine Crepinean, touched by divine grace, +repented of having made so bad a disposition of her pure and virgin love. +Like Magdalen, she threw herself at the feet of her Savior, and lived to an +advanced age, greatly to the edification of the faithful as dispenser of +holy water at the church of Saint THOMAS AQUINAS. + +END OF THE SPY IN SOCIETY. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[3] Concluded from page 327. + +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. + +[4] _Mansarde_ Gallice, from the inventor Mansard, uncle of another +architect of the same name of the time of Louis XIV. + +[5] It is one of the maxims of _magnetism_, that when once an entire +sympathy between two minds is established equality ensues, and consequently +neither can exert influence over the other. + + + + +A GHOST STORY OF NORMANDY. + +BY THE AUTHOR OF "HAMON AND CATAR; OR, THE TWO RACKS." + +From Bentley's Miscellany. + + +I. + +On a fine summer evening, in 1846, I left my house, which was in the +neighborhood of Honfleur, Normandy, to take a stroll. It was July. All the +morning and all the afternoon the sun had been busily pouring down streams +of radiance like streams of boiling water, and I had kept the house, and +kept it closely shut up too, till the orb of day had gone some way down +towards the sea, as if, like a fire-eater, or like a locomotive, to get a +_drink_ after its work. + +My wife being asleep, I borrowed her parasol, for English life in France is +very free and easy, and I was rather careful of my complexion. I lit a +cigar, and starting, soon left the church of St. Catharine behind. My +business in the town was to post a letter, which I got safely done, and +then passing down the fish-market, I found myself, ere long, at the foot of +the Côte de Grace--a steep hill which rises abruptly from the town, and is +scaleable at one part by a sandy zigzag. + +My cigar was a bad one altogether--a bad one to look at and a bad one to +blow. Of government manufacture, it cost five sous, and was not worth one. +Its skin was as thick as an ass's hide, and no persuasion would make _it_ +draw. Like a false friend, it became quite hollow when I put the fire of +trial to it; and only waxed hot and oily as it burnt on. It was a French +regalia, and had nothing of French royalty about it but bad _smoke_. The +tobacco had, I think, lost savor, as salt used to do, in passing through +the monopolizing hands of the _Citoyen Roi_. In a word, my gorge rose at +it. + +I stood awhile at the foot of the zigzag, endeavoring to coax it into +usefulness, for I was a family man, and had given many hostages to fortune, +and dared not to be extravagant. I tried to doctor it by incisions, and by +giving it draughts; but all was in vain. At last it began to unwind, and +some loose ashes found their way to my eyes. I was about to throw it away +in disgust, when a young Frenchman, who had passed me a moment before with +a party (I knew him slightly and we had bowed), returned, and observing +that my cigar seemed troublesome, asked me to try one of his. + +His name was Le Brun. We had met occasionally on the pier, where in the +quiet evenings I used to take refuge from the uproar of my sanctuary at +home, and for awhile almost believed myself a lay bachelor lounging through +France without a charming wife and eight children. He and I had succeeded +well in chit-chat. The Browns, he was fond of saying, were a numerous race +in England, but if he ever settled there he would be distinguished from +them as THE Brown. He was vain of this play on his name, and I always +laughed when he produced it. I had no hesitation, therefore, when he +offered me a cigar: besides, I knew that he always smoked smuggled Cubas. + +We gossiped for a few moments. At length I saw him glance at my wife's +parasol, which was shielding me from the sun. He _said_ nothing, but I felt +my cheek burn with a sudden sort of shame, and immediately shut it up. + +"Madame will return," he said, "and Monsieur attends her." + +This was not the fact. Monsieur had to return, and Madame attended him. But +the observation was put in the narrative form, and if my friend gave me +information which I knew to be false, I was not bound to say so. I only +bowed, therefore; and he added that he was forced to join his party, and +bowed too; and so we separated. + +He had scarcely left me, when I thought that if I had avowed my solitary +state he might have asked me to join his party, which was evidently a merry +one; and I internally execrated the parasol, which had been the means of +preventing this. If by any accident I should meet him again, I resolved +that he should not see me with _it_, and without the lady; so I deposited +it at a little lace-maker's, and soon after began to ascend the Côte de +Grace, not without hopes of meeting the party as they returned, perhaps +from Val-à-Reine. + +Between each wind of the zigzag path was a flight of wooden steps, by which +the adventurous might ascend directly from the bottom of the hill. At the +head of some of these flights of steps were rustic seats; they were +generally on the outer edge of the path, but a few were placed far back, so +that the hill immediately below was unseen. + +I always climbed the Côte by the steps, as I used ever and anon to lie down +on the green carpet which nature has spread over each of the short ascents. +On the present occasion I had not mounted far before a pleasant piece of +this turf-flooring near the top of one of the little hills seduced me from +my toils. I sat down, took Shelley's "Revolt of Islam" from my pocket, +finished my cigar, and in consequence of reading half a dozen stanzas from +the poem--fell asleep. + +I woke suddenly, and as soon as I had my faculties about me, noticed that +people were speaking, and in loud tones, close above me. Otherwise, all was +still around. There was no wind among the little trees; a bee buzzed past +me now and then, and insects hummed, but further off down the hill, and +these voices sounded harsh and dissonant in the quiet air. I listened, at +first mechanically. The conversation was carried on in French. + +"It is time to end this," said a stern, disagreeable voice; "and I will not +wait any longer, M. Raymond." + +"But M. Gray," answered another and more pleasant voice, "you will think of +my situation--my family. I have done all I could." + +"I have thought too much of your family," replied Gray; "but I must also +think of myself. Esther--your daughter--she does not speak with me, for +example, as you said she should." + +"Monsieur!" exclaimed the other. + +"This Le Brun--she is all ears and eyes for him. She----" + +"M. Gray!" said Raymond. His voice had been deprecating before--it was firm +now. "You are so harsh to me; how can you expect kindness from her?" + +"Why, sir, you promised to use your influence with her----" + +"Promised, M. Gray!" Raymond burst in. "You did not think I should sell my +daughter for a debt of the table? I do not think, monsieur, you expected me +to _sell_ my Esther, for example." And there was an emphasis on these last +words which only a Frenchman could give. + +"I did not say you promised that," replied the other; "but I am seeking for +the money you owe me. I love your daughter; you know it; she does not +smile, and I must wait. But my creditors will not wait. I owe money, and +come to you for what you owe me." + +The voice that said this was cold and stern. Suddenly, as I listened to it, +it seemed familiar to me; but where I had heard it I could not remember. +Raymond replied: + +"And suppose I had not played with you and lost? What would you have done?" + +"But my friends in England are so dilatory," was the evasive answer. +"Still--if Mademoiselle Esther----" + +"Sacré!" cried Raymond, starting to his feet, and stamping on the path. +Gray seemed to rise too. "You press me too far. What do I know of you, +monsieur? You live here some few months--you play high--you--you----" + +"Ah, well, monsieur," said Gray, icily, as he paused. + +"My daughter, too," cried Raymond; "you use my debt to you as a means----." +He stopped again in his sudden passion. + +"Pardon me, monsieur," said Gray, sternly, "this is only a debt of honor;" +and he laid a stress on the word which drove it home. "In England we cannot +enforce a debt of honor." + +"What do you do there when it is not paid?" + +"First post the guilty man, and then shoot him," was the answer. + +I felt inclined to start from my concealment and say that this was false. I +recollected, however, just in time, that it was true. + +"But this is folly," pursued Gray, "and we should not quarrel. I am not +going to shoot Esther's father, for example." + +The effect of this cordial and peaceful declaration was instantaneous. Glad +apparently to drop his creditor in his friend at any price, Raymond +answered kindly, and even proposed to give Gray a small sum on account of +his debt, which he accepted. They then began to ascend the zigzag, and ere +long their voices died away in the distance. + +I had remained lying-to where I was all this while, and felt glad when they +left the neighborhood. I never overheard a conversation with pleasure since +I read how the Rev. Dr. Follett declared that his bamboo, and not his +cloth, should protect him from Mr. Eavesdrop. Once, indeed, I had thought +of retiring, but put it off so long that I thought I might just as well +stay out the interview. + +I knew Mr. Raymond by name. He was a banker, and reputed rich. He was also +thought religious--for a Frenchman, even pious. He crossed himself at all +the twopenny representations of the Divine agony. He never galloped past a +crucifix, or calvaire, or burial-place. And yet he now showed himself a +gambler, and apparently on the way to sell his daughter's hand to a man he +did not know, for a gambling debt. The discovery made me feel sick. And yet +I thought how many of my own parisioners, who wave their heads at the +sacred name in the creed, and appear to men to worship, are as false as +this man; packing away their religion like their best hat till next Sunday, +when it seems as good to the next pew as ever. + +But I felt more than an abstract discomfort at my discoveries. Le Brun's +name had been mixed up with Esther Raymond's by this Gray. Now his Cuba +cigar had bound me indissolubly to The Brown, and as long as he asked +nothing but what cost nothing, I was his faithful well-wisher and friend. +This was the time to show my friendship; and accordingly I sprang from my +couch, put Shelley into my pocket, and resumed my ascent of the Côte. + +I had gained the top, and, after looking across the water to Harfleur, +which showed well in the soft light of the westering sun, was about to +walk on, when I saw a party on the rude bench which is set on the seaward +side of the top of the Côte--Le Brun with them. I looked back across the +Seine, and watched the lights and shades shift on the hills of the opposite +shore, collecting my thoughts the while. Ere they were collected, however, +he joined me. + +"Ah! but madame is no longer with monsieur?" he said. + +"No; she's at home now," I answered, thinking how I should best break +ground, and almost inclined to leave him to his own courses now that it was +time to act. Why should I meddle in these foreigners' affairs? What were +they to me? I felt thus for a moment; Le Brun produced his cigar-case, and +I did not feel so for another. + +"I hope you liked my cigar; it is not French," he said. "Will you try +another?" + +"If you will try one of mine," I answered, ashamed to take without giving, +and forgetting that my property consisted of none but the despised French +article. The young gentleman took one of the great clown-like regalias with +a slight shudder, and I saw him wince as he inhaled a mouthful of its rank +produce, and, ere long, quietly drop the thing when he thought I was not +looking, and substitute one of his own. + +The flavor of his Cuba opened my heart to him, and ere long I broached the +subject with which I had no earthly business. + +"You know a certain M. Gray?" I asked. He started. + +"Yes," he said; "that is him talking to mademoiselle. Shall I introduce +you?" + +"Not at present--no, I thank you," I answered. He looked up at me. + +"Do you know him?" he asked. My eye had been bent on him for the last few +seconds. + +"I think I do," I said; "I am not sure." + +"He came here with the Dowlasses; he is the son of an English milord, who +allows him a thousand pounds a year." + +"Why did he leave England, then?" I inquired. + +"He was too gay, I believe." + +"And left his debts unpaid, I suppose." He looked up at me again. + +"If you do know him, or anything about him," he exclaimed, "pray tell me; I +am particularly anxious about him." + +"I know you must be, and so ought mademoiselle to be," I said. He blushed +like a girl and was going to speak, but I continued: "If he is the man I +think, never play at cards with him, M. le Brun; and, between us, separate +his hat from those pink ribbons further than they are now." + +His curiosity, his anxiety, was thoroughly aroused; but, as he began to +speak, a lady's voice called him. It was Esther's. + +"Will you join us?" he said. In another moment I was being introduced to +the party. + +I was at first surprised to find Gray and his dupe smoking and chatting as +gayly as any of the party. I am a good wonderer, but always reason my +surprises away. I soon did so now, reflecting that all men use their faces +as masks, by which they lie without speaking falsehood. And, though I +detest hypocrisy myself, I remembered that I often smiled when I could +grind my teeth with rage--that is, if they were not false ones. + +Le Brun had been summoned to rejoin the circle because a curious topic had +been started. M. Raymond was proprietor of an estate near St. Sauveur, the +house of which was reported to be haunted, and Esther had dared Gray to +spend a night there. + +"But I don't believe in ghosts," he recommenced, after the introduction. +"It would only be to waste a night." + +"Oh, there _is_ a goblin though," replied the beautiful girl--"a male +Amina; always walking into an occupied chamber, so that you're sure to see +him. He does not, however, stop to be caught napping in the morning, like +La Sonnambula." + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," answered Gray. "You've called M. le +Brun"--and he looked somewhat fiercely at my friend--"if he'll spend a +night there, I will. I'm engaged to-night, and to-morrow night, so that he +can go first. But I can't believe in your ghost, mademoiselle." + +"Not if I acknowledge to have seen him myself?" she asked. There was a +general movement among the listeners. "Well, I will accept for M. le Brun; +he shall go to-night or to-morrow, and you the night after--eh, M. +Frederic?" + +Le Brun murmured something about obedience to her wishes; what, I did not +hear. He evidently, however, did not like the scheme, and Gray saw it; but, +in the general interest for Esther's tale, no one else did. + +I do not give it here, for divers reasons. When she had done, it was found +to be time to return. I would have left the party, but Raymond having +seperated Le Brun from Esther, he joined himself to me, and I was unable to +do so. + +"What will Grace say?" thought I. "I hope she won't wait tea for me." I +should have been somewhat crusty if, on an ordinary occasion, I had +returned from a stroll and found that she and the rest had _not_ waited. Le +Brun asked me--as M. Raymond had already done--to stay all the evening with +the party. That, however, I felt to be impossible, and said so. + +"Well, for the present, then," he said. "What can you tell me of M. Gray?" +he added. + +"I expect my brother here to-morrow," I said, "when I will compare notes +with him. Till then I should be cautious, as I may injure an innocent man. +But do you be cautious too. How about this challenge? Shall you sleep in +the haunted house? It is romantic nonsense--this of a spirit, you know. +Mademoiselle has seen a clothes-horse, or a--a part of her dress in +moonlight. I don't believe in ghosts myself at all." + +"Don't you?" said he, somewhat sadly. "I--the truth is, mon cher, I am +afraid I do." + +"You must go on now, though," I said, maliciously. + +"Oh, yes--of course--go on," he answered; "but, monsieur----" he hesitated. + +"What is it, my dear friend?" I said. + +"I thought to ask a favor of you," he replied. "Will you accompany me to +this house, monsieur? I feel I ask much--but will you?" + +"Much, my very dear sir!" I exclaimed, in the fullness of my heart--"not at +all too much. I shall be happy to be of any use to you, and will sit and +smoke those cigars of yours, and let the ghosts go to old ----." I stopped +suddenly. + +"And what," thought I, "will Grace say to _that_?" A sort of dampness +rushed out upon my skin; I had forgotten her. My sentence remained +unfinished, and I looked eagerly about me, as if to question the adjoining +shrubs as to what on earth I was to do. My dear Grace was the light of my +eyes, and the joy of my heart, I'm sure; the best wife, the most amiable of +the sex, but yet she had a kind of will of her own, which was apt to get +grafted, as it were, upon mine. She never opposed me positively in any +thing, but somehow, if she did not like it, it was rarely done. I had just +promised what I might not be able to perform; and yet I did not like to +confess to this foreigner that my wife led me. "A plague upon his Cubas and +him too," I thought. Still, what was to be done? + +"If you cannot sleep there to-night," he said, noticing my uneasiness, "I +will claim the night's grace----" + +"Grace!" I exclaimed; my wife before me in the word. + +"Yes, she said to-night or to-morrow." + +"Oh, to-night?--impossible!" I cried. "I have a very--an engagement +to-night. I can not possibly make it to-night. Besides," I exclaimed, +grasping at an idea like a drowner at a rope, or any thing saving, +"mademoiselle may not give leave to share your danger with any one." + +"I asked her," he said--I had noticed them exchange whispers--"and she +will----" + +"Bother!" I muttered; but instantly continued, with a smile, "if it is to +be so I will be at your service to-morrow. Meanwhile, let me slip away +now--that engagement, you know." + +We were at the foot of the Côte de Grace by this time. He brought the party +to a stand-still, and, after some difficulty, I was allowed to desert, Le +Brun asking me to join him next day to dinner, to which I agreed. After I +left the joyous set I walked away fiercely, like a man with a purpose, till +they were out of sight; but, as I neared that sanctuary of the heart where +the tea would be waiting for me, the fierceness of my pace abated, and, +with hands in pockets and head depressed, I slackened my speed more and +more, till at last, when I reached my garden-gate, I came to a stand-still. + +Unhappily I am tall, and my children are all wonderfully quick. I had not +stood at the gate three seconds before I was surrounded by my urchins, +whooping, and getting among my legs, and hanging to my tails, and playing +the wildest pranks off on me. + +But suddenly I saw my wife leave the house and come down the garden without +her bonnet to welcome me. Oh, how I wished that, just for once, she had +been a shrew; I could have brazened out the matter then. But she smiled so +sweetly at me! + +"Well," she exclaimed, heartily, putting her hands in mine, "you have had a +splendid afternoon for your walk! Have you enjoyed it?" + +"Oh, yes," I said, "except for one thing." + +"What's that?" she asked; "no accident I hope. You've never, surely, been +among the orchards again; I'm sure the grass swarms with adders and +snakes." And she looked so anxiously and tenderly up into my face that I +was forced to stoop and----. But this is weakness. "What was it? I saw you +took out that divine Shelley." + +"Yes," I answered, jumping at any subject foreign to the one at my heart, +"he _is_ divine. I'll never deny it again; the very god of sleep." + +"For shame!" she cried; "and I saw you took something else, too. But where +is it?--the parasol, I mean?" I had forgotten it! I think I must have +started and changed color, for she immediately proceeded: "Never mind, it's +too late to go into the fields for it now. It will be quite destroyed, +though, by the dew to-night--there's always so much in this weather. But, +never mind--and yet how could you forget it?" + +"Oh, it's all right," I replied, somewhat pettishly; "we'll get it in the +morning. I left it in a shop at the foot of the Côte de Grace." + +"Well, then, what was the drawback to your walk?" + +"Oh! never mind it just now," I exclaimed. "Dear Grace, do let me have some +tea; I'll tell you by-and-by." And I bustled among the children towards the +house, she following in some surprise. + +As soon as tea was over I dispatched the children into the garden and +solemnly commenced my tale. Commenced? I plunged into it heels over head, +as a timid bather plunges into the pool when he is the cynosure of the eyes +of all swimmers in it, and by appearing on the brink in Nature's undress +_uniform_, feels himself pledged to enter the liquid. Like him, too, when +once in, I did not find the water so cold as I feared, after all. I had +made my promise so strong by constantly referring to it, that Grace never +even proposed my giving it up. My brother would arrive by to-morrow's boat, +and so that the house would have a guardian she would not object--for once. +I inwardly vowed not to put it in her power to refuse or grant such a favor +again. + + +II. + +So on the morrow, at the appointed time, I was comfortably seated at M. le +Brun's mahogany; and while, "for this occasion only," I played my old +_rôle_ of bachelor, I loosed the hymeneal reins, and actually told some +ancient Cider-cellar stories--in French, too,--which produced explosion +after explosion of laughter, though whether this was caused by the tales or +the telling I cannot of course guess. + +By-and-by evening came, and it was time to start. Le Brun and I hastened, +therefore, to finish the bottles then in circulation; and, as soon as that +was done, rose to walk to the haunted property. And now the skeptical +blockheads who doubt every thing would say that what follows was the +consequence of our libations. Let them say what they like, I only put it to +_you_, if it is likely that a thorough-going Church and State rector would +be influenced by a few bottles of _vin ordinaire_ and a mere _thought_ of +cognac after all. + +It was about nine o'clock when we arrived within sight of St. Sauveur. It +was a lovely night. Beyond the little village in the distance loomed the +hills, rising from the Eure, over which the moon was shining brilliantly. +Presently my companion turned sharply off from the main road, and we began +to ascend a narrow stony lane, so thickly fringed with bushes that the +light was excluded; but ere long we came upon a cross-path nearly as +narrow, but lighted by the rays of the bright moon; this we followed, till, +in a few minutes, we arrived before a gate, which we pushed open, and +advanced into a field. + +Le Brun paused to light a fresh cigar from the smoking ruins of the last, +and, as I walked on, I suddenly became reflective. "Your life, my dear and +reverend sir," I ejaculated, "has just been like this evening's walk. Your +school and college life were all bright and silvery as the highway flooded +by the glorious beams, and so forth. Then came the stony lane of +curateship, and then you gained a cross-lane, stony still, but lighted by +the smiles of Grace, and the prospect of a reversion, which your father got +you cheap, because the occupant was young. And then this youthful rector +joined the Church of Rome, leaving the gate open for you; and so you +stepped into your twelve hundred a year, of which you only need to +sacrifice seventy for a hack to do the work. So that after a somewhat +pleasant life you can enjoy yourself in foreign parts, and----" + +"Halloa!" cried a voice behind. + +I started. In a moment I remembered that I was upon haunted ground, and +motioned to fly. I am no coward, but I hate a surprise, and thought that +perhaps the hero of this enchanted ground was close beside me. Le Brun's +voice, however, dissipated those fears. I had strolled from the right path +in my dream, and he wished me to re-rejoin him. I did so, and we pursued +our walk. + +We soon arrived before the house. It was approachable at the rear by a road +which led to St. Sauveur, after winding about the country some two or three +miles more than necessary, as French roads are apt to do: but the main +entrance was from the fields, as we had come. It was a shabby place, and +looked in the staring moonlight as seedy as a bookseller's hack would look +in the glare of an Almack's ball. The windows were mostly broken, and the +portico, like its Greek model, was in ruins. Rude evergreens grew downward +from the rails which had fixed them, when young, in the way they were to +go, and were sprawling about the nominal garden, which was likewise overrun +by weeds and plots of grass, and fallen shrubs and flowers. The moon never +looked on a poorer spot, and yet there was an air about the tattered old +house which seemed to indicate that it had been good-looking once; as we +may see, despite the plaster-work among the wrinkles of some of our +dowagers, that they were not altogether hideous, as they now are, in the +days of the "Greatest Gentleman" in Europe. + +We entered. It was too late and too dark in-doors to survey the mansion; +so, as Le Brun had been directed to the habitable room, we struck a light, +and ascended directly to it. It was handsomely furnished, and a basket +containing that refreshment which we had looked forward to stood on the +table. The windows were whole; still I thought it well to close the +shutters, as I hate Midsummer nights' draughts as much as I love the +"Midsummer Night's Dream." This done, I sank on a sofa; Le Brun drew some +wine; we fell to at an early supper, and fared well. + +When we had finished we lighted cigars, and our conversation grew +frivolous. Le Brun was in the midst of a description of Esther, when I +heard a groan, and said so. He pooh-poohed me, and, half annoyed at the +interruption, proceeded. He had not got on very far before the groan was +repeated. I started up. + +"Pooh!--wind!" said my companion, retaining his seat and emitting his +smoke. + +"If so, it must be wind on the stomach, or wind in the lungs," I said. +"Hark!" + +I heard a faint noise. We both listened intently for some minutes, I +standing. It was not repeated, however; so, growing tired, I said that I +must have been mistaken, and sat down. Le Brun agreed with me, and resumed +his description. I followed with a tale; he was reminded by it of another; +and so we continued, till our repeated potations, much speaking, and the +late hour, made both of us prosy, and then we fell, as with one accord, +asleep. + +I must have slept for a considerable time, as, when I woke, I found that +the lamp had burned very low, and looked the worse for having been kept up +so late. I woke with a start, caused, as I imagined, by hearing the +room-door suddenly opened. That was a sound which, as a father of a large +family, I had got to know very well, especially about the smaller hours. I +looked towards the door, but my eyes were dim with sleep, and it was not +till Le Brun's boot was projected against my shin that I became +sufficiently awake to see if my idea was correct or no. It was. + +Not only was the door open but a person was evidently standing on the +threshold. In the sickly light his face was not visible; nothing, in fact, +but an outline of him. I rose, and with as much steadiness of voice as I +could command, requested the visitor to come in. He made a deep bow, set +his hat modestly upon the floor, came across the room, and stood as if +awaiting further orders. + +I had, however, none to give him. I had not sufficient impudence to bid him +sit down and help himself to wine, or what he liked; but I kicked Le Brun, +in payment for his attack on me, and motioned to him to do the honors. He +met the advance of my foot, however, in an unexpected way. + +"Diable!" he cried, "Est-ce que----" + +He stopped as if a gag had been thrust between his jaws; for our visitor, +doubtless applying the epithet to himself, suddenly turned his back on us, +walked to the door, picked up his hat, and, though I cried after him, as +the Master of Ravenswood cried after his dead Lucia's ghost, to stop, paid +no more heed than that virgin does to Mario, but retired quickly, his boots +screaming as he trod upon them like veritable souls in pain. We made no +motion to follow, but remained as if glued to our places, looking on each +other from our semi-sleepy eyes in a somewhat foolish manner. + +"He'll come back," said Le Brun. "Hush!" + +The boots had stopped at the bottom of the stairs; we heard no sound. + +"If he does, don't name Sathanas, for Heaven's sake," I said. "He doesn't +like it. It may recall unpleasant things--seem personal, in fact----" + +"Hush!" he exclaimed. + +We listened. The screaming boots were remounting the stairs. The visitor +had got over the personality, and was coming back. "What should be done? I +am no coward; I've said so before; but I seriously thought of running to, +shutting, fastening, and setting chairs against the door. But I did not +move. The footsteps approached, and then began to recede again. This +suspense of the interest--or, rather, dragging out of it--was most +tormenting. What if he should go on walking all night? But the steps were +ere long heard once more coming near the room, and once more the visitor +stood at the door. But he did not enter now. He looked steadfastly towards +us; beckoned slowly; then, turning, began to leave us again. I drew a long, +well-satisfied breath as he disappeared and leaned back on the sofa. + +"I trust he's gone for good now," I said. + +"He beckoned. We must follow," said Le Brun. + +"Follow! Pooh, pooh!" I exclaimed. "Let us sit still and be glad." + +"Not I," was his brave response. "Be he man, or be he----" + +"Hush!" I cried. "He may hear. He doesn't like the word----" + +"I do not understand the impulse," said Le Brun; "but we must follow." + +"I do not _feel_ the impulse," I rejoined. "Still, if you do, and obey it, +I will not desert you." + +"Come," he answered. And with quick steps we chased the vocal boots down +the corridor, and ere long saw the wearer of them, having descended the +stairs, cross the hall, and wait at the door of the house. + +The moon was still shining brightly, and its rays came through the broken +windows on the ground-floor, and fell on the figure of the mysterious one. +He was of middle height, and of broad and muscular build. He seemed more +like an English farmer than a French ghost. His garments were seedy, and +his hat was old; but his boots were like the boots of Thaddeus of Warsaw, +the son of Miss Porter, who was so mortally offended when asked the name of +the maker of his Bluchers, and they gleamed like boots of polished steel. +All, however, did not seem right about the stranger. His head appeared +awry, and his arms out of their places. But perhaps these blemishes were +attributable to the moonlight, and not to the man; for he showed that he +could turn his head and look at us, and use his arms to open the door. We +followed him out into the air. + +He led us through the field we had already traversed, but in a rather +different direction. The night was chilly, and the long grass damp, and I +began to grow weary of the adventure. Suddenly, however, our conductor +stopped before what appeared to be a ruined cow-shed. He looked at it +earnestly for a few moments, then at us, who kept a respectful distance; +then, making an abrupt motion of his arm towards it, too rapid for us to +understand, he seemed to me to spring into the air. Whether he did so or +not, I cannot declare; but I know that when I rubbed my eyes, and looked +round about for him, he was nowhere to be seen. We examined the spot, but +he had left no traces. Boots, and hat, and all his trappery had gone with +him. He had come like a dream, and vanished like a morning dream. + +We stood for a few moments uncertain what to do, and then it occurred to me +that the room we had left was warm and comfortable, and this field cold and +dreary; so I proposed to return, especially as, the stranger having +vanished, there did not appear to be any business in hand. Le Brun agreed, +and we did so, and, after talking awhile over our adventure, went to sleep +over our talk; and I did not wake again till morning was staring into the +chamber, as Le Brun threw open the shutters. + +The conversation that took place is as well to be imagined as transcribed. +Enough to say that I determined to have no share in Le Brun's narrative, +but left him to heighten it for himself. I parted with him at my house, +where I found Grace looking out for me; and he promised to return in the +course of the morning to pay his respects to her. + +To my surprise, however, when he came, he asked me for five minutes' +conversation, and we went together into the field belonging to my house, +which sloped down to the Seine. His countenance was _both_ joyous and +anxious, and I saw that he had something heavier on his mind than last +night's frolic. + +"I have spoken to you of M. Gray," he said, "and of Mademoiselle Raymond. I +have learnt this morning that M. Gray has her father in his power." + +"You learnt that from her?" I asked. + +He blushed and did not answer. + +I went on. I had compared notes with my brother about this Gray, and found +my suspicions correct. I therefore told Le Brun what I had overheard on the +zigzag, and he in reply told me that Raymond had accepted a bill for the +amount of the debt to Gray. + +"That's serious," I said. "But before we say more, monsieur, are you +engaged to Mademoiselle Esther?" + +He replied in the affirmative. + +"Can you live--excuse the question--with her without dowry?" + +He replied in the affirmative again. + +"Then," I said, "though it may sound oddly from one of my cloth, you must +either elope with her----" + +"But then M. Raymond?--But his family?" + +"He must suffer for his folly; not you. And you are only going to marry one +daughter, not all of them. The other alternative is--you must pay Raymond's +acceptance, as he cannot." + +"It would be ruin. I cannot, either," he replied. + +"Then you must lose Esther." + +"I will not. No. And yet if I was to shoot Gray----" + +"Shoot?" I interrupted, with the virtuous horror of a man who has never +been tempted to fight a duel--"and would you then outrage the laws of +divine and human?" + +"No; it wouldn't do to shoot him," he pursued. "But oh, monsieur, can you +not suggest something to help me--to help us?" + +A thought suddenly came into my head. "Gray is pledged to spend to-night in +the haunted house, is he not?" I asked. + +He answered that it was so. + +"I believe the man to be an arrant coward," I went on. "To be sure, he shot +a dear friend of mine in a duel, and behaved, as the world says, like a +brave man before his witnesses. But he's a coward for all that, and we'll +test it. I don't believe in our friend the Goblin Farmer; I don't believe +we saw any body, or any spirit last night at all. Well, never mind beliefs; +don't interrupt me. I think our eyes were made the fools of other senses, +and that there's no such thing. Gray has to spend the night there--we'll go +again to-night, that is, if my wife will let me, and perhaps get my brother +to help us--eh? Suppose we give him a lesson." And I laughed. + +He laughed too; and after a few more observations, he accompanied me into +my drawing-room. Grace and James, with his wife Emma, were sitting talking +there. + +I have said that I am a lazy rector. During my curatehood, however, I had +learned to preach sufficiently well for the parish where I worked. To be +sure my congregation was neither large or wakeful, except in winter, when +the church was like a Wenham ice depôt, and people could not sleep. But I +was brief, and no faults were ever found in my time with brevity. My +experience in exposition and appeal now stood me in good stead. + +I introduced Le Brun, and then plunged into matters. I gave a brief account +of Esther and her father. I eulogized Le Brun. After that I spoke of Gray, +and reminded James of the life and times--the death, too, of John Finnis, +whom he saved from being plucked alive in St. James's, only that he might +be shot in Hampstead. These dispatched, I opened my plans, which were +listened to with great interest; the only alteration proposed was that +James should go to find the authorities (if there were any, which he +doubted), and give notice of Gray's character to them; after which he was +to return to my house, and stay there till Le Brun and I came back from our +nocturnal expedition, as Grace and Emma feared to be left alone. Poor Emma, +indeed, declared that this was the most romantic thing she had ever heard +of, except one which happened in the village where she was born; but as +neither James or I liked to hear her speak of her origin, we cut her +narrative short. + +The cresset moon was up in heaven--at least, Emma said it was--when we +started. It seemed to me nearly full; but she was poetical. I told her that +if it was a cresset, it was tilting up, and ought, therefore, to be pouring +out oil, and not light, on the earth. We started, I repeat, and a short +time after, in the language of a favorite novelist, two travellers might +have been seen slowly wending on their way, bundle in hand, towards the +haunted house. + +In another hour or so, when the wind had sunk into repose, and the birds +had ceased their songs, and all things save the ever-watching stars were +sleeping (as that favorite historian might go on, if he were telling this +tale and not I), a tall and ecclesiastical form crept slowly from a place +of concealment near the house, approached it, and gently knocked at the +door. It was opened, and he entered cautiously. A few whispered sentences +passed with some friend within, which being over, he proceeded, though with +some hesitation, to mount the stairs and pace along the corridor. + +My boots (for I was the ecclesiastic) creaked and crackled like mad boots. +Onward I went, like the Ghost in Hamlet, only with very vocal buskins. I +reached Gray's room and opened the door. A strange sight met my eyes +through the green glass goggles which I wore over them. + +Gray was pacing up and down, in evident fear. A quantity of half-burnt +cigars, some bottles of wine, glasses, the lamp, and, above all, two +pistols were on the table. As I opened the door, and the light fell on me, +I feared that I should be discovered. But the gambler was afraid--and fear +has no eyes. I advanced into the room, and solemnly waved to him to follow. +He must have caught up a pistol ere he did so. I led the way. + +It was my determination to lead him a long chase, and leave him in a ditch +if possible, Le Brun being near at hand to cudgel him. He had readily +understood my pantomime (I studied under Jones the player when in training +for orders), for I found he followed me, though at a distance. + +But all my plans were disconcerted. As I reached the stair-head I heard a +noise, and stopped; so did Gray. It was as of some one forcing the house +door. Directly afterwards I heard the loud cries of the real goblin's +boots, and the sound of Le Brun in swift pursuit. + +"Take care, monsieur," he cried up the stairs to me. + +"By heaven they are robbers--murderers! Help! help!" roared Gray from +behind; and as the real apparition came gliding up, he fired his pistol at +it. The unexpected sound of the weapon, so close to my ear, too, stunned me +for a moment; but I recovered myself directly, and flung myself on him, in +fear lest he had his second pistol, too, and might fire at _me_. The real +goblin continued to advance, and I felt Gray tremble with terror in my arms +as _it_ survived the shot. + +An unwonted boldness came over me. I felt myself committed to be brave. + +"Villain!" I muttered in his ear, "you would swindle my descendant out of +all he has?" + +"No--forgive me. I will not take a sou." + +"His acceptance--where is it? Give it me." He shuddered. + +"I will give it to you," he said. + +I released him, and followed to the lamp-lighted chamber. The other +apparition creaked after him, too, and at the door I gave it the +precedence. It was well I did so. The sudden light seemed to make Gray +bold, for snatching up the other pistol he levelled it at the Simon Pure, +and before I could utter a word, fired. The shot must have passed clean +through the breast of the Mysterious Stranger--he only bowed. + +Gray was now in mortal fear. + +"Give up that bill," I said in solemn, pedal tones. He drew it frantically +from his pocket, and, leaping up, gave it to the mysterious one. + +"Go to th----" he began, with a sort of ferocious recklessness. The next +moment he was sprawling on the floor. The Goblin reached out his hand, and +struck Gray, as it seemed, lightly with it. I would have raised him. I +motioned to do so; but my original touched me on the shoulder, handed me +the bill, and motioned to me to follow. I did not like his notes of +hand--his signature by mark on Gray's face--I therefore at once obeyed. Le +Brun had vanished. + +The stranger led me by the old route till we were again close to the +tottering cow-house. Here he paused, as on the last occasion, and was, +perhaps, preparing to disappear again. + +"One moment, sir," I said. "Be good enough to explain yourself more plainly +than you did last night. However much I may admire your acting, and it has +_beaucoup de l'Esprit_ about it, family arrangements will prevent me from +again assisting----" + +He nodded as though he quite understood me, advanced to the side of the +shed, stopped under a sort of window, and then, deliberately sitting down +on the grass, began to pull off his boots. I gazed at him in amazement, and +was about to address him again, when a little cloud sailed across the moon, +and for a moment shaded all the place. As it passed away, and I looked to +our mysterious visitant and my mysterious Original, no remains of him were +to be seen--except the boots. + +At this moment Le Brun joined me. I was the first (as before and as ever) +to throw aside my natural fears, and I advanced to the spot. There were two +highly polished Bluchers, side by side, as if they waited till the occupant +of the cow-house was out of bed and shaved. I took one of them up. +Something inside chinked. I reversed it, and three Napoleons fell upon the +turf. + +I was wondering why a French farmer-ghost should choose a Blucher to +deliver Napoleons into an Englishman's hands, when Le Brun, finding nothing +in the other boot, suggested that it would be well to get Gray out of the +neighborhood, and perhaps the three Napoleons might be useful to him. To +this I agreed at once, though I was somewhat dissatisfied with the little +fellow for the small share he had taken in the risks of the evening. + +I went to the room where the gambler was; he was evidently in mortal fear. +I put down the Napoleons on the table, and then in those deep, pedal, and +ecclesiastical notes, which have so often hymned my congregation to repose, +informed him that friends of John Finnis were in the town, that he was +proclaimed to the authorities, and that he had better leave the +neighborhood for ever. With this I left him, joined Le Brun, and was soon +on my way back to Honfleur. + +"It was well I drew the shot from his pistols," said Le Brun, as we were +parting. I did not then see any latent meaning in his words, nor would he +ever afterwards answer any questions on the subject. I had forgotten to +remove my ghostly dresses and decorations, and Grace and Emma both uttered +gentle screams as I stalked into their presence. My tale was soon told, and +we retired to rest. + +Here the whole tale ends. As the events I recorded recede into the past, I +begin almost to doubt the truth of them. But I have one living +evidence--now I am glad to say not single--and Le Brun may fairly lay it to +me that he has at this moment the most agreeable little lady in all +Normandy for his wedded wife. I am not aware if Boots still visits the +glimpses of the moon at St. Sauveur, for soon after these events I was +obliged to return to my parish to put down the Popish fooleries which I +found my hack had begun to introduce. If, however, he does, I only hope his +reappearance will be as useful as in the above little narrative, but the +Brown, the Gray--and the narrator have now done with him for ever. + + + + +CREBILLON, THE FRENCH ÆSCHYLUS. + +From Fraser's Magazine. + + +About the year 1670, there lived at Dijon a certain notary, an original in +his way, named Melchior Jolyot. His father was an innkeeper; but of a more +ambitious nature than his sire, the son, so soon as he had succeeded in +collecting a little money, purchased for himself the office of head clerk +in the Chambres des Comptes of Dijon, with the title of Greffier of the +same. During the following year, having long been desirous of a title of +nobility, he acquired, at a very low price, a little abandoned and almost +unknown fief, that of Crebillon, situated about a league and a half from +the city. + +His son, Prosper Jolyot, the future poet, was at that time a young man of +about two-and-twenty years of age, a student at law, and then on the eve of +being admitted as advocate at the French bar. From the first years of his +sojourn in Paris, we find that he called himself Prosper Jolyot _de +Crebillon_. About sixty years later, a worthy philosopher of Dijon, a +certain Monsieur J. B. Michault, writes as follows to the President de +Ruffey:--"Last Saturday (June 19th, 1762), our celebrated Crebillon was +interred at St. Gervais. In his _billets de mort_ they gave him the title +of _ecuyer_; but what appears to me more surprising, is the circumstance of +his son adopting that of _messire_." + +Crebillon had then ended by cradling himself in a sort of imaginary +nobility. In 1761, we find him writing to the President de Brosse: "I have +ever taken so little thought respecting my own origin, that I have +neglected certain very flattering elucidations on this point. M. de Ricard, +máitre des comptes at Dijon, gave my father one day two titles he had +found. Of these two titles, written in very indifferent Latin, the first +concerned one Jolyot, chamberlain of Raoul, Duke of Burgundy; the second, a +certain Jolyot, chamberlain of Philippe le Bon. Both of these titles are +lost. I can also remember having heard it said in my youth by some old +inhabitants of Nuits, my father's native place, that there formerly existed +in those cantons a certain very powerful and noble family, named Jolyot." + +O vanity of vanities! would it be believed that, under the democratic reign +of the Encyclopoedia, a man like Crebillon, ennobled by his own talents +and genius, could have thus hugged himself in the possession of a vain and +deceitful chimera! For truth compels us to own that, from the fifteenth to +the end of the seventeenth century, the Jolyots were never any thing more +or less than honest innkeepers, who sold their wine unadulterated, as it +was procured from the black or golden grapes of the Burgundy hills. + +Meanwhile Crebillon, finding that his titles of nobility were uncontested, +pushed his aristocratic weakness so far as to affirm one day that his +family bore on its shield an eagle, or, on a field, azure, holding in its +beak a lily, proper, leaved and sustained, argent. All went, however, +according to his wishes; his son allied himself by an unexpected marriage +to one of the first families of England. The old tragic poet could then +pass into the other world with the consoling reflection that he left behind +him here below a name not only honored in the world of letters, but +inscribed also in the golden muster-roll of the French nobility. But +unfortunately for poor Crebillon's family tree, about a century after the +creation of this mushroom nobility--which, like the majority of the +nobilities of the eighteenth century, had its foundation in the sand--a +certain officious antiquary, who happened at the time to have nothing +better to do, bethought himself one day of inquiring into the validity of +his claim. He devoted to this strange occupation several years of precious +time. By dint of shaking the dust from off the archives of Dijon and +Nuits, and of rummaging the minutes of the notaries of the department, he +succeeded at length in ferreting out the genealogical tree of the Jolyot +family. Some, the most glorious of its members, had been notaries, others +had been innkeepers. Shade of Crebillon, pardon this impious archæologist, +who thus, with ruthless hands, destroyed "at one fell swoop" the brilliant +scaffolding of your vanity! + +Prosper Jolyot de Crebillon was born at Dijon, on the 13th of February, +1674; like Corneille, Bossuet, and Voltaire, he studied at the Jesuits' +college of his native town. It is well known that in all their seminaries, +the Jesuits kept secret registers, wherein they inscribed, under the name +of each pupil, certain notes in Latin upon his intellect and character. It +was the Abbé d'Olivet who, it is said, inscribed the note referring to +Crebillon:--"_Puer ingeniosus sed insignis nebulo._" But it must be said +that the collegiate establishments of the holy brotherhood housed certain +pedagogues, who abused their right of pronouncing judgment on the scholars. +Crebillon, after all, was but a lively, frolicksome child, free and +unreserved to excess in manners and speech. + +His father, notary and later _greffier en chef_ of the "Chambre des +Comptes" at Dijon, being above all things desirous that his family should +become distinguished in the magistracy, destined his son to the law, saying +that the best heritage he could leave him was his own example. Crebillon +resigned himself to his father's wishes with a very good grace, and +repaired to Paris, there to keep his terms. In the capital, he divided his +time between study and the pleasures and amusements natural to his age. As +soon as he was admitted as advocate, he entered the chambers of a procureur +named Prieur, son of the Prieur celebrated by Scarron, an intimate friend +of his father, who greeted him fraternally. One would have supposed that +our future poet, who bore audacity on his countenance, and genius on his +brow, would, like Achilles, have recognized his sex when they showed him +arms; but far from this being the case, not only was it necessary to warn +him that he _was_ a poet, but even to impel him bodily, as it were, and +despite himself, into the arena. + +The writers and poets of France have ever railed in good set terms against +procureurs, advocates, and all such common-place, every-day personages; and +in general, we are bound to confess they have had right on their side. We +must, however, render justice to one of them, the only one, perhaps, who +ever showed a taste for poetry. The worthy man to whom, fortunately for +himself, Crebillon had been confided, remarked at an early stage of their +acquaintanceship, the romantic disposition of his pupil. Of the same +country as Piron and Rameau, Crebillon possessed, like them, the same frank +gayety and good-tempered heedlessness of character, which betrayed his +Burgundian origin. Having at an early age inhaled the intoxicating perfumes +of the Burgundian wines, his first essays in poetry were, as might be +expected, certain _chansons à boire_, none of which, however, have +descended to posterity. The worthy procureur, amazed at the degree of power +shown even in these slight drinking-songs, earnestly advised him to become +a poet by profession. + +Crebillon was then twenty-seven years of age; he resisted, alleging that he +did not believe he possessed the true creative genius; that every poet is +in some sort a species of deity, holding chaos in one hand, and light and +life in the other; and that, for his part, he possessed but a bad pen, +destined to defend bad causes in worse style. But the procureur was not to +be convinced; he had discovered that a spark of the creative fire already +shone in the breast of Crebillon. "Do not deny yourself becoming a poet," +he would frequently say to him; "it is written upon your brow; your looks +have told me so a thousand times. There is but one man in all France +capable of taking up the mantle of Racine, and that man is yourself." + +Crebillon exclaimed against this opinion; but having been left alone for a +few hours to transcribe a parliamentary petition, he recalled to mind the +magic of the stage--the scenery, the speeches, the applause; a moment of +inspiration seized him. When the procureur returned, his pupil extended his +hand to him, exclaiming, enthusiastically, "You have pointed out the way +for me, and I shall depart." "Do not be in a hurry," replied the procureur; +"a _chef d'oeuvre_ is not made in a week. Remain quietly where you are, +as if you were still a procureur's clerk; eat my bread and drink my wine; +when you have completed your work, you may then take your flight." + +Crebillon accordingly remained in the procureur's office, and at the very +desk on which he transcribed petitions, he composed the five long acts of a +barbarous tragedy, entitled, "The Death of Brutus." The work finished, our +good-natured procureur brought all his interest into play, in order to +obtain a reading of the piece at the Comedie Française. After many +applications, Crebillon was permitted to read his play: it was unanimously +rejected. The poet was furious; he returned home to the procureur's, and +casting down his manuscript at the good man's feet, exclaimed, in a voice +of despair, "You have dishonored me!" + +D'Alembert says, "Crebillon's fury burst upon the procureur's head; he +regarded him almost in the light of an enemy who had advised him only for +his own dishonor, swore to listen to him no more, and never to write +another line of verse so long as he lived." + +Crebillon, however, in his rage maligned the worthy procureur; he would not +have found elsewhere so hospitable a roof or as true a friend. He returned +to the study of the law, but the decisive step had been taken; beneath the +advocate's gown the poet had already peeped forth. And then, the procureur +was never tired of predicting future triumphs. Crebillon ventured upon +another tragedy, and chose for his subject the story of the Cretan king, +Idomeneus. This time the comedians accepted his piece, and shortly +afterwards played it. Its success was doubtful, but the author fancied he +had received sufficient encouragement to continue his new career. + +In his next piece, "Atrée," Crebillon, who had commenced as a school-boy, +now raised himself, as it were, to the dignity of a master. The comedians +learned their parts with enthusiasm. On the morning of the first +representation, the procureur summoned the young poet to his bedside, for +he was then stricken with a mortal disease: "My friend," said he, "I have a +presentiment that this very evening you will be greeted by the critics of +the nation as a son of the great Corneille. There are but a few days of +life remaining for me; I have no longer strength to walk, but be assured +that I shall be at my post this evening, in the pit of the Théâtre +Française." True to his word, the good old man had himself carried to the +theatre. The intelligent judges applauded certain passages of the tragedy, +in which wonderful power, as well as many startling beauties, were +perceptible; but at the catastrophe, when Atreus compels Thyestes to drink +the blood of his son, there was a general exclamation of horror--(Gabrielle +de Vergy, be it remarked, had not then eaten on the stage the heart of her +lover). "The procureur," says D'Alembert, "would have left the theatre in +sorrow, if he had awaited the judgment of the audience in order to fix his +own. The pit appeared more terrified than interested; it beheld the curtain +fall without uttering a sound either of approval or condemnation, and +dispersed in that solemn and ominous silence which bodes no good for the +future welfare of the piece. But the procureur judged better than the +public, or rather, he anticipated its future judgment. The play over, he +proceeded to the green-room to seek his pupil, who, still in a state of the +greatest uncertainty as to his fate, was already almost resigned to a +failure; he embraced Crebillon in a transport of admiration: 'I die +content,' said he. 'I have made you a poet; and I leave a man to the +nation!'" + +And, in fact, at each representation of the piece, the public discovered +fresh beauties, and abandoned itself with real pleasure to the terror which +the poet inspired. A few days afterwards, the name of Crebillon became +celebrated throughout Paris and the provinces, and all imagined that the +spirit of the great Corneille had indeed revisited earth to animate the +muse of the young Burgundian. + +Crebillon's father was greatly irritated on finding that his son had, as +they said then, abandoned Themis for Melpomene. In vain did the procureur +plead his pupil's cause--in vain did Crebillon address to this true father +a supplication in verse, to obtain pardon for him from his sire; the +_greffier en chef_ of Dijon was inexorable; to his son's entreaties he +replied that he cursed him, and that he was about to make a new will. To +complete, as it were, his downfall in the good opinion of this individual, +who possessed such a blind infatuation for the law, Crebillon wrote him a +letter, in which the following passage occurs: "I am about to get married, +if you have no objection, to the most beautiful girl in Paris; you may +believe me, sir, upon this point, for her beauty is all that she +possesses." + +To this his father replied: "Sir, your tragedies are not to my taste, your +children will not be mine; commit as many follies as you please, I shall +console myself with the reflection that I refused my consent to your +marriage; and I would strongly advise you, sir, to depend more than ever on +your pieces for support, for you are no longer a member of my family." + +Crebillon, for all that, married, as he said, the most beautiful girl in +Paris--the gentle and charming Charlotte Peaget, of whom Dufresny has +spoken. She was the daughter of an apothecary, and it was while frequenting +her father's shop that Crebillon became acquainted with her. There was +nothing very romantic, it is true, in the match; but love spreads a charm +over all that it comes in contact with. Thus, a short time before his +marriage, Crebillon perceived his intended giving out some marshmallow and +violets to a sick customer: "My dear Charlotte," said he, "we will go +together, some of these days, among our Dijonnaise mountains, to collect +violets and marshmallows for your father." + +It was shortly after his marriage and removal to the Place Maubert, that he +first evinced his strange mania for cats and dogs, and, above all, his +singular passion for tobacco. He was, beyond contradiction, the greatest +smoker of his day. It has been stated by some of the writers of the time, +that he could not turn a single rhyme of a tragedy, save in an obscure and +smoky chamber, surrounded by a noisy pack of dogs and cats; according to +the same authorities, he would very frequently, also, in the middle of the +day, close the shutters, and light candles. A thousand other extravagances +have been attributed to Crebillon; but we ought to accept with caution the +recitals of these anecdote-mongers, who were far too apt to imagine they +were portraying a man, when in reality they were but drawing a ridiculous +caricature. + +When M. Melchior Jolyot learned that his son had, in defiance of his +paternal prohibition, actually wedded the apothecary's daughter, his grief +and rage knew no bounds. The worthy man believed in his recent nobility as +firmly as he did in his religion, and his son's _mesalliance_ nearly drove +him to despair: this time he actually carried his threat into execution, +and made a formal will, by virtue of which he completely disinherited the +poet.--Fortunately for Crebillon, his father, before bidding adieu to the +world and his nobility, undertook a journey to Paris, curious, even in the +midst of his rage, to judge for himself the merits and demerits of the +theatrical tomfooleries, as he called them, of his silly boy, who had +married the apothecary's daughter, and who, in place of gaining nobility +and station in a procureur's office, had written a parcel of trash for +actors to spout. We must say, however, that Crebillon could not have +retained a better counsel to urge his claims before the paternal tribunal +than his wife, the much maligned apothecary's daughter, one of the +loveliest and most amiable women in Paris; and we may add, that this +nobility of which his father thought so much--the nobility of the +robe--which had not been acquired in a Dijonnaise family until after the +lapse of three generations, was scarcely equal to the nobility of the pen, +which Crebillon had acquired by the exercise of his own talents. + +The old greffier, then, came to Paris for the purpose of witnessing one of +the sad tomfooleries of that unhappy profligate, who in better times had +been his son. Fate so willed it that on that night "Atrée" should be +performed. The old man was seized with mingled emotions of terror, grief, +and admiration. That very evening, being resolved not to rest until he had +seen his son, he called a coach on leaving the theatre, and drove straight +to the Faubourg Saint Marceau, to the house which had been pointed out to +him as the dwelling of Crebillon. No sooner had the doors opened than out +rushed seven or eight dogs, who cast themselves upon the old greffier, +uttering in every species of canine _patois_ the loudest possible +demonstrations of welcome. One word from Madame Crebillon, however, was +sufficient to recall this unruly pack to order; yet the dogs, having no +doubt instinctively discovered a family likeness, continued to gambol round +the limbs of M. Melchior Jolyot, to the latter's no small confusion and +alarm. Charlotte, who was alone, waiting supper for her husband, was much +surprised at this unexpected visit. At first she imagined that it was some +great personage who had come to offer the poet his patronage and +protection; but after looking at her visitor two or three times, she +suddenly exclaimed: "You are my husband's father, or at least you are one +of the Jolyot family." The old greffier, though intending to have +maintained his incognito until his son's return, could no longer resist the +desire of abandoning himself to the delights of a reconciliation; he +embraced his daughter-in-law tenderly, shedding tears of joy, and accusing +himself all the while for his previous unnatural harshness: "Yes, yes," +cried he, "yes, you are still my children--all that I have is yours!" then, +after a moment's silence, he continued, in a tone of sadness: "But how does +it happen that, with his great success, my son has condemned his wife to +such a home and such a supper?" + +"Condemned, did you say?" murmured Charlotte; "do not deceive yourself, we +are quite happy here;" so saying she took her father-in-law by the hand, +and led him into the adjoining room, to a cradle covered with white +curtains. "Look!" said she, turning back the curtains with maternal +solicitude. + +The old man's heart melted outright at the sight of his grandchild. + +"Are we not happy?" continued the mother. "What more do we require? We live +on a little, and when we have no money, my father assists us." + +They returned to the sitting-room. + +"What wine is this?" said the old Burgundian, uncorking the bottle intended +to form part of their frugal repast. "What!" he exclaimed, "my son fallen +so low as this! The Crebillons have always drunk good wine." + +At this instant, the dogs set up a tremendous barking: Crebillon was +ascending the stairs. A few moments afterwards he entered the room escorted +by a couple of dogs, which had followed him from the theatre. + +"What! two more!" exclaimed the father; "this is really too much. Son," he +continued, "I am come to entreat your pardon; in my anxiety to show myself +your father, I had forgotten that my first duty was to love you." + +Crebillon cast himself into his father's arms. + +"But _parbleu_, Monsieur," continued the old notary, "I cannot forgive you +for having so many dogs." + +"You are right, father; but what would become of these poor animals were I +not to take compassion upon them? It is not good for man to be alone, says +the Scripture. No longer able to live with my fellow-creatures, I have +surrounded myself with dogs. The dog is the solace and friend of the +solitary man." + +"But I should imagine you were not alone here," said the father, with a +glance towards Charlotte, and the infant's cradle. + +"Who knows?" said the young wife, with an expression of touching melancholy +in her voice. "It is perhaps through a presentiment that he speaks thus. I +much fear that I shall not live long. He has but one friend upon the earth, +and that friend is myself. Now, when I shall be no more----" + +"But you shall not die," interrupted Crebillon, taking her in his arms. +"Could I exist without you?" + +Madame Crebillon was not deceived in her presentiments: the poet, who, we +know, lived to a patriarchal age, lived on in widowed solitude for upwards +of fifty years. + +Crebillon and his wife accompanied the old greffier back from Paris to +Dijon, where, to the great surprise of the inhabitants, the father +presented his son as "M. Jolyot de Crebillon, who has succeeded Messieurs +Corneille and Racine in the honors of the French stage." Crebillon had the +greatest possible difficulty in restraining the enthusiasm of his sire. He +succeeded, however, at length, not through remonstrance, but by the +insatiable ardor he displayed in diving into the paternal money-bags. After +a sojourn of three months at Dijon, Crebillon returned to Paris; and well +for him it was that he did so; a month longer, and the father would +indubitably have quarrelled with him again, and would have remade his will, +disinheriting this time, not the rebellious child, but the prodigal son. +Crebillon, in fact, never possessed the art of keeping his money; and in +this respect he but followed the example of all those who, in imagination, +remove mountains of gold. + +Scarcely had he arrived in Paris when he was obliged to return to Dijon. +The old greffier had died suddenly. The inheritance was a most difficult +one to unravel. "I have come here," writes Crebillon to the elder of the +brothers Pâris, "only to inherit law-suits." And, true enough, he allowed +himself to be drawn blindly into the various suits which arose in +consequence of certain informalities in the old man's will, and which +eventually caused almost the entire property to drop, bit by bit, into the +pockets of the lawyers. + +"I was a great blockhead," wrote Crebillon later; "I went about reciting +passages from my tragedies to these lawyers, who feigned to pale with +admiration; and this manoeuvre of theirs blinded me; I perceived not that +all the while these cunning foxes were devouring my substance; but it is +the fate of poets to be ever like La Fontaine's crow." + +Out of this property he succeeded only in preserving the little fief of +Crebillon, the income derived from which he gave up to his sisters. On his +return to Paris, however, he changed altogether his style of living; he +removed his penates to the neighborhood of the Luxembourg, and placed his +establishment on quite a seignorial footing, as if he had become heir to a +considerable property. This act of folly can scarcely be explained. The +report, of course, was spread, that he had inherited property to a large +amount. Most probably he wished, by acting thus, to save the family honor, +or, to speak more correctly, the family vanity, by seeking to deceive the +world as to the precise amount of the Jolyot estate. + +True wisdom inhabits not the world in which we dwell. Crebillon sought all +the superfluities of luxury. In vain did his wife endeavor to restrain him +in his extravagances; in vain did she recal to his mind their frugal but +happy meals, and the homely furniture of their little dwelling in the Place +Maubert; "_so gay for all that on sunny days_." + +"Well," he would reply, "if we must return there, I shall not complain. +What matters if the wine be not so good, so that it is always your hand +which pours it out." + +Fortunately, that year was one of successive triumphs for Crebillon. The +"Electre" carried off all suffrages, and astonished even criticism itself. +In this piece the poet had softened down the harshness of his tints, and +while still maintaining his "majestic" character, had kept closer to nature +and humanity. + +"Electre" was followed by "Rhadamiste," which was at the time extolled as a +perfect _chef-d'oeuvre_ of style and vigor. There is in this play, if we +may be allowed the term, a certain rude nobility of expression, which is +the true characteristic of Crebillon's genius. It was this tragedy which +inspired Voltaire with the idea, that on the stage it is better to strike +hard than true. The enthusiastic auditory admitted, that if Racine could +paint love, Crebillon could depict hatred. Boileau, who was then dying, and +who, could he have had his wish, would have desired that French literature +might stop at his name, exclaimed, that this success was scandalous. "I +have lived too long!" cried the old poet, in a violent rage. "To what a +pack of Visigoths have I left the French stage a prey! The Pradons, whom we +so often ridiculed, were eagles compared to these fellows." Boileau +resembled in some respect old "Nestor" of the _Iliad_, when he said to the +Greek kings--"I would advise you to listen to me, for I have formerly mixed +with men who were your betters." The public, however, amply avenged +Crebillon for the bitter judgment of Boileau; in eight days two editions of +the "Rhadamiste" were exhausted. And this was not all: the piece having +been played by command of the Regent before the court at Versailles, was +applauded to the echo. + +Despite these successes, Crebillon was not long in getting to the bottom of +his purse. In the hope of deferring as long as he possibly could the evil +hour when he should be obliged to return to his former humble style of +living, he used every possible means to replenish his almost exhausted +exchequer. He borrowed three thousand crowns from Baron Hoguer, who was the +resource of literary men in the days of the Regency; and sold to a Jew +usurer his author's rights upon a tragedy which was yet to be written. He +had counted upon the success of "Xerxes;" but this tragedy proved an utter +failure. Crebillon, however, was a man of strong mind. He returned home +that evening with a calm, and even smiling countenance: "Well," eagerly +exclaimed Madame Crebillon, who had been awaiting in anxiety the return of +her husband. "Well," replied he, "they have damned my play; to-morrow we +will return to our old habits again." + +And, true to his word, on the following morning Crebillon returned to the +Place Maubert, where he hired a little apartment near his father-in-law, +who could still offer our poet and his wife, when hard pressed, a glass of +his _vin ordinaire_ and a share of his dinner. Out of all his rich +furniture Crebillon selected but a dozen cats and dogs, whom he chose as +the companions of his exile. To quote d'Alembert's words--"Like Alcibiades, +in former days, he passed from Persian luxury to Spartan austerity, and, +what in all probability Alcibiades was not, he was happier in the second +state than he had been in the first." + +His wife was in retirement what she had been in the world. She never +complained. Perhaps even she showed herself in a more charming light, as +the kind and devoted companion of the hissed and penniless poet, than as +the admired wife of the popular dramatist. Poor Madame Crebillon hid their +poverty from her husband with touching delicacy; he almost fancied himself +rich, such a magic charm did she contrive to cast over their humble +dwelling. Like Midas, she appeared to possess the gift of changing whatever +she touched into gold, that is to say, of giving life and light by her +winning grace to every thing with which she came in contact. Blessed, +thrice blessed is that man, be he poet or philosopher, who, like Crebillon, +has felt and understood that amiability and a contented mind are in a wife +treasures inexhaustible, compared to which mere mundane wealth fades into +utter insignificance. No word of complaint or peevish expression ever +passed Madame Crebillon's lips; she was proud of her poet's glory, and +endeavored always to sustain him in his independent ideas; she would listen +resignedly to all his dreams of future triumphs, and knew how to cast +herself into his arms when he would declare that he desired nothing more +from mankind. One day, however, when there was no money in the house, on +seeing him return with a dog under each arm, she ventured on a quiet +remonstrance. "Take care, Monsieur de Crebillon," she said, with a smile, +"we have already eight dogs and fifteen cats." + +"Well, I know that," replied Crebillon; "but see how piteously these poor +dogs look at us; could I leave them to die of hunger in the street?" + +"But did it not strike you that they might possibly die of hunger here? I +can fully understand and enter into your feelings of love and pity for +these poor animals, but we must not convert the house into a hospital for +foundling dogs." + +"Why despair?" said Crebillon. "Providence never abandons genius and +virtue. The report goes that I am to be of the Academy." + +"I do not believe it," said Madame Crebillon. "Fontenelle and La Motte, who +are but _beaux esprits_, will never permit a man like you to seat himself +beside them, for if you were of the Academy, would you not be the king of +it?" + +Crebillon, however, began his canvass, but as his wife had foreseen, +Fontenelle and La Motte succeeded in having him black-balled. + +All these little literary thorns, however, only imparted greater charms to +the calm felicity of Crebillon's domestic hearth; but we must now open the +saddest page of our poet's hitherto peaceful and happy existence. + +One evening, on his return from the Café Procope, the resort of all the +wits and _litterateurs_ of the eighteenth century, Crebillon found his wife +in a state of great agitation, half-undressed, and pressing their sleeping +infant to her bosom. + +"Why, Charlotte, what is the matter?" he exclaimed. + +"I am afraid," replied she, trembling, and looking towards the bed. + +"What folly! you are like the children, you are frightened at shadows." + +"Yes, I am frightened at shadows; just now, as I was undressing, I saw a +spectre glide along at the foot of the bed. I was ready to sink to the +earth with terror, and it was with the greatest difficulty that I could +muster strength enough to reach the child's cradle." + +"Child yourself," said Crebillon, playfully; "you merely saw the shadow of +the bed-curtains." + +"No, no," cried the young wife, seizing the poet's hand--"it was Death! I +recognized him; for it is not the first time that he has shown himself to +me. Ah! _mon ami_, with what grief and terror shall I prepare to lie down +in the cold earth! If you love me as I love you, do not leave me for an +instant; help me to die, for if you are by my side at that hour, I shall +fancy I am but dropping asleep." + +Greatly shocked at what he heard, Crebillon took his child in his arms, and +carried it back to its cradle. He returned to his wife, pressed her to his +bosom, and sought vainly for words to relieve her apprehensions, and to +lead back her thoughts into less sombre channels. He at length succeeded, +but not without great difficulty, in persuading her to retire to rest; she +scarcely closed an eye. Poor Crebillon sat in silence by the bedside of his +wife praying fervently in his heart; for perhaps he believed in omens and +presentiments even to a greater degree than did Charlotte. Finding, at +length, that she had dropped asleep, he got into bed himself. When he awoke +in the morning, he beheld Charlotte bending over him in a half-raised +posture, as though she had been attentively regarding him as he slept. +Terrified at the deadly paleness of her cheeks, and the unnatural +brilliancy of her eyes, and sensitive and tender-hearted as a child, he was +unable to restrain his tears. She cast herself passionately into his arms, +and covered his cheeks with tears and kisses. + +"'Tis all over now," she whispered, in a broken voice; "my heart beats too +strongly to beat much longer, but I die contented and happy, for I see by +your tears that you will not forget me." + +Crebillon rose hastily and ran to his father-in-law. "Alas!" said the poor +apothecary, "her mother, who was as beautiful and as good as she, died +young of a disease of the heart, and her child will go the same way." + +All the most celebrated physicians of the day were called in, but before +they could determine upon a method of treatment, the spirit of poor +Charlotte had taken flight from its earthly tabernacle. + +Crebillon, inconsolable at his loss, feared not the ridicule (for in the +eighteenth century all such exhibitions of feeling were considered highly +ridiculous) of lamenting his wife; he wept her loss during half a +century--in other words, to his last hour. + +During the space of two years he scarcely appeared once at the Théâtre +Française. He had the air of a man of another age, so completely a stranger +did he seem to all that was going on around him. One might say that he +still lived with his divine Charlotte; he would speak to her unceasingly, +as if her gentle presence was still making the wilderness of his solitary +dwelling blossom like the rose. After fifteen years of mourning, some +friends one day surprised him in his solitude, speaking aloud to his dear +Charlotte, relating to her his projects for the future, and recalling their +past days of happiness: "Ah, Charlotte," he exclaimed, "they all tell me of +my glory, yet I think but of thee!" + +The friends of Crebillon, uneasy respecting his future destiny, had advised +him during the preceding year to present himself at court, where he was +received and recognized as a man of genius. In the early days of his +widowhood, he quitted Paris suddenly and took up his residence at +Versailles. But at Versailles he lived as he had done in Paris, immured in +his chamber, and entirely engrossed with his own sombre and lugubrious +thoughts and visions; in consequence of this, he was scarcely noticed; the +king seeing before him a species of Danubian peasant, proud of his genius +and his poverty, treated him with an almost disdainful coldness of manner. +Crebillon did not at first comprehend his position at Versailles. He was a +simple-minded philosopher, who had studied heroes and not men. At length, +convinced that a poet at court is like a fish out of water, he returned to +Paris to live more nobly with his heroes and his poverty. He retired to the +Marais, to the Rue des Deux-Portes, taking with him only a bed, a table, +two chairs, and an arm-chair, "in case," to use his own words, "an honest +man should come to visit him." + +Irritated at the rebuff he had met with at Versailles, ashamed of having +solicited in vain the justice of the king, he believed henceforth only in +liberty. "Liberty," said he, "is the most vivid sentiment engraven on my +heart." Unintentionally, perhaps, he avenged himself in the first work he +undertook after this event: the tragedy of "Cromwell,"--"an altar," as he +said, "which I erect to liberty." According to D'Alembert, he read to his +friends some scenes of this play, in which our British aversion for +absolutism was painted with wild and startling energy; in consequence +thereof, he received an order forbidding him to continue his piece. His +Cromwell was a villain certainly, but a villain which would have told well +upon the stage, from the degree of grandeur and heroic dignity with which +the author had invested the character. From that day he had enemies; but +indeed it might be said that he had had enemies from the evening of the +first representation of his "Electre." Success here below has no other +retinue. + +Crebillon was now almost penniless. By degrees, without having foreseen +such an occurrence, he began to hear his numerous creditors buzzing around +him like a swarm of hornets. Not having any thing else to seize, they +seized at the theatre his author's rights. The affair was brought before +the courts, and led to a decree of parliament which ordained that the works +of the intellect were not seizable, consequently Crebillon retained the +income arising from the performance of his tragedies. + +Some years now passed away without bringing any fresh successes. Compelled +by the court party to discontinue "Cromwell," he gave "Semiramis," which, +like "Xerxes," some time previously, was a failure. Under the impression +that the public could not bring itself to relish "sombre horrors of human +tempests," he sought to arm himself as it were against his own nature, to +subdue and soften it. The tragedy of "Pyrrhus," which recalled the tender +colors of Racine, cost him five years' labor. At that time, so strong in +France was the empire of habit, that this tragedy, though utterly valueless +as a work of art, and wanting both in style, relief, and expression, was +received with enthusiasm. But Crebillon possessed too much good sense to be +blinded by this spurious triumph. "It is," said he, when speaking of his +work, "but the shadow of a tragedy." + +"Pyrrhus" obtained, after all, but a transitory success. After a brief +period, the public began to discover that it was a foreign plant, which +under a new sky gave out but a factitious brilliancy. In despair at having +wasted so much precious time in fruitless labor, and disgusted besides at +the conduct of some shameless intriguers who frequented the literary cafés +of the capital, singing his defeat in trashy verse, Crebillon now retired +almost wholly from the world. He would visit the theatre, however, +occasionally to chat with a few friends over the literary topics of the +day; but at length even this recreation was abandoned, and he was seen in +the world no more. + +He lived now without any other friends than his heroes and his cats and +dogs, devouring the novels of La Calprenède, and relating long-winded +romances to himself. His son affirms having seen fifteen dogs and as many +cats barking and mewing at one time round his father, who would speak to +them much more tenderly than he would to himself. According to Freron's +account, Crebillon would pick up and carry home under his cloak all the +wandering dogs he met with in the street, and give them shelter and +hospitality. But in return for this, he would require from them an aptitude +for certain exercises; when, at the termination of the prescribed period, +the pupil was convicted of not having profited by the education he had +received, the poet would take him under his cloak again, put him down at +the corner of a street and fly from the spot with tears in his eyes. + +On the death of La Motte, Crebillon was at length admitted into the +Academy. As he was always an eccentric man, he wrote his "Discourse" of +reception in verse, a thing which had never been done before. On +pronouncing this line, which has not yet been forgotten-- + + Aucun fiel n'a jamais empoisonné ma plume-- + +he was enthusiastically applauded. From that day, but from that day only, +Crebillon was recognized by his countrymen as a man of honor and virtue, as +well as genius. It was rather late in the day, however; he had lost his +wife, his son was mixing in the fashionable world, he was completely alone, +and almost forgotten, expecting nothing more from the fickle public. More +idle than a lazzarone, he passed years without writing a single line, +though his ever-active imagination would still produce, mentally, tragedy +after tragedy. As he possessed a wonderful memory, he would compose and +rhyme off-hand the entire five acts of a piece without having occasion to +put pen to paper. One evening, under the impression that he had produced a +masterpiece, he invited certain of his brother Academicians to his house to +hear his new play. When the party had assembled, he commenced, and +declaimed the entire tragedy from beginning to end without stopping. +Judging by the ominous silence with which the conclusion was received, that +his audience was not over delighted with his play, he exclaimed, in a pet-- + +"You see, my friends, I was right in not putting my tragedy on paper." + +"Why so?" asked Godoyn. + +"Because, I should have had the trouble of throwing it into the fire. Now, +I shall merely have to forget it, which is easier done." + +When Crebillon seemed no longer formidable in the literary world, and all +were agreed he was in the decline of his genius, the very men who had +previously denied his power, now thought fit to combat Voltaire by exalting +Crebillon, in the same way as they afterwards exalted Voltaire so soon as +another star appeared on the literary horizon. + +"With the intention of humbling the pride of Voltaire, they proceeded," +says a writer of the time, "to seek out in his lonely retreat the now aged +and forsaken Crebillon, who, mute and solitary for the last thirty years, +was no longer a formidable enemy for them, but whom they flattered +themselves they could oppose as a species of phantom to the illustrious +writer by whom they were eclipsed; just as, in former days, the Leaguers +drew an old cardinal from out the obscurity in which he lived, to give +him the empty title of king, only that they themselves might reign under +his name." + +The literary world was then divided into two adverse parties--the +Crebillonists, and the Voltairians. The first, being masters of all the +avenues, succeeded for a length of time in blinding the public. Voltaire +passed for a mere wit; Crebillon, for the sole heir of the sceptre of +Corneille and Racine. It was this clique which invented the formula ever +afterwards employed in the designation of these three poets--Corneille the +great, Racine the tender, and Crebillon the tragic. One great advantage +Crebillon possessed over Voltaire: he had written nothing for the last +thirty years. His friends, or rather Voltaire's enemies, now began to give +out that the author of "Rhadamiste" was engaged in putting the finishing +hand to a tragedy, a veritable dramatic wonder, by name "Catilina." Madame +de Pompadour herself, tired of Voltaire's importunate ambition, now went +over with her forces to the camp of the Crebillonists. She received +Crebillon at court, and recommended him to the particular care of Louis +XV., who conferred a pension on him, and also appointed him to the office +of censor royal. + +"Catilina" was at length produced with great _éclat_. The court party, +which was present in force at the first performance, doubtless contributed +in a great measure to the success of the piece. The old poet, thus +encouraged, set to work on a new play, the "Triumvirat," with fresh ardor; +but as was Voltaire's lot in after years, it was soon perceptible that the +poet was but the shadow of what he had been. Out of respect, however, for +Crebillon's eighty-eight years, the tragedy was applauded, but in a few +days the "Triumvirat" was played to empty benches. Crebillon had now but +one thing left to do: to die, which, in fact, he did in the year 1762. + +It cannot be denied that Crebillon was one of the remarkable men of his +century. That untutored genius, so striking in the boldness and brilliancy +of its creations, but which more frequently repels through its own native +barbarity, was eminently the genius of Crebillon. But what, above all, +characterizes the genius of the French nation--wit, grace, and +polish--Crebillon never possessed; consequently, with all his vigor and all +his force, he never succeeded in creating a living work. He has depicted +human perversity with a proud and daring hand--he has shown the +fratricide, the infanticide, the parricide, but he never succeeded in +attaining the sublimity of the Greek drama. And yet J. J. Rousseau affirmed +that of all the French tragic poets, Crebillon alone had recalled to him +the grandeur of the Greeks. If so, it was only through the nudity of +terror, for the "French Æschylus" was utterly wanting in what may be termed +human and philosophical sentiment. + +There is a very beautiful portrait of Crebillon extant, by Latour. It would +doubtless be supposed that the man, so terrible in his dramatic furies, was +of a dark and sombre appearance. Far from it; Crebillon was of a fair +complexion, and had an artless expression of countenance, and a pair of +beautiful blue eyes. It must, however, be confessed, that by his method of +borrowing the gestures of his heroes, coupled, moreover, with the habit he +had acquired of contracting his eyebrows in the fervor of composition, +Crebillon in the end became a little more the man of his works. He was, +moreover, impatient and irritable, even with his favorite dogs and cats, +and occasionally with his sweet-tempered and angelic wife, the ever +cheerful partner alike of his joys and sorrows, who had so nobly resigned +herself to the chances and changes of his good and ill-fortune; that loving +companion of his hours of profusion and gaiety, when he aped the _grand +seigneur_, as well as the devoted sharer of those days of poverty and +neglect, when he retired from the world in disgust, to the old +dwelling-house of the Place Maubert. + + + + +HABITS OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. + + +The principal part of the life of this great monarch was spent in camp, and +in a constant struggle with a host of enemies. Yet even then, when the busy +day scarcely afforded a vacant moment, that moment, if it came, was sure to +be given to study. Let the young shopocracy of Glasgow never forget that +Frederic had _very early_ formed an attachment to reading, which neither +the opposition of his father--who thought that the scholar would spoil the +soldier--nor the schemes of ambition and conquest, which occupied him so +much in after life, were able to destroy or weaken. When at last, +therefore, he felt himself at liberty to sheathe the sword, he gave himself +up to the cultivation and patronage of literature and the arts of peace, as +eagerly as he had ever done to the pursuit of military renown. Even before +his accession to the throne, and while yet but a young man, he had +established in his residence at Rheimsberg nearly the same system of +studious application and economy in the management of his time to which he +ever afterwards continued to adhere. His relaxations even then were almost +entirely of an intellectual character; and he had collected around him a +circle of literary associates, with whom it was his highest enjoyment to +spend his hours in philosophic conversation, or in amusements not unfitted +to adorn a life of philosophy. In a letter written to one of his friends, +he says--"I become every day more covetous of my time; I render an account +of it to myself, and lose none of it but with great regret. My mind is +entirely turned toward philosophy; it has rendered me admirable services, +and I am greatly indebted to it. I find myself happy, abundantly more +tranquil than formerly; my soul is less subject to violent agitations; and +I do nothing till I have considered what course of action I ought to +adopt." Let young men contrast such conduct with the frivolities of other +noble and royal persons, and be faithful to her whose ways are +pleasantness, and whose paths are peace. I shall conclude this paper with a +sketch of his doings for the ordinary four-and-twenty hours. Dr. Towers, +who has written a history of his reign, informs us that it was his general +custom to rise at five o'clock in the morning, and sometimes earlier. He +commonly dressed his hair himself, and seldom employed more than two +minutes for that purpose. His boots were put at the bedside, for he +scarcely ever wore shoes. After he was dressed, the adjutant of the first +battalion of his guards brought him a list of all the persons that had +arrived at Potsdam, or departed from thence. When he had delivered his +orders to this officer he retired into an inner cabinet, where he employed +himself in private till seven o'clock. He then went into another apartment, +where he drank coffee or chocolate, and here he found all the letters +addressed to him from Potsdam and Berlin. Foreign letters were placed upon +a separate table. After reading all these letters, he wrote hints or notes +on the margin of those which his secretaries were to answer, and then +returning into the inner cabinet carried with him such as he meant to write +or dictate an answer to himself. Here he employed himself until nine +o'clock. At ten the generals who were about his person attended. At eleven +he mounted his horse and rode to the parade, when he reviewed and exercised +his guards; and at the same hour, says Voltaire, all the colonels did the +same throughout the provinces. He afterwards walked for some time in the +garden with his generals. At one o'clock he sat down to dinner. He had no +carver, but did the honors of the table like a private gentleman. His +dinner-time did not much exceed an hour. He then retired into his private +apartment, making low bows to his company. He remained in private till five +o'clock, when his reader waited on him. His reading lasted about two hours, +and this was succeeded by a concert upon the flute which lasted till nine. +He supped at half-past nine with his favorite _literati_, and at twelve the +king went to bed.--_Communication from David Vedder, in the Glasgow +Citizen._ + + + + +THE OLD MAN'S DEATH. + +A CHILD'S FIRST SIGHT OF SORROW. + +From "Recollections of our Neighborhood in the West."[6] + +BY ALICE CAREY. + + +Change is the order of nature; the old makes way for the new; over the +perished growth of last year brighten the blossoms of this. What changes +are to be counted, even in a little noiseless life like mine! How many +graves have grown green; how many locks have grown gray; how many, lately +young, and strong in hope and courage, are faltering and fainting; how many +hands that reached eagerly for the roses are drawn back bleeding and full +of thorns; and, saddest of all, how many hearts are broken! I remember when +I had no sad memory, when I first made room in my bosom for the +consciousness of death. + + We have gained the world's cold wisdom now, + We have learned to pause and fear; + But where are the living founts whose flow + Was a joy of heart to hear! + +I remember the twilight, as though it were yesterday--grey, and dim, and +cold, for it was late in October, when the shadow first came over my heart, +that no subsequent sunshine has ever swept entirely away. From the window +of our cottage home, streamed a column of light, in which I sat stringing +the red berries of the brier rose. + +I had heard of death, but regarded it only with that vague apprehension +which I felt for the demons and witches that gather poison herbs under the +new moon, in fairy forests, or strangle harmless travelers with wands of +the willow, or with vines of the wild grape or ivy. I did not much like to +think about them, and yet I felt safe from their influence. + +There might be people, somewhere, that would die some time; I did'nt know, +but it would not be myself, or any one I knew. They were so well and so +strong, so full of joyous hopes, how could their feet falter, and their +smiles grow dim, and their fainting hands lay away their work, and fold +themselves together! No, no--it was not a thing to be believed. + +Drifts of sunshine from that season of blissful ignorance often come back, +as lightly + + As the winds of the May-time flow, + And lift up the shadows brightly + As the daffodil lifts the snow-- + +the shadows that have gathered with the years! It is pleasant to have them +thus swept off--to find myself a child again--the crown of pale pain and +sorrow that presses heavily now, unfelt, and the graves that lie lonesomely +along my way, covered up with flowers--to feel my mother's dark locks fall +upon my cheek, as she teaches me the lesson or the prayer--to see my +father, now a sorrowful old man whose hair has thinned and whitened almost +to the limit of three score years and ten, fresh and vigorous, strong for +the race--and to see myself a little child, happy with a new hat and a pink +ribbon, or even with the string of briar buds that I called coral. Now I +tie it about my neck, and now around my forehead, and now twist it among my +hair, as I have somewhere read great ladies do their pearls. The winds are +blowing the last yellow leaves from the cherry tree--I know not why, but it +makes me sad. I draw closer to the light of the window, and slyly peep +within--all is quiet and cheerful; the logs on the hearth are ablaze; my +father is mending a bridle-rein, which "Traveller," the favorite riding +horse, snapt in two yesterday, when frightened at the elephant that +(covered with a great white cloth), went by to be exhibited at the coming +show,--my mother is hemming a ruffle, perhaps for me to wear to school next +quarter--my brother is reading in a newspaper, I know not what, but I see, +on one side, the picture of a bear: Let me listen--and flattening my cheek +against the pane, I catch his words distinctly, for he reads loud and very +clearly--it is an improbable story of a wild man who has recently been +discovered in the woods of some far-away island--he seems to have been +there a long time, for his nails are grown like claws, and his hair, in +rough and matted strings, hangs to his knees; he makes a noise like +something between the howl of a beast and a human cry, and, when pursued, +runs with a nimbleness and swiftness that baffle the pursuers, though +mounted on the fleetest of steeds, urged through brake and bush to their +utmost speed. When first seen, he was sitting on the ground and cracking +nuts with his teeth; his arms are corded with sinews that make it probable +his strength is sufficient to strangle a dozen men; and yet on seeing human +beings, he runs into the thick woods, lifting such a hideous scream, the +while, as make his discoverers clasp their hands to their ears. It is +suggested that this is not a solitary individual, become wild by isolation, +but that a race exists, many of which are perhaps larger and of more +terrible aspects; but whether they have any intelligible language, and +whether they live in caverns of rocks or in trunks of hollow trees, remains +for discovery by some future and more daring explorers. + +My brother puts down the paper and looks at the picture of the bear. "I +would not read such foolish stories," says my father, as he holds the +bridle up to the light, to see that it is nearly mended; my mother breaks +the thread which gathers the ruffle; she is gentle and loving, and does not +like to hear even implied reproof, but she says nothing; little Harry, who +is playing on the floor, upsets his block-house, and my father, clapping +his hands together, exclaims, "This is the house that Jack built!" and +adds, patting Harry on the head, "Where is my little boy? this is not he, +this is a little carpenter; you must make your houses stronger, little +carpenter!" But Harry insists that he is the veritable little Harry, and no +carpenter, and hides his tearful eyes in the lap of my mother, who assures +him that he is her own little boy, and soothes his childish grief by +buttoning on his neck the ruffle she has just completed; and off he +scampers again, building a new house, the roof of which he makes very +steep, and calls it grandfather's house, at which all laugh heartily. + +While listening to the story of the wild man I am half afraid, but now, as +the joyous laughter rings out, I am ashamed of my fears, and skipping +forth, I sit down on a green ridge which cuts the door-yard diagonally, and +where, I am told, there was once a fence. Did the rose-bushes and lilacs +and flags that are in the garden, ever grow here? I think--no, it must have +been a long while ago, if indeed the fence were ever here, for I can't +conceive the possibility of such change, and then I fall to arranging my +string of brier-buds into letters that will spell some name, now my own, +and now that of some one I love. A dull strip of cloud, from which the hues +of pink and red and gold have but lately faded out, hangs low in the west; +below is a long reach of withering woods--the gray sprays of the beech +clinging thickly still, and the gorgeous maples shooting up here and there +like sparks of fire among the darkly magnificent oaks and silvery columned +sycamores--the gray and murmurous twilight gives way to darker shadows and +a deeper hush. + +I hear, far away, the beating of quick hoof-strokes on the pavement; the +horseman, I think to myself, is just coming down the hill through the thick +woods beyond the bridge. I listen close, and presently a hollow rumbling +sound indicates that I was right; and now I hear the strokes more +faintly--he is climbing the hill that slopes directly away from me; but now +again I hear distinctly--he has almost reached the hollow below me--the +hollow that in summer is starry with dandelions and now is full of brown +nettles and withered weeds--he will presently have passed--where can he be +going, and what is his errand? I will rise up and watch. The cloud passes +from the face of the moon, and the light streams full and broad on the +horseman--he tightens his rein, and looks eagerly toward the house--surely +I know him, the long red curls, streaming down his neck, and the straw hat, +are not to be mistaken--it is Oliver Hillhouse, the miller, whom my +grandfather, who lives in the steep-roofed house, has employed three +years--longer than I can remember! He calls to me, and I laughingly bound +forward, with an exclamation of delight, and put my arms about the slender +neck of his horse, that is champing the bit and pawing the pavement, and I +say, "Why do you not come in?" + +He smiles, but there is something ominous in his smile, as he hands me a +folded paper, saying, "Give this to your mother;" and, gathering up his +reins, he rides hurriedly forward. In a moment I am in the house, for my +errand, "Here mother is a paper which Oliver Hillhouse gave me for you." +Her hand trembles as she receives it, and waiting timidly near, I watch her +as she reads; the tears come, and without speaking a word she hands it to +my father. + +That night there came upon my soul the shadow of an awful fear; sorrowful +moans and plaints disturbed my dreams that have never since been wholly +forgot. How cold and spectral-like the moonlight streamed across my pillow; +how dismal the chirping of the cricket in the hearth; and how more than +dismal the winds among the naked boughs that creaked against my window. For +the first time in my life I could not sleep, and I longed for the light of +the morning. At last it came, whitening up the East, and the stars faded +away, and there came a flush of crimson and purple fire, which was +presently pushed aside by the golden disk of the sun. Daylight without, but +within there was thick darkness still. + +I kept close about my mother, for in her presence I felt a shelter and +protection that I found no where else. + +"Be a good girl till I come back," she said, stooping and kissing my +forehead; "mother is going away to-day, your poor grandfather is very +sick." + +"Let me go too," I said, clinging close to her hand. We were soon ready; +little Harry pouted his lips and reached out his hands, and my father gave +him his pocket-knife to play with; and the wind blowing the yellow curls +over his eyes and forehead, he stood on the porch looking eagerly while my +mother turned to see him again and again. We had before us a walk of +perhaps two miles--northwardly along the turnpike nearly a mile, next, +striking into a grass-grown road that crossed it, in an easternly direction +nearly another mile, and then turning northwardly again, a narrow lane, +bordered on each side by old and decaying cherry-trees, led us to the +house, ancient fashioned, with high steep gables, narrow windows, and low, +heavy chimneys of stone. In the rear was an old mill, with a plank sloping +from the door-sill to the ground, by way of step, and a square open window +in the gable, through which, with ropes and pulleys, the grain was drawn +up. + +This mill was an especial object of terror to me, and it was only when my +aunt Carry led me by the hand, and the cheerful smile of Oliver Hillhouse +lighted up the dusky interior, that I could be persuaded to enter it. In +truth it was a lonesome sort of place, with dark lofts and curious binns, +and ladders leading from place to place; and there were cats creeping +stealthily along the beams in wait for mice or swallows, if, as sometimes +happened, the clay nest should be loosened from the rafter, and the whole +tumble ruinously down. I used to wonder that aunt Carry was not afraid in +the old place, with its eternal rumble, and its great dusty wheel moving +slowly round and round, beneath the steady tread of the two sober horses +that never gained a hair's breadth for their pains; but on the contrary, +she seemed to like the mill, and never failed to show me through all its +intricacies, on my visits. I have unraveled the mystery now, or rather, +from the recollections I still retain, have apprehended what must have been +clear to older eyes at the time. + +A forest of oak and walnut stretched along this extremity of the farm, and +on either side of the improvements (as the house and barn and mill were +called) shot out two dark forks, completely cutting off the view, save +toward the unfrequented road to the south, which was traversed mostly by +persons coming to the mill, for my grandfather made the flour for all the +neighbourhood round about, besides making corn-meal for Johny-cakes, and +"chops" for the cows. + +He was an old man now, with a tall, athletic frame, slightly bent, thin +locks white as the snow, and deep blue eyes full of fire and intelligence, +and after long years of uninterrupted health and useful labor, he was +suddenly stricken down, with no prospect of recovery. + +"I hope he is better," said my mother, hearing the rumbling of the +mill-wheel. She might have known my grandfather would permit no +interruption of the usual business on account of his illness--the +neighbors, he said, could not do without bread because he was sick, nor +need they all be idle, waiting for him to die. When the time drew near, he +would call them to take his farewell and his blessing, but till then let +them sew and spin, and prepare dinner just as usual, so they would please +him best. He was a stern man--even his kindness was uncompromising and +unbending, and I remember of his making toward me no manifestation of +fondness, such as grandchildren usually receive, save once, when he gave me +a bright red apple, without speaking a word till my timid thanks brought +out his "Save your thanks for something better." The apple gave me no +pleasure, and I even slipt into the mill to escape from his cold, +forbidding presence. + +Nevertheless, he was a good man, strictly honest, and upright in all his +dealings, and respected, almost reverenced, by everybody. I remember once, +when young Winters, the tenant of Deacon Granger's farm, who paid a great +deal too much for his ground, as I have heard my father say, came to mill +with some withered wheat, my grandfather filled up the sacks out of his own +flour, while Tommy was in the house at dinner. That was a good deed, but +Tommy Winters never suspected how his wheat happened to turn out so well. + +As we drew near the house, it seemed to me more lonesome and desolate than +it ever looked before. I wished I had staid at home with little Harry. So +eagerly I noted every thing, that I remember to this day, that near a +trough of water, in the lane, stood a little surly looking cow, of a red +color, and with a white line running along her back. I had gone with aunt +Carry often when she went to milk her, but, to-day she seemed not to have +been milked. Near her was a black and white heifer, with sharp short horns, +and a square board tied over her eyes; two horses, one of them gray, and +the other sorrel, with a short tail, were reaching their long necks into +the garden, and browsing from the currant bushes. As we approached they +trotted forward a little, and one of them, half playfully, half angrily, +bit the other on the shoulder, after which they returned quietly to their +cropping of the bushes, heedless of the voice that from across the field +was calling to them. + +A flock of turkeys were sunning themselves about the door, for no one came +to scare them away; some were black, and some speckled, some with heads +erect and tails spread, and some nibbling the grass; and with a gabbling +noise, and a staid and dignified march, they made way for us. The smoke +arose from the chimney in blue, graceful curls, and drifted away to the +woods; the dead morning-glory vines had partly fallen from the windows, but +the hands that tended them were grown careless, and they were suffered to +remain blackened and void of beauty, as they were. Under these, the white +curtain was partly put aside, and my grandmother, with the speckled +handkerchief pinned across her bosom, and her pale face, a shade paler than +usual, was looking out, and seeing us she came forth, and in answer to my +mother's look of inquiry, shook her head, and silently led the way in. The +room we entered had some home-made carpet, about the size of a large +table-cloth, spread in the middle of the floor, the remainder of which was +scoured very white; the ceiling was of walnut wood, and the side walls were +white-washed--a table, an old-fashioned desk, and some wooden chairs, +comprised the furniture. On one of the chairs was a leather cushion; this +was set to one side, my grandmother neither offering it to my mother, nor +sitting in it herself, while, by way of composing herself, I suppose, she +took off the black ribbon with which her cap was trimmed. This was a more +simple process than the reader may fancy, the trimming, consisting merely +of a ribbon, always black, which she tied around her head after the cap was +on, forming a bow and two ends just above the forehead. Aunt Carry, who was +of what is termed an even disposition, received us with her usual cheerful +demeanor, and then, re-seating herself comfortably near the fire, resumed +her work, the netting of some white fringe. + +I liked aunt Carry, for that she always took especial pains to entertain +me, showing me her patchwork, taking me with her to the cowyard and dairy, +as also to the mill, though in this last I fear she was a little selfish; +however, that made no difference to me at the time, and I have always been +sincerely grateful to her: children know more, and want more, and feel +more, than people are apt to imagine. + +On this occasion she called me to her, and tried to teach me the mysteries +of her netting, telling me I must get my father to buy me a little bureau, +and then I could net fringe and make a nice cover for it. For a little time +I thought I could, and arranged in my mind where it should be placed, and +what should be put into it, and even went so far as to inquire how much +fringe she thought would be necessary. I never attained to much proficiency +in the netting of fringe, nor did I ever get the little bureau, and now it +is quite reasonable to suppose I never shall. + +Presently my father and mother were shown into an adjoining room, the +interior of which I felt an irrepressible desire to see, and by stealth I +obtained a glimpse of it before the door closed behind them. There was a +dull brown and yellow carpet on the floor, and near the bed, on which was a +blue and white coverlid, stood a high backed wooden chair, over which hung +a towel, and on the bottom of which stood a pitcher, of an unique pattern. +I know not how I saw this, but I did, and perfectly remember it, +notwithstanding my attention was in a moment completely absorbed by the +sick man's face, which was turned towards the opening door, pale, livid, +and ghastly. I trembled, and was transfixed; the rings beneath the eyes, +which had always been deeply marked, were now almost black, and the blue +eyes within looked glassy and cold, and terrible. The expression of agony +on the lips (for his disease was one of a most painful nature) gave place +to a sort of smile, and the hand, twisted among the gray locks, was +withdrawn and extended to welcome my parents, as the door closed. That was +a fearful moment; I was near the dark steep edges of the grave; I felt, for +the first time, that I was mortal too, and I was afraid. + +Aunt Carry put away her work, and taking from a nail in the window-frame a +brown muslin sun bonnet, which seemed to me of half a yard in depth, she +tied it on my head, and then clapt her hands as she looked into my face, +saying, "bopeep!" at which I half laughed and half cried, and making +provision for herself in grandmother's bonnet, which hung on the opposite +side of the window, and was similar to mine, except that it was perhaps a +little larger, she took my hand and we proceeded to the mill. Oliver, who +was very busy on our entrance, came forward, as aunt Carry said, by way of +introduction, "A little visitor I've brought you," and arranged a seat on a +bag of meal for us, and taking off his straw hat pushed the red curls from +his low white forehead, and looked bewildered and anxious. + +"It's quite warm for the season," said aunt Carry, by way of breaking +silence, I suppose. The young man said "yes," abstractedly, and then asked +if the rumble of the mill were not a disturbance to the sick room, to which +aunt Carry answered, "No, my father says it is his music." + +"A good old man," said Oliver, "he will not hear it much longer," and then, +even more sadly, "every thing will be changed." Aunt Carry was silent, and +he added, "I have been here a long time, and it will make me very sorry to +go away, especially when such trouble is about you all." + +"Oh, Oliver," said aunt Carra, "you don't mean to go away?" "I see no +alternative," he replied; "I shall have nothing to do; if I had gone a year +ago it would have been better." "Why?" asked aunt Carry; but I think she +understood why, and Oliver did not answer directly, but said, "Almost the +last thing your father said to me was, that you should never marry any who +had not a house and twenty acres of land; if he has not, he will exact that +promise of you, and I cannot ask you not to make it, nor would you refuse +him if I did; I might have owned that long ago, but for my sister (she had +lost her reason) and my lame brother, whom I must educate to be a +school-master, because he never can work, and my blind mother; but God +forgive me! I must not and do not complain; you will forget me, before +long, Carry, and some body who is richer and better, will be to you all I +once hoped to be, and perhaps more." + +I did not understand the meaning of the conversation at the time, but I +felt out of place some way, and so, going to another part of the mill, I +watched the sifting of the flour through the snowy bolter, listening to the +rumbling of the wheel. When I looked around I perceived that Oliver had +taken my place on the meal bag, and that he had put his arm around the +waist of aunt Carry in a way I did not much like. + +Great sorrow, like a storm, sweeps us aside from ordinary feelings, and we +give our hearts into kindly hands--so cold and hollow and meaningless seem +the formulæ of the world. They had probably never spoken of love before, +and now talked of it as calmly as they would have talked of any thing else; +but they felt that hope was hopeless; at best, any union was deferred, +perhaps, for long years; the future was full of uncertainties. At last +their tones became very low, so low I could not hear what they said; but I +saw that they looked very sorrowful, and that aunt Carry's hand lay in that +of Oliver as though he were her brother. + +"Why don't the flour come through?" I said, for the sifting had become +thinner and lighter, and at length quite ceased. Oliver smiled, faintly, as +he arose, and saying, "This will never buy the child a frock," poured a +sack of wheat into the hopper, so that it nearly run over. Seeing no child +but myself, I supposed he meant to buy me a new frock, and at once resolved +to put it in my little bureau, if he did. + +"We have bothered Mr. Hillhouse long enough," said aunt Carry, taking my +hand, "and will go to the house, shall we not?" + +I wondered why she said "Mr. Hillhouse," for I had never heard her say so +before; and Oliver seemed to wonder, too, for he said reproachfully, laying +particular stress on his own name, "You don't bother Mr. Hillhouse, I am +sure, but I must not insist on your remaining if you wish to go." + +"I don't want to insist on my staying," said aunt Carry, "if you don't want +to, and I see you don't," and lifting me out to the sloping plank, that +bent beneath us, we descended. + +"Carry," called a voice behind us; but she neither answered nor looked +back, but seeming to feel a sudden and expressive fondness for me, took me +up in her arms, though I was almost too heavy for her to lift, and kissing +me over and over, said I was light as a feather, at which she laughed as +though neither sorrowful nor lacking for employment. + +This little passage I could never precisely explain, aside from the ground +that "the course of true love never did run smooth." Half an hour after we +returned to the house, Oliver presented himself at the door, saying, "Miss +Caroline, shall I trouble you for a cup, to get a drink of water?" Carry +accompanied him to the well, where they lingered some time, and when she +returned her face was sunshiny and cheerful as usual. + +The day went slowly by, dinner was prepared, and removed, scarcely tasted; +aunt Carry wrought at her fringe, and grandmother moved softly about, +preparing teas and cordials. + +Towards sunset the sick man became easy, and expressed a wish that the door +of his chamber might be opened, that he might watch our occupations and +hear our talk. It was done accordingly, and he was left alone. My mother +smiled, saying she hoped he might yet get well, but my father shook his +head mournfully, and answered, "He wishes to go without our knowledge." He +made amplest provision for his family always, and I believe had a kind +nature, but he manifested no little fondnesses, nor did he wish caresses +for himself. Contrary to the general tenor of his character, was a love of +quiet jests, that remained to the last. Once, as Carry gave him some drink, +he said, "You know my wishes about your future, I expect you to be +mindful." + +I stole to the door of his room in the hope that he would say something to +me, but he did not, and I went nearer, close to the bed, and timidly took +his hand in mine; how damp and cold it felt! yet he spoke not, and climbing +upon the chair, I put back his thin locks, and kissed his forehead. "Child, +you trouble me," he said, and these were the last words he ever spoke to +me. + +The sun sunk lower and lower, throwing a beam of light through the little +window, quite across the carpet, and now it reached the sick man's room, +climbed over the bed and up the wall; he turned his face away, and seemed +to watch its glimmer upon the ceiling The atmosphere grew dense and dusky, +but without clouds, and the orange light changed to a dull lurid red, and +the dying and dead leaves dropt silently to the ground, for there was no +wind, and the fowls flew into the trees, and the grey moths came from +beneath the bushes and fluttered in the waning light. From the hollow tree +by the mill came the bat, wheeling and flitting blindly about, and once or +twice its wings struck the window of the sick man's chamber. The last +sunlight faded off at length, and the rumbling of the mill-wheel was still: +he has fallen asleep in listening to its music. + +The next day came the funeral. What a desolate time it was! All down the +lane were wagons and carriages and horses, for every body that knew my +grandfather had come to pay him the last honors. "We can do him no further +good," they said, "but it seemed right that we should come." Close by the +gate waited the little brown wagon to bear the coffin to the grave, the +wagon in which he was used to ride while living. The heads of the horses +were drooping, and I thought they looked consciously sad. + +The day was mild and the doors and windows of the old house stood all open, +so that the people without could hear the words of the preacher. I remember +nothing he said; I remember of hearing my mother sob, and of seeing my +grandmother with her face buried in her hands, and of seeing aunt Carra +sitting erect, her face pale but tearless, and Oliver near her, with his +hands folded across his breast save once or twice, when he lifted them to +brush away tears. + +I did not cry, save from a frightened and strange feeling, but kept wishing +that we were not so near the dead, and that it were another day. I tried to +push the reality away with thoughts of pleasant things--in vain. I remember +the hymn, and the very air in which it was sung. + + "Ye fearful souls fresh courage take, + The clouds ye so much dread, + Are big with mercy, and shall break + In blessings on your head. + Blind unbelief is sure to err, + And scan his works in vain; + God is his own interpreter, + And he will make it plain." + +Near the door blue flagstones were laid, bordered with a row of shrubberies +and trees, with lilacs, and roses, and pears, and peach-trees, which my +grandfather had planted long ago, and here, in the open air, the coffin was +placed, and the white cloth removed, and folded over the lid. I remember +how it shook and trembled as the gust came moaning from the woods, and +died off over the next hill, and that two or three withered leaves fell on +the face of the dead, which Oliver gently removed and brushed aside a +yellow winged butterfly that hovered near. + +The friends hung over the unsmiling corpse till they were led weeping and +one by one away; the hand of some one rested for a moment on the forehead, +and then the white cloth was replaced, and the lid screwed down. The coffin +was placed in the brown wagon, with a sheet folded about it, and the long +train moved slowly to the burial-ground woods, where the words "dust to +dust" were followed by the rattling of the earth, and the sunset light fell +there a moment, and the dead leaves blew across the smoothly shapen mound. + +When the will was read, Oliver found himself heir to a fortune--the mill +and the homestead and half the farm--provided he married Carry, which I +suppose he did, for though I do not remember the wedding, I have had an +aunt Caroline Hillhouse almost as long as I can remember. The lunatic +sister was sent to an asylum, where she sung songs about a faithless lover +till death took her up and opened her eyes in heaven. The mother was +brought home, and she and my grandmother lived at their ease, and sat in +the corner, and told stories of ghosts, and witches, and marriages, and +deaths, for long years. Peace to their memories! for they have both gone +home; and the lame brother is teaching school, in his leisure playing the +flute, and reading Shakspeare--all the book he reads. + +Years have come and swept me away from my childhood, from its innocence and +blessed unconsciousness of the dark, but often comes back the memory of its +first sorrow! + +Death is less terrible to me now. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] In press and soon to be published by J. S. Redfield. + + + + +MY NOVEL: + +OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE.[7] + +BY PISISTRATUS CAXTON. + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +Before a table in the apartments appropriated to him in his father's house +at Knightsbridge, sat Lord L'Estrange, sorting or destroying letters and +papers--an ordinary symptom of change of residence. There are certain +trifles by which a shrewd observer may judge of a man's disposition. Thus, +ranged on the table, with some elegance, but with soldier-like precision, +were sundry little relics of former days, hallowed by some sentiment of +memory, or perhaps endeared solely by custom; which, whether he was in +Egypt, Italy, or England, always made part of the furniture of Harley's +room. Even the small, old-fashioned, and somewhat inconvenient inkstand in +which he dipped the pen as he labelled the letters he put aside, belonged +to the writing-desk which had been his pride as a school-boy. Even the +books that lay scattered round were not new works, not those to which we +turn to satisfy the curiosity of an hour, or to distract our graver +thoughts: they were chiefly either Latin or Italian poets, with many a +pencil-mark on the margin; or books which, making severe demand on thought, +require slow and frequent perusal, and become companions. Somehow or other, +in remarking that even in dumb inanimate things the man was averse to +change, and had the habit of attaching himself to whatever was connected +with old associations, you might guess that he clung with pertinacity to +affections more important, and you could better comprehend the freshness of +his friendship for one so dissimilar in pursuits and character as Audley +Egerton. An affection once admitted into the heart of Harley L'Estrange, +seemed never to be questioned or reasoned with: it became tacitly fixed, as +it were, into his own nature; and little less than a revolution of his +whole system could dislodge or disturb it. + +Lord L'Estrange's hand rested now upon a letter in a stiff legible Italian +character; and instead of disposing of it at once, as he had done with the +rest, he spread it before him, and re-read the contents. It was a letter +from Riccabocca, received a few weeks since, and ran thus:-- + + _Letter from Signor Riccabocca to Lord Estrange._ + + "I thank you, my noble friend, for judging of me with + faith in my honor, and respect for my reverses. + + "No, and thrice no to all concessions, all overtures, + all treaty with Giulio Franzini. I write the name, and + my emotions choke me. I must pause and cool back into + disdain. It is over. Pass from that subject. But you + have alarmed me. This sister! I have not seen her since + her childhood; and she was brought up under his + influence--she can but work as his agent. She wish to + learn my residence! it can be but for some hostile and + malignant purpose. I may trust in you. I know that. You + say I may trust equally in the discretion of your + friend. Pardon me--my confidence is not so elastic. A + word may give the clue to my retreat. But, if + discovered, what harm can ensue? An English roof + protects me from Austrian despotism; true; but not the + brazen tower of Danaë could protect me from Italian + craft. And were there nothing worse, it would be + intolerable to me to live under the eyes of a + relentless spy. Truly saith our proverb, 'He sleeps ill + for whom the enemy wakes.' Look you, my friend, I have + done with my old life--I wish to cast it from me as a + snake its skin. I have denied myself all that exiles + deem consolation. No pity for misfortune, no messages + from sympathizing friendship, no news from a lost and + bereaved country follow me to my hearth under the skies + of the stranger. From all these I have voluntarily cut + myself off. I am as dead to the life I once lived as if + the Styx rolled between _it_ and me. With that + sternness which is admissible only to the afflicted, I + have denied myself even the consolation of your + visits. I have told you fairly and simply that your + presence would unsettle all my enforced and infirm + philosophy, and remind me only of the past, which I + seek to blot from remembrance. You have complied on the + one condition, that whenever I really want your aid I + will ask it; and, meanwhile, you have generously sought + to obtain me justice from the cabinets of ministers and + in the courts of kings. I did not refuse your heart + this luxury; for I have a child--(Ah! I have taught + that child already to revere your name, and in her + prayers it is not forgotten.) But now that you are + convinced that even your zeal is unavailing, I ask you + to discontinue attempts that may but bring the spy upon + my track, and involve me in new misfortunes. Believe + me, O brilliant Englishman, that I am satisfied and + contented with my lot. I am sure it would not be for my + happiness to change it. 'Chi non ha provato il male non + conosce il bene.' ('One does not know when one is well + off till one has known misfortune.') You ask me how I + live--I answer, _alla giornata_--to the day--not for + the morrow, as I did once. I have accustomed myself to + the calm existence of a village. I take interest in its + details. There is my wife, good creature, sitting + opposite to me, never asking what I write, or to whom, + but ready to throw aside her work and talk the moment + the pen is out of my hand. Talk--and what about? Heaven + knows! But I would rather hear that talk, though on the + affairs of a hamlet, than babble again with recreant + nobles and blundering professors about commonwealths + and constitutions. When I want to see how little those + last influence the happiness of wise men, have I not + Machiavel and Thucydides? Then, by-and-by, the Parson + will drop in, and we argue. He never knows when he is + beaten, so the argument is everlasting. On fine days I + ramble out by a winding rill with my Violante, or + stroll to my friend the Squire's, and see how healthful + a thing is true pleasure; and on wet days I shut myself + up, and mope, perhaps, till, hark! a gentle tap at the + door, and in comes Violante, with her dark eyes that + shine out through reproachful tears--reproachful that I + should mourn alone, while she is under my roof--so she + puts her arms round me, and in five minutes all is + sunshine within. What care we for your English gray + clouds without? + + "Leave me, my dear Lord--leave me to this quiet happy + passage towards old age, serener than the youth that I + wasted so wildly: and guard well the secret on which my + happiness depends. + + "Now to yourself, before I close. Of that same + _yourself_ you speak too little, as of me too much. But + I so well comprehend the profound melancholy that lies + underneath the wild and fanciful humor with which you + but suggest, as in sport, what you feel so in earnest. + The laborious solitude of cities weighs on you. You are + flying back to the _dolce far niente_--to friends few, + but intimate; to life monotonous, but unrestrained; and + even there the sense of loneliness will again seize + upon you; and you do not seek, as I do, the + annihilation of memory; your dead passions are turned + to ghosts that haunt you, and unfit you for the living + world. I see it all--I see it still, in your hurried + fantastic lines, as I saw it when we two sat amidst the + pines and beheld the blue lake stretched below. I + troubled by the shadow of the Future, you disturbed by + that of the Past. + + "Well, but you say, half-seriously, half in jest, 'I + _will_ escape from this prison-house of memory; I will + form new ties, like other men, and before it be too + late; I _will_ marry--aye, but I must love--there is + the difficulty'--difficulty--yes, and heaven be thanked + for it! Recall all the unhappy marriages that have come + to your knowledge--pray have not eighteen out of twenty + been marriages for love? It always has been so, and it + always will. Because, whenever we love deeply, we exact + so much and forgive so little. Be content to find some + one with whom your hearth and your honor are safe. You + will grow to love what never wounds your heart--you + will soon grow out of love with what must always + disappoint your imagination. _Cospetto!_ I wish my + Jemima had a younger sister for you. Yet it was with a + deep groan that I settled myself to a--Jemima. + + "Now, I have written you a long letter, to prove how + little I need of your compassion or your zeal. Once + more let there be long silence between us. It is not + easy for me to correspond with a man of your rank, and + not incur the curious gossip of my still little pool of + a world which the splash of a pebble can break into + circles. I must take this over to a post-town some ten + miles off, and drop it into the box by stealth. + + "Adieu, dear and noble friend, gentlest heart and + subtlest fancy that I have met in my walk through life. + Adieu--write me word when you have abandoned a + day-dream and found a Jemima. + + ALPHONSO. + + "_P. S._--For heaven's sake caution and re-caution your + friend the minister, not to drop a word to this woman + that may betray my hiding-place." + +"Is he really happy?" murmured Harley as he closed the letter; and he sank +for a few moments into a reverie. + +"This life in a village--this wife in a lady who puts down her work to talk +about villagers--what a contrast to Audley's full existence. And I can +never envy nor comprehend either--yet my own--what is it?" + +He rose, and moved towards the window, from which a rustic stair descended +to a green lawn--studded with larger trees than are often found in the +grounds of a suburban residence. There were calm and coolness in the sight, +and one could scarcely have supposed that London lay so near. + +The door opened softly, and a lady past middle age, entered; and, +approaching Harley, as he still stood musing by the window, laid her hand +on his shoulder. What character there is in a hand! Hers was a hand that +Titian would have painted with elaborate care! Thin, white, and +delicate--with the blue veins raised from the surface. Yet there was +something more than mere patrician elegance in the form and texture. A true +physiologist would have said at once, "there are intellect and pride in +that hand, which seems to fix a hold where it rests; and, lying so lightly, +yet will not be as lightly shaken off." + +"Harley," said the lady--and Harley turned--"you do not deceive me by that +smile," she continued sadly; "you were not smiling when I entered." + +"It is rarely that we smile to ourselves, my dear mother; and I have done +nothing lately so foolish as to cause me to smile _at_ myself." + +"My son," said Lady Lansmere, somewhat abruptly, but with great +earnestness, "you come from a line of illustrious ancestors; and methinks +they ask from their tombs why the last of their race has no aim and no +object--no interest--no home in the land which they served, and which +rewarded them with its honors." + +"Mother," said the soldier simply, "when the land was in danger I served it +as my forefathers served--and my answer would be the scars on my breast." + +"Is it only in danger that a country is served--only in war that duty is +fulfilled? Do you think that your father, in his plain manly life of +country gentleman, does not fulfil, though obscurely, the objects for which +aristocracy is created and wealth is bestowed?" + +"Doubtless he does, ma'am--and better than his vagrant son ever can." + +"Yet his vagrant son has received such gifts from nature--his youth was so +rich in promise--his boyhood so glowed at the dream of glory?--" + +"Ay," said Harley very softly, "it is possible--and all to be buried in a +single grave!" + +The Countess started, and withdrew her hand from Harley's shoulder. + +Lady Lansmere's countenance was not one that much varied in expression. She +had in this, as in her cast of feature, little resemblance to her son. + +Her features were slightly aquiline--the eyebrows of that arch which gives +a certain majesty to the aspect: the lines round the mouth were habitually +rigid and compressed. Her face was that of one who had gone through great +emotion and subdued it. There was something formal, and even ascetic, in +the character of her beauty, which was still considerable;--in her air and +in her dress. She might have suggested to you the idea of some Gothic +baroness of old, half chatelaine, half abbess; you would see at a glance +that she did not live in the light world round her, and disdained its +fashion and its mode of thought; yet with all this rigidity it was still +the face of the woman who has known human ties and human affections. And +now, as she gazed long on Harley's quiet, saddened brow, it was the face of +a mother. + +"A single grave," she said, after a long pause. "And you were then but a +boy, Harley! Can such a memory influence you even to this day? It is +scarcely possible; it does not seem to me within the realities of man's +life--though it might be of woman's." + +"I believe," said Harley, half soliloquising, "that I have a great deal of +the woman in me. Perhaps men who live much alone, and care not for men's +objects, do grow tenacious of impressions, as your sex does. But oh," he +cried aloud, and with a sudden change of countenance, "oh, the hardest and +the coldest man would have felt as I do, had he known _her_--had he loved +_her_. She was like no other woman I have ever met. Bright and glorious +creature of another sphere! She descended on this earth, and darkened it +when she passed away. It is no use striving. Mother, I have as much courage +as our steel-clad fathers ever had. I have dared in battle and in +deserts--against man and the wild beast--against the storm and the +ocean--against the rude powers of Nature--dangers as dread as ever pilgrim +or Crusader rejoiced to brave. But courage against that one memory! no, I +have not!" + +"Harley, Harley, you break my heart!" cried the Countess, clasping her +hands. + +"It is astonishing," continued her son, so wrapped in his own thoughts that +he did not perhaps hear her outcry--"yea, verily, it is astonishing, that +considering the thousands of women I have seen and spoken with, I never see +a face like hers--never hear a voice so sweet. And all this universe of +life cannot afford me one look and one tone that can restore me to man's +privilege--love. Well, well, well, life has other things yet--Poetry and +Art live still--still smiles the heaven, and still wave the trees. Leave me +to happiness in my own way." + +The Countess was about to reply, when the door was thrown hastily open, and +Lord Lansmere walked in. + +The Earl was some years older than the Countess, but his placid face showed +less wear and tear; a benevolent, kindly face--without any evidence of +commanding intellect, but with no lack of sense in its pleasant lines. His +form not tall, but upright, and with an air of consequence--a little +pompous, but good-humoredly so. The pomposity of the _Grand Seigneur_, who +has lived much in provinces--whose will has been rarely disputed, and whose +importance has been so felt and acknowledged as to react insensibly on +himself; an excellent man: but when you glanced towards the high brow and +dark eye of the Countess, you marvelled a little how the two had come +together, and, according to common report, lived so happily in the union. + +"Ho, ho! my dear Harley," cried Lansmere, rubbing his hands with an +appearance of much satisfaction, "I have just been paying a visit to the +Duchess." + +"What Duchess, my dear father?" + +"Why, your mother's first cousin, to be sure--the Duchess of Knaresborough, +whom, to oblige me, you condescended to call upon; and delighted I am to +hear that you admire Lady Mary--" + +"She is very high-bred, and rather-high-nosed," answered Harley. Then +observing that his mother looked pained, and his father disconcerted, he +added seriously, "But handsome certainly." + +"Well, Harley," said the Earl, recovering himself, "the Duchess, taking +advantage of our connection to speak freely, had intimated to me that Lady +Mary has been no less struck with yourself; and to come to the point, since +you allow that it is time you should think of marrying, I do not know a +more desirable alliance. What do you say, Catherine?" + +"The Duke is of a family that ranks in history before the Wars of the +Roses," said Lady Lansmere, with an air of deference to her husband; "and +there has never been one scandal in its annals, or one blot in its +scutcheon. But I am sure my dear Lord must think that the Duchess should +not have made the first overture--even to a friend and a kinsman?" + +"Why, we are old-fashioned people," said the Earl rather embarrassed, "and +the Duchess is a woman of the world." + +"Let us hope," said the Countess mildly, "that her daughter is not." + +"I would not marry Lady Mary, if all the rest of the female sex were turned +into apes," said Lord L'Estrange, with deliberate fervor. + +"Good Heavens!" cried the Earl, "what extraordinary language is this! And +pray why, sir?" + +_Harley._--"I can't say--there is no why in these cases. But, my dear +father, you are not keeping faith with me." + +_Lord Lansmere._--"How?" + +_Harley._--"You and my Lady here entreat me to marry--I promise to do my +best to obey you; but on one condition--that I choose for myself, and take +my time about it. Agreed on both sides. Whereon, off goes your +Lordship--actually before noon, at an hour when no lady without a shudder +could think of cold blonde and damp orange flowers--off goes your Lordship, +I say, and commits poor Lady Mary and your unworthy son to a mutual +admiration--which neither of us ever felt. Pardon me, my father--but this +is grave. Again let me claim your promise--full choice for myself, and no +reference to the Wars of the Roses. What war of the roses like that between +Modesty and Love upon the cheek of the virgin!" + +_Lady Lansmere._--"Full choice for yourself, Harley;--so be it. But we, +too, named a condition--Did we not, Lansmere?" + +The _Earl_ (puzzled).--"Eh--did we! Certainly we did." + +_Harley._--"What was it?" + +_Lady Lansmere._--"The son of Lord Lansmere can only marry the daughter of +a gentleman." + +The _Earl._--"Of course--of course." + +The blood rushed over Harley's fair face, and then as suddenly left it +pale. + +He walked away to the window--his mother followed him, and again laid her +hand on his shoulder. + +"You were cruel," said he gently and in a whisper, as he winced under the +touch of the hand. Then turning to the Earl, who was gazing at him in blank +surprise--(it never occurred to Lord Lansmere that there could be a doubt +of his son's marrying beneath the rank modestly stated by the +Countess)--Harley stretched forth his hand, and said, in his soft winning +tone, "you have ever been most gracious to me, and most forbearing; it is +but just that I should sacrifice the habits of an egotist, to gratify a +wish which you so warmly entertain. I agree with you, too, that our race +should not close in me--_Noblesse oblige_. But you know I was ever +romantic; and I must love where I marry--or, if not love, I must feel that +my wife is worthy of all the love I could once have bestowed. Now, as to +the vague word 'gentleman' that my mother employs--word that means so +differently on different lips--I confess that I have a prejudice against +young ladies brought up in the 'excellent foppery of the world,' as the +daughters of gentlemen of our rank mostly are. I crave, therefore, the most +liberal interpretation of this word 'gentleman.' And so long as there be +nothing mean or sordid in the birth, habits, and education of the father of +this bride to be, I trust you will both agree to demand nothing +more--neither titles nor pedigree." + +"Titles, no--assuredly," said Lady Lansmere; "they do not make gentlemen." + +"Certainly not," said the Earl. "Many of our best families are untitled." + +"Titles--no," repeated Lady Lansmere; "but ancestors--yes." + +"Ah, my mother," said Harley with his most sad and quiet smile, "it is +fated that we shall never agree. The first of our race is ever the one we +are most proud of; and pray, what ancestors had he? Beauty, virtue, +modesty, intellect--if these are not nobility enough for a man, he is a +slave to the dead." + +With these words Harley took up his hat and made towards the door. + +"You said yourself, '_Noblesse oblige_,'" said the Countess, following him +to the threshold; "we have nothing more to add." + +Harley slightly shrugged his shoulders, kissed his mother's hand, whistled +to Nero, who started up from a doze by the window, and went his way. + +"Does he really go abroad next week?" said the Earl. + +"So he says." + +"I am afraid there is no chance for Lady Mary," resumed Lord Lansmere, with +a slight but melancholy smile. + +"She has not intellect enough to charm him. She is not worthy of Harley," +said the proud mother. + +"Between you and me," rejoined the Earl, rather timidly, "I don't see what +good his intellect does him. He could not be more unsettled and useless if +he were the merest dunce in the three kingdoms. And so ambitious as he was +when a boy! Catherine, I sometimes fancy that you know what changed him." + +"I! Nay, my dear Lord, it is a common change enough with the young, when of +such fortunes; who find, when they enter life, that there is really little +left for them to strive for. Had Harley been a poor man's son, it might +have been different." + +"I was born to the same fortunes as Harley," said the Earl, shrewdly, "and +yet I flatter myself I am of some use to old England." + +The Countess seized upon the occasion, complimented her Lord, and turned +the subject. + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +Harley spent his day in his usual desultory, lounging manner--dined in his +quiet corner at his favorite club--Nero, not admitted into the club, +patiently waited for him outside the door. The dinner over, dog and man, +equally indifferent to the crowd, sauntered down that thoroughfare which, +to the few who can comprehend the Poetry of London, has associations of +glory and of woe sublime as any that the ruins of the dead elder world can +furnish--thoroughfare that traverses what was once the courtyard of +Whitehall, having to its left the site of the palace that lodged the +royalty of Scotland--gains, through a narrow strait, that old isle of +Thorney, in which Edward the Confessor received the ominous visit of the +Conqueror--and, widening once more by the Abbey and the Hall of +Westminster, then loses itself, like all memories of earthly grandeur, +amidst humble passages and mean defiles. + +Thus thought Harley L'Estrange--ever less amidst the actual world around +him, than the images invoked by his own solitary soul--as he gained the +bridge, and saw the dull lifeless craft sleeping on the "Silent Way," once +loud and glittering with the gilded barks of the antique Seignorie of +England. + +It was on that bridge that Audley Egerton had appointed to meet L'Estrange, +at an hour when he calculated he could best steal a respite from debate. +For Harley, with his fastidious dislike to all the resorts of his equals, +had declined to seek his friend in the crowded regions of Bellamy's. + +Harley's eye, as he passed along the bridge, was attracted by a still form, +seated on the stones in one of the nooks, with its face covered by its +hands. "If I were a sculptor," said he to himself, "I should remember that +image whenever I wished to convey the idea of _despondency_!" He lifted his +looks and saw, a little before him in the midst of the causeway, the firm +erect figure of Audley Egerton. The moonlight was full on the bronzed +countenance of the strong public man,--with its lines of thought and care, +and its vigorous but cold expression of intense self-control. + +"And looking yonder," continued Harley's soliloquy, "I should remember that +form, when I wished to hew out from the granite the idea of _Endurance_." + +"So you are come, and punctually," said Egerton, linking his arm in +Harley's. + +_Harley._--"Punctually, of course, for I respect your time, and I will not +detain you long. I presume you will speak to-night." + +_Egerton._--"I have spoken." + +_Harley_, (with interest.)--"And well, I hope." + +_Egerton._--"With effect, I suppose, for I have been loudly cheered, which +does not always happen to me." + +_Harley._--"And that gave you pleasure?" + +_Egerton_, (after a moment's thought.)--"No, not the least." + +_Harley._--"What, then, attaches you so much to this life--constant +drudgery, constant warfare--the more pleasurable faculties dormant, all the +harsher ones aroused, if even its rewards (and I take the best of those to +be applause) do not please you?" + +_Egerton._--"What?--custom." + +_Harley._--"Martyr!" + +_Egerton._--"You say it. But turn to yourself; you have decided, then, to +leave England next week." + +_Harley_, (moodily.)--"Yes. This life in a capital, where all are so +active, myself so objectless, preys on me like a low fever. Nothing here +amuses me, nothing interests, nothing comforts and consoles. But I am +resolved, before it be too late, to make one great struggle out of the +Past, and into the natural world of men. In a word, I have resolved to +marry." + +_Egerton._--"Whom?" + +_Harley_, (seriously.)--"Upon my life, my dear fellow, you are a great +philosopher. You have hit the exact question. You see I cannot marry a +dream; and where out of dreams, shall I find this 'whom?'" + +_Egerton._--"You do not search for her." + +_Harley._--"Do we ever search for love? Does it not flash upon us when we +least expect it? Is it not like the inspiration to the muse? What poet +sits down and says, 'I will write a poem?' What man looks out and says, 'I +will fall in love.' No! Happiness, as the great German tells us, 'falls +suddenly from the bosom of the gods;' so does love." + +_Egerton._--"You remember the old line in Horace: 'Life's tide flows away, +while the boor sits on the margin and waits for the ford.'" + +_Harley._--"An idea which incidentally dropped from you some weeks ago, and +which I had before half meditated, has since haunted me. If I could but +find some child with sweet dispositions and fair intellect not yet formed, +and train her up, according to my ideal. I am still young enough to wait a +few years, and meanwhile I shall have gained what I so sadly want--an +object in life." + +_Egerton._--"You are ever the child of romance. But what"-- + +Here the minister was interrupted by a messenger from the House of Commons, +whom Audley had instructed to seek him on the bridge should his presence be +required-- + +"Sir, the opposition are taking advantage of the thinness of the House to +call for a division, Mr. ---- is put up to speak for time, but they won't +hear him." + +Egerton turned hastily to Lord L'Estrange, "You see you must excuse me now. +To-morrow I must go to Windsor for two days; but we shall meet on my +return." + +"It does not matter,"' answered Harley; "I stand out of the pale of your +advice, O practical man of sense. And if," added Harley with affectionate +and mournful sweetness--"If I worry you with complaints which you cannot +understand, it is only because of old school-boy habits. I can have no +trouble that I do not confide in you." + +Egerton's hand trembled as it pressed his friend's; and, without a word, he +hurried away abruptly. Harley remained motionless for some seconds, in deep +and quiet reverie; then he called to his dog, and turned back towards +Westminster. + +He passed the nook in which had sat the still figure of Despondency. But +the figure had now risen, and was leaning against the balustrade. The dog +who had preceded his master paused by the solitary form, and sniffed it +suspiciously. + +"Nero, sir, come here," said Harley. + +"Nero," that was the name by which Helen had said that her father's friend +had called his dog. And the sound startled Leonard as he leant, sick at +heart, against the stone, he lifted his head and looked wistfully, eagerly, +into Harley's face. Those eyes, bright, clear, yet so strangely deep and +absent, which Helen had described, met his own, and chained them. For +L'Estrange halted also; the boy's countenance was not unfamiliar to him. He +returned the inquiring look fixed on his own, and recognized the student by +the book-stall. + +"The dog is quite harmless, sir," said L'Estrange, with a smile. + +"And you called him Nero?" said Leonard, still gazing on the stranger. + +Harley mistook the drift of the question. + +"Nero, sir; but he is free from the sanguinary propensities of his Roman +namesake." Harley was about to pass on, when Leonard said falteringly,-- + +"Pardon me, but can it be possible that you are one whom I have sought in +vain, on behalf of the child of Captain Digby?" + +Harley stopped short. "Digby!" he exclaimed, "where is he? He should have +found me easily. I gave him an address." + +"Ah, Heaven be thanked," cried Leonard. "Helen is saved; she will not die;" +and he burst into tears. + +A very few moments, and a very few words sufficed to explain to Harley the +state of his old fellow-soldier's orphan. And Harley himself soon stood in +the young sufferer's room, supporting her burning temples on his breast, +and whispering into ears that heard him, as in a happy dream, "Comfort, +comfort; your father yet lives in me." + +And then Helen, raising her eyes, said "But Leonard is my brother--more +than brother--and he needs a father's care more than I do." + +"Hush, hush, Helen. I need no one--nothing now!" cried Leonard; and his +tears gushed over the little hand that clasped his own. + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +Harley L'Estrange was a man whom all things that belong to the romantic and +poetic side of our human life deeply impressed. When he came to learn the +tie between these two children of nature, standing side by side, alone +amidst the storms of fate, his heart was more deeply moved than it had been +for many years. In those dreary attics, overshadowed by the smoke and reek +of the humble suburb--the workday world in its harshest and tritest forms +below and around them--he recognized that divine poem which comes out from +all union between the mind and the heart. Here, on the rough deal table, +(the ink scarcely dry,) lay the writings of the young wrestler for fame and +bread; there, on the other side the partition, on that mean pallet, lay the +boy's sole comforter--the all that warmed his heart with living mortal +affection. On one side the wall, the world of imagination; on the other +this world of grief and of love. And in both, a spirit equally +sublime--unselfish Devotion--"the something afar from the sphere of our +sorrow." + +He looked round the room into which he had followed Leonard, on quitting +Helen's bedside. He noted the MSS. on the table, and, pointing to them, +said gently, "And these are the labors by which you supported the soldier's +orphan?--soldier yourself, in a hard battle!" + +"The battle was lost--I could not support her," replied Leonard mournfully. + +"But you did not desert her. When Pandora's box was opened, they say Hope +lingered last----" + +"False, false," said Leonard; "a heathen's notion. There are deities that +linger behind Hope;--Gratitude, Love, and Duty." + +"Yours is no common nature," exclaimed Harley, admiringly, "but I must +sound it more deeply hereafter; at present I hasten for the physician; I +shall return with him. We must move that poor child from this low close air +as soon as possible. Meanwhile, let me qualify your rejection of the old +fable. Wherever Gratitude, Love, and Duty remain to man, believe me that +Hope is there too, though she may be oft invisible, hidden behind the +sheltering wings of the nobler deities." + +Harley said this with that wondrous smile of his, which cast a brightness +over the whole room--and went away. + +Leonard stole softly towards the grimy window; and looking up towards the +stars that shone pale over the roof-tops, he murmured, "O thou, the +All-seeing and All-merciful!--how it comforts me now to think that though +my dreams of knowledge may have sometimes obscured the Heaven, I never +doubted that Thou wert there!--as luminous and everlasting, though behind +the cloud!" So, for a few minutes, he prayed silently--then passed into +Helen's room, and sat beside her motionless, for she slept. She woke just +as Harley returned with a physician, and then Leonard, returning to his own +room, saw amongst his papers the letter he had written to Mr. Dale; and +muttering, "I need not disgrace my calling--I need not be the mendicant +now"--held the letter to the flame of the candle. And while he said this, +and as the burning tinder dropped on the floor, the sharp hunger, unfelt +during his late anxious emotion, gnawed at his entrails. Still even hunger +could not reach that noble pride which had yielded to a sentiment nobler +than itself--and he smiled as he repeated, "No mendicant!--the life that I +was sworn to guard is saved. I can raise against Fate the front of the Man +once more." + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A few days afterwards, and Helen, removed to a pure air, and under the +advice of the first physicians, was out of all danger. + +It was a pretty detached cottage, with its windows looking over the wild +heaths of Norwood, to which Harley rode daily to watch the convalescence of +his young charge--an object in life was already found. As she grew better +and stronger, he coaxed her easily into talking, and listened to her with +pleased surprise. The heart so infantine, and the sense so womanly, struck +him much by its rare contrast and combination. Leonard, whom he had +insisted on placing also in the cottage, had stayed there willingly till +Helen's recovery was beyond question. Then he came to Lord L'Estrange, as +the latter was about one day to leave the cottage, and said quietly, "Now, +my Lord, that Helen is safe, and now that she will need me no more, I can +no longer be a pensioner on your bounty. I return to London." + +"You are my visitor--not my pensioner, foolish boy," said Harley, who had +already noticed the pride which spoke in that farewell; "come into the +garden, and let us talk." + +Harley seated himself on a bench on the little lawn; Nero crouched at his +feet; Leonard stood beside him. + +"So," said Lord L'Estrange, "you would return to London!--What to do?" + +"Fulfil my fate." + +"And that?" + +"I cannot guess. Fate is the Isis whose veil no mortal can ever raise." + +"You should be born for great things," said Harley, abruptly. "I am sure +that you write well. I have seen that you study with passion. Better than +writing and better than study, you have a noble heart, and the proud desire +of independence. Let me see your MSS., or any copies of what you have +already printed. Do not hesitate--I ask but to be a reader. I don't pretend +to be a patron; it is a word I hate." + +Leonard's eyes sparkled through their sudden moisture. He brought out his +portfolio, placed it on the bench beside Harley, and then went softly to +the further part of the garden. Nero looked after him, and then rose and +followed him slowly. The boy seated himself on the turf, and Nero rested +his dull head on the loud heart of the poet. + +Harley took up the various papers before him and read them through +leisurely. Certainly he was no critic. He was not accustomed to analyse +what pleased or displeased him; but his perceptions were quick, and his +taste exquisite. As he read, his countenance, always so genuinely +expressive, exhibited now doubt and now admiration. He was soon struck by +the contrast in the boy's writings; between the pieces that sported with +fancy, and those that grappled with thought. In the first, the young poet +seemed so unconscious of his own individuality. His imagination, afar and +aloft from the scenes of his suffering, ran riot amidst a paradise of happy +golden creations. But in the last, the THINKER stood out alone and +mournful, questioning, in troubled sorrow, the hard world on which he +gazed. All in the thought was unsettled, tumultuous; all in the fancy, +serene, and peaceful. The genius seemed divided into twain shapes; the one +bathing its wings amidst the starry dews of heaven; the other wandering +"melancholy, slow," amidst desolate and boundless sands. Harley gently laid +down the paper and mused a little while. Then he rose and walked to +Leonard, gazing on his countenance as he neared the boy, with a new and +deeper interest. + +"I have read your papers," he said, "and recognize in them two men, +belonging to two worlds, essentially distinct." + +Leonard started, and murmured, "True, true!" + +"I apprehend," resumed Harley, "that one of these men must either destroy +the other, or that the two must become fused and harmonized into a single +existence. Get your hat, mount my groom's horse, and come with me to +London; we will converse by the way. Look you, I believe you and I agree in +this, that the first object of every noble spirit is independence. It is +towards this independence that I alone presume to assist you; and this is a +service which the proudest man can receive without a blush." + +Leonard lifted his eyes towards Harley's, and those eyes swam with grateful +tears; but his heart was too full to answer. + +"I am not one of those," said Harley, when they were on the road, "who +think that because a young man writes poetry he is fit for nothing else, +and that he must be a poet or a pauper. I have said that in you there seem +to me to be two men, the man of the Ideal world, the man of the Actual. To +each of these men I can offer a separate career. The first is perhaps the +more tempting. It is the interest of the state to draw into its service all +the talent and industry it can obtain; and under his native state every +citizen of a free country should be proud to take service. I have a friend +who is a minister, and who is known to encourage talent--Audley Egerton. I +have but to say to him, 'There is a young man who will well repay to the +government whatever the government bestows on him' and you will rise +to-morrow independent in means, and with fair occasions to attain to +fortune and distinction. This is one offer, what say you to it?" + +Leonard thought bitterly of his interview with Audley Egerton, and the +minister's proffered crown-piece. He shook his head and replied-- + +"Oh, my lord, how have I deserved such kindness? Do with me what you will; +but if I have the option, I would rather follow my own calling. This is not +the ambition that inflames me." + +"Hear, then, the other offer. I have a friend with whom I am less intimate +than Egerton, and who has nothing in his gift to bestow. I speak of a man +of letters--Henry Norreys--of whom you have doubtless heard, who, I should +say, conceived an interest in you when he observed you reading at the +book-stall. I have often heard him say, that literature as a profession is +misunderstood, and that rightly followed, with the same pains and the same +prudence which are brought to bear on other professions, a competence at +least can be always ultimately obtained. But the way may be long and +tedious--and it leads to no power but over thought; it rarely attains to +wealth; and, though _reputation_ may be certain, _Fame_, such as poets +dream of, is the lot of few. What say you to this course?" + +"My lord, I decide," said Leonard, firmly; and then his young face lighting +up with enthusiasm, he exclaimed. "Yes, if, as you say, there be two men +within me, I feel, that were I condemned wholly to the mechanical and +practical world, one would indeed destroy the other. And the conqueror +would be the ruder and the coarser. Let me pursue those ideas that, though +they have but flitted across me vague and formless--have ever soared +towards the sunlight. No matter whether or not they lead to fortune or to +fame, at least they will lead me upward! Knowledge for itself I +desire--what care I, if it be not power?" + +"Enough," said Harley, with a pleased smile at his young companion's +outburst. "As you decide so shall it be settled. And now permit me, if not +impertinent, to ask you a few questions. Your name is Leonard Fairfield?" + +The boy blushed deeply, and bowed his head as if in assent. + +"Helen says you are self-taught; for the rest she refers me to +you--thinking, perhaps, that I should esteem you less--rather than yet more +highly--if she said you were, as I presume to conjecture, of humble birth." + +"My birth," said Leonard, slowly, "is very--very--humble." + +"The name of Fairfield is not unknown to me. There was one of that name who +married into a family in Lansmere--married an Avenel--" continued +Harley--and his voice quivered. "You change countenance. Oh, could your +mother's name have been Avenel?" + +"Yes," said Leonard, between his set teeth. Harley laid his hand on the +boy's shoulder. "Then indeed I have a claim on you--then, indeed, we are +friends. I have a right to serve any of that family." + +Leonard looked at him in surprise--"For," continued Harley, recovering +himself, "they always served my family; and my recollections of Lansmere, +though boyish, are indelible." He spurred on his horse as the words +closed--and again there was a long pause; but from that time Harley always +spoke to Leonard in a soft voice, and often gazed on him with earnest and +kindly eyes. + +They reached a house in a central, though not fashionable street. A +man-servant of a singularly grave and awful aspect opened the door; a man +who had lived all his life with authors. Poor devil, he was indeed +prematurely old! The care on his lip and the pomp on his brow--no mortal's +pen can describe! + +"Is Mr. Norreys at home?" asked Harley. + +"He is at home--to his friends, my lord," answered the man, majestically; +and he stalked across the hall with the step of a Dangeau ushering some +Montmorenci to the presence of _Louis le Grand_. + +"Stay--show this gentleman into another room. I will go first into the +library; wait for me, Leonard." The man nodded, and ushered Leonard into +the dining-room. Then pausing before the door of the library, and listening +an instant, as if fearful to disturb some mood of inspiration, opened it +very softly. To his ineffable disgust, Harley pushed before, and entered +abruptly. It was a large room, lined with books from the floor to the +ceiling. Books were on all the tables--books were on all the chairs. Harley +seated himself on a folio of Raleigh's History of the World, and cried-- + +"I have brought you a treasure!" + +"What is it?" said Norreys, good-humoredly, looking up from his desk. + +"A mind!" + +"A mind!" echoed Norreys, vaguely. "Your own?" + +"Pooh--I have none--I have only a heart and a fancy. Listen. You remember +the boy we saw reading at the book-stall. I have caught him for you, and +you shall train him into a man. I have the warmest interest in his +future--for I knew some of his family--and one of that family was very dear +to me. As for money, he has not a shilling, and not a shilling would he +accept gratis from you or me either. But he comes with bold heart to +work--and work you must find him." Harley then rapidly told his friend of +the two offers he had made to Leonard--and Leonard's choice. + +"This promises very well; for letters a man must have a strong vocation as +he should have for law--I will do all that you wish." + +Harley rose with alertness--shook Norreys cordially by the hand--hurried +out of the room, and returned with Leonard. + +Mr. Norreys eyed the young man with attention. He was naturally rather +severe than cordial in his manner to strangers--contrasting in this, as in +most things, the poor vagabond Burley. But he was a good judge of the human +countenance, and he liked Leonard's. After a pause he held out his hand. + +"Sir," said he, "Lord L'Estrange tells me that you wish to enter literature +as a calling, and no doubt to study it is an art. I may help you in this, +and you meanwhile can help me. I want an amanuensis--I offer you that +place. The salary will be proportioned to the services you will render me. +I have a room in my house at your disposal. When I first came up to London, +I made the same choice that I hear you have done. I have no cause, even in +a worldly point of view, to repent my choice. It gave me an income larger +than my wants. I trace my success to these maxims, which are applicable to +all professions--1st, Never to trust to genius--for what can be obtained by +labor; 2dly, Never to profess to teach what we have not studied to +understand; 3dly, Never to engage our word to what we do not do our best to +execute. With these rules literature, provided a man does not mistake his +vocation for it, and will, under good advice, go through the preliminary +discipline of natural powers, which all vocations require, is as good a +calling as any other. Without them a shoeblack's is infinitely better." + +"Possible enough," muttered Harley; "but there have been great writers who +observed none of your maxims." + +"Great writers, probably, but very unenviable men. My Lord, my Lord, don't +corrupt the pupil you bring to me." Harley smiled and took his departure, +and left Genius at school with Common Sense and Experience. + + +CHAPTER XX. + +While Leonard Fairfield had been obscurely wrestling against poverty, +neglect, hunger, and dread temptations, bright had been the opening day, +and smooth the upward path, of Randal Leslie. Certainly no young man, able +and ambitious, could enter life under fairer auspices; the connection and +avowed favorite of a popular and energetic statesman, the brilliant writer +of a political work, that had lifted him at once into a station of his +own--received and courted in those highest circles, to which neither rank +nor fortune alone suffices for a familiar passport--the circles above +fashion itself--the circles of power--with every facility of augmenting +information, and learning the world betimes through the talk of its +acknowledged masters,--Randal had but to move straight onward, and success +was sure. But his tortuous spirit delighted in scheme and intrigue for +their own sake. In scheme and intrigue he saw shorter paths to fortune, if +not to fame. His besetting sin was also his besetting weakness. He did not +aspire--he _coveted_. Though in a far higher social position than Frank +Hazeldean, despite the worldly prospects of his old school-fellow, he +coveted the very things that kept Frank Hazeldean below him--coveted his +idle gaieties, his careless pleasures, his very waste of youth. Thus, also, +Randal less aspired to Audley Egerton's repute than he coveted Audley +Egerton's wealth and pomp, his princely expenditure, and his Castle +Rackrent in Grosvenor Square. It was the misfortune of his birth to be so +near to both these fortunes--near to that of Leslie, as the future head of +that fallen house,--near even to that of Hazeldean, since as we have seen +before, if the Squire had had no son, Randal's descent from the Hazeldeans +suggested himself as the one on whom these broad lands should devolve. Most +young men, brought into intimate contact with Audley Egerton, would have +felt for that personage a certain loyal and admiring, if not very +affectionate, respect. For there was something grand in Egerton--something +that commands and fascinates the young. His determined courage, his +energetic will, his almost regal liberality, contrasting a simplicity in +personal tastes and habits that was almost austere--his rare and seemingly +unconscious power of charming even the women most wearied of homage, and +persuading even the men most obdurate to counsel--all served to invest the +practical man with those spells which are usually confined to the ideal +one. But indeed, Audley Egerton was an Ideal--the ideal of the Practical. +Not the mere vulgar, plodding, red-tape machine of petty business, but the +man of strong sense, inspired by inflexible energy, and guided to definite +earthly objects. In a dissolute and corrupt form of government, under a +decrepit monarchy, or a vitiated republic, Audley Egerton might have been a +most dangerous citizen; for his ambition was so resolute, and his sight to +its ends was so clear. But there is something in public life in England +which compels the really ambitious man to honor, unless his eyes are +jaundiced and oblique like Randal Leslie's. It is so necessary in England +to be a gentleman. And thus Egerton was emphatically considered a +_gentleman_. Without the least pride in other matters, with little apparent +sensitiveness, touch him on the point of gentleman, and no one so sensitive +and so proud. As Randal saw more of him, and watched his moods with the +lynx eyes of the household spy, he could perceive that this hard mechanical +man was subject to fits of melancholy, even of gloom, and though they did +not last long, there was even in his habitual coldness an evidence of +something comprest, latent, painful, lying deep within his memory. This +would have interested the kindly feelings of a grateful heart. But Randal +detected and watched it only as a clue to some secret it might profit him +to gain. For Randal Leslie hated Egerton; and hated him the more because +with all his book knowledge and his conceit in his own talents, he could +not despise his patron--because he had not yet succeeded in making his +patron the mere tool or stepping-stone--because he thought that Egerton's +keen eye saw through his wily heart, even while, as if in profound disdain, +the minister helped the protégé. But this last suspicion was unsound. +Egerton had not detected Leslie's corrupt and treacherous nature. He might +have other reasons for keeping him at a certain distance, but he inquired +too little into Randal's feelings towards himself to question the +attachment, or doubt the sincerity of one who owed to him so much. But that +which more than all embittered Randal's feelings towards Egerton, was the +careful and deliberate frankness with which the latter had, more than once +repeated, and enforced the odious announcement, that Randal had nothing to +expect from the ministers--WILL, nothing to expect from that wealth which +glared in the hungry eyes of the pauper heir to the Leslies of Rood. To +whom, then, could Egerton mean to devise his fortune? To whom but Frank +Hazeldean. Yet Audley took so little notice of his nephew--seemed so +indifferent to him, that that supposition, however natural, seemed exposed +to doubt. The astuteness of Randal was perplexed. Meanwhile, however, the +less he himself could rely upon Egerton for fortune, the more he revolved +the possible chances of ousting Frank from the inheritance of Hazeldean--in +part, at least, if not wholly. To one less scheming, crafty, and +remorseless than Randal Leslie with every day became more and more, such a +project would have seemed the wildest delusion. But there was something +fearful in the manner in which this young man sought to turn knowledge into +power, and make the study of all weakness in others subservient to his own +ends. He wormed himself thoroughly into Frank's confidence. He learned +through Frank all the Squire's peculiarities of thought and temper, and +thoroughly pondered over each word in the father's letters, which the son +gradually got into the habit of showing to the perfidious eyes of his +friend. Randal saw that the Squire had two characteristics which are very +common amongst proprietors, and which might be invoked as antagonists to +his warm fatherly love. First, the Squire was as fond of his estate as if +it were a living thing, and part of his own flesh and blood; and in his +lectures to Frank upon the sin of extravagance, the Squire always let out +this foible:--"What was to become of the estate if it fell into the hands +of a spendthrift? No man should make ducks and drakes of Hazeldean; let +Frank beware of _that_," &c. Secondly, the Squire was not only fond of his +lands, but he was jealous of them--that jealousy which even the tenderest +father sometimes entertains towards their natural heirs. He could not bear +the notion that Frank should count on his death; and he seldom closed an +admonitory letter without repeating the information that Hazeldean was not +entailed; that it was his to do with as he pleased through life and in +death. Indirect menace of this nature rather wounded and galled than +intimidated Frank; for the young man was extremely generous and +high-spirited by nature, and was always more disposed to some indiscretion +after such warnings to his self-interest, as if to show that those were the +last kinds of appeal likely to influence him. By the help of such insights +into the character of father and son, Randal thought he saw gleams of +daylight illumining his own chance of the lands of Hazeldean. Meanwhile it +appeared to him obvious that, come what might of it, his own interests +could not lose, and might most probably gain, by whatever could alienate +the Squire from his natural heir. Accordingly, though with consummate tact, +he instigated Frank towards the very excesses most calculated to irritate +the Squire, all the while appealing rather to give the counter advice, and +never sharing in any of the follies to which he conducted his thoughtless +friend. In this he worked chiefly through others, introducing Frank to +every acquaintance most dangerous to youth, either from the wit that +laughs at prudence, or the spurious magnificence that subsists so +handsomely upon bills endorsed by friends of "great expectations." + +The minister and his protégé were seated at breakfast, the first reading +the newspaper, the last glancing over his letters; for Randal had arrived +to the dignity of receiving many letters--ay, and notes too, +three-cornered, and fantastically embossed. Egerton uttered an exclamation, +and laid down the paper. Randal looked up from his correspondence. The +minister had sunk into one of his absent reveries. + +After a long silence, observing that Egerton did not return to the +newspaper, Randal said, "Ehem--sir, I have a note from Frank Hazeldean, who +wants much to see me; his father has arrived in town unexpectedly." + +"What brings him here?" asked Egerton, still abstractedly. + +"Why, it seems that he has heard some vague reports of poor Frank's +extravagance, and Frank is either afraid or ashamed to meet him." + +"Ay--a very great fault extravagance in the young!--destroys independence; +ruins or enslaves the future. Great fault--very! And what does youth want +that it should be extravagant? Has it not every thing in itself merely +because it _is_? Youth is youth--what needs it more?" + +Egerton rose as he said this, and retired to his writing-table, and in his +turn opened his correspondence. Randal took up the newspaper, and +endeavored, but in vain, to conjecture what had excited the minister's +exclamation, and the reverie that succeeded it. + +Egerton suddenly and sharply turned round in his chair--"If you have done +with the _Times_, have the goodness to place it here." + +Randal had just obeyed, when a knock at the street-door was heard, and +presently Lord L'Estrange came into the room, with somewhat a quicker step, +and somewhat a gayer mien than usual. + +Audley's hand, as if mechanically, fell upon the newspaper--fell upon that +part of the columns devoted to births, deaths, and marriages. Randal stood +by, and noted; then, bowing to L'Estrange, left the room. + +"Audley," said L'Estrange, "I have had an adventure since I saw you--an +adventure that reopened the Past, and may influence my future." + +"How?" + +"In the first place, I have met with a relation of--of--the Avenels." + +"Indeed! Whom--Richard Avenel?" + +"Richard--Richard--who is he? Oh, I remember; the wild lad who went off to +America; but that was when I was a mere child." + +"That Richard Avenel is now a rich thriving trader, and his marriage is in +this newspaper--married to an honorable Mrs. M'Catchley. Well--in this +country--who should plume himself on birth?" + +"You did not say so always, Egerton," replied Harley, with a tone of +mournful reproach. + +"And I say so now, pertinently to a Mrs. M'Catchley, not to the heir of the +L'Estranges. But no more of these--these Avenels." + +"Yes, more of them. I tell you I have met a relation of theirs--a nephew +of--of-- + +"Of Richard Avenel's?" interrupted Egerton; and then added in the slow, +deliberate, argumentative tone in which he was wont to speak in public: +"Richard Avenel the trader! I saw him once--a presuming and intolerable +man!" + +"The nephew has not those sins. He is full of promise, of modesty, yet of +pride. And his countenance--oh, Egerton, he has _her_ eyes." + +Egerton made no answer. And Harley resumed-- + +"I had thought of placing him under your care. I knew you would provide for +him." + +"I will. Bring him hither," cried Egerton eagerly. "All that I can do to +prove my--regard for a wish of yours." + +Harley pressed his friend's hand warmly. + +"I thank you from my heart; the Audley of my boyhood speaks now. But the +young man has decided otherwise; and I do not blame him. Nay, I rejoice +that he chooses a career in which, if he find hardship, he may escape +dependence." + +"And that career is--" + +"Letters." + +"Letters--Literature!" exclaimed the statesman. "Beggary! No, no, Harley, +this is your absurd romance." + +"It will not be beggary, and it is not my romance: it is the boy's. Leave +him alone, he is in my care and my charge henceforth. He is of _her_ blood, +and I said that he had _her_ eyes." + +"But you are going abroad; let me know where he is; I will watch over him." + +"And unsettle a right ambition for a wrong one? No--you shall know nothing +of him till he can proclaim himself. I think that day will come." + +Audley mused a moment, and then said, "Well, perhaps you are right. After +all, as you say, independence is a great blessing, and my ambition has not +rendered myself the better or the happier." + +"Yet, my poor Audley, you ask me to be ambitious." + +"I only wish you to be consoled," cried Egerton with passion. + +"I will try to be so; and by the help of a milder remedy than yours. I said +that my adventure might influence my future; it brought me acquainted not +only with the young man I speak of, but the most winning, affectionate +child--a girl." + +"Is this child an Avenel too?" + +"No, she is of gentle blood--a soldier's daughter; the daughter of that +Captain Digby, on whose behalf I was a petitioner to your patronage. He is +dead, and in dying, my name was on his lips. He meant me, doubtless, to be +the guardian to his orphan. I shall be so. I have at last an object in +life." + +"But can you seriously mean to take this child with you abroad?" + +"Seriously, I do." + +"And lodge her in your own house?" + +"For a year or so while she is yet a child. Then, as she approaches youth, +I shall place her elsewhere." + +"You may grow to love her. Is it clear that she will love you?--not mistake +gratitude for love? It is a very hazardous experiment." + +"So was William the Norman's--still he was William the Conqueror. Thou +biddest me move on from the past, and be consoled, yet thou wouldst make me +as inapt to progress as the mule in Slawkenbergius's tale, with thy cursed +interlocutions, 'Stumbling, by St. Nicholas, every step. Why, at this rate, +we shall be all night getting into--' _Happiness!_ Listen," continued +Harley, setting off, full pelt, into one of his wild whimsical humors. "One +of the sons of the prophets in Israel, felling wood near the River Jordan, +his hatchet forsook the helve, and fell to the bottom of the river; so he +prayed to have it again, (it was but a small request, mark you;) and having +a strong faith, he did not throw the hatchet after the helve, but the helve +after the hatchet. Presently two great miracles were seen. Up springs the +hatchet from the bottom of the water, and fixes itself to its old +acquaintance, the helve. Now, had he wished to coach it to Heaven in a +fiery chariot like Elias, be as rich as Job, strong as Samson, and +beautiful as Absalom, would he have obtained it, do you think? In truth, my +friend, I question it very much." + +"I cannot comprehend what you mean. Sad stuff you are talking." + +"I can't help that; Rabelais is to be blamed for it. I am quoting him, and +it is to be found in his prologue to the chapters on the Moderation of +Wishes. And apropos of 'moderate wishes in point of hatchet,' I want you to +understand that I ask but little from Heaven. I fling but the helve after +the hatchet that has sunk into the silent stream. I want the other half of +the weapon that is buried fathom deep, and for want of which the thick +woods darken round me by the Sacred River, and I can catch not a glimpse of +the stars." + +"In plain English," said Audley Egerton, "you want"--he stopped short, +puzzled. + +"I want my purpose and my will, and my old character, and the nature God +gave me. I want the half of my soul which has fallen from me. I want such +love as may replace to me the vanished affections. Reason not--I throw the +helve after the hatchet." + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +Randal Leslie, on leaving Audley, repaired to Frank's lodgings, and after +being closeted with the young guardsman an hour or so, took his way to +Limmer's hotel, and asked for Mr. Hazeldean. He was shown into the +coffee-room, while the waiter went up stairs with his card, to see if the +Squire was within, and disengaged. The _Times_ newspaper lay sprawling on +one of the tables, and Randal, leaning over it, looked with attention into +the column containing births, deaths, and marriages. But in that long and +miscellaneous list, he could not conjecture the name which had so excited +Mr. Egerton's interest. + +"Vexatious!" he muttered; "there is no knowledge which has power more +useful than that of the secrets of men." + +He turned as the waiter entered, and said that Mr. Hazeldean would be glad +to see him. + +As Randal entered the drawing-room, the Squire shaking hands with him, +looked towards the door as if expecting some one else, and his honest face +assumed a blank expression of disappointment when the door closed, and he +found that Randal was unaccompanied. + +"Well," said he bluntly, "I thought your old school-fellow, Frank, might +have been with you." + +"Have not you seen him yet, sir?" + +"No, I came to town this morning; travelled outside the mail; sent to his +barracks, but the young gentleman does not sleep there--has an apartment of +his own; he never told me that. We are a plain family, the +Hazeldeans--young sir; and I hate being kept in the dark, by my own son +too." + +Randal made no answer, but looked sorrowful. The Squire, who had never +before seen his kinsman, had a vague idea that it was not quite polite to +entertain a stranger, though a connection to himself, with his family +troubles, and so resumed good-naturedly: + +"I am very glad to make your acquaintance at last, Mr. Leslie. You know, I +hope, that you have good Hazeldean blood in your veins?" + +_Randal_, (smilingly).--"I am not likely to forget that; it is the boast of +our pedigree." + +_Squire_, (heartily.)--"Shake hands again on it, my boy. You don't want a +friend, since my grandee of a half-brother has taken you up; but if ever +you should, Hazeldean is not very far from Rood. Can't get on with your +father at all, my lad--more's the pity, for I think I could have given him +a hint or two as to the improvement of his property. If he would plant +those ugly commons--larch and fir soon come into profit, sir; and there are +some low lands about Rood that would take mighty kindly to draining." + +_Randal._--"My poor father lives a life so retired, and you cannot wonder +at it. Fallen trees lie still, and so do fallen families." + +_Squire._--"Fallen families can get up again, which fallen trees can't." + +_Randal._--"Ah, sir, it often takes the energy of generations to repair +the thriftlessness and extravagance of a single owner." + +_Squire_, (his brow lowering.)--"That's very true. Frank _is_ d----d +extravagant; treats me very coolly, too--not coming; near three o'clock. By +the by, I suppose he told you where I was, otherwise how did you find me +out!" + +_Randal_, (reluctantly.)--"Sir, he did; and, to speak frankly, I am not +surprised that he has not yet appeared." + +_Squire._--"Eh?" + +_Randal._--"We have grown very intimate." + +_Squire._--"So he writes me word--and I am glad of it. Our member, Sir +John, tells me you are a very clever fellow, and a very steady one. And +Frank says that he wishes he had your prudence, if he can't have your +talents. He has a good heart, Frank," added the father, relentingly. "But, +zounds, sir, you say you are not surprised he has not come to welcome his +own father?" + +"My dear sir," said Randal, "you wrote word to Frank that you had heard +from Sir John and others, of his goings-on, and that you were not satisfied +with his replies to your letters." + +"Well." + +"And then you suddenly come up to town." + +"Well." + +"Well. And Frank is ashamed to meet you. For, as you say, he has been +extravagant, and he has exceeded his allowance; and, knowing my respect for +you, and my great affection for himself, he has asked me to prepare you to +receive his confession and forgive him. I know I am taking a great liberty. +I have no right to interfere between father and son; but pray--pray think I +mean for the best." + +"Humph!" said the Squire, recovering himself very slowly, and showing +evident pain. "I knew already that Frank had spent more than he ought; but +I think he should not have employed a third person to prepare me to forgive +him. (Excuse me--no offence.) And if he wanted a third person, was not +there his own mother? What the devil!--(firing up)--am I a tyrant--a +bashaw--that my own son is afraid to speak to me? Gad, I'll give it him?" + +"Pardon me, sir," said Randal, assuming at once that air of authority which +superior intellect so well carries off and excuses. "But I strongly advise +you not to express any anger at Frank's confidence in me. At present I have +influence over him. Whatever you may think of his extravagance, I have +saved him from many an indiscretion, and many a debt--a young man will +listen to one of his own age so much more readily than even to the kindest +friend of graver years. Indeed, sir, I speak for your sake as well as for +Frank's. Let me keep this influence over him; and don't reproach him for +the confidence he placed in me. Nay, let him rather think that I have +softened any displeasure you might otherwise have felt." + +There seemed so much good sense in what Randal said, and the kindness of it +seemed so disinterested, that the Squire's native shrewdness was deceived. + +"You are a fine young fellow," said he, "and I am very much obliged to you. +Well, I suppose there is no putting old heads upon young shoulders; and I +promise you I'll not say an angry word to Frank. I dare say, poor boy, he +is very much afflicted, and I long to shake hands with him. So, set his +mind at ease." + +"Ah, sir," said Randal, with much apparent emotion, "your son may well love +you; and it seems to be a hard matter for so kind a heart as yours to +preserve the proper firmness with him." + +"Oh, I can be firm enough," quoth the squire--"especially when I don't see +him--handsome dog that he is--very like his mother--don't you think so?" + +"I never saw his mother, sir." + +"Gad! Not seen my Harry! No more you have; you must come and pay us a +visit. We have your grandmother's picture, when she was a girl, with a +crook in one hand and a bunch of lilies in the other. I suppose my +half-brother will let you come?" + +"To be sure, sir. Will you not call on him while you are in town? + +"Not I. He would think I expected to get something from the Government. +Tell him the ministers must go on a little better, if they want my vote for +their member. But go. I see you are impatient to tell Frank that all's +forgot and forgiven. Come and dine with him here at six, and let him bring +his bills in his pocket. Oh, I shan't scold him." + +"Why, as to that," said Randal, smiling, "I think (forgive me still) that +you should not take it too easily; just as I think that you had better not +blame him for his very natural and praiseworthy shame in approaching you, +so I think, also, that you should do nothing that would tend to diminish +that shame--it is such a check on him. And therefore, if you can contrive +to affect to be angry with him for his extravagance, it will do good." + +"You speak like a book, and I'll try my best." + +"If you threaten, for instance, to take him out of the army, and settle him +in the country, it would have a very good effect." + +"What! would he think it so great a punishment to come home and live with +his parents?" + +"I don't say that; but he is naturally so fond of London. At his age, and +with his large inheritance, _that_ is natural." + +"Inheritance!" said the Squire, moodily--"inheritance! he is not thinking +of that, I trust? Zounds, sir, I have as good a life as his own. +Inheritance!--to be sure the Casino property is entailed on him; but, as +for the rest, sir, I am no tenant for life. I could leave the Hazeldean +lands to my ploughman, if I chose it. Inheritance, indeed!" + +"My dear sir, I did not mean to imply that Frank would entertain the +unnatural and monstrous idea of calculating on your death; and all we have +to do is to get him to sow his wild oats as soon as possible--marry, and +settle down into the country. For it would be a thousand pities if his town +habits and tastes grew permanent--a bad thing for the Hazeldean property, +that. And," added Randal, laughing, "I feel an interest in the old place, +since my grandmother comes of the stock. So, just force yourself to seem +angry, and grumble a little when you pay the bills." + +"Ah, ah, trust me," said the Squire, doggedly and with a very altered air, +"I am much obliged to you for these hints, my young kinsman." And his stout +hand trembled a little as he extended it to Randal. + +Leaving Limmer's, Randal hastened to Frank's rooms in St. James's Street. +"My dear fellow," said he, when he entered, "it is very fortunate that I +persuaded you to let me break matters to your father. You might well say he +was rather passionate; but I have contrived to soothe him. You need not +fear that he will not pay your debts." + +"I never feared that," said Frank changing color; "I only fear his anger. +But, indeed, I feared his kindness still more. What a reckless hound I have +been! However, it shall be a lesson to me. And my debts once paid, I will +turn as economical as yourself." + +"Quite right, Frank. And, indeed, I am a little afraid that when your +father knows the total, he may execute a threat that would be very +unpleasant to you." + +"What's that?" + +"Make you sell out, and give up London." + +"The devil!" exclaimed Frank, with fervent emphasis; "that would be +treating me like a child." + +"Why, it _would_ make you seem rather ridiculous to your set, which is not +a very rural one. And you, who like London so much, and are so much the +fashion." + +"Don't talk of it," cried Frank, walking to and fro the room in great +disorder. + +"Perhaps on the whole, it might be well not to say all you owe, at once. If +you named half the sum, your father would let you off with a lecture; and +really I tremble at the effect of the total." + +"But how shall I pay the other half?" + +"Oh, you must save from your allowance; it is a very liberal one; and the +tradesmen are not pressing." + +"No--but the cursed bill-brokers"-- + +"Always renew to a young man of your expectations. And if I get into an +office, I can always help you, my dear Frank." + +"Ah, Randal, I am not so bad as to take advantage of your friendship," said +Frank warmly. "But it seems to me mean, after all, and a sort of a lie, +indeed, disguising the real state of my affairs. I should not have listened +to the idea from any one else. But you are such a sensible, kind, honorable +fellow." + +"After epithets so flattering, I shrink from the responsibility of advice. +But apart from your own interests, I should be glad to save your father the +pain he would feel at knowing the whole extent of the scrape you have got +into. And if it entailed on you the necessity to lay by--and give up +hazard, and not be security for other men--why it would be the best thing +that could happen. Really, too, it seems hard on Mr. Hazeldean, that he +should be the only sufferer, and quite just that you should bear half your +own burdens." + +"So it is, Randal; that did not strike me before. I will take your counsel; +and now I will go at once to Limmer's. My dear father! I hope he is looking +well?" + +"Oh, very. Such a contrast to the sallow Londoners! But I think you had +better not go till dinner. He has asked me to meet you at six. I will call +for you a little before, and we can go together. This will prevent a great +deal of _gêne_ and constraint. Good-bye till then.--Ha!--by the way, I +think if I were you, I would not take the matter too seriously and +penitentially. You see the best of fathers like to keep their sons under +their thumb, as the saying is. And if you want at your age to preserve your +independence, and not be hurried off and buried in the country, like a +school-boy in disgrace, a little manliness of bearing would not be amiss. +You can think over it." + +The dinner at Limmer's went off very differently from what it ought to have +done. Randal's words had sunk deep, and rankled sorely in the Squire's +mind; and that impression imparted a certain coldness to his manner which +belied the hearty, forgiving, generous impulse with which he had come up to +London, and which even Randal had not yet altogether whispered away. On the +other hand, Frank, embarrassed both by the sense of disingenuousness, and a +desire "not to take the thing too seriously," seemed to the Squire +ungracious and thankless. + +After dinner, the Squire began to hum and haw, and Frank to color up and +shrink. Both felt discomposed by the presence of a third person; till, with +an art and address worthy of a better cause, Randal himself broke the ice, +and so contrived to remove the restraint he had before imposed, that at +length each was heartily glad to have matters made clear and brief by his +dexterity and tact. + +Frank's debts were not in reality, large; and when he named the half of +them--looking down in shame--the Squire, agreeably surprised, was about to +express himself with a liberal heartiness that would have opened his son's +excellent heart at once to him. But a warning look from Randal checked the +impulse; and the Squire thought it right, as he had promised, to affect an +anger he did not feel, and let fall the unlucky threat, "that it was all +very well once in a way to exceed his allowance; but if Frank did not, in +future, show more sense than to be led away by a set of London sharks and +coxcombs, he must cut the army, come home, and take to farming." + +Frank imprudently exclaimed, "Oh, sir, I have no taste for farming. And +after London, at my age, the country would be so horribly dull." + +"Aha!" said the Squire, very grimly--and he thrust back into his +pocket-book some extra bank-notes which his fingers had itched to add to +those he had already counted out. "The country is terribly dull, is it? +Money goes there not upon follies and vices, but upon employing honest +laborers, and increasing the wealth of the nation. It does not please you +to spend money in that way: it is a pity you should ever be plagued with +such duties." + +"My dear father--" + +"Hold your tongue, you puppy. Oh, I dare say, if you were in my shoes, you +would cut down the oaks, and mortgage the property--sell it, for what I +know--all go on a cast of the dice! Aha, sir--very well, very well--the +country is horribly dull, is it? Pray, stay in town." + +"My dear Mr. Hazeldean," said Randal, blandly, and as if with the wish to +turn off into a joke what threatened to be serious, "you must not interpret +a hasty expression so literally. Why, you would make Frank as bad as Lord +A----, who wrote word to his steward to cut down more timber; and when the +steward replied, 'There are only three signposts left on the whole estate,' +wrote back, '_They've_ done growing, at all events--'down with them.' You +ought to know Lord A----, sir; so witty; and Frank's particular friend." + +"Your particular friend, Master Frank? Pretty friends!"--and the Squire +buttoned up the pocket, to which he had transferred his note-book, with a +determined air. + +"But I'm his friend, too," said Randal, kindly; "and I preach to him +properly, I can tell you." Then, as if delicately anxious to change the +subject, he began to ask questions upon crops, and the experiment of bone +manure. He spoke earnestly, and with _gusto_, yet with the deference of one +listening to a great practical authority. Randal had spent the afternoon in +cramming the subject from agricultural journals and Parliamentary reports; +and, like all practised readers, had really learned in a few hours more +than many a man, unaccustomed to study, could gain from books in a year. +The Squire was surprised and pleased at the young scholar's information and +taste for such subjects. + +"But, to be sure," quoth he, with an angry look at poor Frank, "you have +good Hazeldean blood in you, and know a bean from a turnip." + +"Why, sir," said Randal, ingenuously, "I am training myself for public +life; and what is a public man worth if he do not study the agriculture of +his country?" + +"Right--what is he worth? Put that question, with my compliments, to my +half-brother. What stuff he did talk, the other night, on the malt tax, to +be sure!" + +"Mr. Egerton has had so many other things to think of, that we must excuse +his want of information upon one topic, however important. With his strong +sense, he must acquire that information, sooner or later; for he is fond of +power; and, sir,--knowledge is power!" + +"Very true;--very fine saying," quoth the poor Squire, unsuspiciously, as +Randal's eye rested upon Mr. Hazeldean's open face, and then glanced +towards Frank, who looked sad and bored. + +"Yes," repeated Randal, "knowledge is power;" and he shook his head wisely, +as he passed the bottle to his host. + +Still, when the Squire, who meant to return to the Hall next morning, took +leave of Frank, his heart warmed to his son; and still more for Frank's +dejected looks. It was not Randal's policy to push estrangement too far at +first, and in his own presence. + +"Speak to poor Frank--kindly now, sir--do;" whispered he, observing the +Squire's watery eyes, as he moved to the window. + +The Squire rejoiced to obey--thrust out his hand to his son--"My dear boy," +said he, "there, don't fret--pshaw!--it was but a trifle after all. Think +no more of it." + +Frank took the hand, and suddenly threw his arm round his father's broad +shoulder. + +"Oh, sir, you are too good--too good." His voice trembled so, that Randal +took alarm, passed by him, and touched him meaningly. + +The Squire pressed his son to his heart--heart so large, that it seemed to +fill the whole width under his broadcloth. + +"My dear Frank," said he, half blubbering, "it is not the money; but, you +see, it so vexes your poor mother; you must be careful in future; and, +zounds, boy, it will be all yours one day; only don't calculate on it; I +could not bear _that_--I could not, indeed." + +"Calculate!" cried Frank. "Oh, sir, can you think it!" + +"I am so delighted that I had some slight hand in your complete +reconciliation with Mr. Hazeldean," said Randal, as the young men walked +from the hotel. "I saw that you were disheartened, and I told him to speak +to you kindly." + +"Did you? Ah, I am sorry he needed telling." + +"I know his character so well already," said Randal, "that I flatter myself +I can always keep things between you as they ought to be. What an excellent +man!" + +"The best man in the world!" cried Frank, heartily; and then as his accent +drooped, "yet I have deceived him. I have a great mind to go back--" + +"And tell him to give you twice as much money as you had asked for. He +would think you had only seemed so affectionate in order to take him in. +No, no, Frank; save--lay by--economize; and then tell him that you have +paid half your own debts. Something high-minded in that." + +"So there is. Your heart is as good as your head. Good night." + +"Are you going home so early? Have you no engagements?" + +"None that I shall keep." + +"Good night, then." + +They parted, and Randal walked into one of the fashionable clubs. He neared +a table, where three or four young men (younger sons, who lived in the most +splendid style, heaven knew how) were still over their wine. + +Leslie had little in common with these gentlemen; but he forced his nature +to be agreeable to them, in consequence of a very excellent piece of +worldly advice given to him by Audley Egerton. "Never let the dandies call +you a prig," said the statesman. "Many a clever fellow fails through life, +because the silly fellows, whom half a word well spoken could make his +_claqueurs_, turn him into ridicule. Whatever you are, avoid the fault of +most reading men: in a word, don't be a prig!" + +"I have just left Hazeldean," said Randal--"what a good fellow he is!" + +"Capital," said the honorable George Borrowwell. "Where is he?" + +"Why, he is gone to his rooms. He has had a little scene with his father, a +thorough, rough country squire. It would be an act of charity if you would +go and keep him company, or take him with you to some place a little more +lively than his own lodgings." + +"What! the old gentleman has been teasing him?--a horrid shame! Why, Frank +is not expensive, and he will be very rich--eh?" + +"An immense property," said Randal, "and not a mortgage on it; an only +son," he added, turning away. + +Among these young gentlemen there was a kindly and most benevolent whisper, +and presently they all rose, and walked away towards Frank's lodgings. + +"The wedge is in the tree," said Randal to himself, "and there is a gap +already between the bark and the wood." + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +Harley L'Estrange is seated beside Helen at the lattice-window in the +cottage at Norwood. The bloom of reviving health is on the child's face, +and she is listening with a smile, for Harley is speaking of Leonard with +praise, and of Leonard's future with hope. "And thus," he continued, +"secure from his former trials, happy in his occupation, and pursuing the +career he has chosen, we must be content, my dear child, to leave him." + +"Leave him!" exclaimed Helen, and the rose on her cheek faded. + +Harley was not displeased to see her emotion. He would have been +disappointed in her heart if it had been less susceptible to affection. + +"It is hard on you, Helen," said he, "to separate you from one who has been +to you as a brother. Do not hate me for doing so. But I consider myself +your guardian, and your home as yet must be mine. We are going from this +land of cloud and mist, going as into the world of summer. Well, that does +not content you. You weep, my child; you mourn your own friend, but do not +forget your father's. I am alone, and often sad, Helen; will you not +comfort me? You press my hand, but you must learn to smile on me also. You +are born to be the Comforter. Comforters are not egotists; they are always +cheerful when they console." + +The voice of Harley was so sweet, and his words went so home to the child's +heart, that she looked up and smiled in his face as he kissed her ingenuous +brow. But then she thought of Leonard, and felt so solitary--so +bereft--that tears burst forth again. Before these were dried, Leonard +himself entered, and obeying an irresistible impulse, she sprang to his +arms, and, leaning her head on his shoulder, sobbed out, "I am going from +you, brother--do not grieve--do not miss me." + +Harley was much moved: he folded his arms, and contemplated them both +silently--and his own eyes were moist, "This heart," thought he, "will be +worth the winning!" + +He drew aside Leonard, and whispered, "Soothe but encourage and support +her. I leave you together; come to me in the garden later." + +It was nearly an hour before Leonard joined Harley. + +"She was not weeping when you left her?" asked L'Estrange. + +"No; she has more fortitude than we might suppose. Heaven knows how that +fortitude has supported mine. I have promised to write to her often." + +Harley took two strides across the lawn, and then, coming back to Leonard, +said, "Keep your promise, and write often for the first year. I would then +ask you to let the correspondence drop gradually." + +"Drop!--Ah, my lord!" + +"Look you, my young friend, I wish to lead this fair mind wholly from the +sorrows of the Past. I wish Helen to enter, not abruptly, but step by step, +into a new life. You love each other now as do two children--as brother and +sister. But later, if encouraged, would the love be the same? And is it not +better for both of you, that youth should open upon the world with youth's +natural affections free and unforestalled?" + +"True! and she is so above me," said Leonard, mournfully. + +"No one is above him who succeeds in your ambition, Leonard. It is not +_that_, believe me!" + +Leonard shook his head. + +"Perhaps," said Harley, with a smile, "I rather feel that you are above me. +For what vantage-ground is so high as youth? Perhaps I may become jealous +of you. It is well that she should learn to like one who is to be +henceforth her guardian and protector. Yet, how can she like me as she +ought, if her heart is to be full of you?" + +The boy bowed his head; and Harley hastened to change the subject, and +speak of letters and of glory. His words were eloquent, and his voice +kindling; for he had been an enthusiast for fame in his boyhood; and in +Leonard's his own seemed to him to revive. But the poet's heart gave back +no echo--suddenly it seemed void and desolate. Yet when Leonard walked back +by the moonlight, he muttered to himself, "Strange--strange--so mere a +child, this cannot be love! Still what else to love is there left to me?" + +And so he paused upon the bridge where he had so often stood with Helen, +and on which he had found the protector that had given to her a home--to +himself a career. And life seemed very long, and fame but a dreary phantom. +Courage, still, Leonard! These are the sorrows of the heart that teach thee +more than all the precepts of sage and critic. + +Another day, and Helen had left the shores of England, with her fanciful +and dreaming guardian. Years will pass before our tale reopens. Life in all +the forms we have seen it travels on. And the Squire farms and hunts; and +the Parson preaches and chides and soothes. And Riccabocca reads his +Machiavelli, and sighs and smiles as he moralizes on Men and States. And +Violante's dark eyes grow deeper and more spiritual in their lustre; and +her beauty takes thought from solitary dreams. And Mr. Richard Avenel has +his house in London, and the honorable Mrs. Avenel her opera box; and hard +and dire is their struggle into fashion, and hotly does the new man, +scorning the aristocracy, to pant become aristocrat. And Audley Egerton +goes from the office to the Parliament, and drudges, and debates, and helps +to govern the empire in which the sun never sets. Poor Sun, how tired he +must be--but none more tired than the Government! And Randal Leslie has an +excellent place in the bureau of a minister, and is looking to the time +when he shall resign it to come into Parliament, and on that large arena +turn knowledge into power. And meanwhile, he is much where he was with +Audley Egerton; but he has established intimacy with the Squire, and +visited Hazeldean twice, and examined the house and the map of the +property--and very nearly fallen a second time into the Ha-ha, and the +Squire believes that Randal Leslie alone can keep Frank out of mischief, +and has spoken rough words to his Harry about Frank's continued +extravagance. And Frank does continue to pursue pleasure, and is very +miserable, and horribly in debt. And Madame di Negra has gone from London +to Paris, and taken a tour into Switzerland, and come back to London again, +and has grown very intimate with Randal Leslie; and Randal has introduced +Frank to her; and Frank thinks her the loveliest woman in the world, and +grossly slandered by certain evil tongues. And the brother of Madame di +Negra is expected in England at least; and what with his repute for beauty +and for wealth, people anticipate a sensation; and Leonard, and Harley, and +Helen? Patience--they will all reappear. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[7] Continued from page 386. + + + + +FRAGMENTS FROM A VOLUME OF POEMS + +BY THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES. + +[Just Published in London.] + + +NOTHING ALONE. + + All round and through the spaces of creation + No hiding-place of the least air, or earth, + Or sea, invisible, untrod, unrained on, + Contains a thing alone. Not e'en the bird, + That can go up the labyrinthine winds + Between its pinions, and pursues the summer,-- + Not even the great serpent of the billows, + Who winds him thrice around this planet's waist,-- + Is by itself in joy or suffering. + + +LOVE. + + O that sweet influence of thoughts and looks! + That change of being, which, to one who lives, + Is nothing less divine than divine life + To the unmade! Love? Do I love? I walk + Within the brilliance of another's thought, + As in a glory. + + +INNOCENT WELCOME TO EVIL. + + How thou art like the daisy in Noah's meadow, + On which the foremost drop of rain fell warm + And soft at evening; so the little flower + Wrapped up its leaves, and shut the treacherous water + Close to the golden welcome of its breast,-- + Delighting in the touch of that which led + The shower of oceans, in whose billowy drops + Tritons and lions of the sea were warring. + + +THE IMPARTIAL BANQUET. + + The unfashionable worm, + Respectless of crown-illumined brow, + To cheek's bewitchment, or the sceptred clench, + With no more eyes than Love, creeps courtier-like, + On his thin belly, to his food,--no matter + How clad or nicknamed it might strut above, + What age or sex,--it is his dinner-time. + + +ARGUMENT FOR MERCY. + + I have a plea, + As dewy piteous as the gentle ghost's + That sits alone upon a forest-grave + Thinking of no revenge: I have a mandate, + As magical and potent as e'er ran + Silently through a battle's myriad veins, + Undid their fingers from the hanging steel, + And drew them up in prayer: I AM A WOMAN. + O motherly-remembered be the name, + And, with the thought of loves and sisters, sweet + And comforting! + + +INTERCESSION BETWEEN A FATHER AND A SON. + + There stands before you + The youth and golden top of your existence, + Another life of yours: for, think your morning + Not lost, but given, passed from your hand to his + The same except in place. Be then to him + As was the former tenant of your age, + When you were in the prologue of your time, + And he lay hid in you unconsciously + Under his life. And thou, my younger master, + Remember there's a kind of God in him; + And, after heaven, the next of thy religion. + Thy second fears of God, thy first of man, + Are his, who was creation's delegate, + And made this world for thee in making thee. + + + + +Authors and Books. + + +CARL IMMERMAN'S _Theater-Briefe_ (Letters on the Theatre), says a German +critic, "is interesting not only as a history of a German theatre, but as +an excellent addition to the literature of æsthetic criticism. This work +refers more especially to the years 1833-37, during which time, as is well +known, Immerman attempted to establish in Düsseldorf an _ideal_ theatre, +somewhat in the style of that at Weimar." We have frequently, in +conversation with a gentleman who held an appointment in this Düsseldorf +_Ideal Theatre_, received amusing and interesting accounts of Immerman's +style of management. That his plan did not succeed is undoubtedly for the +sake of Art to be regretted; yet we can by no means unconditionally approve +of the ideas upon which Immerman based his theories. He was certainly right +in endeavoring to form a unity of style in dramatic representations; but +how he could have deemed such an unity possible, when grounded upon such +diametrically opposed æsthetic bases as those of Shakespeare and Calderon, +is to us unintelligible. The remarks on the most convenient and practical +style of executing certain pieces--for example, Hamlet--are worthy of +attention, as also a few explanations relative to Immerman's own dramatic +conceptions. + + * * * * * + +KOHL, whose innumerable and well-known books of travel have caused him to +be cited even in book-making Germany as an instance of _Ausserordentlichen +Fruchtbarkeit_, or extraordinary fertility, has published, through Kuntze +of Dresden, yet another work, entitled _Sketches of Nature and Popular +Life_, which is however said to be inferior to the average of his +works--principally, we imagine, from his falling into the besetting sin of +German writers since the late revolutions, namely, of talking politics when +he should have quoted poetry. We should not be surprised to find some day a +treatise on qualitative chemistry, commencing with an analysis of the +Prussian constitution, or an anatomical work, concluding with a dissection +of Germany in general. Kohl possesses, however, great faculties of +observation, is an accurate describer, and has, perhaps, done as much as +any man of the age towards making different countries acquainted with each +other. + + * * * * * + +The friends of the Italian language and literature, will do well to cast an +occasional kindly glance on _L'Eco d'Italia_ (The Echo of Italy), an +excellent weekly paper published by Signor SECCHI DE CASALI, in this city, +at number 289 Broadway. Many admirable poems find their way from time to +time into this periodical, while its foreign correspondence is of a high +order of merit. + + * * * * * + +The Polish authoress NARCISA ZWICHOWSKA, well known to all who are +acquainted with the literature of that country, has received from the +Russian authorities an order to enter a convent, and no longer to occupy +herself with literature, but with labors of a manual kind, which are more +becoming to women. She is to receive from the treasury a silver ruble, or +about sixty-two and a half cents a day for her support. + + * * * * * + +Cooking is no doubt a great science, and its chief prophet is undeniably +EUGENE BARON BAERST. This gentleman, who is well known in Germany and +elsewhere for his gallant services in Spain, in the army of Don Carlos, has +just brought out a work in two volumes, of some six hundred and fifty pages +each, entitled _Gastrosophie, oder die Lehre von den Freuden der Tafel_ +(Gastrosophy, or the Doctrine of the Delights of the Table). In this he +evinces a thoroughness of knowledge and a fire of enthusiasm well +calculated to astonish the reader, who has probably not before been aware +of the grandeur of the subjects discussed. He begins with the very elements +of his theme. "The man," he exclaims in his preface, "who undertakes to +write a cook-book, must begin by teaching the mason how to build a +fire-place, so as not merely to produce heat from above or below, but from +both at once; he must teach the butcher how to cut his meat, and above all +the baker how to make bread, and especially the _semmel_ (a sort of small +loaves with caraway or anise seed, much liked in Germany), which are often +very like leather and perfectly indigestible. It is true that in Psalm CIV. +verse 15, we are told that bread strengthens the heart of man, but the +semmel sort does no such thing; and when Linguet affirms,--and it is one of +the greatest paradoxes I know of,--that bread is a noxious article of food, +he must be thinking of just that kind. Further, it is necessary to instruct +the gardener, the vegetable woman, the cattle dealer and feeder, and a +hundred other people down to the scullion, who must learn to chop the +spinage very fine and rub and tie it well, and also not to wash the salad, +&c. And this is all the more necessary, because bad workmen,--and their +name is legion,--love no sort of instruction, but fancy that they already +know every thing better than anybody else." To this extensive and thankless +work of instruction, the Baron declares that he has devoted himself, and +that the iron will necessary to its accomplishment is his. The iron health +is however wanting, and accordingly he can do nothing better for "the +fatherland's artists in eating" than the present work. At the last advices, +the valiant Baron was dangerously ill. + + * * * * * + +Works on natural history and philosophy seldom possess much interest for +the uninitiated in "the physically practical." An exception to this may +however be found in the beautiful _Schmetterlingsbuch_, or _Butterfly +book_, recently published by Hoffman of Stuttgart, containing eleven +hundred colored illustrations of these "winged flowers," as the Chinese +poetically term them. Equally attractive to every lover of exquisite works +of scientific art, is the recent American _Pomology_, edited by Dr. +BRINCKLE of Philadelphia, and published by Hoffy of that city. This, we +state on the authority of the Philadelphia Art-Union Reporter, is the most +splendid work of the kind ever published in this country or Europe, with a +single exception, which was issued under royal patronage. + + * * * * * + +A valuable and useful book in these times is STEIN'S _Geschichte der +socialen Bewegung in Frankreich von 1789 bis auf unsere Tage_ (History of +the Social Movement in France from 1789 to our day). It is in three +volumes, published at Leipzig. The _Socialismus und Communismus_ of the +same author has given him a wide reputation for impartiality and +thoroughness, which the present work must confirm and extend. We do not +coincide in all his views, historical or critical, but cordially recommend +him to the study of all who desire to inform themselves as to one of the +most important phases of modern history. + + * * * * * + +An interesting work entitled _Die Macht des Kleinen_, or _The power of the +Little, as shown in the formation of the crust of our earth-ball_, has +recently been translated from the Dutch of _Schwartzkopt_, by Dr. SCHLEIDEN +of Leipzig. This book treats entirely of the works and wonders effected by +that "invisible brotherhood" of architects, the _animalculæ_, and shows how +greatly the organic world is indebted to coral insects, _foraminiferæ_, +polypi, and other cryptic beings, for its existence and progress. The +illustrations are truly admirable. + + * * * * * + +Among the recent publications at Halle, is a heavy octavo by Dr. J. H. +KRAUSE, on the _History of Education, Instruction and Culture among the +Greeks, Etruscans and Romans_. It is drawn from the original sources, and +is the result of a most studious and thorough investigation of the subject. + + * * * * * + +A very intelligent young priest, by name JOSEPH LUTZ, has recently +published by Laupp of Tübingen, a _Handbook of Catholic Pulpit Eloquence_. +This work will be found highly interesting to those desirous of +investigating the history and theories of modern eloquence. We were already +aware that in New-England smoking and whistling are regarded as vices, but +first learned from the prospectus of this work that, according to Theremin, +eloquence is a _virtue_! + + * * * * * + +A collection of the popular songs of Southern Russia is now being published +at Moscow by Mr. MAKSIMOWITSCH, who for twenty years has been in the +Ukraine, engaged in taking down and preserving these interesting products +of the early life of his people in that region. This is not the first +contribution of the kind that he has made to Russian literature; in 1827 he +published the _Songs of Little Russia_, consisting of one hundred and +thirty pieces for male and female voices; in 1834 the _Popular Songs of the +Ukraine_, consisting of one hundred and thirteen songs for men; and in the +same year the _Voices of Ukraine Song_, twenty-five pieces with music. The +present work is called by way of distinction _Collectaneum of Ukraine +Popular Songs_; it is to be in six parts, containing about two thousand +national poems. Each part is to be accompanied with explanatory notes, and +the last volume will contain an essay on Russian popular poetry in general, +as well as on that of the Ukraine in particular. One volume has already +appeared; it is in two divisions: the first of Ukraine _Dumy_, the second +of cradle songs and lullabys. The _Dumy_ are a particular sort of poems +peculiar to the Ukraine. They are in a most irregular measure, varying from +four to twelve syllables, with the cadence varying in each line. The only +requirement is that they should rhyme, and frequently several successive +lines are made to do so. These poems are the production of the +_Vandurists_, or bards of the country, who are even yet found on the +southern shore of the Dnieper. These singers, usually blind old men, chant +their _Dumy_ and their songs to the people, accompanying themselves with +both hands on the many-stringed _vandura_. The _Dumy_ flourished most in +the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. There are some existing composed +by Mazeppa after the battle of Pultowa, and one or two other poets have +left a _Dumy_ of the eighteenth, but they are not equal to those of more +primitive times. Since then there have been no new compositions in the way +of popular songs and ballads, but the older works have been repeated with +variations and to new melodies. The most frequent subjects of these ballads +were, of course, historic personages and warlike deeds; but often they sung +of domestic matters and feelings, winding up with a moral for the benefit +of the young. In this volume of Mr. Maksimowitsch, are twenty _Dumy_; their +subjects are such as these: Fight of the Cossack with the Tartar, the Three +Brothers, On the Victory of Gorgsun (1648). He reckons the number in +existence at thirty. Of these he publishes, four have not before been +known. + + * * * * * + +A new edition of Hogarth's Works is in process of republication at +Göttingen in a diminished size. There are to be twelve parts at fifty cents +each; the third part has been published. + + * * * * * + +Of DR. ANDREE'S great work on _America_, whose commencement we noticed some +months since, the fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth parts have just reached +us. The German savan continues to justify the high encomiums we passed upon +the earlier portions of his work. He has used with the utmost industry and +conscientiousness all the best sources of information on every subject he +treats. Gallatin, Morton and Squier he frequently quotes as authorities. +These four parts are devoted to the conclusion of the essay on the origin +and history of the American race. In this he calls attention to the fact +that all the developments of American civilization took place on high plain +lands and not in the rich vallies of the great rivers--a fact by the way +which confirms Mr. Carey's theory of the first settlement and culture of +land, though to this Dr. Andree does not refer. He then treats of Canada, +New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, the Bermudas and the United States. The leading +facts in the geography, history, the sources of population, the political +constitution, the geological structure, soil, climate, industry, resources, +and prospects of these countries are given with admirable succinctness, +thoroughness and justice. As a book of ordinary reference, none could be +more convenient or reliable. The most difficult questions are considered +with a genuine German cosmopolitan impartiality of judgment. The +predominant influence in the formation of the American democratic +institutions Dr. Andree considers to be English, or more strictly speaking +Teutonic. Other races and nations have contributed to the mass of the +people, but only the Teutonic has laid the foundation and built the +structure of the state. It is a great blessing in the history of the +continent that the French did not succeed in their plans of colonization, +for they would everywhere have founded not democratic but feudal +institutions. The slavery question he treats more in the interest of the +south than in the spirit of the abolitionists, whose course he condemns +with considerable plainness of expression. On the mode of finally solving +this question, he offers no speculations, but contents himself with showing +the great difficulties attending colonization and emancipation upon the +soil. The former he thinks impossible, the latter can only produce war +between the two races, in which the latter must be exterminated. This mode +of viewing this subject we can testify is frequent among well-educated +Germans. The statistics relating to the United States, Dr. Andree has +collected in a most lucid manner; we do not know where they are better or +more conveniently arranged. Products, imports, exports, debt of federal and +state governments, taxation, shipping, railroads, canals, schools, are all +given; nothing escapes the vigilance of this most exemplary ethnographer. +His style is no less clear and vivid in these four parts than in those +preceding. The remainder will follow regularly. The work may be found at +Westermann's, corner of Broadway and Reade street, by whose house in +Brunswick, Germany, it is published. + + * * * * * + +M. ALEXANDER DUVAL has a long article in the _Journal des Débats_ entitled, +_Studies upon German Love_, taking his text from Bettina von Arnim's famous +correspondence with Goethe, and from the _Book of Love_, in which the same +sentimentalist has recorded her relations with the unfortunate Günderode. +M. Duval finds that in his intercourse with Bettina, Goethe played a part +which was honorable neither to his mind nor his heart. In the _Book of +Love_, says M. Duval, there is a little of every thing--of physics, of +metaphysics, of poetry, of natural history, of biographical anecdotes, the +history of the first kiss, of the second kiss, and of the third kiss +received by Mlle. Bettina, mixed up with apostrophes to the stars, to the +ocean, to the mountains, and above all, to the moon, which she loves so +much that she never leaves it in peace. In fact, she has such a passion for +whatever is lunatic, that the moon above is not sufficient, and she invents +another, an interior and metaphysical moon, which enlightens the world of +our thoughts. About this she writes to Goethe: "When thou art about to go +to sleep, confide thyself to the inward moon, sleep in the light of the +moon of thy own nature." French literature was never disgraced by a girl's +making a god of its most illustrious representative, and his allowing the +silly incense to be burned for years upon his altars; but the evil is +getting into France as well. Rousseau did not dare to publish his +confessions, but Lamartine has had the courage, and has served up to the +public his own letters and the portraits of his mistresses. Madame Sand's +_Memoirs_ are also advertised; another step that way and Germany need no +longer envy the country of Montesquieu and Voltaire, of good sense and +action. + + * * * * * + +Readable and instructive is HASE'S _Neue Propheten_ (New Prophets), just +published in Germany. The new prophets are Joan d'Arc, Savonarola, and the +Anabaptists of Münster. They are treated historically and philosophically, +in a style whose simplicity, animation, and clearness, differ most +gratefully from the crabbed and long-winded sentences of the earlier German +writers, in the study of whom we dug our way into some imperfect +acquaintance with that rich and flexible tongue. The book is worthy of +translation. + + * * * * * + +A new book on a subject which has latterly become prominent among the +themes of European observation and thought is called _Südslavische +Wanderwagen im Sommer 1850_ (Wandering in Southern Slavonia in the Summer +of 1850). It is a series of vivid and interesting pictures of one of the +most remarkable races and regions of Europe. + + * * * * * + +A singular work has recently been published by Decker of Berlin, entitled +_Monasticus Irenæus, von Jerusalem, nach Bethlehem_ (or Irenæus Monasticus: +a public message to the noble Lady Ida, Countess of Hahn-Hahn: for the +profit and piety of all newly converted Catholics.) In this work we find +much talent, deep learning, and abundance of Schleiermachian philosophy; +but remark on the other hand the following weak points: Firstly, that the +author cuts down a gnat with a scimitar, or in other words overrates the +talent and abilities of his adversary; and, secondly, that he affects to +assume the tone and style in which her work was written, even in the title. +(The reader will remember that the work of the Countess was entitled "_From +Jerusalem_," and bore the motto, "SOLI DEO GLORIA.") In other respects also +is this work, if not decidedly wrong, at least quite indifferent. + + * * * * * + +LAMARTINE'S History of the Restoration is reviewed at length in the +_Journal des Débats_, by M. Cuvillier-Fleury. It is a very severe piece of +criticism. Lamartine is charged with injustice, confusion, and even a +systematic perversion of the truth, especially toward Napoleon. The account +of the Emperor's last days at Fontainebleau, is pronounced a tragi-comedy, +full of grimaces, of explosions, of puerile hesitations, of impossible +exaggerations. Men and facts are judged without reflection, by prejudice, +by blind passion, by a sort of fated and involuntary partiality. The method +of the book runs into declamation, turgidity, and redundancy; he does not +narrate, he discourses or expounds; he falls into mere gossip or is lost in +analysis; instead of portraits he paints miniatures, and does not conceive +an historical picture without a fancy vignette. His descriptive lyricism, +instead of imparting a grandeur to his subject, diminishes it; instead of +refining it, renders it petty. Besides, in his overstrained and exaggerated +style, he is guilty of writing bad French; M. Cuvillier-Fleury quotes +several striking examples of this. The article concludes by saying that the +historian writes without ballast, and goes at the impulse of every breeze +which swells his sails, and with no other care than the inspiration of the +moment. His subject carries him off by all the perspectives it opens to his +imagination or his memory. He is like a ship moving out of port with +streamers floating from every mast, its poop crowned with flowers, and +every sail set, but without a rudder. In spite of all criticism, however, +this history has a large sale in France: the first edition is already +exhausted. The practice of pirating, usual at Brussels and Leipzic, with +reference to French works of importance, has been prevented, in this case, +by the preparation of cheap editions for Belgium and Germany, which were +issued there cotemporaneously with the publication at Paris. + + * * * * * + +The second part of the third volume of HUMBOLDT'S _Kosmos_ is nearly +completed, and will soon appear. A fourth volume is to be added, in which +the geological studies of the venerable author will be set forth. He is now +nearly eighty-one years old, and is as vigorous and youthful in feeling as +ever. The first part of the third volume of _Kosmos_ appeared in German and +English several months ago. + + * * * * * + +A History of Polish Literature, from the remotest antiquity to 1830, is now +being published at Warsaw, by Mr. MACIEJOWKI, a writer thoroughly +acquainted with the subject. Three parts of the first volume have appeared, +bringing the history down to the first half of the seventeenth century. One +more part will complete the volume, and three volumes will complete the +work. + + * * * * * + +The study of Russian archæology and history is prosecuted in that country +with a degree of activity and thoroughness that other nations are not aware +of, and publications of importance are made constantly. Within the present +year the fifth part of the complete collection of _Russian Chronicles_ has +appeared, the fourth of the collection of public documents relating to the +history of Western Russia, and the beginning of a new collection of foreign +historians of Russia. + + * * * * * + +A curious contrast of light and shade is exhibited in the titles of two +works recently published in Vienna. SIEGFRIED WEISS (or _white_) puts forth +a book, _On the present state and trade policy of Germany_, while in the +next paragraph of the same list N. SCHWARTZ (or _black_) appears as the +author of _The situation of Austria as regards her trade policy_. This +latter we should judge to be an excellent illustration of the old phrase, +"_nomen et omen!_" + + * * * * * + +Periodical literature is making its way into Asia. A literary monthly has +made its appearance at Tiflis, in the Georgian language. It will discuss +Georgian literature, furnish translations from foreign tongues, and treat +of the arts and sciences, and of agriculture. What oriental students will +find most interesting in this magazine, will be its specimens of the +popular literature of the country. A new Armenian periodical has also been +commenced in the Trans-Caucasian country. + + * * * * * + +A German version of HAWTHORNE'S _Scarlet Letter_ has been executed by one +DU BOIS, and published by Velliagen & Klasing of Nielefeld. + + * * * * * + +OTTO HUBNER, the industrious German economist, is about to publish at +Leipsic a collection of the tariffs of all nations. + + * * * * * + +A work on Freemasonic medals has been published by Dr. MERZDORF, +superintendent of the Grand Ducal Library of Oldenburg: with plates. + + * * * * * + +The German Universities are well off for teachers. In the twenty-seven +institutions of the kind at the last summer term, there were engaged 1586 +teachers, viz.: 816 ordinary, 330 extraordinary, and 37 honorary +professors, with 403 private tutors, exclusive of 134 masters of languages, +gymnastics, fencing and dancing. Münster has the fewest teachers, numbering +only 18, Olmütz 22, Innsbruck, 26, Gratz 22, Berne and Basle each 33, +Rostock, 38; on the other hand Berlin has 167, Munich 102, Leipzic and +Göttingen each 100, Prague 92, Bonn 90, Breslau 84, Heidelberg 81, Tübingen +77, Halle 75, Jena 74. The whole number of students in the last term was +16,074; Berlin counting 2199, Munich 1817, Prague 1204, Bonn 1026, Leipzic +846, Breslau 831, Tübingen 768, Göttingen 691, Würzburg 684, Halle 646, +Heidelberg 624, Gratz 611, Jena 434, Giessen 409, Freiburg 403, Erlangen +402, Olmütz 396, Königsberg 332, Münster 323, Marburg 272, Innsbruck 257, +Greifswald 208, Zürich 201, Berne 184, Rostock 122, Kiel 119, Basel 65. + + * * * * * + +Among the last poetical issues of the German press we notice _Poetis che +Schriften_, by A. HENSEL (Vienna, 2 vols.), are exaggerated, almost insane +expression of Austrian loyalty running through sonnets, lyrics, ballads and +romances; _Friedrichsehre_ (Honor to Frederick), by an anonymous author +(Posen), a new wreath for the weather-beaten old brows of Frederick the +Great; _Erwachen_ (Waking), seven poems by Hugo le Juge (Berlin), a book +with talent in it; _Lebensfrühling_, by Paul Eslin (Liepsic), the second +edition of a collection of neat and pleasing poems for children. + + * * * * * + +The Russian government has published some book-making statistics of Poland +in 1850. In the course of the year, 359 manuscript works were submitted to +the censorship, being 19 more than in 1849. Almost all were scientific, the +greater part treating of theology, jurisprudence, and medicine; 327 were +licensed to be printed, 4 rejected, and 15 returned to their authors for +modification; upon 13 no decision has been given. In 1850, there were +imported into the kingdom 15,986 works, in 58,141 volumes; this was 749 +works less, and 1,027 volumes more than in 1849. + + * * * * * + +A new work on Russia is appearing at Paris with the title of _Etudes sur +les Forces Productives de la Russie_. Its author is Mr. L. DE TEGOBORSKI, a +Russian privy councillor. The first volume, a stout octavo, has been +issued. It treats of the geographical situation and extent of Russia, the +climate, fertility and configuration of the soil; population; productions +of the earth and their gross value; vegetable, animal and mineral +productions; agriculture; raising of domestic animals. The whole work will +consist of three volumes; the second is in press. + + * * * * * + +Notices in the later numbers of the _Europa_, of KARL QUENTIN in America, +and _The Art Journal_, are not without interest. The Grenzboten also +contains interesting articles on THOMAS MOORE, and OERSTED. + + * * * * * + +Of Ritter's great work, the _History of Philosophy_, of which only earlier +volumes have appeared in English, a tenth volume is shortly to be +published. + + * * * * * + +A new and compendious history of philosophy has been published at Leipzic +in two octavo volumes, called _Das Buch der Weltweisheit_. It gives in the +most succinct form a statement of the doctrines of the leading +philosophical thinkers of all times, and is designed for the cultivated +among the German people. Men of other nations are however not forbidden to +derive from it what advantage they can. + + * * * * * + +DE FLOTTE, whose election to the French Assembly made such a stir a year +since, has lately published a thick volume entitled _De la Souveraineté du +Peuple_. It is a series of essays in which he discusses with great +penetration and remarkable power of abstract thought, the spirit, ends, and +present results of the great general revolution, of which all the special +revolutions that have hitherto occurred, are merely incidents and phases. +De Flotte considers that humanity is advancing toward liberty absolute and +universal, in politics, religion, industry, and every department of life. +"One thing," he says, "has ever astonished me; this is that some men +presume to accuse the revolution of denying tradition, because they think +only of one age, or of one dynasty, while we think of all sovereigns and of +all ages; they oppose, with a curious good faith, the history of a single +epoch or a single party, to the history of all epochs and of all men. +Strange ignorance and singular forgetfulness! Why do they fail to do in +space, what they do in time, in geography what they do in history? Why do +they not deny the existence of negroes and of the Chinese because none of +them come to France? The reason is that life in space strikes the bodily +eye, while life in time strikes the eye of the mind, and theirs is +blinded!" + + * * * * * + +In France, 78,000 francs have been voted by the National Assembly for +excavations at Nineveh. Mr. LAYARD, without further means for the +prosecution of his researches there, is in England, and we are sorry to +learn, in ill health. His new book, _Fresh Discoveries in Nineveh_, will +soon be published by Mr. Putnam. Dr. H. WEISSENBORN has printed in +Stuttgart, _Nineveh and its Territory, in respect to the latest excavations +in the valley of the Tigris_. Some specimens of the exhumed sculptures of +Nineveh have been sent to New-York by Rev. D. W. Marsh, of the American +mission at Mosul. + + * * * * * + +A second series of EUGENE SUE's _Mystères du Peuple_ is announced as about +to commence at Paris. This is an attempt to set forth the history of the +French people, or working classes, the form of a modern story being merely +a frame in which to set the author's pictures of former times. The first +series completes the history of the early Gauls and of Roman domination; +the second will treat of feudalism and of the introduction of modern social +castes and distinctions. Sue has published a preamble in the form of an +address to his readers, in which he draws the outline of the subject he is +about to treat, and establishes his main historical positions by reference +to a great variety of learned authorities. + +The same author is now publishing in _La Presse_ a new novel called +_Fernand Duplessis, or Memoirs of a Husband_. We have seen some eight or +ten numbers of it; so far it is comparatively free from the clap-trap +romance machinery in which French writers in general, and Sue in +particular, are apt to indulge, while it is otherwise less unobjectionable +than the mass of his stories. + + * * * * * + +The historian MICHELET has published a new part of his _Revolution +Française_. It is devoted to the Girondists. The conclusions of the author +are that these unfortunate politicians of a terrible epoch were personally +innocent, that they never thought of dismembering France, and had no +understanding with the enemy, but that the policy they pursued in the early +part of '93, was blind and impotent, and if followed out could only have +resulted in the destruction of the republic, and the triumph of the +royalists. The whole is treated in the Micheletian manner, in distinct +chapters, each elucidating some mind. + + * * * * * + +A work _On the Fabrication of Porcelain in China, with its History from +Antiquity to the present Day_, that is to say, from 583 to 1821, has just +been translated from Chinese into French by STANISLAS JULIEN, and published +at Paris. It puts the European manufacturer perfectly in possession of the +secrets of Chinese workmen, their methods, and the substances they employ. +M. Julien has previously translated a Chinese essay on education of +silkworms, and the culture of the mulberry. He is one of the most learned +sinologues in Europe. + + * * * * * + +A French archæeologist, M. FELIX DE VERNEILH, has published an elaborate +essay on the Cologne Cathedral, in which he denies to Germany the credit of +inventing the purest model of the pointed arch, and demonstrates that this +Cathedral was not planned at the beginning of the most brilliant period of +Christian art, but was the climax thereof, and that instead of having +served as the archetype in construction of other edifices, it shows the +influence of them, and especially of the Cathedral of Amiens. + + * * * * * + +An interesting and instructive little work has been published at Paris on +the Workingmen's Associations of that city and country. It is by M. ANDRÉ +COCHUT, one of the editors of _Le National_. It gives the history of each +of the more important of these establishments, with their mode of +organization, number of members, and pecuniary and social results. The +title is _Les Associations Ouvrières; Histoire et Théorie des Centatives de +Reorganisation Industrielle depuis la Révolution de 1848_. + + * * * * * + +A complete edition of the works of GEORGE SAND is now publishing at Paris, +in parts, with illustrations by Tony Johannot. It is to be elegant, yet +cheap, the whole only costing about $5. There will be some six hundred +illustrations. The first part contains _La Mare au Diable_ and _André_, +with a new preface to the former, in which the author contradicts the +notion that it was intended by her as the beginning of a new order of +literature, or was attempted as a new style of writing. Other authors are +to follow in the same manner. + + * * * * * + +The new volume of THIER's _History of the Consulate and the Empire_ is +regarded as the most able and most interesting of the series. There is to +be one other volume. + + * * * * * + +ALEXANDER DUMAS has written the following letter to the _Presse_: + + "Sir,--I understand that a publisher who at second hand + is the owner of a book of mine called "The History of + Louis Philippe," intends to issue the work under the + title of "Mysteries of a Royal Family." I have written + the history of Louis Philippe, just as I have written + the histories of Louis XIV., and Louis XV., and Louis + XVI., the history of the revolution, and the history of + the empire. I have sold this series of historical works + to a single publisher, M. Dufour. I never had the + intention to provoke the scandal indicated by the title + with which I am threatened in substitution for the one + that I had given to the work. In the life of Louis + Philippe and the royal family there is nothing + mysterious. A fatal obstinacy in a course leading to an + abyss: there's for the king. For the queen there is + goodness, self-sacrifice, charity, religion, virtue. + For the deceased royal prince and his living brothers, + there is courage, loyalty, gallantry, intelligence, + patriotism. You see in all this there is nothing + mysterious. If he persists in giving to my book a title + which I regard as infamous, the courts of justice shall + decide between me and the publisher. May God keep me + from invoking aught but historical truth with regard to + a man who touched my hand when a king, and my heart, + when an exile. + + "ALEX. DUMAS." + + + +Conduct of this sort--the changing of titles, in violation of the wishes of +authors, or any change in a book, by a publisher--is atrocious crime, for +the punishment of which a revival of the whipping-post would not be +inappropriate. There have been many such cases in this country, and to some +of them we may hereafter call particular attention. + + * * * * * + +One of the most truly successful of the younger living French writers is +ALFRED DE MUSSET. His works are principally poetic and dramatic. He +originated a style of pieces called _Caprices_, which have become +exceedingly popular not only from their own point and spirit, but from the +incomparable manner in which they are rendered on the stage of the _Théâtre +Français_. M. de Musset's reputation has been achieved since the revolution +of July. The last number of the _Grenzboten_ devotes a long leading article +to the discussion of his works and his position in the world of letters. We +translate the following paragraph: "We find in him an elegance of language, +a truth of views, even though they be true only for him individually, a +sensibility to all the problems of the soul and heart, and a freedom from +the usual French prejudices, which lay a strong claim to our attention. He +never falls into that shallow pathos with which Victor Hugo in his +'greatest moments' sometimes covers an intolerable triviality; phrases +never run away with him as they do so often with the king of the +romanticists, whose profoundest monologues not seldom turn out to be empty +jingle. In clearness, delicacy and grace, he can be compared, among the +modern romanticists, with only Prosper Merimée and Charles de Bernard. They +also resemble him in the fear of being led away by general modes of +expression and reflection. They strive only for _individual_ truth; but he +differs from them in the breadth and multiformity of his perspectives, and +in a singular power of assimilation which is based on extensive reading. In +fact, the combinations of his wit and fancy often go so into the distant +and boundless, that we think we are reading a German author." The critic +then compares De Musset with Byron; the latter is more original and +spontaneous, the former richer and more comprehensive. The questions Byron +discusses have forced themselves upon him; those of De Musset are of his +own invention. For the rest he has been greatly influenced by Heine and +Hoffmann, as well as by the Faust of Goethe. The more important of his +works are: _Contes d'Espagne et d'Italie_ (1830); _Un Spectacle dans un +Fauteuil_ (1833); _Poésies Nouvelles_ (1835-40); the same (1840-49); _Les +Comédies Injouables_, a collection of small dramatic pieces (1838); _Louis, +ou il faut qu'une porte soit ouverte ou fermée_, _Les deux Martiesses_, +_Emmeline_, _Le Seuet de Javatte_, _Le Fils de Titien_, _Les Adventures de +Laagon_, _La Confession d'un Enfant du Siècle_; romances published between +1830-40. De Musset is still a young man. A good deal has been said at +sundry times about his admission to the French Academy, but the vacancies +have been filled without him. + + * * * * * + +The London _Leader_ announces an abridged translation of AUGUSTE COMTE'S +six volumes of _Positive Philosophy_, to appear as soon as is compatible +with the exigencies of so important an undertaking. The _Leader_ says: "a +very competent mind has long been engaged upon the task; and the growing +desire in the public to hear more about this _Bacon_ of the nineteenth +century, renders such a publication necessary." But we do not believe in +the competence of any one who proposes an _abridgment_ of Comte: the idea +is absurd. In this country, we believe, two full translations of the great +Frenchman are in progress--one by Professor Gillespie, of which the Harpers +have published the first volume, and another by one of the wisest and +profoundest scholars of the time--a personal friend of Comte, thoroughly +familiar with his system, and master of a style admirably suited for +philosophical discussion. + + * * * * * + +JULES JANIN has published a new romance called _Gaîté Champêtre_. The +preface has reached us in the feuilleton of the _Journal des Débats_. It is +in the usual elaborate, learned, and fanciful, but most readable style of +the author. He defends his calling as a mere man of letters, a student of +form and style, in short an artist. + + * * * * * + +We mentioned not long ago (_International_, vol. iii. p. 214,) the pleasant +letters of FERDINAND HILLER to a German Gazette, respecting his experiences +among authors and artists in Paris. We see that Herr Hiller has been +engaged by Mr. Lumley as musical director to Her Majesty's Theatre in +London and the Italian Opera in Paris. He has filled the appointments of +director to the Conservatoire and Maître de Chapelle, at Cologne, for some +considerable time. His post at the Conservatoire is to be occupied by M. +Liszt. He will be an important accession to society as well as to the +theatres in those cities. + + * * * * * + +DR. R. G. LATHAM, whose important works on _The Varieties of Man_, _The +English Language_, _the Ethnology of the British Empire_, &c., are familiar +to scholars, and have proved their author the most profound and sagacious +writer, in a wide and difficult field of science, now living, has in press +an edition of the _Germania_ of Tacitus, in which his philological +acquisitions and his skill in conjectural history will have ample room for +display. + + * * * * * + +MR. JAMES T. FIELDS was a passenger in the steamer Pacific, which left +New-York on the 11th ult. for Liverpool. Mr. Fields will pass the coming +winter in France and Italy. + + * * * * * + +We hear of four new histories of the war with Mexico, one of which will be +in three large volumes, by an accomplished officer who served under General +Scott. + + * * * * * + +MR. HORACE MANN is engaged on a work illustrating his ideas of the +character, condition, and proper sphere of woman. He does not quite agree +with Abby Kelly. + + * * * * * + +The old charge that + + "Garth did not write his own Dispensary," + +has been revived with exquisite absurdity in the case of General Morris and +the song of "Woodman, Spare that Tree!" We have not seen the original +accusation which appeared in an obscure sheet in Boston, but we give place +with pleasure to the letter of the poet. We can imagine nothing less "apt +and of great credit," as Iago defines the requisites of a judicious +calumny, than this figment. The characteristics of Morris's style are +exceedingly marked, and are altogether different from those of Woodworth, +who was an excellent songwriter and a most worthy man, but was as little +like Morris in his literary manner as two men can be who write in the same +age and country. There are among our living poets few fairer and purer +literary reputations than that of General Morris; few that, in a covetous +mood, one would be more disposed to envy. It lives not in the tumult of +reckless criticism and the noisy dogmatism of friendly reviews, but in the +sympathy and enjoyment of thousands of refined and feeling hearts. His +calm, delicate, and simple genius has won its way quietly to an apprecient +admiration that no assaults can disturb, and it may now look down upon most +of its contemporaries without jealousy and without fear. It will shine in +its clear brightness when many clamorous notorieties of the day are +quenched in night and silence. The charge of the Boston editor is a mere +buffoonery. He could not expect that so ridiculous a fabrication would be +believed by any body. It is a device of common-place, stupid malice, +designed only to annoy a very amiable man. Had we been of counsel with the +poet we should have advised him to take no notice of the foolish slander; +but as he has seen fit to write a very interesting note on the subject, we +are happy to preserve it here. The gentleman to whom the note is addressed +gives the following account of the circumstances: + + "Some two or three months ago, the editor of the Boston + Sunday News, took General Morris's literary character + to task, and charged him with having obtained the + famous song of 'Woodman Spare that Tree,' from the late + Samuel Woodworth. In a word, he charged that the + General was not the author of a celebrated poem, which + has long been before the world in his name. + + "As the editor in question was a friend of mine, and as + I knew that he had done General Morris great injustice, + I wrote him a long letter, in which I attempted to set + him right, and thus induce him if possible to render + unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's. In other words, + I hoped he would correct his misstatements. Instead of + complying with my expressed hope, he thanked me for my + letter--very kindly published it; but, in the very same + paper, repeated his original charge. In common justice + to General Morris, I beg leave to remark, in closing + this note, that I have known him intimately and well + the last thirty years, and that I never knew a poet or + author in any department of literature who was more + strictly original. He is incapable of the petty conduct + attributed to him, and would scorn to wear honors that + belong to another. A more honorable, high-minded + gentleman never lived." + + + HOME JOURNAL OFFICE, NEW-YORK, _September 22, 1851_. + + TO JOHN SMITH, JR., OF ARKANSAS: _My Dear Sir_:--I + thank you sincerely for your kind defence of me against + the unfounded aspersions of an editor of a Boston + paper. Your course was precisely what was to be + expected from a just man, and a contemporary who has + known me from my boyhood. The editor alluded to, + charges me with a crime that I abhor. It is + substantially as follows: "_That the ballad of + 'Woodman, spare that tree,' was not written by me, but + by the late Samuel Woodworth, who, while in a state + intoxication, sold it to me, in a public bar-room, for + a paltry sum_." A more infamous charge was never made, + and the whole story, from beginning to end, without any + qualification whatever, is an unmitigated _falsehood_. + The history of the song in question is simply this: In + the autumn of 1837, Russell, the vocalist, applied to + me for an original ballad, and I wrote him "_Woodman, + spare that tree_," and handed it to him with a letter + which he afterwards read at his concerts, and published + in the newspapers of the day. It also accompanied the + first edition of the music. Mr. Woodworth never saw or + heard of the song until after it appeared in print. I + am not indebted to any human being, dead or alive, for + a single word, thought, or suggestion, embodied in that + song. It is entirely original and entirely my + composition, and this is also true of _all_ the + productions I have ever claimed to be the author of, + with the exception of the play of "Brier Cliff," which + is founded upon a novel by Mrs. Thayer, and the opera + of the "Maid of Saxony," dramatized from a story by + Miss Edgeworth. In both instances I duly acknowledged + my indebtedness to the authors from whom I derived my + materials for those pieces. The attack upon Mr. + Woodworth is also shameful in the extreme, and is in + keeping with the whole affair. A more pure and + honorable man never drew the breath of life, and it is + due to his memory to say that he was not less + remarkable for his habits of _temperance_, than for his + many excellent qualities of head and heart. I do not + think that he was ever intoxicated in the whole course + of his life, and he was too upright a man to lend + himself to such a bare-faced imposition as I am charged + with practising through his agency. If he were alive to + answer for himself, he would spurn, as I do, these + malicious fabrications. The whole of the charges made + against me are _untrue in every particular_, and what + motive any one can have for circulating such vile + slanders in private life, or for proclaiming them from + the house-tops of the press, baffles my ingenuity to + determine. Those who know me will doubtless consider + this vindication of myself entirely unnecessary. If I + were to follow my own inclinations I should not notice + the scandalous libel; but, as you justly remarked, "a + slander well hoed grows like the devil," and as my + silence might possibly be misunderstood, I deem it a + duty I owe myself to contradict the infamous and + malicious aspersions of the Boston editor, and to + declare, in the language of Sheridan, that "there is + not one word of truth in all _that gentleman_ has + uttered." In conclusion, I would say, that my defamer + has either been imposed upon, or that he is one of + those lawless bravos of our profession who really + imagine, because they are "permitted to print they are + privileged to insult." Again, thanking you for your + courtesy and kind interposition in my behalf, I remain, + my dear sir, yours very cordially. + + GEORGE P. MORRIS. + + * * * * * + +PROFESSOR TORREY, of Vermont University, has published the fourth volume of +his translation of Neander's _History of the Christian Religion_--a work +which must have rank with the great historical compositions of Niebuhr and +Grote, which have or will have superseded all modern histories of the two +chief empires of antiquity. The volumes of Professor Torrey's very able +translation of Neander's History are regularly republished in rival +editions in England, and so he loses half the reward to which his service +is entitled. Puthes, of Hamburg, advertises the eleventh part (making half +of another volume), which Neander left in MS. This will, of course, be +reproduced by Professor Torrey. + + * * * * * + +Another translation of the _Divine Comedy_ has been made in England. It is +by a Mr. C. B. CAYLEY, and is in the original ternary rhyme. From a hasty +examination of it we incline to prefer it to Wright's or Carey's; but we +have seen no version of DANTE that in all respects satisfies us so well as +that of Dr. THOMAS W. PARSONS, of Boston, of which some ten cantos were +published a few years ago, and of which the remainder is understood to be +completed for the press. Speaking of Dante, reminds us of the fact that Mr. +Richard Henry Wilde's elaborate memoir of the great Italian has not yet +been printed. Mr. Wilde wrote to us not long before his death that he had +been occupying himself in leisure hours with the revision of some of its +chapters, and we have no doubt that the work is completed. If so, for the +honor of the lamented author, and for the honor of American criticism, it +should be given to the public. + + * * * * * + +From a forthcoming volume by ALICE CAREY, _Recollections of Our +Neighborhood in the West,_ (to be published early in December by J. S. +Redfield,) we copy a specimen chapter, under the title of "The Old Man's +Death," into another part of this magazine. It has no particular excellence +to distinguish it from the rest of the work; indeed it is rather below than +above the average of Miss Carey's recent compositions; but we may safely +challenge to it the scrutiny of critics capable of appreciating the finest +capacities for the illustration of pastoral life. If we look at the entire +catalogue of female writers of prose fiction in this country we shall find +no one who approaches Alice Carey in the best characteristics of genius. +Like all genuine authors she has peculiarities; her hand is detected as +unerringly as that of Poe or Hawthorne; as much as they she is apart from +others and above others; and her sketches of country life must, we think, +be admitted to be superior even to those delightful tales of Miss Mitford, +which, in a similar line, are generally acknowledged to be equal to any +thing done in England. It is the fault of our literary women that they are +commonly careless and superficial, and that in stories, when they attempt +this sort of writing, they are for the most part but feeble copyists, +without individuality, and without naturalness. We can point to very few +exceptions to this rule, but among such exceptions Alice Carey is eminent. +The book which is announced by Mr. Redfield is without the tinsel, or +sickly sentiment, or impudent smartness, which distinguish some +contemporary publications by women, but it will establish for her an +enviable reputation as an original and most graphic delineator of at least +one class in American society--the middle class, in the rural +neighborhoods, with whom rest, in our own as in other countries, the real +distinctions of national character, and the best elements of national +greatness. + + * * * * * + +Mr. HENRY INGALLS, a writer of considerable abilities, displayed chiefly in +anonymous compositions on questions in law, writes to a friend in New-York +from Paris, that he has devoted two years to the investigation of pretended +miracles in modern Europe; that the number of alleged miracles in the Roman +Catholic church of which he has exact historical materials, is over one +thousand; that the analyses of these will be amply suggestive of the +character of the rest; and that his work on the subject, to make three or +four large and closely printed volumes, will conclusively show complicity +on the part of the highest authorities of the church, in "the frauds that +are now most notorious and most generally acknowledged." + +Mr. Ingalls is of opinion that his work will be eminently curious in +literary, philosophical, and religious points of view, and that it cannot +fail of usefulness, especially in illustrating the silly credulity which +has obtained in such poor juggleries as have lately been practiced by the +Smiths, Davises, Fishes, Harrises, and other imposters and mountebanks of +this country. + + * * * * * + +Among the new works in press by the Appletons is a new novel entitled +_Adrian, or the Clouds of the Mind_--the joint production of Mr. G. P. R. +JAMES and Mr. MAUNSELL B. FIELD. Such partnerships in literature were +common in the days of Elizabeth, and in our own country we have instances +in the production of _Yamoyden_, by Sands and Eastburn, &c. Mr. Field is +not yet a veteran, but he is a writer of fine talents and much cultivation. +Among the original papers in the present number of the _International_ is a +poem from his hand, under the title of _Greenwood_. + + * * * * * + +The first volume of a _History of the German Reformed Church_, by the late +Rev. Dr. LEWIS MAYER, has been published in Philadelphia; and Professor +SCHAFF, of Mercersburg, has printed in German the first volume of a +_History of the Christian Church, from its Establishment to the Present +Time_. Dr. MURDOCK, the well-known translator of Mosheim's History, has +published a translation of the celebrated Syriac version of the New +Testament, called the _Peshito_. + + * * * * * + +PROFESSOR HACKETT, of the Newton Theological Institution, has added to his +claims of distinction in sacred learning by a very able _Commentary on the +Acts of the Apostles_, (published by John P. Jewett & Co., of Boston). It +is much praised by the best critics. The last _Bibliotheca Sacra_ complains +that there is a decline of activity in this department, and that in +theology and biblical criticism no important works are now in progress. + + * * * * * + +Mr. MELVILLE's new novel, _The Whale_, will be published in a few days, +simultaneously, by the Harpers and by Bentley of London. + + * * * * * + +Mr. HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT, with the general character of whose works our +readers must be familiar, will publish immediately (through Charles +Scribner), _The Captains of the Old World, from the Persian to the Punic +Wars_. The volume embraces critical sketches of Miltiades, Themistocles, +Pausanias, Xenophon, Epaminondas, Alexander, and Hannibal, as compared with +modern generals--not _lives_ but strategetical accounts of their campaigns, +reviewed and described according to the rules and views of modern military +science--the armature and mode of fighting in all the various nations--the +fields of battle, from personal observation or the best modern +travels--with the modern names of ancient places, so that the routes of the +armies can be followed on any ordinary map. The causes of the success or +failure of this or that action are shown in a military point of view, and +the characters of the men are epigrammatically contrasted with those of the +men of the late French and English wars, involving incidental notices and +critiques of modern fields. The work is of course spirited and well +proportioned, and as Mr. Herbert is confessedly one of the best critics of +ancient manners and history, it will scarcely need any reviewer's +endorsement to insure for it an immediate and very great popularity. + + * * * * * + +A new edition of _St. Leger, or the Threads of Life_, by Mr. KIMBALL, has +just been published by Putnam, who, we understand, has now in press a +sequel to that remarkable and eminently successful novel. Mr. Kimball's +abilities as a writer of tales are not as well illustrated in this +performance as in several shorter stories, which will soon be collected and +reissued with fit designs by Darley. In these we think he has exhibited a +very unusual degree of pathos and dramatic skill, so that scarcely any +compositions of their class in American literature have such a power upon +the feelings or are likely to have a more permanent fame. Mr. Kimball is +one of the small number among our young writers who do not disdain +elaborately to _finish_ what they choose to submit for public criticism. + + * * * * * + +A new edition of Mr. JUDD's remarkable novel of _Margaret_ has just been +published, in two volumes, by Phillips & Sampson, of Boston, and the same +house has nearly ready _Memoirs of Sarah Margaret Fuller_, in two volumes, +edited by William H. Channing and Ralph Waldo Emerson. It will probably +embrace a large selection of her inedited writings. + + * * * * * + +The Rev. Dr. TEFFT, of Cincinnati, has published (John Ball, Philadelphia +and New-Orleans,) a very interesting and judicious work under the title of +_Hungary and Kossuth, or an American Exposition of the Hungarian +Revolution_. Dr. Tefft appears to have studied the subject well and to have +made as much of it as was warranted by his materials. + + * * * * * + +Mr. GREELEY has just published in a handsome volume (De Witt & Davenport) +his _Glances at Europe_, consisting of the letters written for the +_Tribune_ during his half year abroad. We frequently entirely disagree with +the author in matters of social philosophy, but we have the most perfect +confidence in the honesty of his searching after truth, and in these +letters, which were written under very apparent disadvantages, and are here +put forward modestly, we are inclined to believe there is for the mass of +readers more that is new in fact and sensible in observation than is +contained in any other volume by an American on Europe. Even when writing +of art, Mr. Greeley never fails at least to entertain. + + * * * * * + +Mr. JOHN L. WHEELER, late the treasurer of the state of North Carolina, has +in the press of Lippencott, Grambo, & Co., of Philadelphia, _Historical +Sketches_ of that State, from 1584 to 1851, from original records, official +documents, and traditional statements. It will be in two large octavo +volumes. Dr. Hawks has for some time had in preparation a work on the same +subject. + + * * * * * + +One of those wrongs for which there is no sufficient remedy in law, has +been perpetrated by Derby, Miller & Co., of Auburn, in getting up a life of +Dr. Judson, to anticipate that by the widow of the great missionary and +deprive her of the best part of the profits to which she is entitled. Their +excuse is, "A public character is public property, and we will do with one +as we please." + + * * * * * + +MRS. H. C. CONANT, (wife of the learned Professor Conant of the university +of Rochester), has published (through Lewis Colby) _The Epistle of St. Paul +to the Philippians, practically Explained by_ Dr. AUGUSTUS NEANDER. Mrs. +Conant, as we have before had occasion to observe, is one of the most able +and accomplished women of this country, and this version of Neander is +worthy of her. + + * * * * * + +A small volume entitled _Musings and Mutterings by an Invalid_, has been +published by John S. Taylor. The style is rather careless, sometimes, but +the work appears to be informed with a genuine earnestness, and to be +underlaid with a vein of good sense that contrasts strongly with much of +the desultory literature brought out in similar forms. + + * * * * * + +Dr. LARDNER's _Handbooks of Natural Philosophy and Astronomy_ have been +republished by Blanchard & Lea, of Philadelphia (12mo., pp. 749); carefully +revised; various errors which had escaped the attention of the author +corrected; occasional omissions supplied; and a series of questions and +practical examples appended to each subject. The volume contains treatises +on mechanics; hydrostatics, hydraulics, pneumatics, and sound, and optics. + + + + +The Fine Arts. + + +The London _Art Journal_ for October praises Mr. BURT's engraving of Anne +Page, issued this year by the _American Art-Union_, and thus refers to the +principal engravings announced for 1852: + + The prospectus of this society for the present year + announces a large engraving by Jones, from Woodville's + picture of "American News;" a small etching of this + work accompanies the "Bulletin," to which reference has + just been made. The composition is clever, but we must + warn our friends on the other side of the Atlantic, + that it is not by the circulation of such works as + this, a feeling for true Art will be generated among + their countrymen. The subject is common-place, without + a shadow of refinement to elevate its character; it is, + we dare say, national, and may, therefore, be popular; + but they to whom is intrusted the direction of a vast + machine like the American Art-Union, should take + especial care that all its operations should tend to + refine the taste and advance the intelligence of the + community. Our own Mulready, Wilkie, and Webster, have, + we know, immortalized their names by a somewhat + analogous class of works, in which, nevertheless, we + see humor without vulgarity, and truth without + affectation. + + * * * * * + +The Philadelphia Art-Union issues this year two very beautiful engravings +from the well-known masterpieces of Huntington, _Mercy's Dream_ and +_Christiana and her Children_, from the celebrated collection of the late +Edward C. Carey,--an appreciating patron by whose well-directed liberality +the arts, especially painting and engraving, had more advantage than has +been conferred by any other individual in this country. _Mercy's Dream_ has +been engraved by A. H. Ritchie of this city, and _Christiana and her +Children_ by Andrews & Wagstaff of Boston, each on surfaces of sixteen by +twenty-two inches; and we know of no more perfect examples of combined +mezzotint, stipple, and line engraving. The management may well be praised +for such an exercise of judgment as secures to the subscribers of the +Art-Union two such beautiful works. + +A recent visit to Philadelphia afforded us an opportunity to visit its +public galleries. Among the additions lately made to that of the Art-Union +is one of the finest compositions of Mr. Cropsey, in which the +characteristics of the scenery of Italy are combined with remarkable +effect. From a bold and vigorously executed foreground, marked by chesnut +and cypress tress, the eye is attracted by groves and streams, and convents +and palaces, and ruined temples and aqueducts, reposing under such a sky as +bends over that land alone, away to shining and sleeping waters that seem +to reach close to the gates of paradise. _The Coast of Greece_, by Paul +Weber of Philadelphia, is in the grand and imposing style of Achenbach. +There is a breadth and massiveness and solemn grandeur in this picture +which clearly indicate that the artist, who has hitherto given his +attention altogether to landscapes, has in such efforts his true vocation. +_Hagar and Ishmael in the Desert_, by A. Woodside, is a cabinet picture +which would be regarded as good beside any of the many great productions +which illustrate the same subject. In color and composition it is +excellent. Mr. Woodside is the painter of a large and attractive picture, +_The Introduction of Christianity into Britain_, which was among the prizes +of the last distribution of the American Art-Union. _Lager Beer_, by C. +Schnessele, is a genre picture, illustrative of German character in +Philadelphia at the present day. The scene is an interior of a large beer +saloon, by gaslight, in which a dozen or fifteen persons with brimming cups +are gathered round a table where a trio are singing songs of the +fatherland. The drawing, grouping, light and shade, are highly effective. +Mr. Schnessele is a Frenchman, a pupil of Delaroche, and has been in the +United States about three years. His works exhibit that skill in detail and +general execution which is a result of a cultivation very rare among +American painters. _Waiting the Ferry_, by W. T. Van Starkenburgh, is a +landscape with cattle and human figures, with some of the best qualities +conspicuous in Backhuysen's works of a similar character. _Cattskill +Creek_, by G. N. T. Van Starkenburgh,--a brother of the last mentioned +painter,--is full of the beauty of that condition of nature which soothes +the restless spirit of man, when + + She glides + Into his darker musings, with a mild + And healing sympathy, that steals away + Their sharpness, ere he is aware. + +Mr. Winner has some vigorous heads of old men, and other artists whom our +limits will not suffer us to mention particularly are represented by +various creditable works. + +As the plan of the Philadelphia Art-Union is essentially different from +that of any other in this country, we quote from a circular in its last +"Reporter" an explanatory paragraph: + + "The distinguishing and most important feature in our + plan, is that which gives the annual prize-holders the + right of selecting their prizes from among the + productions of American Art in any part of the United + States. This plan was adopted as the one which would + best secure the object for which we have been + incorporated, viz., "The Promotion of the Arts of + Design in the United States." It is evident that the + distribution of fifty prize certificates among our + members, as was the case at our last annual + distribution, with which the prize-holders themselves + could purchase their own pictures any where in the + United States, is preferable to any plan which empowers + a committee, composed of a limited number of managers, + with the entire right to control the funds involved in + the purchase, and make the selection of such a number + of pictures. In the one case, individual taste, and + local predilection for some particular style of art, or + certain class of artists, may influence the decision of + a mere picture-buying committee in the selection and + purchase of the whole number of the prizes; but in the + other case, the various taste of a large number of + prize-holders, residing in different sections of our + vast country, is made to bear upon Art, and, + consequently, there must ensue a diffusion of knowledge + upon a subject wherein those persons themselves are the + interested parties. Should a subscriber to the + Art-Union of Philadelphia, residing in St. Louis, be + allotted a prize certificate of one hundred dollars, he + has the option to order or select his picture in that + city, and thereby encourage the Fine Arts at home, just + the same as if that Art-Union were located where he + lived, and with just as much advantage to the artist as + though it were the result of that progress in art, in + his vicinity, which should cause the production of such + a picture. And there can be no doubt of the judicious + selection on the part of such a subscriber. No man with + a hundred dollars to spend for a picture, would be + likely to make such a purchase without having some + knowledge on the subject himself, or without consulting + persons of acknowledged taste in the matter; thereby + insuring more general satisfaction to all concerned, + than would a picture of the same value awarded by + chance from the selection of a committee located in + another part of the country. No committee, no matter + how great its judgment, or how well performed its + duties, could effect a more satisfactory arrangement; + for in our case the prize-holder and the artist are the + contracting parties, without the intervention of the + Art-Union, or the payment of any commission on either + side. Another argument in favor of the Art-Union of + Philadelphia is the fact, that by this plan the + Managers are merely the agents who collect the means + which are necessary to promote and foster the Arts of + Design in our rapidly progressing country, while the + prize-holders themselves actually become the persons + who make the disbursements. Thus giving to the people + at large the means to exercise a public and universal + taste in the expenditure of a large sum--the aggregate + of small contributions--large as the liberality of our + countrymen, by their generous subscription, may assist + us in accumulating." + + * * * * * + +The _Western-Art Union_ of Cincinnati has lately published a large and +excellent engraving by Booth, of _the Trapper's Last Shot_, and for the +coming year, it will give in the same style, _The Committee of Congress +Drafting the Declaration of Independence_, from a painting by +Rothermel--Mr. Jefferson represented reading the Declaration to the other +members of the committee before it was reported to the Congress. For prizes +of the next distribution the Union will have a bust of Washington, and one +of Franklin, in marble, by Powers, and a beautiful medallion in relief by +Palmer, and two pictures are engaged or purchased from Whittridge, two from +Rothermel, two from McConkey, one from Read, one from Mrs. Spencer, one +from Ranney, and one from Terry, besides others from Sontag, Duncanson, +Eaton, and Griswold, and other western painters. + + * * * * * + +Mr. HEALY has finished his large picture of _Daniel Webster replying to +Robert Y. Hayne, in the Senate of the United States_, and it has been some +time on exhibition at the rooms of the National Academy of Design. The +canvas is twenty-six feet in length by fifteen in breadth, and embraces one +hundred and thirty figures. Many persons not senators are introduced, and +it is difficult to conceive a reason for this, in the cases of several of +them, who were not then, if they were ever, at Washington. The picture has +good points, but on the whole we believe it is admitted to be a failure--so +far as the fit presentation of the illustrious orator is concerned, a most +complete and melancholy failure. Engravings of it however, if well +executed, may perhaps compete with Messrs. Anthony's immense piece of +mezzotint, studded with copies of Daguerreotypes, which has been published +under the title of Mr. Clay's last Appearance in the Senate. + + * * * * * + +The illustrations of the life of MARTIN LUTHER published at Hamburg, from +the pencil of GUSTAV KÖNIG, of which the fourth series has just appeared, +continue to receive the praise which has been bestowed on the previous +series. The first, which came out in 1847, consisted of fifteen engravings, +the second in 1848 of ten engravings, the third in 1849 of ten, and the +fourth, which concludes the work, has thirteen. The accompanying +letter-press is furnished by Professor Gelzer, and though very elaborate, +is spoken of as only partially successful. The illustrations on the other +hand are said by competent judges to leave nothing to be desired, and as +far as the earlier series are concerned, we can almost agree with even so +unbalanced commendation. Mr. König has every where taken care to give +faithful portraits of the personages represented, which adds to the value +of his work, for foreign readers especially. At the same time his +compositions are undeniably most spirited and effective. + + * * * * * + +The long expected work of LEUTZE, _Washington Crossing the Delaware_, is +now at the Stuyvesant Institute, and it appears generally to have given the +most perfect satisfaction to the critics; to be regarded indeed as the best +picture yet given to the world in illustration of American history. Our +readers will remember that we have already given in the _International_ a +particular description of it, from a German writer who saw it at +Düsseldorf: so that it is unnecessary here to enter further into details on +the subject. We are pleased to learn that Messrs. Goupil, who own it, +intend to have this work engraved in line by Girardet in the highest style, +and upon a plate of the largest size ever used. The print will indeed cover +a surface equal to that of the famous one of Cardinal Richelieu, which some +of our readers will not fail to remember. + + + + +Noctes Amicæ. + + +The "figure we cut" in the Crystal Palace was for a long time a subject of +sneers by amiable foreign critics, and a cause of ingenuous shame by too +sensitive young gentlemen in white gloves, who went over from New-York and +Boston to see society and the show. We remember that Mr. Greeley was said +to be making himself appear excessively ridiculous by writing home that we +should come out very well notwithstanding we had no Kohinoor, and but +little to boast of in the way of fancy articles in general. An excellent +neighbor of ours down Broadway, who left London before the tide turned, +sent a letter to the _Evening Post_, we believe, of the regret felt by the +"respectable Americans in Europe" that we had been so weak as to enter into +this competition at all. But see what the _Times_ has said of the matter +since the first of October: + + "One point that strikes us forcibly on a survey of the + last few months is, the extraordinary contrast which + the attractive and the useful features of the display + present. It will be remembered that the American + department was at first regarded as the poorest and + least interesting of all foreign countries. Of late it + has justly assumed a position of the first importance, + as having brought to the aid of our distressed + agriculturists a machine which, if it realizes the + anticipations of competent judges, _will amply + remunerate England for all her outlay connected with + the Great Exhibition_. The reaping machine from the + United States is the most valuable contribution from + abroad to the stock of our previous knowledge that we + have yet discovered." + +Again: + + "It seems to us that the great event of 1851 will + hereafter be found blemished by a _grand oversight_. + Attracted by the novelty and splendid success of the + occasion, we have certainly yielded more admiration to + the grand and the beautiful than to the unostentatious, + the practical, and the useful. The captivating luxuries + which are adapted to the few have entered more largely + into our imaginations and our hearts, than those + objects which are adapted to supply the homely comforts + and the unpretending wants of the many. We have thought + more of gold and silver work--of silks, satins, and + velvets--of rich brocades, splendid carpets, glowing + tapestry, and all that tends to embellish and adorn + life, than of the vast and still unexplored fields + which the necessities of the humbler classes all over + the world are constantly opening up to us. France has + thus been enabled to run quietly away with fifty-six + out of about one hundred and sixty of our great medals, + while to the department of American "notions" we owe + the most confessed and the most important contribution + to our industrial system." + +Again: + + "Well worthy of notice is the Maynard primer, a + substitution for the percussion-cap, which is simply a + coil of paper, at intervals in which spots of + detonating powder are placed. The action of the doghead + carries out from the chamber in which it is contained + this cheap and self-acting substitute for the ordinary + gun apparatus, which is a vast economy in expense as + well as in time. In its character the invention is one + which admits of being easily adapted to every + description of firearms at present commonly in use, and + that at a trifling cost." + +In the same pleasant way are noticed our Mr. Hobbs, his locks, and a score +or so of similarly ingenious productions; and as for Mr. Palmer's _leg_, it +is declared the chief astonisher contributed by all the world--so perfect, +indeed, that some of the journals recommend a general cutting off of +natural understandings in order to adopt the always comfortable and +well-conditioned substitute introduced by our countryman. + + * * * * * + +A considerable number of shameless women and feeble-minded men met in +convention--a sort of caldron of sickly sentimentalism, brazen atheism, and +whatever is most ridiculous and disgusting in the diseases of society,--at +Worcester in Massachusetts, on the 14th of October, and continued in +session three days. A Mrs. Rose (who, we understand, generally makes the +leading speeches of the Tom Paine birth-night festivals in New-York), and +Abby Kelley Foster, and William L. Garrison, were among the principal +actors. The main propositions before this convention, so far as they can be +ascertained from the newspaper reports, involve the setting aside of the +laws of God as they are revealed in the Bible; the laws of custom in all +savage and civilized, pagan and Christian communities, in every age; and +the laws of analogy--vindicating the existing order of society--in every +grade of animated nature. Complaints have been made that persons of +character, like the Rev. H. W. Beecher of Brooklyn, in some way sanctioned +the mummery by writing letters to its managers. Such eccentricities may be +pardonable, but the public will be sure to remember them. + + * * * * * + +A female, probably a cheap dress maker, named Dexter, has been lecturing in +London on the "Bloomer costume;" and it appears to have been assumed by +her, as well as in many English journals, that this ridiculous and indecent +dress is common in American cities, where, as of course our readers know, +if it is ever seen, it is on the persons of an abandoned class, or on those +of vulgar women whose inordinate love of notoriety is apt to display itself +in ways that induce their exclusion from respectable society. _Punch_ has +some very clever caricatures of "Bloomerism," but it would surprise the +conductor of that sprightly paper to learn, that, except persons who walk +our St. Giles's at late hours, scarcely any New-Yorker has ever seen such a +dress. + + * * * * * + +There have never been remarked so many sudden deaths and suicides in Paris +and in the suburbs, as within the last few weeks. The following is one of +the most extraordinary cases of suicide: + + "The body of a young man was found floating in the + Seine, near St. Cloud. The corpse appeared to have + remained some days in the water. The deceased appeared + to have been about 25 years of age, and to have + belonged to the higher class of society. His features + were handsome, his hair brown, and his beard long and + black. His linen was of the finest quality, and his + other clothing made in the latest fashion. A small + glass bottle, corked and sealed, was suspended from his + neck, in which was a paper writing, containing the + following words:--"I am about to die! young, it is + true! and if my body be discovered a complaint may + perhaps be made. This I do not wish. An angel appeared + to me in a dream, who said to me, 'I am the Genius of + France. Royal blood circulates in your veins; but + before you occupy the sovereign power, which parties + are disputing in France, you must go to see the Eternal + Sovereign of all things.... God! ... die. Let the + waters of the Seine swallow your body. Fear not, you + shall revive when the hour of your triumph shall have + struck! I have spoken!' and the angel disappeared. I + have accomplished his desire. But I leave this writing + in case the celestial envoy may have deceived me. I + pray the Attorney-General to prosecute him, + + "THE FUTURE KING OF FRANCE." + + + +The body has not been claimed, and the police authorities have instituted +an inquiry to discover his family. + + * * * * * + +The following clever and extraordinary story is told in the Paris _Droit_: + + "A commercial traveller, whose business frequently + called him from Orleans to Paris, M. Edmund D----, was + accustomed to go to an hotel, with the landlord of + which he was acquainted. Liking, like almost all + persons of his profession, to talk and joke, he was the + favorite of everybody in the hotel. A few days ago he + arrived, and was received with pleasure by all, but it + was observed that he was much less gay than usual. The + stories that he told, instead of being interesting as + formerly, were of a lugubrious character. On Thursday + evening, after supper, he invited the people of the + hotel to go to his chamber to take coffee, and he + promised to tell them a tale full of dramatic incident. + On entering the room, his guests saw on the bed, near + which he seated himself, a pair of pistols. 'My story,' + said he, 'has a sad _dénouement_, and I require the + pistols to make it clearly understood.' As he had + always been accustomed, in telling his tales, to + indulge expressive pantomime, and to take up anything + which lay handy, calculated to add to the effect, no + surprise was felt at his having prepared pistols. He + began by narrating the loves of a young girl and a + young man. They had both, he said, promised, under the + most solemn oaths, inviolable fidelity. The young man, + whose profession obliged him to travel, once made a + long absence. Whilst he was away, he received a legacy, + and on his return hastened to place it at her feet. But + on presenting himself before her he learned that, in + compliance with the wishes of her family, she had just + married a wealthy merchant. The young man thereupon + took a terrible resolution. 'He purchased a pair of + pistols, like these,' he continued, taking one in each + hand, 'then he assembled his friends in his chamber, + and, after some conversation, placed one under his + chin, in this way, as I do, saying in a joke that it + would be a real pleasure to blow out his brains. And at + the same moment he pulled the trigger.' Here the man + discharged the pistol, and his head was shattered to + pieces. Pieces of the bone and portions of the brain + fell on the horrified spectators. The unfortunate man + had told his own story." + + * * * * * + +We find in the _Evening Post_ the following notice of the citation of Mr. +G. P. R. JAMES in the courts, under the head of "Brown Linen against Law +Calf:" + + "Immediately previous to the sort of intermittent + equinoctial which has recently prevailed, the full + bench of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts, presided + over by Chief Justice Shaw, were at session at Lenox, + in the county of Berkshire. Among the cases that were + brought up for adjudication, was an action of _trespass + quare clausum fregit_, brought by a farmer against a + number of individuals, who in common with many others, + had, at a time last winter, when the public highway was + rendered impassible by ice and snow, made a temporary + road over the farmer's grounds without leave or license + first had and obtained. Mr. Sumner, of Barrington, the + leading counsel of the county, appeared for the + defence, and in enforceing his views, took occasion to + read from Macaulay's late History of England, several + passages to illustrate the state of land communication + in that county, at the time of which he writes. From + that author it appears that upon one occasion, worthy + Mr. Pepys, our friend of the 'naif' diary, while + travelling somewhere (we think in Lincolnshire, but + have not the book before us for reference), got his + '_belle voiture_', as Cardinal Richelieu used to call + his antediluvian vehicle, stuck in the mud so that it + could not be extricated, and Mr. Sumner went on to + argue, that by the common law, Mr. Pepys then was, and + anybody now is, justified, in cases of necessity, in + passing over private domains without becoming liable to + the owner in damages. Mr. Porter, recently District + Attorney, was for the plaintiff, and, in answering that + part of his adversary's argument, to which we have + above alluded, claimed the indulgence of the court to + state, that a certain author had been quoted upon the + other side, who had hardly as yet been recognized as + authority in a court of justice, upon a mere law + question, at least; that such being the case, he + claimed the liberty to read from another writer, the + late historiographer royal of Great Britain, a + gentleman whose statements were certainly entitled to + overrule the others in a question of that sort; and + thereupon Mr. Porter commenced reading the first + chapter of Mr. G. P. R. James's new novel of 'The + Fate,' in which he so indignantly denounces the falsity + of Macaulay's picture of the social condition of + England two centuries ago. This created no little + merriment, both on the bench and among the gentlemen of + the robe, all admitting that it was the first time + within their knowledge, that the black linen and the + brown paper had usurped the place of the consecrated + law calf, before an American tribunal at least." + + * * * * * + +A French critic has just revealed a portrait of the favorite of Lamartine +and numerous other writers on the Revolution--St. Just, from which it +appears that he was the author of a long poem entitled _Orgaut_. The +opinion which the historians have caused the public to form of this man +was, that he was a fanatic--implacable, but sincere--a ruthless minister of +the guillotine, but deeming wholesale slaughter indispensable for securing, +what he conscientiously considered, the welfare of the people. He was, we +might imagine, something like the gloomy inquisitors of old, who thought it +was doing God service to burn heretics at the stake. + + A correspondent of the _Athenæum_ observes, that "To + justify this opinion, one would have expected to have + found in a poem written by him when the warm and + generous sentiments of youth were in all their + freshness, burning aspirations for what it was the + fashion of his time to call _vertu_, and lavish + protestations of devotedness to his country and the + people. But instead of that, the work is, it appears, + from beginning to end, full of the grossest + obscenity--it is the delirium of a brain maddened with + voluptuousness--it is coarser and more abominable than + the 'Pucelle' of Voltaire, and is not relieved, as that + is, by sparkling wit and graces of style. In a moral + point of view, it is atrocious--in a literary point of + view, wretched. The discovery of such a production will + be a sad blow to the stern fanatics of these days, who + look on the blood-stained men of the Revolution with + admiration and awe--who make them the martyred saints + of their calendar--and whose hope by day and dream by + night is to have the opportunity of imitating them. Of + the whole band St. Just has hitherto been considered + the purest--he has always been accepted as the very + personification of 'virtue' in its most sublime form. + Even the immaculate Maximilien Robespierre himself has + never had the honor of having admitted that he + approached him in moral grandeur. And now, behold! this + 'virtuous' angel is proved to have been a debauched and + loathsome-minded wretch! But, to be sure, that was + before he began cutting off heads, and wholesale + murders on the political scaffold redeem a multitude of + sins." + + * * * * * + +A few days ago the French President received a gift of the most rich +bouquets from the market women of Paris, and at the same time an +application for permission to visit him at the palace. This was granted, +and full three hundred of the flower of the female merchants in fruit and +vegetables of the faubourgs, dressed in their utmost finery, were received +by the officers in attendance, and ushered through the saloons of the +Elysee. + +The London _Times_ correspondent says: + + "After admiring the furniture, paintings, &c., they + were conducted to the gardens, where they enjoyed + themselves for some time. Refreshments were then laid + out in the dining-room, and they were invited to + partake of the President's hospitality. The champagne + was passing round pretty freely when the President + entered. They received him with acclamations of '_Vive + Napoléon!_' The President, after the usual salutations, + took a glass of wine, and proposed the toast, '_A la + santé des dames de la Halle de Paris!_' which was + responded to in a becoming manner; and '_La santé de + Napoléon!_' was in turn proposed by an elderly matron, + and loudly cheered. The ladies were particularly + pleased at finding the bouquets presented yesterday + arranged in the dining-room. Louis Napoleon chatted for + some time with his visitors, and expressed, in warm + terms, the pleasure he felt at seeing them under his + roof. The ladies requested that one of their + companions--the most distinguished for personal + attractions, as for youth--should be allowed to embrace + him in the name of the others. _Such_ a request no man + could hesitate to grant, and the fair one who was + deputed to bestow the general salute advanced, blushing + and trembling, to perform the duty. Louis Napoleon went + through the pleasing ceremony with much credit to + himself, and apparently to the great satisfaction of + those present. In a short time the visitors asked + permission to retire, after again thanking the + President for the honor he did them. Before separating + they united in one last and loud acclamation of '_Vive + Napoléon_.'" + + * * * * * + +JOHNSON J. HOOPER, the author of _Captain Simon Suggs_, and several other +works similar to that famous performance in humor and in the +characteristics of southern life, is editor of _The Chambers Tribune_, +published somewhere in Alabama. Few papers have as much of the quality +which is commonly described by the word "spicy." In a late number we have +an election anecdote which will serve as a specimen. The hero is Colonel A. +Q. Nicks, of Talladega. We quote: + + "The Colonel had incurred, somehow, the enmity of a + certain preacher--one who had once been ejected from + his church and subsequently restored. The parson, + besides, was no favorite with his neighbors. Well, when + Nicks was nominated, parson Slashem 'norated' it + publicly that when Nicks should be elected, his (the + parson's) land would be for sale, and himself ready to + emigrate. Well, the Colonel went round the county a + time or two, and found he was 'bound to go;' and + shortly after arriving at that highly satisfactory + conclusion, espying the parson in a crowd he was + addressing, sung out to him: 'I say, brother Slashem, + begin to fix up your _muniments_--draw your deeds--I am + going to represent these people, _certain_! But before + you leave, let me give you thanks for declaring your + intention as soon as you did; for on that account I am + getting all of your church and the most part of your + neighbors!' The parson has not been heard of since." + + * * * * * + +In a late number of Mr. CHARLES DICKENS'S _Household Words_, there is an +amusing and suggestive paper on Nursery Rhymes, wherein the ferocious +morals embalmed in jog-trot verse are indicated, for the reflective +consideration of all parents. A terrible case is made out against these +lisping moralists: slaughter, cruelty, bigotry, injustice, wanton delight +in terrible accidents and awful punishments for trivial offences, ferocity +of every kind--such a mass of "shocking notions" as would people our +nurseries with demons, were it not for the happy indifference of children +to anything but the rhyme, rhythm, and quaint image. + + * * * * * + +In France, we have the _Univers_ regretting that Luther was not burnt, and +that the church has not still the power to use the stake; and in England we +have the _Rambler_, a journal which is considered the organ of the moderate +party, as distinct from that of the _Tablet_, boldly expressing wishes and +hopes of an even more debatable character. The creed of the king of Naples +is authoritatively declared to be that of every Catholic. In a late number +it is said-- + + "Believe us not, Protestants of England and Ireland, + for an instant, when you see us pouring forth our + liberalisms. When you hear a Catholic orator at some + Catholic assemblage declaring solemnly that 'this is + the most humiliating day in his life, when he is called + upon to defend once more the glorious principle of + religious freedom'--(especially if he says any thing + about the Emancipation Act and the 'toleration' it + _conceded_ to Catholics)--be not too simple in your + credulity. These are brave words, but they mean + nothing; no, nothing more than the promises of a + parliamentary candidate to his constituents on the + hustings. _He is not talking Catholicism, but nonsense + and Protestantism_; and he will no more act on these + notions in different circumstances, than _you_ now act + on them yourselves in your treatment of him. You ask, + if he were lord in the land, and you were in a + minority, if not in numbers yet in power, what would he + do to you? That, we say, would entirely depend upon + circumstances. If it would benefit the cause of + Catholicism, he would tolerate you: if expedient he + would imprison you, banish you, fine you; possibly, _he + might even hang you_. But be assured of one thing: he + would never tolerate you for the sake of the 'glorious + principles of civil and religious liberty.'" + +Again, it is said-- + + "Why are we so anxious to make the church wear the garb + of the world? Why do we stoop, and bow, and cringe + before that enemy whom we are sent to conquer and + _annihilate_? Why are we ashamed of the deeds of our + more consistent forefathers, _who did only what they + were bound to do by the first principles of + Catholicism_?... Shall I foster that damnable doctrine, + that Socinianism, and Calvinism, and Anglicanism, and + Judaism, are not every one of them mortal sins, like + murder and adultery? Shall I lend my countenance to + this unhappy persuasion of my brother, that he is not + flying in the face of Almighty God every day that he + remains a Protestant? Shall I hold out hopes to him + that I will not meddle with his creed if he will not + meddle with mine? Shall I lead him to think that + religion is a matter for private opinion, and tempt him + to forget _that he has no more right to his religious + views than he has to my purse, or my house, or my + life-blood_? No! Catholicism is the most intolerant of + creeds. It is intolerance itself, for it is truth + itself. We might as rationally maintain that a sane man + has a right to believe that two and two do not make + four, as this theory of religious liberty. Its impiety + is only equalled by its absurdity." + +We refer above to the _Univers_, the organ of the Roman Catholic party in +France. The editor of that print, at a dinner recently given for Bishop +Hughes, at the Astor House, was complimented in a toast by our excellent +collector, Maxwell, who, of course, endorses the following choice +paragraph: + + "A heretic," observes the editor of the _Univers_, + "examined and convicted by the church, used to be + delivered over to the secular power, and punished with + death. Nothing has ever appeared to us more natural, or + more necessary. More than 100,000 persons perished in + consequence of the heresy of Wicliff; a still greater + number by that of John Huss; it would not be possible + to calculate the bloodshed caused by the heresy of + Luther, and _it is not yet over_. After three centuries + we are at the eve of a recommencement. The prompt + repression of the disciples of Luther, and a crusade + against Protestantism, would have spared Europe three + centuries of discord and of catastrophes in which + France and civilization may perish. It was under the + influence of such reflections that I wrote the phrase + which has so excited the virtuous indignation of the + Red journals. Here it is:--'For my part, I avow frankly + my regret is not only that they did not sooner burn + John Huss, but that they did not equally burn Luther; + and I regret, further, that there had not been at the + same time some prince sufficiently pious and politic to + have made a crusade against the Protestants.' Well, + this paragraph might have been better penned; but as I + have the happiness to belong to those who care little + about mere forms of expression, I will not revoke it. I + accept it as it is, and with a certain satisfaction at + finding myself faithful to my opinions. That which I + wrote in 1838 I still believe. Let the Red + philanthropists print their declaration in any sort of + type they please, and as often as they please. Let them + add their commentaries, and place all to my account. + The day that I cancel it, they will be justified in + holding the opinion of me which I hold of them." + +Far be it from us to meddle with the quarrels of the theologians--even by +reprinting any attack an adversary makes on the worst of them. We merely +copy these paragraphs from famous defenders of the Catholic Church, as an +act of justice to her, against those slandering Protestants who say she has +changed--she, the infallible and ever consistent! + + * * * * * + +The "leading journal of the world" occasionally indulges in a pleasantry, +as in this example: + + "A surgical operation under the influence of chloroform + has just terminated fatally, to the regret of the + public, to whom the patient was well known. One of the + brown bears in the Zoological Garden suffering from + cataract of the eye, an eminent surgeon and a party of + _gelehrter_ assembled to undertake his cure. Bruin was + tempted to the bars of his den by the offer of some + bread, and then secured by ropes and a muzzle. After a + stout resistance, chloroform was administered. In a + state of insensibility the cataract was removed, and + the bonds untied, but the patient showed no signs of + life! Feathers to the nose, cold buckets of water, and + bleeding produced no effect. Poor Bruin had gone + whither the great tortoise, two ostriches, and the + African lion have preceded him, for the managers of the + Berlin gardens are decidedly unlucky. With the trifling + drawback of the death of the subject, the operation was + skilfully and successfully performed." + + * * * * * + +We find the following anecdote as related by Baron OLDHAUSEN: it conveys an +admirable lesson: + + "Charles XII., of Sweden, condemned a soldier, and + stood at a distance from the place of execution. The + fellow, when he heard this, was in hopes of a pardon, + but being assured that he was mistaken, replied with a + loud voice, 'My tongue is still free, and I will use it + at my pleasure.' He did so, and charged the king, with + much insolence, and as loud as he could speak, with + injustice and barbarity, and appealed to God for + revenge. The king, not hearing him distinctly, inquired + what the soldier had been saying. A general officer, + unwilling to sharpen his resentment against the poor + man, told his majesty he had only repeated with great + earnestness, 'That God loves the merciful, and teaches + the mighty to moderate their anger.' The king was + touched by these words, and sent his pardon to the + criminal. A courtier, however, in an opposite interest, + availed himself of this occasion and repeated to the + king exactly the licentious expressions which the + fellow uttered, adding gravely, that 'men of quality + ought never to misrepresent facts to their sovereign.' + The king for some moments stood pausing, and then + turned to the courtier, saying, with reproving looks, + 'This is the first time I have been betrayed to my + advantage; but the lie of your enemy gave me more + pleasure than your truth has done.'" + + * * * * * + +A report is current in Europe that an expedition is to be sent from France +into the sea of Japan. It is said that it will consist of a frigate, a +corvette, and a steamer, under the orders of a Rear-Admiral who has long +navigated in the Pacific Ocean and the Chinese seas. "This expedition +will", it is added, "be at once military, commercial, and scientific, and +has for object to open to European commerce states which have been closed +against it since the sixteenth century." Notwithstanding the sanction which +the principle involved received a few years ago, from an illustrious +American, we cannot regard the proposed expedition otherwise than as an act +of the most shameless villainy by a nation. The Japanese are a peculiar +race, and our readers who have seen a series of articles on the subject of +their civilization and polity in late numbers of the _Tribune_, will not be +disposed to think the people of Japan inferior to those of France, just +now, in any of the best elements of a state. We, as well as the Japanese +themselves, understand perfectly well that the opening of their ports to +the Europeans and Americans, would be followed by the demoralization and +overthrow of their empire. + + * * * * * + +Mr. CARLYLE, in the following brief composition, of which the original was +shown us a few days ago, furnishes a model for autograph writers. + + "George W. C----, of Philadelphia, wants my autograph, + and here gets it: much good may it do him. + + T. CARLYLE. + + LONDON, _November 2, 1850_." + + * * * * * + +The following on the silence of wives under conjugal infelicity, is as +sententious and as true as any thing in La Bruyère: + + "However much a woman may detest her husband, the + grievance is too irremediable for her to find any + comfort in talking about it; there is never any + consolation in complaining of great troubles--silence + and forgetfulness are the only anodynes. Women have + generally a Spartan fortitude in the matter of + husbands: if they have made an unblessed choice, it is + a secret they instinctively conceal from the world, + cloaking their sufferings under every imaginable color + and pretence. They apparently feel that to blame their + husbands is to blame themselves at second-hand." + + * * * * * + +We published in the _International_ some time ago a sketch, pleasantly +written, of the eccentric Lord Chancellor Thurlow, and his terrible +swearing. The following from the Manchester _Courier_, shows that the great +lawyer has a worthy follower in Baron Platt: + + "At the recent assizes at Liverpool, a stabbing case + from Manchester was heard before Baron Platt, who, in + summing up to the jury, used these words: 'One of the + witnesses tells you that he said to the prisoner, 'If + you use your knife you are a d----d coward;' I say + also,' continued the learned judge, apparently in deep + thought, 'that he was a d----d coward, and any man is a + d----d coward who will use a knife.'" + + * * * * * + +The printers of London are endeavoring to establish, in imitation of the +_Printers' Library_ in New-York, a literary institution to be called "The +Printers' Athenæum," and have received considerable encouragement from +compositors, and the trades connected with printing, as typefounders, +bookbinders, engravers, letter-press and copper-plate printers, &c., the +members of which are eligible. The object is to combine the social +advantages of a club with the mental improvement of a literary and +scientific institution, and to adapt them for the position and +circumstances of the working classes. All persons engaged in the production +of a newspaper, or book, such as editors, authors, reporters, readers, &c., +although strictly not belonging to the profession, are competent to become +members, and persons not so connected will be permitted to join the society +on their being proposed by a member. It is expected that the Athenæum will +be opened before the commencement of the ensuing year. + + * * * * * + +A MADRID correspondent writes to one of the London journals: + + "The infant princess to whom the Duchess of Montpensier + has just given birth has received the names of Maria + Amalia Luisa Enriqueta Felipa Antonia Fernanda Cristina + Isabel Adelaida Jesusa Josefa Joaquina Ana Francisca de + Asis Justa Rufina Francisca de Paula Ramona Elena + Carolina Bibiana Polonia Gaspara Melchora Baltasara + Augustina Sabina." + +Doubtless there was an extra charge for the christening. + + + + +Historical Review of the Month. + + +An increasing activity is observable in whatever points to the next +Presidential election, and several eminent persons have recently defined +their relations to the most exciting and important questions to be affected +in that contest. Among others, ex-Vice President Dallas, ex-Secretary of +the Navy Paulding, and Mr. Henry Clay, have written letters on the state of +the nation as respects the slavery question. Meantime, the people of South +Carolina have repudiated the doctrine and policy of secession by electing +only two members in the whole state favorable to their views in the +Convention called for the consideration of that subject; Georgia and +Mississippi have given overwhelming majorities on the same side; and +Pennsylvania appears to have asserted not less unquestionably her +attachment to the Union and the Compromise, in electing Mr. Bigler +governor. + +The affairs of the several states are without special significance except +in the matter of elections, of which we have indicated the general results +as altogether favorable to the Union and the enforcement of the laws of +Congress. Returns, however, are at the time when we go to press so +imperfect, that we attempt no particular details respecting candidates or +majorities. In Pennsylvania and Ohio, as in the Southern States, the +democrats have a perfect ascendency; in Maryland the whigs have been +successful; in California it appears to be doubtful as to the Governor, but +the democrats have a control in the Legislature. + +The most important news from California relates to the movement for +dividing the state, and making that part of it lying south of the +thirty-seventh degree of north latitude a separate commonwealth. If this +project should be carried into effect, slavery would, no doubt, be +introduced into Southern California; but there is not much prospect of its +being successful. A convention of delegates from the southern counties, to +be held at Los Angelos, Santa Barbara, or Monterey, is called for the +purpose of interchanging sentiments on the subject, so that the Legislature +may take the matter into consideration. The accounts from the mining +districts continue to be favorable; improvements are in successful progress +in various gold-bearing districts; and the yield of the precious metal is +such as to reward the enterprise and industry of the miner. San Francisco +and Sacramento have again been disgraced by the conduct of scoundrel bands +usurping the functions of government and putting to death such persons as +were obnoxious to their prejudices or guilty of offences which the law +officers might have punished. + +From the Mormon City at Salt Lake, intelligence is received of continued +prosperity. Mr. Bernheisel, last year agent for the territory in this city +to obtain a library for Utah, is chosen territorial delegate to Congress. + +After a protracted contest for Provisional Bishop of the diocese of +New-York, Dr. Creighton, of Tarrytown, has been elected to that office. He +is a native of this city, and graduated in Columbia College in 1812, +afterwards officiated in Grace Church, was next appointed Rector of St. +Mark's, Bowery, whence he was called to Tarrytown, where he now resides. + +Louis Kossuth, having been set at liberty by the Turkish government, will +very soon arrive in the United States, where extraordinary demonstrations +of respect will be offered to him in several of the principal cities. About +nine months ago Kossuth committed to the care of Mr. Frank Taylor, a young +American visiting Broussa, the MS. of an address to the people of this +country, which was published in a translation, at New-York, on the 18th of +October--having been withheld until that time lest its earlier appearance +should affect injuriously the interests of its author in Europe. The +friends of liberty will rejoice that Kossuth is free, and in a land of +liberty; but it is not improbable that future events will demonstrate, that +the Austrian government was not altogether unreasonable in protesting +against his enlargement. Kossuth and Mazzini are scarcely less terrible to +tyrants, as writers, than as the leaders of armies and the masters of +cabinets. + +Although extraordinary prosperity in a state may sometimes lead to +arrogance and injustice, the position of this country toward several +European powers who intimate an intention of compelling a certain policy on +our part in regard to Spain, must insure a triumphant consideration of the +_Union_, in which we have a strength that may laugh their leagues to scorn. +The details of an arrangement between Spain, France, and Great Britain, are +not yet perfectly understood in the United States, but it is generally +known that some plan has been adopted which will be likely to draw from the +Secretary of State a sequel to his letter to Mr. Hulseman, the Austrian +_chargé d'Affaires_, whose experiences were made known a year ago. + +The vessels of the American exploring expedition in search of Sir John +Franklin returned--the _Advance_ on the 30th of September, and the +_Rescue_, which had separated from her on the banks of Newfoundland, a few +days after. It is probable that a full account of this heroic enterprise, +so honorable to its authors and to all engaged in it, will soon be given to +the public, by Dr. Kane, or one of the other officers; and as any such +brief statement as we could present of its history would be unsatisfactory, +we shall not now go further into details than to say no traces of Sir John +Franklin, except such as we have already noticed, were discovered, and that +the crews came home after a year's absence in excellent health. The nearly +simultaneous return of the British expedition has caused considerable +discussion in England. It appears to be felt very generally that it is not +justifiable to abandon the pursuit until the fate of Sir John Franklin has +been demonstrated by actual observation. Such satisfaction is due to +science and to humanity. Proposals are now, we believe, before the +Admiralty, for sending into the Arctic seas one or more steamers, with +which alone the search can be advantageously prosecuted further. + +A New-York ship, the Flying Cloud, made the passage round the Horn to San +Francisco in ninety days--shorter than any voyage on record. Her fastest +day's run was 374 miles, beating the fleetest of Collins's steamers by +fifty miles. In three successive days she made 992 miles. At this rate she +would cross the Atlantic in less than nine days. + +Discouraging accounts have been received respecting the whale fleet in the +North Pacific Ocean. After wintering in the gulf of Anadir, the fleet +attempted to pass into the Arctic Ocean, when it became surrounded with +fields of ice, by which not less than eight vessels are known to have been +destroyed, and it was supposed that upwards of sixty others had experienced +the same fate. Some of the crews of the lost ships reached the main land, +but afterwards got into difficulty with the natives and in consequence many +of them were killed. The whale fishing, during the season, is said to have +been an entire failure, and a number of vessels were on their return to the +northwest coast, in the hope of retrieving their ill fortune. + +Several disastrous "accidents" have recently happened in various parts of +the country. On the 21st September, the steamer James Jackson, exploded +near Shawneetown in Illinois, killing and wounding 35. On the 26th +September, the Brilliant exploded near Bayou Sara, killing a yet larger +number; and many such events of less importance, but probably involving +more or less criminality, have occurred on steamboats and railroads in +various parts of the country. The most destructive fire since the +completion of our last number was one at Buffalo, commencing on the 25th +September, and continuing until 200 buildings, on more than 30 acres, were +destroyed, and an immense number of poor families were made homeless. The +fire extended over the meanest part of the town, but the loss is estimated +at $300,000. For several days a destructive gale prevailed along the +eastern coast, producing an immense loss of life; a large number of dead +bodies were taken from the holds of vessels. Great excitement has prevailed +in Gloucester, Newburyport and other towns, a large portion of whose +populations were exposed to the fury of the storm. Further east, on the +coast of Nova-Scotia, the remains of sixty persons, lost during the storm, +are said to have been buried in one grave. No less than 160 vessels, of all +kinds, are reported to have been wrecked. + +The Grand Jury sitting at Philadelphia have found bills of indictment +against four white men and twenty-seven negroes, for treason, in +participating in the outrage at Christiana, in the state of Pennsylvania. +At Syracuse on the 1st of October an attempt was made to rescue a slave, +but he was captured and his abettors arrested and conveyed to Auburn for +examination. + +The jury in the case of Margaret Garrity, who was tried at Newark for the +murder of a man named Drum, who seduced her under a promise of marriage, +and afterwards deserted her for another, rendered a verdict of not guilty, +on the ground of insanity, on the 13th ult. This disgraceful proceeding had +precedents in New Jersey, and it appears to have excited but little of the +indignation which it deserved. Margaret Garrity murdered her paramour under +extraordinary circumstances, which, doubtless, would have had proper weight +with the pardoning power. It is evidently absurd to say, that she, more +than any murderess, was insane, and the jury were altogether unjustifiable +in rendering a verdict which is unsupported by evidence; and of an +assumption of the authority of the Governor of the State, in setting at +liberty a criminal for whose conduct there appeared to be merely some sort +of extenuation or excuse in the conduct of her victim. It would be as well +to have no juries as juries so ignorant or reckless of their obligations. + +A general council of the once grand confederacy of the Five Nations of +Indians, the Mohawks, Onondagas, Oneidas, Cayugas, Senecas, and +Tuscaroras--was held at Tonawanda on Friday, September 19th, to celebrate +the funeral rites of their last Grand Sachem, John Blacksmith, deceased, +and of electing a Grand Sachem in his place, electing Chiefs, &c. Ely S. +Parker (Do-ne-ha-ga-wa), was proclaimed Grand Sachem of the Six Nations. He +was invested with the silver medal presented by Washington to the +celebrated war-chief Red Jacket, and worn by him until his death. + +The new Canadian Ministry, so far as formed, is as follows: +Inspector-General, Mr. Hincks; President of the Council, Dr. Rolph; +Postmaster-General, Malcolm Cameron; Commissioner of Crown Lands, William +Morris; Attorney-General for Canada West, W. B. Richards; Attorney-General +for Canada East, Mr. Drummond; Provincial Secretary, Mr. Morin. Three +appointments are yet to be made. The government will be eminently liberal. + +A revolution set on foot in Northern Mexico promises to be successful. The +chief causes alleged by the conspirators are the enormous duties upon +imports, and too severe punishment for smuggling, the excessive authority +of the Central Government over the individual States, the quartering of +regular troops upon citizens, the mal-administration of the national +finances, the bad system of military government inherited from the Spanish +establishment, and the want of a system of public education. The insurgents +declare that they lay aside all idea of secession or annexation, yet it is +not impossible that the movement will soon have such an end. The revolution +commenced at Camargo, where the insurgents attacked the Mexicans, and came +off victorious, having taken the town by storm, with a loss on the side of +the Mexicans of 60. The Government troops were intrenched in a church with +artillery. The revolutionists are commanded by Carvajal, who has also with +him two companies of Texans. At our last dates, the 9th of September, they +had taken the town of Reynosa, meeting but little resistance. One +field-piece and a quantity of other arms fell into their hands. General +Canales, the Governor of Tamaulipas, was approaching Metamoras, and General +Avalajos was on the way to meet him, whether as friend or foe is uncertain. +It was supposed that Canales would assume the chief command of the +revolutionists. + +From New Grenada we learn that General Herrara has entirely subdued the +revolt lately undertaken, and that the country is quiet. A revolt has +broken out in Chili (a country remarkable in South America for the +stability of its affairs), and in several towns the troops had declared in +favor of a new man for the Presidency: the disorganizers were sweeping all +before them, and the country was in a most excited condition. From +Montevideo the latest intelligence is so confused that we can arrive at no +definite conclusion, except that the domestic war is prosecuted with +unusual savageness. An insurrection has broken out in the states of San +Salvador and Guatemala. General Carrera, with a force of 1,500 men, had +attacked the enemy in San Salvador, who mustered 4,000 strong, and defeated +them with a loss of four men killed. He then evacuated the country. + +From Great Britain we have no political news of importance. The royal +family were still in the north. The whig politicians appear to be agitating +new schemes of parliamentary reform, and several distinguished persons have +recently made addresses to their constituents. Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton is +before his county as a protectionist candidate for the House of Commons, +with fair prospects. The submarine telegraph to France has been completed. +The great cable which was intended to reach the whole distance proved too +short by half a mile, owing to the irregularity of the line in which it was +laid down. It was pieced out with a coil of wire coated with gutta percha. +This will, however, have to be taken up and supplied with cable. The +connection is complete with France, and messages are sent across with +perfect success. Mr. Lawrence, the American minister, having gone to +Ireland, for the purpose of seeing the scenery of the country, has been +embarrassed with honors; public addresses have been presented to him, +banquets given to him, railway directors and commissioners of harbors have +attended him in his journeys, a steamboat was specially fitted up to carry +him down the Shannon, and in every way such demonstrations of interest and +honor were offered as were suitable for a people's reception of a messenger +from the home of their children. The visit of Mr. Lawrence promises some +happy results in directing attention to projects for a steam communication +directly with the United States. The differences between the government of +Calcutta and the court of Hyderabad, have been arranged for the present +without any actual confiscation of the Nizam's territory. A considerable +sum has been lodged in the hands of the Resident, and security offered for +the partial liquidation of the remainder. Moolraj, the ex-Dewan of Mooltan, +expired on the 11th August, while on his journey to the fortress of +Allahabad, and the Vizier Yar Mohammed Khan, of Herat, died on the 4th of +June. The eldest son of the latter, Seyd Mahommed Khan, has succeeded to +the throne of Herat. Dost Mohammed is resolved to oppose him, and, for that +purpose, has placed his son, Hyder Khan, at the head of a large army, with +orders to invade Herat. The Admiralty have advertised for tenders for a +monthly mail line of screw-steamers to and from England and the west coast +of Africa. The ports to be touched at are Goree, Bathurst, Sierra Leone, +Monrovia (Liberia), Cape Coast Castle, Accra, Whydah Badagry, Lagos, Bonny, +Old Calabar, Cameroons, and Fernando Po. The whole range of the slave coast +will thus be included; and it is understood that the object of the line, +which, in the first instance, of course will carry scarcely any passengers +or letters, is to promote the extinction of that traffic, not only by +cultivating commerce with the natives, but by the rapid and regular +information it will convey from point to point. Of the Caffre war, we have +intelligence by an arrival at Boston direct from the Cape of Good Hope, +later than has been received by way of England. There appeared to be some +prospect of the war being brought to a close; reinforcements of troops had +arrived, and Sir Harry Smith, the Governor, was in excellent spirits. In +the mean time, however, the Caffres and Hottentots continued making sad +havoc on the settlements, and the people were suffering from a lack of +provisions, and cattle and stock were starving to death. Efficient measures +however had in England been taken for their relief. + +From France, in the recess of the Assembly, there is no news of general +importance. The persecution of the press, by which more than one ruler of +that country has heretofore lost his place, is persevered in, and a large +number of editors (including two sons of Victor Hugo) have been imprisoned +and fined. All foreigners intending to reside permanently in Paris, or +exercise any calling there, must henceforth present themselves personally +to the authorities, and obtain permission to remain. This new and stringent +police-regulation is, it is said, to be extended to every department of +France. Such fear of foreigners contrasts strangely with the unsuspicious +welcome which they receive in America and England. The President is +evidently not willing his "subjects" should know what the world says of his +administration. + +The Government of Naples has caused to be published a formal reply to Mr. +Gladstone's letters to Lord Palmerston in respect to its unjustifiable +severity to political prisoners, particularly the ex-minister Poerio. It +mainly consists of an exposure of some inaccuracies of detail on the part +of Mr. Gladstone, such as an exaggeration of the number of political +prisoners at present confined in Naples, the alleged innocence of Poerio, +the unhealthy state of the prisons, &c.; but it does not do away with the +charge of savage severity in the punishment of Poerio and his +fellow-prisoners, which formed the main accusation advanced by Mr. +Gladstone against the Neapolitan Government, and it is not likely in any +considerable degree to affect the opinion of the world on the subject. The +Papal Court has addressed a note to the French Government, complaining of +the toleration, by the latter, of incendiary writings against Italian +states. The note observes that if the French journals were not to publish +these writings, the demagogues would be at a loss for organs of +circulation, because the English newspapers are much less read in Italy. +The Emperor of Austria has been making a tour through his Italian +provinces, in which he has been received with "respectful silence" in +streets deserted by all except the military and ungoverned children. + +From a diplomatic correspondence between the representatives of Austria and +Turkey, in regard to the liberation of Kossuth and his companions, it is +very evident that Austria feels very keenly the discomfiture she has +sustained, and that she will be very likely to resent this disregard of her +wishes, by seeking cause of war with Turkey. She is stirring up rebellion +in the Bosnian provinces, and concentrating her troops upon that frontier, +to take advantage of any contingency that may arise. The authorities in +Hungary have been absurd enough to evince the spleen of the Austrians in +hanging effigies of Kossuth and his associates, condemned for treason _in +contumace_. + +In Portugal vigorous preparations were being made for elections, in which +it was expected that Saldanha's friends would generally be defeated. At the +Cape de Verde Islands a terrible disease, described as a black plague, was +very fatal. + +The differences between the governments of Turkey and Egypt are still +unsettled, and the fate of the Egyptian railroad therefore remains +doubtful. + + + + +Scientific Discoveries and Proceedings of Learned Societies. + + +Some recently received numbers of the _Nordische Biene_ contain interesting +information concerning the organization and labors of the Russian +Geographical Society. This body, like the Geographical and Statistical +Society organized a few weeks since in New-York, is modelled upon the +general plan of the Royal Geographical Society in London. It is, however, +far from being so universal in its aims; in fact, its members confine their +investigations to the Russian empire, and to tribes and countries +contiguous therewith. The annual meeting is held on April 5th. At the last, +two prizes were given; one of these was a gold medal offered by Prince +Constantine, the other a money prize for the best statistical work. The +medal was awarded to Lieutenant-Colonel Buckhardt Lemm, for a series of +astronomical observations, determining the latitude and longitude of some +four hundred places in Russia and the neighboring regions in Asia, as far +as Mesched in Persia. These determinations are of particular value for the +geography of inner Asia. The statistical prize was awarded to a Mr. +Woronoff for a historical and statistical survey of the educational +establishments in the district of St. Petersburg from 1715 to 1828. It is +in fact a history of the development of mental culture in that most +important part of the empire. The annual report, giving a survey of the +Society's doings, was interesting. A special object of attention is the +publication of maps of the separate governments or provinces. The Society +had also caused an expedition to be sent to the Ural, under Colonel +Hoffmann. The triangulation of the country about Mount Ararat had been +completed. A map of Asia Minor had been prepared by Col. Bolotoff, and sent +to Paris to be engraved; a map of the Caspian sea, and the countries +surrounding it, was nearly completed by Mr. Chanykoff; the same savan was +still at work on a map of Asia between 35° and 40° north latitude, and 61° +and 81° east longitude; two astronomers were engaged in that region making +observations to assist in its completion. Another map of Kokand and Bokhara +was also forthcoming, and the Society had employed Messrs Butakoff and +Chanykoff to prepare a complete atlas of Asia between 33° and 56° north +latitude and 65° and 100° east longitude. A Russian nobleman had given +12,000 rubles to pay for making and publishing a Russian translation of +Ritter's geography, but the society had determined not to undertake so +immense a work (it is some 15,000 printed pages), and had determined only +to take up those countries which have an immediate interest for Russia, +using along with Ritter a great body of materials to which he had not +access. These countries are Southern Siberia, Northern China, Turan, +Korassan, Afghanistan and Persia. In Ritter's work these occupy 4,500 +pages. No doubt the labors of the Society will greatly enrich geographical +science. + +The Society have in hand an expedition to the peninsula of Kamschatka, in +which they have been greatly assisted by the contributions of private +persons. They also promise a classification of a vast collection of objects +they have received bearing upon the ethnography of Russia. + + * * * * * + +We learn from the last Number of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ that the +French government has lately made a literary acquisition of no ordinary +interest and value. A French gentleman of the name of Perret has been +engaged for six years in exploring THE CATACOMBS UNDER ROME, and copying, +with the most minute and scrupulous fidelity, the remains of ancient art +which are hidden in those extraordinary chambers. Under the authority of +the papal government, and assisted by M. Savinien Petit, an accomplished +French artist, M. Perret has explored the whole of the sixty catacombs +together with the connecting galleries. Burying himself for five years in +this subterranean city, he has thoroughly examined every part of it, in +spite of difficulties and perils of the gravest character: for example, the +refusal of his guides to accompany him; dangers resulting from the +intricacy of the passages, from the necessity for clearing a way through +galleries choked up with earth which fell in from above almost as fast as +it was removed; hazards arising from the difficulty of damming up streams +of water which ran in upon them from above, and from the foulness of the +air and consequent difficulty of breathing and preserving light in the +lower chambers;--all these, and many other perils, have been overcome by +the honorable perseverance of M. Perret, and he has returned to France with +a collection of drawings which extends to 360 sheets in large folio; of +which 154 sheets contain representations of frescoes, 65 of monuments, 23 +of paintings on glass (medallions inserted in the walls and at the bottoms +of vases) containing 86 subjects, 41 drawings of lamps, vases, rings, and +instruments of martyrdom to the number of more than 100 subjects, and +finally 90 contain copies of more than 500 sepulchral inscriptions. Of the +154 drawings of frescoes two-thirds are inedited, and a considerable number +have been only lately discovered. Amongst the latter are the paintings on +the celebrated wells of Platonia, said to have been the place of interment, +for a certain period, of St. Peter and St. Paul. This spot was ornamented +with frescoes by order of Pope Damasus, about A.D. 365, and has ever since +remained closed up. Upon opening the empty tomb, by permission of the Roman +government, M. Perret discovered fresco paintings representing the Saviour +and the Apostles, and two coffins [tombeaux] of Parian marble. On the +return of M. Perret to France, the minister of the interior (M. Leon +Faucher) entered into treaty with him for the acquisition of his collection +for the nation. The purchase has been arranged, and the necessary amount, +upwards of 7,500_l._, obtained by a special vote of the National Assembly. +The drawings will be published by the French government in a style +commensurate with their high importance, both as works of art and as +invaluable monuments of Christian antiquity. + + * * * * * + +A Dr. JECKER has left the Paris _Academy of Sciences_ $40,000 to found an +annual prize in organic chemistry. + + + + +Recent Deaths. + + +The celebrated Mrs. SHERWOOD, the most popular and universally known female +writer of the last generation, died on the 22d of September, at Twickenham, +in England. She was a daughter of Dr. George Butt, chaplain to George III., +vicar of Kidderminster, and rector of Stanford, in the county of Worcester. +Dr. Butt was the representative of the family of Sir William De Butts, well +known as physician to Henry VIII., and mentioned as such by Shakspeare. +Mary Martha Butt, afterwards Mrs. Sherwood, was born at Stanford, +Worcestershire, on the 6th of May, 1775. In 1803 she married her cousin, +Henry Sherwood, of the 53d regiment of foot. In 1805 she accompanied her +husband to India, where, in consequence of her zealous labors in the cause +of religion amongst the soldiers and natives dwelling around her, Henry +Martyn and the Right Rev. Daniel Corrie, D.D., late Bishop of Madras, +became acquainted with her, and the intimacy which then commenced also +remained unbroken until death. Her principal works were that favorite tale +of _Little Henry and his Bearer_, _The Lady of the Manor_, _The Church +Catechism_, _The Nun_, _Henry Milner_, _The Fairchild Family_, and more +recently, _The Golden Garland of Inestimable Delights_. In some of her +later compositions, she evinced a tendency to the doctrine of the +Universalists, which lessened her popularity. The great number of her books +prevents an enumeration of even the most popular of them. Mrs. Sherwood's +husband, Captain Sherwood, expired, after a most trying illness, at +Twickenham, on the 6th of December, 1849; the fatigue she went through, in +devoted attention to him, and the bereavement she experienced at the +severance by fate of a union of nearly half a century, were the ultimate +causes of her own demise. Though she was of advanced age, her mental +faculties never failed her, and she preserved a religious cheerfulness of +mind to the last. She expired, surrounded by her family, leaving one son, +the Rev. Henry Martyn Sherwood, Rector of Broughton-Hacket, and Vicar of +White Ladies Aston, Worcestershire, and two daughters. The elder daughter +is the wife of a clergyman, and mother of a numerous family. The younger +has always resided with her parent; she has of late years ably assisted in +her mother's writings, and bids fair to sustain well her reputation. She +has been, we are informed, intrusted, by her mother's especial desire, with +the papers containing the records of Mrs. Sherwood's life, which is +intended soon for publication. The editions of Mrs. Sherwood's writings +have been numerous. The best is that of the Harpers, in ten or twelve +volumes. + + * * * * * + +Rev. JAMES H. HOTCHKISS, died at Prattsburgh, Steuben county, New-York, on +September 2d, aged seventy years. He was the author of a _History of the +Churches in Western New-York_, published in a large octavo volume, about +two years ago, and had just preached his half-century sermon. He was the +son of Rev. Beriah Hotchkiss, the pioneer missionary of large sections of +the State of New-York. The son graduated at Williams College, 1800; studied +theology with Dr. Porter, of Catskill, was ordained by an Association, +installed at East Bloomfield in 1802, removed to Prattsburgh in 1809, and +there labored twenty-one years. The _Genesee Evangelist_ gives the +following sketch of his character: + +"He had a mind of a strong, masculine order, well disciplined by various +reading, and remarkably stored with general knowledge. The doctrinal views +of the good old orthodox New England stamp, which he imbibed at first, he +maintained strenuously to the last; and left a distinct impression of them +wherever he had an opportunity to inculcate them. His labors, through the +half-century, were 'abundant,' and indefatigable; and to him, more than to +any other one man probably, is the Genesee country indebted for its present +literary, moral and religious character. Under his ministry there were many +religious revivals, and some signal ones, especially in Prattsburgh. The +years 1819 and 1825 were eminently signalized in this way. He had the +happiness of closing his life in the scenes of his greatest usefulness." + + * * * * * + +BRIGADIER-GENERAL HENRY WHITING, of the Quartermaster's Department, died at +St Louis, Mo., on the 16th of September. He arrived at St Louis, as we +learn from the _Republican_ of the 17th, on Sunday, the 14th, from a tour +of official duty in Texas, being in his usual health. On Tuesday afternoon, +while in his room at the Planter's House, he was, without any premonition +whatever, stricken dead instantaneously. The cause of his death, in all +probability, was an affection of the heart. His remains were taken to +Jefferson Barracks on the 17th, for interment. + +Gen. Whiting, who was among the oldest officers of the army, was a native +of Lancaster, in Massachusetts, a son of Gen. John Whiting, also a native +of that place. He was not only an accomplished officer in the department in +which he has spent a large portion of his life, but he made extensive +scientific and literary attainments, and was a gentleman of great private +worth. In hours stolen from official duties, he was for many years a large +contributor to the literature of the country. His articles which from time +to time appeared in the _North-American Review_, were of an eminently +practical and useful character, and highly creditable to his scholarship +and sound judgment. The biographical sketch of the late President Taylor, +in a recent number, confined chiefly to his military life, and embracing a +graphic description of the extraordinary successes in Mexico, was from Gen. +Whiting's pen. He published a few years ago an important collection of the +_General Orders of Washington_. He was deserving of praise also as a poet +and as a dramatic author. + + * * * * * + +COMMODORE LEWIS WARRINGTON, of the United States navy, died in Washington, +on the 12th October, after a painful illness. He was a native of Virginia, +and was born in November, 1782. From a sketch of his life in the _Herald_, +it appears that he entered the navy on the 6th of January, 1800, and soon +after joined the frigate Chesapeake, then lying at Norfolk. In this ship he +remained on the West India station until May, 1801, when he returned to the +United States and joined the frigate President, under Commodore Dale, and +soon blockaded Tripoli until 1802, when he again returned to the United +States, and joined the frigate New-York, which sailed, and remained on the +Mediterranean station until 1803. On his return from the Mediterranean he +was ordered to the Vixen, and again joined the squadron which had lately +left, where he remained during the attack on the gun-boats and batteries of +Tripoli, in which the Vixen always took part. In November, 1804, he was +made acting lieutenant; and in July, 1805, he joined the brig Siren, a +junior lieutenant. In March, 1806, he joined the Enterprise, as first +lieutenant, and did not return to the United States until July, 1807--an +absence of four years. After his return in 1807 he was ordered to the +command of a gun-boat on the Norfolk station, then under the command of +Commodore Decatur. This was a position calculated to damp the ardor of the +young officer, as it was so far below several he had filled. He, however, +maintained his usual bearing for two years, when he was again ordered to +the Siren as first lieutenant. On the return of this vessel from Europe, +whither she went with dispatches, Lieut. Warrington was ordered to the +Essex, as her first lieutenant, in September of the same year. In the Essex +he cruised on the American coast, and again carried out dispatches for the +government, returning in 1812. He was then ordered to the frigate Congress +as her first lieutenant, and sailed, on the declaration of war, with the +squadron under Commodore Rodgers, to intercept the British West India +fleet, which was only avoided by the latter in consequence of a heavy fog, +which continued for fourteen days. He remained in the Congress until 1813, +when he became first lieutenant of the frigate United States, in which he +remained until his promotion to the rank of master commandant, soon after +which he took command of the sloop-of-war Peacock. While cruising in the +Peacock, in latitude 27 deg. 40 min., he encountered the British +brig-of-war Epervier. His own letter to the Secretary of the Navy, +descriptive of that encounter, is as follows: + + + At Sea, April 29, 1814. + + SIR:--I have the honor to inform you that we have this + morning captured, after an action of forty-two minutes, + his Britannic Majesty's brig Epervier, rating and + mounting eighteen thirty-two pound cannonades, with one + hundred and twenty-eight men, of whom eleven were + killed and fifteen wounded, according to the best + information we could obtain. Among the latter is her + first lieutenant, who has lost an arm, and received a + severe splinter wound in the hip. Not a man in the + Peacock was killed, and only two wounded, neither + dangerously. The fate of the Epervier would have been + decided in much less time, but for the circumstance of + our foreyard having been totally disabled by two + round-shot in the starboard quarter, from her first + broadside, which entirely deprived us of the use of our + fore-topsails, and compelled us to keep the ship large + throughout the remainder of the action. This, with a + few topmast and topgallant backstays cut away, and a + few shot through our sails, is the only injury the + Peacock has sustained. Not a round-shot touched our + hull, and our masts and spars are as sound as ever. + When the enemy struck he had five feet of water in his + hold; his maintopmast was over the side; his mainboom + shot away; his foremast cut nearly away, and tottering; + his forerigging and stays shot away; his bowsprit badly + wounded, and forty-five shot-holes in his hull, twenty + of which were within a foot of his water-line, above + and below. By great exertions we got her in sailing + order just as night came on. In fifteen minutes after + the enemy struck, the Peacock was ready for another + action, in every respect, except the foreyard, which + was sent down, fished, and we had the foresail set + again in forty-five minutes--such was the spirit and + activity of our gallant crew. The Epervier had under + convoy an English hermaphrodite brig, a Russian, and a + Spanish ship, which all hauled their wind, and stood to + the E. N. E. I had determined upon pursuing the former, + but found that it would not be prudent to leave our + prize in her then crippled state, and the more + particularly so as we found she had on board one + hundred and twenty thousand dollars in specie. Every + officer, seaman, and marine did his duty, which is the + highest compliment I can pay them. + + I am, &c., + L. WARRINGTON. + +Capt. Warrington brought his prize safely home, and was received with great +honor, because of his success in the encounter. In the early part of the +year 1815, he sailed in the squadron under Commodore Decatur, for a cruise +in the Indian Ocean. The Peacock and Hornet were obliged to separate in +chasing, and did not again meet until they arrived at Tristan d'Acunha, the +place appointed for rendezvous. After leaving that place, the Peacock met +with a British line-of-battle ship, from which she escaped, and gained the +Straits of Sunda, where she captured four vessels, one of which was a brig +of fourteen guns, belonging to the East India Company's service. From this +vessel Captain Warrington first heard of the ratification of peace. He then +returned to the United States. While in command of the Peacock, Capt. +Warrington captured nineteen vessels, three of which were given up to +prisoners, and sixteen destroyed. + +Since the close of the war, Commodore Warrington has filled many +responsible stations in the service for a long time, having been on +shore-duty for twenty-eight years. He was appointed one of the Board of +Naval Commissioners, and subsequently held the post of chief of the Bureau +of Ordnance in the Navy Department, which post he held at the time of his +death. His whole career of service extended through a period of more than +fifty-one years, during all of which time he was respected, and held as one +of the most prominent officers of the United States navy. At the time of +his death there was but one older officer in service. + + * * * * * + +JOHN KIDD, M.D., of the University of Oxford, died suddenly early in +September. He was formerly Professor of Chemistry, and since 1822 Regius +Professor of Medicine. Dr. Kidd did good service in his time, as his +publications testify, in various departments of mineralogical, chemical, +and geological research, and about ten years ago he put forth some +observations on medical reform. Dr. Kidd was one of the eminent men +selected under the Earl of Bridgewater's will to write one of the +well-known "Bridgewater Treatises." The subject was, _On the Adaptation of +External Nature to the Physical Condition of Man_. Together with the Regius +Professorship of Medicine, to which the mastership of Ewelme Hospital, in +the county of Oxford, is attached, Dr. Kidd held the office of librarian to +the Radcliffe Library. + + * * * * * + +THE EARL OF DONOUGHMORE died on the 12th of September, at Palmerstown +House, county of Dublin, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. He was +lord-lieutenant of the county of Tipperary, and had a seat in the House of +Lords as a British peer with the title of Viscount Hutchinson, of +Knocklofty, but will be better remembered in history as the gallant Colonel +Hutchinson, who was one of the parties implicated in the celebrated escape +of Lavalette, in the year 1815, shortly after the restoration of the +Bourbons. He is succeeded in his extensive estates in the south of Ireland +by Viscount Suirdale, his lordship's son by his first wife, the daughter of +the Lord Mountjoy, who lost his life in the royal service during the Irish +rebellion of 1798. + +WILLIAM NICOL, F.R.S.E., died in Edinburgh on the 2nd of September, in his +eighty-third year. Mr. Nicol commenced his career as assistant to the late +Dr. Moyes, the eminent blind lecturer on natural philosophy. Dr. Moyes, at +his death, bequeathed his apparatus to Mr. Nicol, who then lectured on the +same subject. His contributions to the _Edinburgh Philosophical Journal_ +were various and valuable; the more important being his description of his +successful repetition of Döbereiner's celebrated experiment of igniting +spongy platina by a stream of cold hydrogen gas; and his method of +preparing fossil woods for microscopic investigation, which led to his +discovery of the structural difference between the arucarian and coniferous +woods, by far the most important in fossil botany. But the most valuable +contribution to physical science, with which his name will ever be +associated, was his invention of the single image prism of calcareous spar, +known to the scientific world as Nicol's prism. + + * * * * * + +The Rev. G. G. FREEMAN, the well-known English missionary, died on the 8th +of September at the baths of Homburg, in Germany, of an attack of rheumatic +fever. Mr. Freeman had only a little while before returned home from a +visit to the mission stations in South Africa, and his latest important +labor was the writing of a volume, in which the social, spiritual, and +political condition of South Africa was depicted. Mr. Freeman was +fifty-seven years of age. He was born in London, educated at Hoxton +Academy, and after many years of successful devotion to his profession in +England, he proceeded in 1827 to Madagascar, under the direction of the +London Missionary Society, and for nine years labored there with eminent +energy and success. The share he had in translating the Scriptures, in +preparing school-books, and in superintending the mission schools, cannot +be recited in this brief sketch, but was such as greatly facilitated the +progress of the Christian religion, till, in 1835, the queen proscribed +Christianity, and virtually expelled the missionaries from the island. Mr. +Freeman then went to the Cape of Good Hope, where he became much interested +in South African missions, but the ill health of his wife compelled his +return to England, where he arrived about the end of 1836. New duties and +labors now awaited him; he had to confer with the directors, and to visit +the constituents of the London Missionary Society in all parts of the +kingdom. The want of an Institution for the education of the daughters of +missionaries having been strongly felt, he took a leading part in the +establishment of a school for that purpose in the village of Walthamstow, +where he had become connected with the congregational church. In 1841, the +loss of health having obliged the Rev. William Ellis to relinquish his +official connection with the London Missionary Society, he was appointed +foreign secretary, and appeared at the annual meeting of that year in that +capacity, and shared with Dr. Tidman the labor of reading the report. How +faithfully he fulfilled the duties of that office at home, and at what risk +of health and life he sought, in a late voyage to the Mauritius, and +journey throughout Southern Africa, to inform himself and the Society of +the true state of affairs, both in Madagascar and Caffraria, his +publications will show. + + * * * * * + +JAMES RICHARDSON, the enterprising African traveller, died on the 4th of +March last, at a small village called Ungurutua, six days distant from +Kouka, the capital of Bornou. Early in January, he and the companions of +his mission, Drs. Barth and Overweg, arrived at the immense plain of +Damergou, when, after remaining a few days, they separated, Dr. Barth +proceeding to Kanu, Dr. Overweg to Guber, and Mr. Richardson taking the +direct route to Kouka, by Zinde. There it would seem his strength began to +give way, and before he had arrived twelve days' distance from Kouka, he +became seriously ill, suffering much from the oppressive heat of the sun. +Having reached a large town called Kangarras, he halted three days, and +feeling himself refreshed he renewed his journey. After two days, during +which his weakness greatly increased, he arrived at the Waddy Mallaha. +Leaving this place on the 3d of March, he reached in two hours the village +of Ungurutua, when he became so weak that he was unable to proceed. In the +evening he took a little food and tried to sleep--but became very restless, +and left his tent supported by his servant. He then took some tea and threw +himself again on his bed, but did not sleep. His attendants having made +some coffee, he asked for a cup, but had no strength to hold it. He +repeated several times, "I have no strength;" and after having pronounced +the name of his wife, sighed deeply, and expired without a struggle about +two hours after midnight. Early in the morning, the body wrapped in linen, +and covered with a carpet, was borne to a grave four feet deep, under the +shade of a large tree, close to the village, followed by all the principal +Sheichs and people of the district. + + * * * * * + +Those who have read--and very few persons of middle age in this country +have not read--the interesting and somewhat apocryphal narrative of Captain +Riley's shipwreck on the coast of Africa and long experience of suffering +as a slave among the Arabs, will remember the amiable British Consul of +Mogadore, in Barbary, Mr. WILLIAM WILLSHIRE. While Capt. Riley, Mr. +Robbins, and others of the crew of the "Commerce" (which was the name of +the American ship that was wrecked), were in the midst of the great desert, +in utter helplessness, Mr. Willshire heard of some of them, and came to +their relief with money and provisions, and paid, himself, the price of +their ransom, redeeming them from an otherwise perpetual captivity. He took +the afflicted and worn-out Americans to his own house at Mogadore, made +them, after long suffering and privation, enjoy the luxuries of a bed and +the comforts of a home, his wife and daughters uniting with him to +alleviate their sufferings, and he afterwards supplied them with the +necessary money and provided them the means of a return to their own +country. Riley, in the latter part of his life, settled in Ohio, where the +name of _Willshire_ has been given to the town in which he lived, and we +believe our government made some demonstration of the general feeling of +gratefulness with which the American people regarded Mr. Willshire's noble +conduct in this case. Mr. Willshire was a model for consuls, and was kept +constantly in service by his government. Several years ago he was appointed +to Adrianople, where he died suddenly, at an advanced age, on the 4th of +August. + +The Paris papers announce the death at the age of seventy-six, of M. J. R. +DUBOIS,--director successively of the _Gaîté_, the _Porte-Saint-Martin_, +and the _Opéra_, under the Restoration,--and author of a great variety of +pieces played in the different theatres of Paris thirty or forty years ago. + +GUSTAV CARLIN, the author of several historical essays, and a novel founded +on Mexican legends, died in Berlin on the 15th of September, aged +sixty-nine. He resided several years in New-York, we believe as a political +correspondent of some German newspaper. + + + + +Ladies' Autumn Fashions. + + +The light dresses of the summer, with unimportant apparent changes, were +retained this year later than usual, but at length the more sober colors +and heavier material of the autumn have taken their places. There are +indications that furs will be much worn this season, and there are a +variety of new patterns. We select-- + +[Illustration] + +I. _The Palatine Royale in Ermine_, for illustration and description. The +palatine royale is a fur victorine of novel form, and it may fairly claim +precedence as being the first article of winter costume prepared in +anticipation of the approaching change of season. The addition of a hood, +which is lined with quilted silk, and bound with a band of ermine, not only +adds to its warmth, but renders it exceedingly convenient for the opera and +theatres. This hood, we may mention, can be fixed on and removed at +pleasure; an obvious advantage, which no lady will fail to appreciate. To +the lower part of the hood is attached a large white silk tassel. We must +direct particular attention to the new fastening attached to the palatine +royale. This fastening is formed of an India-rubber band and steel clasp, +by means of which the palatine will fit comfortably to the throat of any +lady. The band and clasp being in the inside are not visible, and on the +outside there is an elegant fancy ornament of white silk, of the +description which the French call a brandebourg. + +[Illustration] + +II. _A Palatine in Sable_, has the same form and make as that just +described, except that our engraving shows the back of one made of sable +instead of ermine. The hood is lined with brown sable-colored silk, and the +tassel and brandebourg are of silk of the same color. We need scarcely +mention that the color employed for lining the hood, and for the silk +ornaments, is wholly optional, and may be determined by the taste of the +wearer. + +[Illustration] + +The first figure in the above engraving, displays a very handsome _Walking +Dress_. It is of steel-color _poult de soie_, trimmed in a very novel and +elegant style with bouillonnées of ribbon. The ribbon employed for these +bouillonnées is steel color, figured and edged with lilac. The +bouillonnées, which are disposed as side-trimmings on the skirt of the +dress, are set on in rows obliquely, and graduated in length, the lowest +now being about a quarter of a yard long. The corsage is a pardessus of the +same material as the dress; the basque slit up at each side, and the +pardessus edged all round with ribbon bouillonnée. The sleeves are +demi-long, and loose at the ends, and slit up on the outside of the arm. +Loose under-sleeves of muslin, edged with a double frill of needlework. The +pardessus has under-fronts of white cambric or coutil, thus presenting +precisely the effect of a gentleman's waistcoat. This gilet corsage, as it +is termed by the French dressmakers, has recently been gaining rapid favor +among the Parisian belles. That which our illustration represents has a row +of buttons up the front, and a pocket at each side. It is open at the upper +part, showing a chemisette of lace. Bonnet of fancy straw and crinoline in +alternate rows, lined with drawn white silk, and trimmed with white ribbon. +On one side, a white knotted feather. Undertrimming, bouquets of white and +lilac flowers, mixed with white tulle. Over this dress may be worn a rich +India cashmere shawl. + +In the second figure we have an example of the heavy and large plaided +silks, and generally our latest Parisian plates, like this, exhibit the use +of deep fringes. Flounces of ribbon are in vogue to a degree, but are not +likely to be much worn. + +It will be seen by the first figure on this page that the European ladies +are approximating to the styles of gentlemen in the upper parts of their +costume, as American women seem disposed to imitation in the matter of +inexpressibles. Attempts to introduce the style of dress worn by the lower +orders of women in Northern Europe have failed as decidedly in England as +in this country. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The International Monthly, Volume 4, +No. 4, November 1, 1851, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, NOV 1, 1851 *** + +***** This file should be named 37904-8.txt or 37904-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/9/0/37904/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci 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, Volume 4, No. 4, November 1, 1851 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: November 2, 2011 [EBook #37904] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, NOV 1, 1851 *** + + + + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci 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> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span></p> + + + +<h1>THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE</h1> + +<h2>Of Literature, Art, and Science.</h2> + +<h3>Vol. IV. NEW-YORK, NOVEMBER 1, 1851. No. IV.</h3> + +<p class="notes">Transcriber's Note: Minor typos have been corrected and footnotes moved +to the end of the article. Table of contents has been created for the HTML version.</p> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#THE_GREAT_EXHIBITION_OF_THE_NEW-YORK_STATE_AGRICULTURAL_SOCIETY_AT"><b>THE GREAT EXHIBITION OF THE NEW-YORK STATE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT ROCHESTER.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#WILLIAM_ROSS_WALLACE"><b>WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#AMERICA_AS_ABUSED_BY_A_GERMAN"><b>AMERICA AS ABUSED BY A GERMAN.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#REMINISCENCES_OF_THE_LATE_MR_COOPER_HIS_LAST_DAYS"><b>REMINISCENCES OF THE LATE MR. COOPER.—HIS LAST DAYS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_LONDON_TIMES_ON_AMERICAN_INTERCOMMUNICATION"><b>THE LONDON TIMES ON AMERICAN INTERCOMMUNICATION.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_LAST_EARTHQUAKE_IN_EUROPE"><b>THE LAST EARTHQUAKE IN EUROPE.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#MR_JEFFERSON_ON_THE_STUDY_OF_THE_ANGLO-SAXON_LANGUAGE"><b>MR. JEFFERSON ON THE STUDY OF THE ANGLO-SAXON LANGUAGE.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_OBELISKS_OF_EGYPT"><b>THE OBELISKS OF EGYPT.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#DR_LATHAM_ON_THE_MOSKITO_KINGDOM"><b>DR. LATHAM ON THE MOSKITO KINGDOM.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#GOLD-QUARTZ_AND_SOCIETY"><b>GOLD-QUARTZ AND SOCIETY.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#INEDITED_LETTER_OF_DR_FRANKLIN"><b>INEDITED LETTER OF DR. FRANKLIN.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#A_BALLAD_OF_SIR_JOHN_FRANKLIN"><b>A BALLAD OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#REMARKABLE_PROPHECY"><b>REMARKABLE PROPHECY.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#GREENWOOD"><b>GREENWOOD.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#AN_AUGUST_REVERIE"><b>AN AUGUST REVERIE.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#HEROINES_OF_HISTORY_LAURA"><b>HEROINES OF HISTORY—LAURA.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_KING_AND_OUTLAW"><b>THE KING AND OUTLAW.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#SAINT_ESCARPACIOS_BONES"><b>SAINT ESCARPACIO'S BONES.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#DIRGE_FOR_AN_INFANT"><b>DIRGE FOR AN INFANT.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_CHIMES"><b>THE CHIMES.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#A_STORY_WITHOUT_A_NAME2"><b>A STORY WITHOUT A NAME.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#TWO_SONNETS"><b>TWO SONNETS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_COUNT_MONTE-LEONE_OR_THE_SPY_IN_SOCIETY3"><b>THE COUNT MONTE-LEONE: OR, THE SPY IN SOCIETY.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#A_GHOST_STORY_OF_NORMANDY"><b>A GHOST STORY OF NORMANDY.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CREBILLON_THE_FRENCH_AESCHYLUS"><b>CREBILLON, THE FRENCH ÆSCHYLUS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#HABITS_OF_FREDERICK_THE_GREAT"><b>HABITS OF FREDERICK THE GREAT.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#THE_OLD_MANS_DEATH"><b>THE OLD MAN'S DEATH.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#MY_NOVEL"><b>MY NOVEL.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#FRAGMENTS_FROM_A_VOLUME_OF_POEMS"><b>FRAGMENTS FROM A VOLUME OF POEMS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#Authors_and_Books"><b>AUTHORS AND BOOKS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#The_Fine_Arts"><b>THE FINE ARTS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#Noctes_Amicae"><b>NOCTES AMICÆ.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#Historical_Review_of_the_Month"><b>HISTORICAL REVIEW OF THE MONTH.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#Scientific_Discoveries_and_Proceedings_of_Learned_Societies"><b>SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERIES AND PROCEEDINGS OF LEARNED SOCIETIES.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#Recent_Deaths"><b>RECENT DEATHS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#Ladies_Autumn_Fashions"><b>LADIES' AUTUMN FASHIONS.</b></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_GREAT_EXHIBITION_OF_THE_NEW-YORK_STATE_AGRICULTURAL_SOCIETY_AT" id="THE_GREAT_EXHIBITION_OF_THE_NEW-YORK_STATE_AGRICULTURAL_SOCIETY_AT"></a>THE GREAT EXHIBITION OF THE NEW-YORK STATE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT +ROCHESTER.</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i445.jpg" width="500" height="401" alt="EXTERIOR OF THE FAIR." title="" /> +<span class="caption">EXTERIOR OF THE FAIR.</span> +</div> + + +<p>This is an age of Exhibitions. From the humble collection of cattle and +counter-panes, swine and "garden sauce," at the central village of some +secluded County, up to the stupendous "World's Fair" at London, wherein all +nations and all arts are represented, "Industrial Expositions," as the +French more accurately term them, are the order of the day. And this is +well—nay, it is inspiring. It proves the growth and diffusion of a wider +and deeper consciousness of the importance and dignity of Labor as an +element of national strength and social progress. That corn and cloth are +essential to the comfortable subsistence of the human family, and of every +portion of it, was always plain enough; but the truth is much broader than +that. Not food alone, but knowledge, virtue, power, depend upon the subtle +skill of the artificer's fingers, the sturdy might of the husbandman's arm. +Let these fail, through the blighting influence of despotism, +licentiousness, superstition, or slavery, and the national greatness is +cankered at the root, and its preservation overtasks the ability of +Phocion, of Hannibal, of Cato. A nation flourishes or withers with the +development and vigor of its Industry. It may prosper and be strong without +statesmen, warriors, or jurists; it fades and falls with the decline of its +arts and its agriculture. Wisely, therefore, do rulers, nobles, field +marshals and archbishops, unite in rendering the highest honors to eminence +in the domain of Industry, dimly perceiving that it is mightier and more +enduring than their petty and fragile potencies. The empire of Napoleon, +though so lately at its zenith, has utterly passed away, while that of +Fulton is still in its youth.</p> + +<p>A State Agricultural Society, numbering among its members some thousands of +her foremost citizens, mainly but not wholly farmers, is one of the most +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span>commendable institutions of this great and growing commonwealth. Aided +liberally by the State government, it holds an Annual Fair at some one of +the chief towns of the interior, generally on the line of the Erie Canal, +whereby the collection of stock and other articles for exhibition is +facilitated, and the cost thereof materially lessened. Poughkeepsie, +Albany, Saratoga Springs, Utica, Syracuse (twice), Auburn, Rochester +(twice), and Buffalo, are the points at which these Fairs have been held +within the last ten years. Recently, the railroads have transported cattle, +&c., for exhibition, either at half-price, or entirely without charge, +while the State's bounty and the liberal receipts for admission to the +grounds have enabled the managers to stimulate competition by a very +extensive award of premiums, so that almost every recurrence of the State +Fair witnesses a larger and still more extensive display of choice animals. +Whether the improvement in quality keeps pace with the increase in number +is a point to be maturely considered.</p> + +<p>The Fair of this year was held at <span class="smcap">Rochester</span>, in a large open field about a +mile south of the city, and of course near the Genesee river. Gigantic +stumps scattered through it, attested how recently this whole region was +covered with the primeval forest. Probably fifty thousand persons now live +within sight of the Rochester steeples, though not a human being inhabited +this then dense and swampy wilderness forty years ago. And here, almost +wholly from a region which had less than five thousand white inhabitants in +1810, not fewer than one hundred thousand persons, two-thirds of them adult +males, were drawn together expressly to witness this exhibition. The number +who entered the gates on Thursday alone exceeded seventy-five thousand, +while the attendance on the two preceding days and on Friday, of persons +who were not present on Thursday, must have exceeded twenty-five thousand. +Of course, many came with no definite purpose, no previous preparation to +observe and learn, and so carried home nothing more than they brought +there, save the head-ache, generated by their irregularities and excesses +while absent; but thousands came qualified and resolved to profit by the +practical lessons spread before them, and doubtless went away richly +recompensed for the time and money expended in visiting the Fair. This +Annual Exhibition is as yet the Farmers' University; they will in time have +a better, but until then they do well to make the most of that which +already welcomes them to its cheap, ready and practical inculcations.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i446.jpg" width="500" height="410" alt="ROCHESTER." title="" /> +<span class="caption">ROCHESTER.</span> +</div> + +<p>The President of the State Society for this year is Mr. <span class="smcap">John Delafield</span>, +long a master spirit among our Wall-street financiers, and for some years +President of the Phenix bank. He was finally swamped by the rascality of +the State of Illinois in virtually repudiating her public debt, whereby Mr. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span>Delafield, who had long acted as her financial agent in New-York, and had +staked his fortune on her integrity, was reduced from affluence to need. +Nothing daunted by this reverse, he promptly transferred his energies from +finance to agriculture, taking hold of a large farm in Seneca County, near +the beautiful village of Geneva; and on this farm he soon proved himself +one of the best practical agriculturists in our State. Before he had been +five years on the soil, he was already teaching hundreds of life-long +cultivators, by the quiet force of his successful example, how to double +the product of their lands and more than double their annual profits. His +enlightened and admirable husbandry has finally called him to the post he +now occupies—one not inferior in true dignity and opportunity for +usefulness to that of Governor of the State. And this is a fair specimen of +the elasticity of the American character and its capacity for adapting +itself to any and every change of circumstances.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i447a.jpg" width="500" height="410" alt="INTERIOR OF THE FAIR." title="" /> +<span class="caption">INTERIOR OF THE FAIR.</span> +</div> + +<p>The Annual Address at this Fair was delivered by the Hon. <span class="smcap">Stephen A. +Douglas</span>, now U. S. Senator from Illinois, and a very probable "Democratic" +candidate for next President of the United States. It was an able and well +enunciated discourse, devoted mainly to political economy as affecting +agriculture, taking the "free trade" view of this important and difficult +subject, and evidently addressed quite as much to southern politicians as +to New-York farmers; but it embodied many practical suggestions of decided +force and value. This address has already received a very wide circulation.</p> + +<p>A public entertainment was proffered on Thursday evening to the officers of +the State Society, on behalf of the city of Rochester, which was attended +by ex-President <span class="smcap">Tyler</span>, <span class="smcap">Gov. Washington Hunt</span>, ex-Governor and ex-Secretary +<span class="smcap">Marcy</span>, <span class="smcap">Gen. Wool</span>, Governor <span class="smcap">Wright</span> of Indiana, &c. &c. Senator <span class="smcap">Douglas</span> +arrived in the train just before the gathering broke up. The presence of +ladies, and the absence of liquors, were the most commendable features of +this festivity, which was convened at an absurdly late hour, and +characterized by an afflictive amount of dull speaking. Such an +entertainment is very well on an occasion like this, merely as a means of +enabling the congregated thousands to see and hear the celebrities convened +with them; but it should be given in the afternoon or beginning of the +evening, should cost very little (the speaking being dog-cheap and the +eatables no object), and should in nearly all respects be just what the +Rochester festival was not. As an exercise in false hospitality, however, +and a beacon for future adventurers in the same line, this entertainment +had considerable merit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i448a.jpg" width="500" height="322" alt="AZALIA. + +The best Short-Horned Durham Cow over Three Years Old: Owned by Lewis G. +Morris." title="" /> +<span class="caption">AZALIA.<br /> + +The best Short-Horned Durham Cow over Three Years Old: Owned by Lewis G. +Morris.</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i448b.jpg" width="500" height="323" alt="LORD ERYHOLM. + +The best Two Year Old Short-Horned Durham Bull: Owned by Lewis G. +Morris." title="" /> +<span class="caption">LORD ERYHOLM.<br /> + +The best Two Year Old Short-Horned Durham Bull: Owned by Lewis G. +Morris.</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Neat Cattle</span> stood first in intrinsic value among the classes of articles +exhibited at the Fair. Probably not less than One Thousand of these were +shown on this occasion, including imported bulls and cows, working-oxen, +fat steers, blood-heifers, calves, &c. &c. Of these we could not now say +whether the Durham or Devonshire breed predominated, but the former had +certainly no such marked ascendency as at former Fairs. Our impression from +the statements of disinterested breeders was and is, that where cattle are +bred mainly for the market, a larger weight of flesh may be obtained at an +early age from the Durham than from any rival breed, though not of the +finest quality; while for milk or butter the Devon is, and perhaps one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span> or +two other breeds are, preferable. But this is merely the inference of one, +who has no experience in the premises, from a comparison of the statements +of intelligent breeders of widely differing preferences. Probably each of +the half-dozen best breeds is better adapted to certain localities and +purposes than any other; and intelligent farmers assert, that we still need +some breeds not yet introduced in this country, especially the small Black +Cattle of the Scottish Highlands, which, from their hardiness, excellence +of flesh, small cost for wintering, &c., are specially adapted to our own +rugged upland districts, particularly that which half covers the +north-eastern quarter of our State. The subject is one of the deepest +interest to agriculturists, and is destined to receive a thorough +investigation at their hands.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i449a.jpg" width="500" height="365" alt="EARL SEAHAM. + +The best Short-Horned Durham Bull over Three Years Old: Owned by J. M. +Sherwood and A. Stevens." title="" /> +<span class="caption">EARL SEAHAM.<br /> + +The best Short-Horned Durham Bull over Three Years Old: Owned by J. M. +Sherwood and A. Stevens.</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i449b.jpg" width="500" height="376" alt="DEVON. + +The best Devon Bull over Three Years Old: Owned by W. P. and C. S. +Wainwright." title="" /> +<span class="caption">DEVON.<br /> + +The best Devon Bull over Three Years Old: Owned by W. P. and C. S. +Wainwright.</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/i450a.jpg" width="450" height="323" alt="TROMP. + +The best Hereford Bull, over Three Years Old: Owned by Allen Ayrault." title="" /> +<span class="caption">TROMP.<br /> + +The best Hereford Bull, over Three Years Old: Owned by Allen Ayrault.</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i450b.jpg" width="500" height="347" alt="KOSSUTH AND BRISKA. + +Best Foreign (Hungarian) Cattle, over Two Years Old: Owned by Roswell L. +Colt." title="" /> +<span class="caption">KOSSUTH AND BRISKA.<br /> + +Best Foreign (Hungarian) Cattle, over Two Years Old: Owned by Roswell L. +Colt.</span> +</div> + +<p>Of Horses, the number exhibited was of course much smaller—perhaps two +hundred in all—embracing many animals of rare<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> spirit, symmetry, and +beauty. Some Canadian horses, and a few specimens of a famous Vermont breed +(the Morgan) were among them. Our attention was not specially drawn in this +direction, and we will leave the merits of the rival competitors to the +awards of the judges.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i451a.jpg" width="500" height="332" alt="DEVON HEIFER. + +Best three-fourth bred Devon Heifer: owned by George Shaeffer." title="" /> +<span class="caption">DEVON HEIFER.<br /> + +Best three-fourth bred Devon Heifer: owned by George Shaeffer.</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i451b.jpg" width="500" height="372" alt="OLD CLYDE. + +Best Foreign Horse: owned by Jane Ward, Markham, Canada West." title="" /> +<span class="caption">OLD CLYDE.<br /> + +Best Foreign Horse: owned by Jane Ward, Markham, Canada West.</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i452a.jpg" width="500" height="413" alt="CONSTERNATION. + +Best thorough-bred horse over four years old: owned by John B. Burnet." title="" /> +<span class="caption">CONSTERNATION.<br /> + +Best thorough-bred horse over four years old: owned by John B. Burnet.</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i452b.jpg" width="500" height="312" alt="SOUTH DOWN SHEEP. + +Best Middle-Wooled Ewe, over Two Years Old: Owned by Lewis G. Morris." title="" /> +<span class="caption">SOUTH DOWN SHEEP.<br /> + +Best Middle-Wooled Ewe, over Two Years Old: Owned by Lewis G. Morris.</span> +</div> + +<p>Of Sheep, there were a large number present—at a rough guess, Two +Thousand—embracing specimens of widely contrasted varieties. The +fine-wooled Saxonies and Merioes were largely represented; so were +coarse-wooled but fine-fleshed Bakewells and Southdowns. For three or four +years past, the annual product of wool, especially of the finer qualities, +has been unequal to the demand, causing a gradual appreciation of prices, +until a standard has this year been reached above the value of the staple. +Speculators, who had observed the gradual rise through two or three +seasons, rushed in to purchase this year's clip, at prices which cannot be +maintained, and the farmers have received some hundreds of thousands of +dollars more for their wool than the buyers can ever sell it for. This has +naturally reacted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span> on the price of sheep, whereof choice specimens for +breeding have been sold for sums scarcely exceeded during the celebrated +Merino fever of 1816-18. <i>Bona fide</i> sales for $100 each and over have +certainly been made; and it is confidently asserted that picked animals +from the flocks of a famous Vermont breeder were sold, to improve Ohio +flocks, at the late Fair of that State—a buck for $1,000, and six ewes for +$300 each. These reports, whether veritable or somewhat inflated, indicate +a tendency of the times. Where sheep are grown mainly for the wool, it is +as absurd to keep those of inferior grades, as to plant apple-trees without +grafting and grow two or three bushels of walnut-sized, vinegar-flavored +fruit on a tree which might as well have borne ten bushels of Spitzenbergs +or Greenings. But there is room also for improvement and profit in the +breeding of sheep other than the fine-wooled species. The famous +roast-mutton of England ought to be more than rivaled among us; for we have +a better climate and far better sheep-walks than the English in the rugged +mountain districts of New-England, of Pennsylvania, and of our own State. +The breeding of large, fine-fleshed sheep of the choicest varieties, on the +lines of all the railroads communicating with the great cities, is one of +the undertakings which promise largest and surest returns to our farmers, +and it is yet in its infancy. A hundred thousand of such sheep would be +taken annually by New-York and Philadelphia at largely remunerating prices. +Thousands of acres of sterile, scantily timbered land on the Delaware and +its branches might be profitably transformed into extensive sheep-walks, +while they must otherwise remain useless and unimproved for ages. These +lands may now be bought for a song, and are morally certain to be far +higher within the next dozen years.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i453.jpg" width="500" height="315" alt="LONG-WOOLED SHEEP. + +Best long-wooled buck and ewe over two years old: owned by J. McDonald and +Wm. Rathbone." title="" /> +<span class="caption">LONG-WOOLED SHEEP.<br /> + +Best long-wooled buck and ewe over two years old: owned by J. McDonald and +Wm. Rathbone.</span> +</div> + +<p>Of Swine there were a good many exhibited at the Fair, but we did not waste +much time upon them. The Hog Crop once stood high among the products of the +older States, but it has gradually fallen off since the settlement of the +great West, and the cheapening of intercommunication between that section +and the East, and is destined to sink still lower. Pork can be made on the +prairies and among the nutwood forests and corn-bearing intervales of the +West for half the cost of making it in New-England; no Yankee can afford to +feed his hogs with corn, much less potatoes, as his grandfather freely did. +Only on a dairy farm can any considerable quantity of pork be profitably +made east of the Ohio; and he who keeps but a pig or two to eat up the +refuse of the kitchen cares little (perhaps too little) for the breed of +his porkers. So let them pass.</p> + +<p>"Fancy" Fowls are among the hobbies of our day, as was abundantly evinced +at the State Fair. Coops piled on coops, and in rows twenty rods long, of +Chinese, Dorking, and other breeds of the most popular domestic bird, +monopolized a large share of attention; while geese, ducks, turkies, &c., +were liberally and creditably represented. The "Hen Convention," which was +a pet topic of Boston waggery a year or two since, might have been easily +and properly held at Rochester. Many of these choice barn-yard fowls were +scarcely inferior in size while doubtless superior in flavor to the +ordinary turky, while the farmer who opens the spring with a hundred<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> of +them may half feed his family and at the same time quite keep down his +store-bill with their daily products. Small economies steadily pursued are +the source of thrift and competence to many a cultivator of flinty and +ungenial acres; few farmers can afford to disregard them. If thrice the +present number of fowls were kept among us, their care and food would +scarcely be missed, while their product would greatly increase the +aggregate not only of thrift but of comfort.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i454.jpg" width="500" height="316" alt="J. DELAFIELD'S CHINESE HOGS." title="" /> +<span class="caption">J. DELAFIELD'S CHINESE HOGS.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Floral Hall" was the name of a temporary though spacious structure of +scantling and rough boards, in which were exhibited, in addition to a +profusion of the flowers of the season, a display of Fruits and Vegetables +whereof Rochester might well be proud. This city seems the natural centre +of the finest fruit-growing district on the American continent—yes, in the +whole world. Its high latitude secures the richest flavors, while the harsh +northern winds, which elsewhere prove so baneful, are here softened by +passing over lake Erie or Ontario, and a climate thus produced, which, for +fruit, has no rival. Large delicious grapes of innumerable varieties; +excellent peaches; delicate, juicy, luscious pears; quinces that really +tempt the eye, though not the palate; and a profusion of fair, fragrant, +golden, mammoth apples,—these were among the products of the immediate +vicinity of Rochester exhibited in bounteous profusion. In the department +of Vegetables also there were beets and turnips of gigantic size; several +squashes weighing about one hundred and thirty pounds each; with +egg-plants, potatoes, tomatoes, and other edibles, which were all that +palate could desire. The fertility of western New-York is proverbial; but +it was never more triumphantly set forth than in the fruit and vegetables +exhibited at the State Fair.</p> + +<p>Of butter, cheese, honey, (obtained without destroying the bees,) +maple-sugar &c., the display was much better than we have remarked on any +former occasion. And in this connection the rock salt from our own State +works around Syracuse deserves honorable mention. New-York salt has been +treated with systematic injustice by western consumers. In order to save a +shilling or two on the barrel, they buy the inferior article produced by +boiling instead of the far better obtained by solar evaporation; then they +endeavor to make a New-York standard bushel of fifty six pounds do the work +of a measured bushel of Turks Island weighing eighty pounds; and because +the laws regulating the preservation and decomposition of animal substances +will not thus be swindled, they pronounce the New-York salt impure and +worthless. Now there is no purer, no better salt than the New-York solar; +but, even of this, fifty-six pounds will not do the work of eighty. Buy the +best quality, (and even this is dog cheap,) use the proper quantity, and no +salt in the world will preserve meats better than this. The New-York solar +salt exhibited at Rochester could not be surpassed, and that which had been +<i>ground</i> has no superior in its adaptation to the table.</p> + +<p>There were many tasteful Counterpanes and other products of female skill +and industry exhibited, but the perpetual crowd in the 'halls' devoted to +manufactures allowed no opportunity for their critical examination. Of +stoves and ranges, heating and (let us be thankful for it, even at this +late day) ventilating apparatus and arrangements, there was a supply; and +so of daguerreotypes, trunks, harness, &c. &c. Nothing, however, arrested +our attention in this hall but the specimens of <span class="smcap">Flax-Cotton</span> and its various +proportions exhibited by E. G. Roberts, assignee of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span> Claussen's patents for +the United States. We saw one intelligent influential citizen converted +from skepticism to enthusiasm for flax-cotton by his first earnest +examination. It <i>will</i> go inevitably. A cotton fibre scarcely +distinguishable from Sea Island may be produced from flax by Claussen's +process for six cents per pound; and a machine for breaking out the fibre +from the unrotted stalk was exhibited by Mr. Clemmons of Springfield, +Massachusetts, which is calculated materially to expedite the flax-cotton +revolution. This machine renders the entire fibre, with hardly a loss of +two per cent. as 'swingle-tow,' straight and wholly separated from the +woody substance or 'shives,' at a cost which can hardly equal one cent per +pound of dressed flax. Its operation is very simple, and any man who has +seen it work a day may manage it. Its entire cost is from $125 to $200, +according to size. It will be a shame to American agricultural enterprise +if flax-cotton and linen are not both among our country's extensive and +important products within the next three years.</p> + +<p>The department of Agricultural Machinery and Implements was decidedly the +most interesting of any. No other can at all equal it in the rapidity and +universality of progress from year to year. Of Plows, there cannot have +been less than two hundred on the ground, exhibiting a great variety of +novel excellence. One with two shares, contrived to cut two furrows at +once, seemed the most useful of any recently invented. The upper share cuts +and turns the sward to the depth of five inches, which is immediately +buried seven inches deep by the earth turned up by the deeper share. Since +it is impossible to induce one farmer in twenty to subsoil, this, as the +next best thing, ought to be universally adopted.</p> + +<p>Seed-Sowers, Corn-Planters, Reapers, Fanning-Mills, Straw-Cutters, &c., +&c., were abundant, and evinced many improvements on the best of former +years. A Mower with which a man, boy, and span of horses, will cut and +spread ten acres per day of grass, however heavy, on tolerably level +land—both cutting and spreading better than the hand-impelled scythe and +stick will do—was among the new inventions; also two threshers and +cleaners, each of them warranted to thresh and nearly clean, by the labor +of four men, a boy, and two horses, over one hundred bushels of wheat or +two hundred bushels of oats per day. The testimony of candid citizens who +had used them, and the evidence of our own senses, left no doubt on our +mind of the correctness of these assertions. But we do not write to commend +any article, but to call attention to the great and cheering truth which +underlies them all. Agriculture is a noble art, involving the knowledge of +almost all the practical sciences—chemistry, geology, climatology, +mechanics, &c. It is not merely progressive, but rapidly progressing, so +that fifty days' labor on the same soil produce far more grain or hay now +than they did half a century ago. And every year is increasing and +rendering more palpable the pressing need of a <span class="smcap">Practical College</span>, wherein +Agriculture, Mechanics, and the sciences auxiliary thereto shall be ably +and thoroughly taught to thousands and tens of thousands of our countrymen, +who shall in turn become the disseminators of the truths thus inculcated to +the youth of every county and township in the country.</p> + +<p>And thus shall Agriculture be rendered what it should be—not only the most +essential but the most intellectual and attractive among the industrial +avocations of mankind.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Horace Greeley</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i455.jpg" width="500" height="276" alt="THE VIRGINIA REAPER. + +Exhibited at the Crystal Palace, and the New-York State Agricultural Fair, +by Cyrus H. McCormick." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE VIRGINIA REAPER. + +Exhibited at the Crystal Palace, and the New-York State Agricultural Fair, +by Cyrus H. McCormick.</span> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_ROSS_WALLACE" id="WILLIAM_ROSS_WALLACE"></a>WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE.</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/i456.jpg" width="450" height="474" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p>Of the large number of young men in this country who write verses, we +scarcely know of one who has a more unquestionable right to the title of +poet than <span class="smcap">William Ross Wallace</span>, who has just published, in a very handsome +volume, a collection of his writings, under the title of <i>Meditations in +America</i>. Mr. <span class="smcap">Wallace</span> has written other things which in their day have been +sufficiently familiar to the public; in what we have to say of his +capacities we shall confine ourselves to the pieces which he has himself +here selected as the truest exponents of his genius, and without giving +them indiscriminate praise shall hope to find in them evidences of peculiar +and remarkable powers, combined with a spirit eminently susceptible to the +influences of nature and of ideal and moral beauty.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wallace is a western man, and was born in Lexington, Kentucky, in the +year 1819. His father was a Presbyterian minister, of good family, and +marked abilities, who died soon after, leaving the future poet to the care +of a mother whose chief ambition in regard to him was that he should be so +trained as to be capable of the most elevated positions in society. After +the usual preparatory studies, he went first to the Bloomington College, +and afterwards to the South Hanover College, in Indiana, and upon +graduating at the latter institution studied the law in his native city. +When about twenty-two years of age, having already acquired considerable +reputation in literature, by various contributions to western and southern +periodicals, he came to the Atlantic states, and with the exception of a +few months passed in Philadelphia, and a year and a half in Europe, he has +since resided in New-York, occupied in the practice of his profession and +in the pursuits of literature. Of his numerous poetical compositions, this +is the first collection, and the only volume, except <i>Alban, a Romance</i>, +intended to illustrate the influence of certain prejudices of society and +principles of law on individual character and destiny, which was published +in 1848.</p> + +<p>His works generally are distinguished for a sensuous richness of style, +earnestness of temper, and much freedom of speculation. Throughout the +<i>Meditations in America</i> we perceive that he is most at home in the serious +and stately rhythms and solemn fancies of such pieces as the hymn "To a +Wind Going Seaward," "The Mounds of America," "The Chant of a Soul," &c.; +but he occasionally writes in livelier and less peculiar measures.</p> + +<p>The late Mr. Poe in his <i>Marginalia</i> refers to the following as one of the +finest things in American literature; it is certainly very characteristic.</p> + +<h4>THE CHANT OF A SOUL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My youth has gone—the glory, the delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gave new moons unto the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And put in every wind a tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And presence that was not its own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can no more create,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What time the Autumn blows her solemn tromp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And goes with golden pomp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through our unmeasurable woods:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can no more create, sitting in youthful state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the mighty floods,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And peopling glen, and wave, and air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With shapes that are immortal. Then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth and heaven were fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While only less than gods seem'd all my fellow-men.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! the delight, the gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sense yet love of madness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glorious choral exultations,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The far-off sounding of the banded nations,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wings of angels at melodious sweeps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the mountain's hazy steeps,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very dead astir within their coffin'd deeps;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreamy veil that wrapp'd the star and sod—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A swathe of purple, gold, and amethyst;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, luminous behind the billowy mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something that look'd to my young eyes like <span class="smcap">God</span>.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too late I learn I have not lived aright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hence the loss of that delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which put a moon into the moonless night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mingled in the human maze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sought their horrid shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knelt before the impure blaze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I made their idols mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lost mine early love—that love of balms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most musical with solemn psalms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounding beneath the tall and graceful palms.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who lives aright?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answer me, all ye pyramids and piles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That look like calmest power in your still might.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye also do I ask, O continents and isles!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind though with blood ye be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your tongues, though torn with pain, I know are free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then speak, all ancient masses! speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From patient obelisk to idle peak!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a heaving of the plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A trailing of a shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A clash of bolts and chains—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A low, sad voice, that comes upon me like a cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">"Oh, misery, oh, misery!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou poor old Earth! no more, no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I draw speech from thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor dare thy crypts of legendary lore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let silence learn no tongue; let night fold every shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet I have something left—the will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Mont Blanc of the soul, is towering still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I can bear the pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm, the old heroic chain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pluck wisdom from my torture, and give back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A love to Fate from this my mountain-rack.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do believe the sad alone are wise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do believe the wrong'd alone can know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why lives the world, why spread the burden'd skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so from torture into godship grow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plainer and plainer beams this truth, the more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the slow, dull dripping of my gore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now, arising from yon deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis plain as a white statue on a tall, dark steep.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, suffering bards! oh spirits black<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With storm on many a mountain-rack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our early splendor's gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like stars into a cloud withdrawn—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like music laid asleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dried-up fountains—like a stricken dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sudden tempests sweep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the bolts around us falling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cloud to cloud forever calling:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet <span class="smcap">WE</span> must nor despair nor weep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did <span class="smcap">WE</span> this evil bring?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or from our fellows did the torture spring?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Titans! forgive, forgive!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, know ye not 'tis victory but to live?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore I say, rejoice with harp and voice!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not what our fate may be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only know that he who hath a time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must also have eternity:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One billow proves and gives a whole wide sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On this I build my trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not on mountain-dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or murmuring woods, or starlit clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or ocean with melodious chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sunset glories in the western sky:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough, I <i>am</i>, and shall not choose to die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No matter what my future fate may be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live is in itself a majesty!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! there I may again create<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair worlds as in my youthful state;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Wo may build for me a fiery tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Farinata's in the nether gloom:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even then I will not lose the name of man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By idle moan or coward groan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But say, "It was so written in the mighty plan!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The next poem is in a vein of lofty contemplation, and the rhetoric is +eminently appropriate and well sustained. It is one of the most striking +pieces in the book.</p> + + +<h4>THE MOUNDS OF AMERICA.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Come to the mounds of death with me. They stretch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From deep to deep, sad, venerable, vast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Graves of gone empires—gone without a sighn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like clouds from heaven. They stretch'd from deep to deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the Roman smote his mailéd hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the gold portals of the dreaming East;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the Pleiad, in white trance of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond her choir of stars went wandering.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The great old Trees, rank'd on these hills of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have melancholy hymns about all this;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the moon walks her inheritance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With slow, imperial pace, the Trees look up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chant in solemn cadence. Come and hear.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Oh patient Moon! go not behind a cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But listen to our words. We, too, are old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though not so old as thou. The ancient towns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cities throned far apart like queens,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadowy domes, the realms majestical,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slept in thy younger beams. In every leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hold their dust, a king in every trunk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We, too, are very old: the wind that wails<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our broad branches, from swart Ethiop come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, wail'd in our branches long ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then come from darken'd Calvary. The Hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lean'd ghastly at the tale that wan Wind told;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Streams crept shuddering through the tremulous dark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Torrent of the North, from morn till eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his steep ledge hung pausing; and o'er all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such silence fell, we heard the conscious Rills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drip slowly in the caves of central Earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So were the continents by His crownéd grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Together bound, before that Genoese<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flamed on the dim Atlantic: so have we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose aspect faced the scene, unchallenged right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of language unto all, while memory holds.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"O patient Moon! go not behind a cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hear our words. We know that thou didst see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whole that we could utter—thou that wert<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A worship unto realms beyond the flood—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we are very lonesome on these mounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And speech doth make the burden of sad thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Endurable; while these, the people new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That take our land, may haply learn from us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What wonder went before them; for no word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'er came from thee, so beautiful, so lone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throned in thy still domain, superbly calm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silent as a god.<br /></span> +<span class="i22">Here empires rose and died;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their very dust, beyond the Atlantic borne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the pale navies of the charter'd wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stains the white Alp. Here the proud city ranged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spire after spire, like star ranged after star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the dim empyrean, till the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went mad with splendor, and the dwellers cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Our walls have married Time!"—Gone are the marts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The insolent citadels, the fearful gates,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pictured domes that curved like starry skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gone are their very names! The royal Ghost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cannot discern the old imperial haunts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But goes about perplexéd like a mist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between a ruin and the awful stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nations are laid beneath our feet. The bard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who stood in Song's prevailing light, as stands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The apocalyptic angel in the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rained melodious fire on all the realms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prophet pale, who shuddered in his gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the white cataract shudders in its mist;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hero shattering an old kingdom down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one clear trumpet's will: the Boy, the Sage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subject and Lord, the Beautiful, the Wise—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gone, gone to nothingness.<br /></span> +<span class="i30">The years glide on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pitiless years! and all alike shall fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">State after State rear'd by the solemn sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where the Hudson goes unchallenged past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ancient warder of the Palisades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where, rejoicing o'er the enormous cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beam the blue Alleghanies—all shall fail:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Ages chant their dirges on the peaks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The palls are ready in the peopled vales;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nations fill one common sepulchre.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor goes the Earth on her dark way alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each star in yonder vault doth hold the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its funereal deeps: Arcturus broods<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over vast sepulchres that had grown old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the earth was made: the universe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Itself is but one mighty cemetery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rolling around its central, solemn sun.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O patient Moon! go not behind a cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But listen to our words. We, too, must die—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou!—the vassal stars shall fail to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy queenly voice over the azure fields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calling at sunset. They shall fade. The Earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall look and miss their sweet, familiar eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, crouching, die beneath the feet of <span class="smcap">God</span>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then come the glories, then the nobler times,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For which the Orbs travail'd in sorrow; then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mystery shall be clear, the burden gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And surely men shall know why nations came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Transfigured for the pangs; why not a spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this wide world but hath a tale of wo;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why all this glorious universe is Death's.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Go, Moon! and tell the stars, and tell the suns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impatient of the wo, the strength of him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who doth consent to death; and tell the climes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That meet thy mournful eyes, one after one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all the lapses of the lonesome night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pathos of repose, the might of Death!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The voice is hush'd; the great old wood is still:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Moon, like one in meditation, walks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind a cloud. We, too, have them for thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, as a sun, <span class="smcap">God</span> takes the West of Time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smites the pyramid of Eternity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow lengthens over many worlds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doom'd to the dark mausoleum and mound.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We do not remember any poem on Mahomet finer than the following:</p> + + +<h4>EL AMIN.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who is this that comes from Hara? not in kingly pomp and pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a great, free son of Nature, lion-souled and eagle-eyed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who is this before whose presence idols tumble to the sod?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While he cries out—"Allah Akbar! and there is no god but God!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wandering in the solemn desert, he has wondered like a child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not as yet too proud to wonder, at the sun, and star, and wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, thou moon! who made thy brightness? Stars! who hung you there on high?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answer! so my soul may worship: I must worship or die!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then there fell the brooding silence that precedes the thunder's roll;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the old Arabian Whirlwind called another Arab soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who is this that comes from Hara? not in kingly pomp and pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a great, free son of Nature, lion-souled and eagle-eyed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He has stood and seen Mount Hara to the Awful Presence nod;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He has heard from cloud and lightning—"Know there is no god but God!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Call ye this man an imposter? He was called "The Faithful," when,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A boy, he wandered o'er the deserts, by the wild-eyed Arab men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He was always called "The Faithful." Truth he knew was Allah's breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the Lie went darkly gnashing through the corridors of Death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He was fierce!" Yes! fierce at falsehood—fierce at hideous bits of wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the Koreish taught the people made the sun and solitude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But his heart was also gentle, and Affection's graceful palm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waving in his tropic spirit, to the weary brought a balm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Precepts?" "Have on each compassion:" "Lead the stranger to your door:"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"In your dealings keep up justice:" "Give a tenth unto the poor."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yet ambitious!" Yes! ambitious—while he heard the calm and sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aiden-voices sing—to trample troubled Hell beneath his feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Islam?" Yes! "Submit to Heaven!" "Prophet?" To the East thou art!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What are prophets but the trumpets blown by God to stir the heart?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the great heart of the desert stirred unto that solemn strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rolling from the trump at Hara over Error's troubled main.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And a hundred dusky millions honor still El Amin's rod—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Daily chanting—"Allah Akbar! know there is no god but God!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Call him then no more "Impostor." Mecca is the Choral Gate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, till Zion's noon shall take them, nations in her morning wait.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mr. Wallace has published a few songs. They have not the stately movement +of his other pieces, and the one which follows needs the application of the +file; but it is, like the others, very spirited:</p> + + +<h4>AVELINE.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——The sunny eyes of the maiden fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give answer better than voice or pen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That as he loves he is loved again.—<span class="smcap">C. C. Leeds.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love me dearly, love me dearly with your heart and with your eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whisper all your sweet emotions, as they gushing, blushing rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw your soft white arms about me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say you cannot live without me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, you are my Aveline; say, that you are only mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you cannot live without me, young and rosy Aveline!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love me dearly, dearly, dearly: speak you love-words silver-clearly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I may not doubt thus early of your fondness, of your truth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Press, oh! press your throbbing bosom closely, warmly to my own:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fix your kindled eyes on mine—say you live for me alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I fix my eyes on thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovely, trusting, artless, plighted; plighted, rosy Aveline!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love me dearly; love me dearly: radiant dawn upon my gloom:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ravish me with Beauty's bloom:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell me "Life has yet a glory: 'tis not all an idle story!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a gladdened vale in noonlight; as a weary lake in moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me in thy love recline:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show me life has yet a splendor in my tender Aveline.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love me dearly, dearly, dearly with your heart and with your eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whisper all your sweet emotions as they gushing, blushing rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw your soft white arms around me; say you <i>lived not</i> till you found me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say it, say it, Aveline! whisper you are only mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you cannot live without me, as you throw your arms about me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you <i>cannot</i> live without me, artless, rosy Aveline!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Our limits will not permit us to quote any of the remaining poems of this +volume in full, and we conclude our extracts with a few passages penciled +while in a hasty reading. In the piece entitled The Kings of Sorrow, the +poet sings:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Was <span class="smcap">He</span> not sad amid the grief and strife, the Lord of light and life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose torture made humanity divine, upon that woful hill of Palestine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then is it not far better thus to be, thoughtful, and brave, and melancholy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than given up to idle revelry, amid the unreligious brood of folly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For our sorrow is a worship, worship true, and pure, and calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounding from the choir of duty like a high, heroic psalm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its very darkness bearing to the bleeding heart a balm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brothers, we must have no wailing: do we agonize alone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look at all the pallid millions; hear a universal moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the mumbling, low-browed Bushman to a Lytton on his throne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shall we have coward faltering: Brothers! we must be sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By due labor at the forges blazing in the cave of Time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knowing life was made for duty, and that only cowards prate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a search for Happy Valley and the hard decrees of fate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing through this night of mourning all the future as a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a joy at last appearing on the centuries afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the meaning of the sorrow, when the mystery shall be plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the Earth shall see her rivers roll through Paradise again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! the vision gives to sorrow something white and purple-plumed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even the hurricane of Evil comes a hurricane perfumed.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>In the same:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">... The Storm is silent while we speak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The awe-struck Cloud hath paused above the peak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The far Volcano statlier waves on high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His smoking censer to the solemn sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see, the troubled Ocean folds his hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a great patience on the yellow sands.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In Rest:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So rest! and Rest shall slay your many woes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Motion is god-like—god-like is repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mountain-stillness, of majestic might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose peaks are glorious with the quiet light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of suns when Day is at his solemn close.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor deem that slumber must ignoble be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jove labored lustily once in airy fields;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And over the cloudy lea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He planted many a budding shoot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose liberal nature daily, nightly yields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A store of starry fruit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His labor done, the weary god went back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up the long mountain track<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his great house; there he did wile away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lightest thought a well-won holiday;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all the Powers crooned softly an old tune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wishing their Sire might sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all the sultry noon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cold blue night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And very soon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They heard the awful Thunderer breathing low and deep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the hush that dropped adown the spheres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the quiet of the awe-struck space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The worlds learned worship at the birth of years:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They looked upon their Lord's calm, kingly face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bade Religion come and kiss each starry place.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the same:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See what a languid glory binds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The long dim chambers of the darkling West,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While far below yon azure river winds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a blue vein on sleeping Beauty's breast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In The Gods of Old:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not realmless sit the ancient gods<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon their mountain-thrones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that old glorious Grecian Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of regal zones.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A languor o'er their stately forms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a sorrow on their wide white brows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">King-dwellers of the sky!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But theirs is still that large imperial throng<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of starry thoughts and firm but quiet wills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That murmured past the blind old King of Song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When staring round him on the Thunderer's hills.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the same:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">... Still Love, sublime, shall wrap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His awful eyebrows in Olympian shrouds.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or take along the Heaven's dark wilderness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His thunder-chase behind the hunted clouds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mortal eyes upturned shall behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apollo's robe of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweep through the long blue corridor of the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, kindling, speaks its Deity:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And He, the Ruler of the Sunless Land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of restless ghosts, shall fitfully illume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With smouldering fires, that stir in caverned eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hell's mournful House of Gloom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the Hymn to a Wind, Going Seaward:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">Move on! Move on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wind of the wide wild West! Tell thou to all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Isles, tell thou to all the Continents<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grandeur of my land! Speak of its vales<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Independence wears a pastoral wreath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the holy quiet of his flock;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of its mountains with their cloudy beards<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tossed by the breath of centuries; and speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of its tall cataracts that roll their bass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amid the choral of the midnight storms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of its rivers lingering through the plains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So long, that they seem made to measure time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of its lakes that mock the haughty sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of its caves where banished gods might find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night large enough to hide their crownless heads;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of its sunsets broad and glorious there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er Prairies spread like endless oceans on—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on—and on—over the far dim leagues<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till vision shudders o'er immensity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the same:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">——Troubled France<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall listen to thy calm deep voice, and learn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Freedom must be calm if she would fix<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mountain moveless in a heaving world.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In a Chant to the East:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still! Oh still!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Despite of passion, sin, and ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despite of all this weary world hath brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An angel band from Zion's holy hill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walks gently through the open gate of Thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, still! Oh, still!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despite of passion, sin, and ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One</span> in red vesture comes in sorrow's time—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One</span> crowned with thorns from that far Orient clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who pitying looks on me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gently asks, "Poor man, what aileth thee?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the same:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The nations must forever turn to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Feeling thy lustrous presence from afar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feed upon thy splendor as a sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Feeds on the shining shadow of a star.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In Wordsworth:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And many a brook shall murmur in my verse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many an ocean join his cloudy bass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a mountain tower aloft, whereon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The black storm crouches, with his deep-red eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glaring upon the valleys stretch'd below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a green wood rock the small, bright birds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To musical sleep beneath the large, full moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a star shall lift on high her cup<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of luminous cold chrysolite, set in gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chased subtilely over by angelic art;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To catch the odorous dews which poets drink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their wide wanderings; and many a sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall press the pale lips of the timorous morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Couch'd in the bridal east: and over all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will brood the visible presence of the <span class="smcap">One</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom my life has been a solemn chant.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the Last Words of Washington:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is an awful stillness in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When after wondrous deeds and light supreme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A star goes out in golden prophecy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is an awful stillness in the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When after wondrous deeds and light supreme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sceptres refused and forehead crowned with truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Hero dies, with all the future clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before him, and his voice made jubilant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By coming glories, and his nation hushed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though they heard the farewell of a god.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A great man is to earth as God to Heaven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In Greenwood Cemetery:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, ye whose mouldering frames were brought and placed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By pious hands within these flowery slopes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle hills, where are ye dwelling now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For man is more than element! The soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lives in the body as the sunbeam lives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In trees or flowers that were but clay without.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then where are ye, lost sunbeams of the mind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are ye where great Orion towers and holds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternity on his stupendous front?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where pale Neptune in the distant space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shows us how far, in his creative mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pomp of silence and concentred brows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Almighty walked? Or haply ye have gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where other matter roundeth into shapes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of bright beatitude: Or do ye know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aught of dull space or time, and its dark load<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of aching weariness?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mr. Wallace is somewhat too much of a rhetorician, and he has a few defects +of manner which, from this frequent repetition, he seems to regard as +beauties. Peculiar phrases, of doubtful propriety, but which have a musical +roll, occur in many of his poems, so that they become very prominent; this +fault, however, belongs chiefly to his earlier pieces; the extracts we have +given, we think will amply vindicate to the most critical judgments, the +praise here awarded to him as a poet of singular and unusual powers, +original, earnest, and in a remarkable degree <i>national</i>. It can scarcely +be said of any of our bards that they have caught their inspiration more +directly from observation and experience, or that their effusions, whatever +the distinction they have in art, are more genuine in feeling.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="AMERICA_AS_ABUSED_BY_A_GERMAN" id="AMERICA_AS_ABUSED_BY_A_GERMAN"></a>AMERICA AS ABUSED BY A GERMAN.</h2> + + +<p>Having made it a point to faithfully report all that is said of our country +by foreign travellers or journalists, we deem it a duty to lay before our +readers not only the more agreeable accounts given by those who have +impartially examined our institutions and manners, but also the more +prejudiced relations of those who, urged by interest or ill-nature, have +sketched simply the darker and more irregular outlines. And we are the more +induced to follow this course since we are fully convinced that it is +productive of equal good with the former. We have—particularly to English +eyes—appeared as a people who eagerly devour all that is said to our +discredit, and at the same time fiercely repudiate the slightest +insinuation that we in any thing fall short of perfection. As regards the +latter, we shall content ourselves with remarking, that even the +disposition to deny the existence of imperfection among us, redounds far +more to our credit, than the complacent exaltation of our weaker points to +virtues; while as to the former, we are certain that a higher feeling than +mere nervous, sensitive vanity, induces in us the desire</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To see ourselves as others see us,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>since there is no nation which more readily avails itself of the remarks of +others, even when by far too bitter or unjust to improve. True to our +national character of youthfulness, we are ever ready to act on every hint. +We are, <i>par excellence</i>, a <i>learning</i> nation. Send even the <i>young</i> +Englishman on his continental tour, and the chances are ten to one that he +returns with every prejudice strengthened, and his vanity increased. But +the American—ductile as wax, evinces himself even at an advanced period of +life, susceptible of improvement, yet firm in its retention. That we +earnestly strive in every respect to improve is evident from many "little +things" which foreigners ridicule. For instance, the habitual use of "fine +language," and the attempt to clothe even our ordinary trains of thought in +an elegant garb, which has been time and again cruelly ridiculed by Yankee +goaders, is to a reflecting mind suggestive of commendation, from the very +fact, that an attempt at least is made <i>to improve</i>. Better a thousand +times the impulse to progress, even through the whirlwinds of hyperbole and +inflated expression, than the heavy miasma of a patois, the lightest breath +of which at once proclaims the cockney or provincial.</p> + +<p>For the entertainment of those who are willing to live, laugh, and learn, +we are induced to give our readers a few extracts from a recently published +work, by a German, entitled, <i>Skizzen aus den Vereinigten Staaten von Nord +Amerika: Von</i> <span class="smcap">Dr. A. Kirsten</span>, (or, <i>Sketches of the United States of North +America</i>, by Dr. <span class="smcap">A. Kirsten</span>,) a work in which the author, after exhausting +all the three-penny thunder of ignorant abuse, coolly informs his readers, +that he has by no means represented things in their worst light. The +American public at large are not aware that among the rulers of Germany, +emigration to America is sternly yet anxiously discouraged. Rejoiced as +they are to behold our country a receptacle for the sweepings of their +prisons and <i>Fuchthaüser</i>, or houses of correction, they still gaze with an +alarmed glance at the almost incredible "forth-wandering" which has at +times depopulated entire villages, and borne with it an amount of wealth, +which, trifling as it may appear to us, is in a land of economy and poverty +of immense importance. The reader who judges of Germany by Great Britain +and Ireland, is mistaken. That emigration which is to the government of the +latter countries health and safety, brings to the former death and +destruction. As a proof of this, we need only point to the tone of all the +German papers which are in any manner connected with the interests of their +respective courts. In all we find the old song: Depreciation of America, as +far as applicable to the prevention of emigration. To accomplish this end, +writers are hired and poets feed; remedies against emigration are proposed +by political economists, and where possible, even clergymen are induced to +persuade their flocks to nibble still in the ancient stubble, or among the +same old barren rocks.</p> + +<p>Dr. Kirsten, it would appear, is either a natural and habitual grumbler, or +a paid hireling. If the former, we can only pity—if the latter, despise +him. Could our voice be heard by his patrons, we would, however, advise +them to employ a better grumbler—one who can wield lance and sword against +his foes, instead of mops and muddy water. A weaker lancer, or more +impotent and impudent abuser, has rarely appeared, even among our earlier +English decriers.</p> + +<p>Like many other weak-minded individuals, the Herr Doctor appears to have +started under the fullest conviction that our country was, if not a true +"<i>Schlaraffen Land</i>," or <i>Pays de Cocagne</i>, or Mahomet's Paradise, in which +pigeons ready roasted fly to the mouth, at least a realized <i>Icarie</i>, or +perfected Fourier-dom. All the books which he had read, relative to +America, described it in glowing colors, and inclined his mind favorably +toward it. Such was his faith in these books, or also so great his fear, +that these glorious dreams might be dissipated, that he did not even +ascertain or confirm their truth by the personal experience of those who +had been there, and we are informed naively enough in the preface, that +previous to his departure he had but once had an opportunity of conversing +with an educated German, who had resided for a long time in America. Such +weak heedlessness as this does not, to our ears at least, savor of the +characteristic prudence and deliberation of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span> the German, and strongly +confirms us in the belief, that the doctor wandered forth well knowing what +he was about—in other words, that he went his way with his opinions +already cut and dried.</p> + +<p>"After an eight weeks' voyage I arrived in New-York. It was at the end of +August. Even in the vicinity of the Gulf Stream a terrible heat oppressed +us, which increased as we approached land; but it was in that city that I +became aware of what the heat in America really was. Many visits which I +was obliged to make, caused during the day a cruel exhaustion, while at +night I found no refreshment in slumber, partly because the heat was hardly +diminished, and partly from the musquitoes, and to me unaccustomed alarms +of fire, which were nightly repeated, from which I found that life in +America was by no means so agreeable as I had been led to infer from books +and popular report."</p> + +<p>From the single, mysterious, educated German with whom the doctor had +conferred previous to his departure, he had learned that, in the United +States, any thing like marked distinction of class, rank, or caste, did not +exist; and that this was particularly the case among Germans living there. +"The educated and refined knew how to draw into their society the less +gifted, and it was really singular to observe in how short a time the +latter rose to a higher degree of culture. People actually destitute of +knowledge and manners, in fact could not be found. Moreover, I there +anticipated a southern climate, for which I had some years longed."</p> + +<p>How miserably the poor doctor was disappointed in these moderate and +reasonable anticipations, appears from the following lamentable account:</p> + +<p>"Ere long I, indeed, became acquainted with many Germans, who received me +in the kindest manner, and of whom recollections will ever be dear to me. +But this was not the case with the Americans, as I had been led to +anticipate, nor indeed with the Germans, generally. Among these I found +neither connection nor unity, and they mostly led a life such as I had in +Germany never met with, while nothing like social cultivation, in a higher +sense, was to be found. Led into the society of those who by day were +devoted to business, but in the evening scattered themselves, here and +there, without a point of union, I found myself in the noisy, but +pleasure-wanting city, forlorn and unwell. Many, to whom I complained of +what I missed in New-York, thought that it might be found in Philadelphia."</p> + +<p>But even in Philadelphia our pilgrim found not the promised Paradise, where +there was no distinction of rank or family, and where the more educated and +refined would eagerly adopt him, the lowly brother, into their Icarian +circle. Neither did he discover the golden tropical region—the southern +heaven—for which his soul had longed for years. Alas! no. "After a +residence of four weeks in New-York, I repaired to Philadelphia, and there +found that among the Germans, things were the same as in New-York—<i>in +fact, there was even less unity among them</i>." But although the doctor did +not discover any Germans inspired with the sublime spirit of harmony, he +certainly appears to have met with several who had acquired the American +virtue of common sense.</p> + +<p>"A German who had been for a long time resident in the United States +asserted that he had, as yet, met with no fellow-countryman, who had been +in the beginning satisfied with America. Others were of the opinion, that I +would first be pleased with the country when I had found a profitable +employment. <i>And some others, that I would never be satisfied.</i>"</p> + +<p>And so the doctor, ever dependent on others for happiness, looked here and +there, like the pilgrim after Aden, or the hero of the Morning Watch, for +the ideal of his dreams. The so-called entirely German towns in +Pennsylvania were German only in name. The heat disgusted him with the +south—the cold with the north. After residing nine months in Poughkeepsie, +he returned to New-York, and there remained for some time, occupied, as it +would appear, solely with acquiring information. This residence at an end, +he returned to Germany.</p> + +<p>We pass over the first chapters of his work, devoted to an ordinary account +of the climate, animals, and plants of the country, to a more interesting +picture, namely—its inhabitants. From this we learn that the American is +cold, dry, and monosyllabic, in his demeanor and conversation. During his +return to Germany he was delayed for a period of something less than nine +days at Falmouth, England, where, during his daily walks, he experienced +that in comparison with us the English are amiable, communicative, and +agreeable. Indeed, he found that when, during a promenade in America, +strangers returned his greetings, these polite individuals were invariably +Britons, "which proves that while in more recent times, the English have +assumed or approached the customs of other nations, the Americans have +remained true to the character and being of the earlier emigrants, and are +at present totally distinct from the English of to-day.</p> + +<p>"This is especially shown by the demeanor of Americans towards foreigners, +and nearly as much so by their conduct to one another. Regard them where we +will, they are ever the same. In the larger or the smaller towns, in the +streets or in the country, every one goes his own way without troubling +himself about others, and without saluting those with whom he is +unacquainted. Never do we see neighbors associating with each other; and +neighborly friendship is here unknown. If acquaintances meet, they nod to +each other, or the one murmurs,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span> '<i>How do you do?</i>' while the other +replies, '<i>Very well</i>,' without delaying an instant, unless business +affairs require a conversation. This concluded, they depart without a word, +unless, indeed, as an exception, they wish each other good morning, or +evening. Nor are they less distant in hotels, or during journeys in +railroad cars and steamboats."—"Continued conversations, in which several +take part, are extremely rare. Any one speaking frequently to a stranger, +at table or during a journey, runs the risk not merely of being regarded as +impertinent, but as entertaining dishonest views; and, indeed, one should +invariably be on his guard against Americans who manifest much +friendliness, since, in this manner, pickpockets are accustomed to make +their advances.</p> + +<p>"In a corresponding degree this coldness of disposition is manifested +towards more intimate acquaintances. Never do we observe among friends a +deep and heart-inspired, or even a confiding relationship. Nay, this is not +even to be found among members of the same family. The son or the daughter, +who has not for several days seen his or her parents, returns and enters +the room without a greeting, or without any signs of joy being manifested +by either. Or else the salutation is given and returned in such a manner +that scarcely a glance passes between the parties. The direst calamities +are imparted and listened to with an apathy evincing no signs of emotion, +and a great disaster, occurring on a railroad or steamboat, in the United +States, excites in Germany more attention and sympathy than in the former +country, even when friends and perhaps relatives have thereby suffered. +Even the loss of a member of the family is hardly manifested by the +survivors."</p> + +<p>In a recent English work we were indeed complimented for our <i>patience</i>, +but it was reserved for Doctor Kirsten to discover in us, this degree of +iron-hearted, immovable, <i>nil admirarism</i>. But when he goes on to assert +that "in the most deadly peril—in such moments as those which precede the +anticipated explosion of a steamboat boiler, even their ladies preserve the +same repose and equanimity," so that any expression from a stranger is +coldly listened to, without producing evident impression, <i>our</i> surprise is +changed to wonder, and we are tempted to inquire, Can it be possible, that +we are such Spartans—endowed with such superior human stoicism?</p> + +<p>"This coldness of the American is legibly impressed on his features. In +both sexes we frequently meet with pretty, and occasionally beautiful, +faces; but seldom, however, do we perceive in either, aught cheerful or +attractive. In place thereof we observe, even in the fairest, a certain +earnestness, verging towards coldness. From the great majority of faces we +should judge that no emotion could be made to express itself upon them, and +such is truly the case.</p> + +<p>"That the nearest acquaintances address each other with <i>Sir</i> and <i>Master</i>, +or <i>Miss</i> and <i>Mistress</i>, and that husband and wife, parents and children, +yes, even the children themselves employ these titles to each other, has +undoubtedly much to do with their marked and cold demeanor. But this must +have a deeper ground than that merely caused by the use of distant forms of +salutation.</p> + +<p>"And yet, the Americans are by no means of a bad disposition, since they +are neither crafty and treacherous, nor revengeful, nor even prone to +distrust; on the contrary, quite peaceable, and by the better classes, +there is much charity for apparent misery; seldom does one suffering with +bodily ailments leave the house of a wealthy man without being munificently +aided; the which charity is silently extended to him, without a sign of +emotion. Those who are capable of work—no matter what the cause of their +sufferings may be, seldom receive alms, for the Americans go upon the +principle that work is not disgraceful, and without reflecting that the +applicant may not have been accustomed to work, refuse in any manner to aid +him. If any man want work, he can apply to the overseers of the poor, who +are obliged to receive him in a poor-house, and maintain him until he find +such. Much is done at the state's expense for the aged, sick, and insane."</p> + +<p>After this our doctor lets fall a few flattering drops of commendation by +way of admitting that this iron immobility of the American is not without +its good points, but fearing that he has spoken too favorably, he brings up +the chapter by remarking that—</p> + +<p>"The here-mentioned good traits in the American character can, however, by +no means overbalance or destroy the evil impression which their coldness +produces, but merely soften it."</p> + +<p>From our appearance and deportment he proceeds to a bold, hasty, and +remarkably superficial criticism of education in America. The father of a +family in America, we are informed, is occupied with business from morning +to night, and leaves all care for the education and training of his +children to the mother, who is, however, generally quite incapable to +fulfil such duty. No teacher dare correct a child, for fear of incurring +legal punishment, in consequence of which they grow up destitute of +decency, order, or obedience. Some few, indeed, find their way eventually +into academies and colleges, which are not so badly managed; but, as for +school-boys, since there is no one to insure their regular attendance at +school, they play truant <i>à discrétion</i>. As for the children of the lower +and middle classes, they pass their boyhood in idleness, and grow up in +ignorance, until at a later period they enter into business, when they are +compelled to perfect themselves in the arts of reading and writing, yet +they quickly acquire the business spirit of their fathers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The education of the girls is, however, of an entirely different nature. +On them the mothers expend much care and trouble, which is, however, of the +most perverted kind, since it is in its nature entirely external. Before +all, do they seek to give them an air of decency and culture, which is, +nevertheless, more apparent than real. In accordance with the republican +spirit of striving after equality, every mother—no matter how poor, or how +low her rank may be—desires to bring her daughter up in such a manner that +she may be inferior in respectability and external culture to no one." "In +fact, the daughters of the poorest workman bear themselves like those of +the richest merchant. In their mien we see a pride flashing forth, which +can hardly be surpassed by that of the haughtiest daughters of the highest +German nobility. And that their daughters may in every respect equal those +of others, we see poor men lavishing upon them their last penny; and while +the boys run in the streets, covered with ragged and dirty fragments of +clothing, the sisters wear bonnets with veils, bearing parasols, and while +at school, short dresses and drawers."</p> + +<p>After this fearful announcement, we are informed, that the poor girls +profit as little in school as their unhappy brothers, and that no regard is +paid to their future destiny.</p> + +<p>"Even after the maiden has left school, her mother instructs her in no +feminine employment, not even in domestic affairs, and least of all, in +cookery. While the former lives, and the daughter remains unmarried, she +(the mother,) attends to housekeeping, as far as the word can be taken in +the German sense, while her daughter passes the time in reading, more +frequently with bedecking herself, but generally in idleness. When the +daughter, however, marries, we may well imagine how a house is managed in +such hands. The principal business henceforth is self-adornment and +housekeeping. All imaginable care is bestowed upon these branches, but none +whatever on any other. Cookery is of the lowest grade; nearly every day +sees the same dishes, and those, also, which are prepared with the least +trouble. Very frequently, indeed, the husbands are obliged to prepare their +meals before and after their business hours. Knitting and spinning, either +in town or country, is unknown; only manufactured or woven stockings are +worn, and shirts are generally purchased ready-made in the shops." "Washing +is the only work which they undertake, and this is done by young ladies of +wealthy family. This takes place every Monday, for there are very few +families who own linen sufficient for more than a single week's wear.</p> + +<p>"So long as the father lives, his daughters stick to him, useless as they +are, and heavy as the burden may be to him. It is <i>his</i> business to see +where the money comes from wherewith to nourish and decently clothe them: +on this account the servant girls in America generally consist of Irish, +Germans, and blacks. Even these, taking pattern from their mistresses, +refuse to perform duties which are expected from every housemaid in +Germany—for examples, boot-brushing, clothes-cleaning, and the bringing of +water across the way, as well as street and step-cleaning; for which reason +we often see respectable men performing these duties."</p> + +<p>From this terrible plague of daughters, and daughterly extravagance, the +doctor finds that poorer men in America are by no means as well off as +would be imagined from their high wages. "The father with many daughters, +so far from advancing in wealth, generally falls behind. Fearing the cost +of a family, many men remain unmarried, and in no country in the world are +there so many old maids as in the United States." From which the author +finds that dreadful instances of immorality and infanticide result.</p> + +<p>Filial duty, he asserts, is unknown. When the son proposes emigration to +another place, or the undertaking of a new business, he announces it to his +father "perhaps the evening before; while the daughters act in like manner +as regards marriage, or, it may be, mention it to him for the first time +after it has really taken place—from which the custom results that parents +give their children no part of their property before death. Nothing is +known of a true family life, in which parents are intimately allied to +children, or brothers and sisters to each other." We spare our readers the +sneer at those writers who have praised the Americans in their domestic +relations, with which this veracious, high-minded, and unprejudiced chapter +concludes.</p> + +<p>In science and art, we are sunk, it seems, almost beneath contempt; the +former being cultivated only so far as it is conducive to money-making. The +professions of Divinity, Law, and Medicine, are badly and superficially +taught and acquired. "There are, indeed," says the doctor, "in New-York and +Philadelphia, institutions where the student has opportunities of becoming, +if he will, an excellent physician; but these are far from being well +patronized."</p> + +<p>As regards general education, he asserts that, though a few professors in +our colleges are highly educated men, this cannot be said of their pupils, +since the latter set no value on knowledge not directly profitable, "and +the backward condition of ancient languages, natural science, even +geography, history and statistics, save as applicable to their own country, +is really a matter of wonder."</p> + +<p>But in the fine arts, it appears, we are sunk so far beneath contempt that +we really wonder that the doctor should have found it, in this particular, +worth while to abuse us. "There are but two monuments in all America worthy +of mention, and both are in Baltimore. Philadelphia and New-York have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span> +nothing of the kind to show, though each city possesses two public squares +or parks planted with trees, which are well adapted to receive such works +of art, and where the eye sadly misses them." "Public and private +collections of statues and pictures are altogether wanting, and the walls +of the rich are generally devoid of paintings and copper-plate engravings. +What they have generally consists of family portraits, or those of +Washington and other presidents. But to dazzle the eye, we find in the +possession of the wealthy, the most worthless pictures in expensive gold +frames. Of late years a public gallery has been established in New-York for +the sale of such productions. As far however as the works of native artists +are concerned, we find among them none inspired by high art; on the +contrary, they are generally, to the last degree, mediocre affairs, or mere +daubs (<i>wahre Klecksereien</i>) not worth hanging up; the better however are +exaggerated and unnatural both in subject and color. This is also the case +with most of the copper-plate engravings exposed for sale in the French +shop-windows, and which appear almost as if manufactured in Paris expressly +for the American taste. The inferior appreciation of art in the Americans +and their delight in extravagance is particularly shown in the political +caricatures, which are entirely deficient in all refined wit, consisting +either of stupid allusions to eminent men or party leaders, or direct and +clumsy exaggerations."</p> + +<p>By way of amends for all this abuse, our author admits that we excel in all +practical arts and labor-saving inventions. "But in proportion to the +backward state of the fine arts, is the advance which the Americans have +made in all pertaining to mechanics, and technical art. Particular +attention is paid to the supplanting of hand labor by machinery. Even the +most trifling apparatus or tool is constructed with regard to practical +use, and it only needs a more careful observation of this to convince us +that in all such matters they have the advantage of Germany.</p> + +<p>"It is often truly startling to see how simply and usefully those articles +used in business are constructed—for example, the one-horse cars (<i>drays +or trucks?</i>) and hand-carts, employed in conveying merchandise to and from +stores. As a proof how far the Americans have advanced in mechanic arts, we +may mention that high houses, of wood or brick, several stories high and +entire, are transported on rollers to places several feet distant. +Occasionally, to add a story, the house is raised by screws into the air +and the building substructed. In either case the family remains quietly +dwelling therein."</p> + +<p>But alas, even these few rays of commendatory comfort vanish in the dark, +after reflection, that it is precisely this ingenuity and enterprise in +business and practical matters which unfits us for all the kinder and more +social duties, and renders us insensible to every soothing and refining +influence. No allowance for past events, unavoidable circumstances, or our +possible future destiny, appears to cross the doctor's mind. All is dark +and desolate. True, every man of high and low degree—the laborer and +shop-man—the lawyer and clergyman, pause in the street to study any +mechanical novelty which meets their eye—but ere they do this the doctor +is mindful to suggest <i>that they pass picture shop-windows without deigning +to glance therein</i>. The professions are studied like trades, and in matters +of criminal law our condition is truly deplorable. It happened not many +months since, he informs us, that the publisher of a slanderous New-York +paper, was castigated by a lady, with a hunting whip, in Broadway, at noon. +The said lady had been (according to custom) unjustly and cruelly abused in +the journal referred to. So great was her irritation that she actually +followed the editor along the streets, lashing him continually. But the +<i>finale</i> of this startling incident consists of the fact that the lady, on +pleading guilty, was fined six cents.</p> + +<p>There is an obscurity attached to his manner of narrating this anecdote, +which leaves the opinion of the author a little uncertain. Six cents would +in some parts of Germany be a serious fine, worthy of appeal, mercy, and +abatement. In different parts of Suabia and even Baden, notices may be seen +posted up, in which the commission of certain local offences is prohibited +by fines ranging from four to twelve cents. On the whole, as a zealous +defender of the purity and dignity of woman, when unjustly assailed, we are +inclined to think that the author sides with <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">lady</span>.</p> + +<p>But we need not follow the doctor further in his career of discontent and +prejudice. Before concluding, we would however caution the reader against +supposing that he expresses views in any degree accordant with the feelings +and opinions of his countrymen. The best, the most numerous, the most +impartial, and we may add, by far the most favorable works on America, are +from German pens. In confirmation of our assertion that his work is +unfavorably regarded at home we may adduce the fact that it has been +severely handled by excellent reviewers among them; take for example the +following, from the Leipzig <i>Central Blatt</i>. After favorably noticing the +late excellent work of <span class="smcap">Quentin</span> on the United States, he proceeds to say of +the doctor's <i>Sketches</i>, that</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Herr Kirsten</span> seems to desire to be that for North America, which <i>Nicolai</i> +of noted memory was in his own time for Italy. Already, on arrival, we find +him in ill temper, caused by the excessive heat, which ill-humor is +aggravated by his being obliged to make many calls by day, and <i>the +musquitoes and alarms of fire which disturbed his slumbers during the +night</i>. In other places he was no better pleased.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The Germans were disagreeable on account of their want of unity, the +Americans from their coldness—in short, he missed home life—could not +accustom himself to the new country, and returned after a sojourn of less +than two years to Germany. In 'sketches,' resulting from such +circumstances, we naturally encounter only the darker side of American +life. Much may indeed be true of what he asserts regarding the natural +capabilities, climate, soil, and inhabitants of the land, the manners and +customs of the latter, their common and party spirit, education of +children, and the condition of science and art; but particulars are either +too hastily generalized, or else the better points, as for example, the +characteristic traits of the people, their extraordinary progress in +physical and mental culture, and the excellent management of the country, +are either entirely omitted or receive by far too slight notice. His +narrow-minded and ill-natured disposition to find fault is also shown by +his reproaching the Americans with faults which they share in common with +every nation in America, <i>ourselves included</i>, as, for example, excesses +committed by political partisans. Still, the book may not be entirely +without value, at least to those who see every thing on the other side of +the water only in a rosy light, and believe that the German emigrant as +soon as his foot touches shore, enters a state of undisturbed happiness."</p> + +<p>So much for the critical doctor's popularity at home. In conclusion, we may +remark that our main object in this notice, in addition to amusing our +readers, has been to prove by this exception, and the displeasure which it +excites in Germany, the rule, that by the writers of that country our own +has been almost invariably well spoken of. And we have deemed these remarks +the more requisite, lest some reader might casually infer that Dr. Kirsten +expressed the views and sentiments of any considerable number of his +countrymen.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REMINISCENCES_OF_THE_LATE_MR_COOPER_HIS_LAST_DAYS" id="REMINISCENCES_OF_THE_LATE_MR_COOPER_HIS_LAST_DAYS"></a>REMINISCENCES OF THE LATE MR. COOPER.—HIS LAST DAYS.</h2> + +<h3>A LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF THE INTERNATIONAL.</h3> + +<h4>BY JOHN W. FRANCIS, M. D., LL. D.</h4> + + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">New-York</span>, <i>October 1st, 1851</i>.<br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Sir</span>,—I readily comply with your wish that I should furnish you +with such reminiscences of the late Mr. Cooper as occur to me, although the +pressure of professional engagements absolutely forbids such details as I +would gladly record. For nearly thirty years I have been the occasional +medical adviser, and always the ardent personal friend of the illustrious +deceased; but our intercourse has been so fragmentary, owing to the +distance we have lived apart, and the busy lives we have both led, that the +impressions which now throng upon and impress me are desultory and varied, +though endearing. I first knew Mr. Cooper in 1823. He at that time was +recognized as the author of "Precaution," of "the Spy," and of "the +Pioneers." The two last-named works had attracted especial notice by their +widely extended circulation, and the novelty of their character in American +literature. He was often to be seen at that period in conversation at the +City Hotel in Broadway, near Old Trinity, where many of our most renowned +naval and military men convened. He was the original projector of a +literary and social association called the "Bread and Cheese Club," whose +place of rendezvous was at Washington Hall. They met weekly, in the +evening, and furnished the occasion of much intellectual gratification and +genial pleasure. That most adhesive friend, the poet Halleck, Chancellor +Kent, G. C. Verplanck, Wiley, the publisher of Mr. Cooper's works, Dekay, +the naturalist, C. A. Davis (Jack Downing), Charles King, now President of +Columbia College, J. Depeyster Ogden, J. W. Jarvis, the painter, John and +William Duer, and many others, were of the confederacy. Washington Irving, +at the period of the formation of this circle of friends, was in England, +occupied with his inimitable "Sketch Book." I had the honor of an early +admittance to the Club. In balloting for membership the bread declared an +affirmative; and two ballots of cheese against an individual proclaimed +non-admittance.</p> + +<p>From the meetings of this society Mr. Cooper was rarely absent. When +presiding officer of the evening, he attracted especial consideration from +the richness of his anecdotes, his wide American knowledge, and his +courteous behavior. These meetings were often signally characterized by the +number of invited guests of high reputation who gathered thither for +recreative purposes, both of mind and body; jurists of acknowledged +eminence, governors of different States, senators, members of the House of +Representatives, literary men of foreign distinction, and authors of repute +in our own land. It was gratifying to observe the dexterity with which Mr. +Cooper would cope with some eastern friend who contributed to our delight +with a "Boston notion," or with Trelawny, the associate of Byron, +descanting on Greece and the "Younger Son," or with any guests of the Club, +however dissimilar their habits or character; accommodating his +conversation and manners with the most marvellous facility. The New-York +attachments of Mr. Cooper were ever dominant. I witnessed a demonstration +of the early enthusiasm and patriotic activity of our late friend in his +efforts, with many of our leading citizens, in getting up the Grand Castle +Garden Ball, given in honor of Lafayette. The arrival of the "Nation's +Guest" at New-York, in 1824, was the occasion of the most joyful +demonstrations, and the celebration was a splendid spectacle; it brought +together celebrities from many remote parts of the Union. Mr. Cooper must +have undergone extraordinary fatigue during the day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span> and following night; +but nearly as he was exhausted, he exhibited, when the public festivals +were brought to a close, that astonishing readiness and skill in literary +execution for which he was always so remarkable. Adjourning near daybreak +to the office of his friend Mr. Charles King, he wrote out more quickly +than any other hand could copy, the very long and masterly report which +next day appeared in Mr. King's paper—a report which conveyed to tens of +thousands who had not been present, no inconsiderable portion of the +enjoyment they had felt who were the immediate participants in this famous +festival. The manly bearing, keen intelligence, and thoroughly honorable +instincts of Mr. Cooper, united as they were with this gift of +writing—soon most effectively exhibited in his literary labors, now +constantly increasing—excited my highest expectations of his career as an +author, and my sincere esteem for the man. There was a fresh promise, a +vigorous impulse, and especially an American enthusiasm about him, that +seemed to indicate not only individual fame, but national honor. Since that +period I have followed his brilliant course with no less admiration than +delight.</p> + +<p>It was to me a cause of deep regret that soon after his return from Europe, +crowned with a distinct and noble reputation, he became involved in a +series of law-suits, growing out of libels, and originating partly in his +own imprudence, and partly in the reckless severity of the press. But these +are but temporary considerations in the retrospect of his achievements; and +if I mistake not, in these difficulties he in every instance succeeded in +gaining the verdict of the jury. It was a task insurmountable to overcome a +<i>fact</i> as stated by Mr. Cooper. Associated as he was in my own mind with +the earliest triumphs of American letters, I think of him as the creator of +the genuine nautical and forest romances of "Long Tom Coffin" and +"Leatherstocking;" as the illustrator of our country's scenes and +characters to the Europeans; and not as the critic of our republican +inconsistencies, or as a litigant with caustic editors.</p> + +<p>It is well known that for a long period Mr. Cooper, at occasional times +only, visited New-York city. His residence for many years was an elegant +and quiet mansion on the southern borders of Otsego Lake. Here—in his +beautiful retreat, embellished by the substantial fruits of his labors, and +displaying everywhere his exquisite taste, his mind, ever intent on +congenial tasks, which, alas! are left unfinished, surrounded by a devoted +and highly cultivated family, and maintaining the same clearness of +perception, serene firmness, and integrity of tone, which distinguished him +in the meridian of his life—were his mental employments prosecuted. He +lived chiefly in rural seclusion, and with habits of methodical industry. +When visiting the city he mingled cordially with his old friends; and it +was on the last occasion of this kind, at the beginning of April, that he +consulted me with some earnestness in regard to his health. He complained +of the impaired tone of the digestive organs, great torpor of the liver, +weakness of muscular activity, and feebleness in walking. Such suggestions +were offered for his relief as the indications of disease warranted. He +left the city for his country residence, and I was gratified shortly after +to learn from him of his better condition.</p> + +<p>During July and August I maintained a correspondence with him on the +subject of his increasing physical infirmities, and frankly expressed to +him the necessity of such remedial measures as seemed clearly necessary. +Though occasionally relieved of my anxieties by the kind communications of +his excellent friend and attending physician, Dr. Johnson, I was not +without solicitude, both from his own statements as well as those of Dr. +Johnson himself, that his disorder was on the increase; certain symptoms +were indeed mitigated, but the radical features of his illness had not been +removed. A letter which I soon received induced me forthwith to repair to +Cooperstown, and on the 27th of August I saw Mr. Cooper at his own +dwelling. My reception was cordial. With his family about him he related +with great clearness the particulars of his sufferings, and the means of +relief to which he was subjected. Dr. Johnson was in consultation. I at +once was struck with the heroic firmness of the sufferer, under an +accumulation of depressing symptoms. His physical aspect was much altered +from that noble freshness he was wont to bear; his complexion was pallid; +his interior extremities greatly enlarged by serous effusion; his debility +so extreme as to require an assistant for change of position in bed; his +pulse sixty-four. There could be no doubt that the long continued hepatic +obstruction had led to confirmed dropsy, which, indeed, betrayed itself in +several other parts of the body. Yet was he patient and collected. That +powerful intellect still held empire with commanding force, clearness, and +vigor. I explained to him the nature of his malady; its natural termination +when uncontrolled; dwelt upon the favorable condition and yet regular +action of the heart, and other vital functions, and the urgent necessity of +endeavoring still more to fulfil certain indications, in order to overcome +the force of particular tendencies in the disorder. I frankly assured him +that within the limits of a week a change in the complaint was +indispensable to lessen our forebodings of its ungovernable nature.</p> + +<p>He listened with fixed attention; and now and then threw out suggestions of +cure such as are not unfrequent with cultivated minds.</p> + +<p>The great characteristics of his intellect were now even more conspicuous +than before. Not a murmur escaped his lips; conviction of his extreme +illness wrought no alteration<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span> of features; he gave no expression of +despondency; his tone and his manner were equally dignified, cordial, and +natural. It was his happiness to be blessed with a family around him whose +greatest gratification was to supply his every want, and a daughter for a +companion in his pursuits, who was his intelligent amanuensis and +correspondent as well as indefatigable nurse.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>I forbear enlarging on matters too professional for present detail. During +the night after my arrival he sustained an attack of severe fainting, which +convinced me still further of his great personal weakness. An ennobling +philosophy, however, gave him support, and in the morning he had again been +refreshed by a sleep of some few hours' duration. I renewed to him and to +his family the hopes and the discouragements in his case. Never was +information of so grave a cast received by any individual in a calmer +spirit. He said little as to his prospects of recovery. Upon my taking +leave of him, however, shortly after, in the morning, I am convinced from +his manner that he shared my apprehensions of a fatal termination of his +disorder. Nature, however strong in her gifted child, had now her healthful +rights largely invaded. His constitutional buoyancy and determination, by +leading him to slight that distant and thorough attention demanded by +primary symptoms, doubtless contributed to their subsequent aggravation.</p> + +<p>I shall say but a few words more on this agonizing topic. The letters which +I received, after my return home, communicated at times some cheering facts +of renovation, but on the whole, discouraging demonstrations of augmenting +illness, and lessened hope, were their prominent characteristics. A letter +to me from his son-in-law, of the 14th of September, announced: "Mr. Cooper +died, apparently without much pain, to-day at half-past one, P.M., leaving +his family, although prepared by his gradual failure, in deep affliction. +He would have been sixty-two years old to-morrow."</p> + +<p>A life of such uniform and unparalleled excellence and service, a career so +brilliant and honorable, closed in a befitting manner, and was crowned by a +death of quiet resignation. Conscious of his approaching dissolution, his +intelligence seemed to glow with increased fulness as his prostrated frame +yielded by degrees to the last summons. It is familiarly known to his most +intimate friends, that for some considerable period prior to his fatal +illness, he appropriated liberal portions of his time to the investigation +of scriptural truths, and that his convictions were ripe in Christian +doctrines. With assurances of happiness in the future, he graciously +yielded up his spirit to the disposal of its Creator. His death, which must +thus have been the beginning of a serene and more blessed life to him, is +universally regarded as a national loss.</p> + +<p>Will you allow me to add a few words to this letter, already perhaps of +undue extent. It has been my gratification during a life of some duration +to have become personally acquainted with many eminent characters in the +different walks of professional and literary avocation. I never knew an +individual more thoroughly imbued with higher principles of action than Mr. +Cooper: he acted upon principles, and fully comprehended the principles +upon which he acted. Casual observers could scarcely, at times, understand +and appreciate his motives or conduct. An independence of character worthy +of the highest respect, and a natural boldness of temper which led him to a +frank, emphatic, and intrepid utterance of his thoughts and sentiments, +were uncongenial to that large class of people, who, from the want of moral +courage, or a feeble physical temperament, habitually conform to public +opinion, and endeavor to conciliate the world. Mr. Cooper was one of the +most genuine Americans in his tone of mind, in manly self-reliance, in +sympathy with the scenery, the history, and the constitution of his +country, which it has ever been my lot to know. His genius was American, +fresh, vigorous, independent, and devoted to native subjects. The +opposition he met with on his return from Europe, in consequence of his +patriotic, though, perhaps, injudicious attempts to point out the faults +and duties of his countrymen, threw him reluctantly on the defensive, and +sometimes gave an antagonistic manner to his intercourse; but, whoever, +recognizing his intellectual superiority, and respecting his integrity of +purpose, met him candidly, in an open, cordial and generous spirit, soon +found in Mr. Cooper an honest man, and a thorough patriot.</p> + +<p>How strongly is impressed upon my memory his personal appearance, so often +witnessed during his rambles in Broadway and amidst the haunts of this busy +population. His phrenological development might challenge comparison with +that of the most favored of mortals. His manly figure, high, prominent +brow, clear and fine gray eye, and royal bearing, revealed the man of will +and intelligence. His intellectual hardihood was remarkable. He worked upon +a novel with the patient industry of a man of business, and set down every +fact of costume, action, expression, local feature, and detail of maritime +operations or woodland experience, with a kind of consciousness and +precision that produced a Flemish exactitude of detail, while in portraying +action, he seemed to catch by virtue of an eagle glance and an heroic +temperament, the very spirit of his occasion and convey it to the reader's +nerves and heart, as well as to his understanding. Herein Mr. Cooper was a +man of unquestionable originality. As to his literary services, some idea +may be formed of the consideration in which they are held by the almost +countless editions of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span> many of his works in his own country, and their +circulation abroad by translations into almost every living tongue.</p> + +<p>I may add a word or two on the extent of his sympathies with humanity. What +a love he cherished for superior talents in every ennobling pursuit in +life—how deep an interest he felt in the fortunes of his scientific and +literary friends—what gratification he enjoyed in the physical inquiries +of Dekay and Le Conte, the muse of Halleck and of Bryant, the painting of +Cole, the sculpture of Greenough! Dunlap, were he speaking, might tell you +of his gratuities to the unfortunate playwright and the dramatic performer. +With the mere accumulators of money—those golden calves whose hearts are +as devoid of emotion as their brains of the faculty of cogitation—he held +no congenial communion at any time: they could not participate in the +fruition of his pastime; and he felt in himself an innate superiority in +the gifts with which nature had endowed him. He was ever vigilant, a keen +observer of men and things; and in conversation frank and emphatic. It was +a gratifying spectacle to encounter him with old Col. Trumbull, the +historical painter, descanting on the many excellencies of Cole's pencil, +in the delineation of American forest-scenery—a theme the richest in the +world for Mr. Cooper's contemplation. A Shylock with his money-bags never +glutted over his possessions with a happier feeling than did these two +eminent individuals—the venerable Colonel with his patrician dignity, and +Cooper with his somewhat aristocratic bearing, yet democratic sentiment; +the one fruitful with the glories of the past, the other big with the +stirring events of his country's progress, in the refinement of arts, and +national power. Trumbull was one of the many old men I knew who delighted +in Cooper's writings, and who in conversation dwelt upon his captivating +genius.</p> + +<p>To his future biographer Mr. Cooper has left the pleasing duty rightly to +estimate the breadth and depth of his powerful intellect—psychologically +to investigate the development and functions of that cerebral organ, which +for so many years, with such rapid succession and variety, poured out the +creations of poetic thought and descriptive illustration—to determine the +value of his capacious mind by the influence which, in the dawn of American +literature, it has exercised, in rearing the intellectual fabric of his +country's greatness—and to unfold the secret springs of those +disinterested acts of charity to the poor and needy, which signalized his +conduct as a professor of religious truth, and a true exampler of the +Christian graces. He has unquestionably done more to make known to the +transatlantic world his country, her scenery, her characteristics, her +aboriginal inhabitants, her history, than all preceding writers. His death +may well be pronounced a national calamity. By common consent he long +occupied an enviable place—the highest rank in American literature. To +adopt the quaint phraseology of old Thomas Fuller, the felling of so mighty +an oak must needs cause the increase of much underwood. Who will fill the +void occasioned by his too early departure from among us, time alone must +determine. With much consideration, I remain,</p> + +<p class="right"> +Dear sir, yours most truly,<br /> +JOHN W. FRANCIS.<br /> +</p> + + +<h4>PUBLIC HONORS TO THE MEMORY OF MR. COOPER.</h4> + +<p>In the last number of the <i>International</i> we were able merely to announce +the death of our great countryman Mr. Cooper. The following account of +proceedings in reference to the event is compiled mainly from the <i>Evening +Post</i>.</p> + +<p>A meeting of literary men, and others, was held at the City Hall in +New-York, on the 25th of September, for the purpose of taking the necessary +measures for rendering fit honors to the memory of the deceased author. +Rufus W. Griswold, calling the meeting to order, said it had been convened +to do justice to the memory of the most illustrious American who had died +in the present century. Since the design of such a meeting had first been +formed, a consultation among Mr. Cooper's friends had been held, and it had +been determined that the present should be only a preparatory meeting, for +the making of such arrangements as should be thought necessary for a more +suitable demonstration of respect for that eminent person, whose name, more +completely than that of any of his cotemporaries and countrymen, had filled +the world.</p> + +<p>On motion of Judge Duer, Washington Irving was elected President of the +meeting. On motion of Joseph Blunt, Fitz Greene Halleck and Rufus W. +Griswold were appointed Secretaries.</p> + +<p>Mr. Blunt said, that as it had been thought proper to consider this +occasion as merely preliminary, and for the purpose of making arrangements +to do honor to the distinguished author who has left us, he would move that +a committee of five be appointed by the chair, to report what measures +should be adopted, by the literary gentlemen of this city and of the +country, so far as they may see fit to join them, for the purpose of +rendering appropriate honors to the memory of the late J. Fenimore Cooper.</p> + +<p>The motion was adopted, and the chair appointed the following gentlemen +members of the committee: Judge Duer, Richard B. Kimball, Dr. Francis, Fitz +Greene Halleck, and George Bancroft; to whom Washington Irving and Rufus W. +Griswold were subsequently added. The meeting then adjourned.</p> + +<p>This committee afterwards met and appointed as a General Committee to carry +out the designs of the meeting: Washington Irving, James K. Paulding, John +W. Francis, Gulian C. Verplanck, Charles King, Richard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span> B. Kimball, Rufus +W. Griswold, Lewis Gaylord Clarke, Francis L. Hawks, John A. Dix, George +Bancroft, Fitz Greene Halleck, John Duer, William C. Bryant, George P. +Morris, Charles Anthon, Samuel Osgood, J. M. Wainright, and William W. +Campbell.</p> + +<p>R. W. Griswold, Donald G. Mitchell, Parke Godwin, C. F. Briggs, and +Starbuck Mayo were appointed a Committee of Correspondence.</p> + +<p>Besides letters from many of the gentlemen present, others had been +received from some twenty of the most eminent literary men of the United +States, all expressing the warmest sympathy in the proposal to do every +possible honor to the memory of Mr. Cooper. We copy from these the +following:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"> +<i>From Washington Irving.</i></p> +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Sunnyside</span>, Thursday, Sept. 18, 1851.<br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Sir</span>:—The death of Fenimore Cooper, though +anticipated, is an event of deep and public concern, +and calls for the highest expression of public +sensibility. To me it comes with something of a shock; +for it seems but the other day that I saw him at our +common literary resort at Putnam's, in full vigor of +mind and body, a very "castle of a man," and apparently +destined to outlive me, who am several years his +senior. He has left a space in our literature which +will not easily be supplied....</p> + +<p>I shall not fail to attend the proposed meeting on +Wednesday next. Very respectfully, your friend and +servant,</p> + +<p class="right"> +WASHINGTON IRVING.</p> +<p> +Rev. <span class="smcap">Rufus W. Griswold</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"> +<i>From William C. Bryant.</i></p> +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Rochester</span>, Friday, Sept. 19, 1851.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Sir</span>:—I am sorry that the arrangements for my +journey to the West are such that I cannot be present +at the meeting which is about to be held to do honor to +the memory of Mr. Cooper, on losing whom not only the +country, but the civilized world and the age in which +we live, have lost one of their most illustrious +ornaments. It is melancholy to think that it is only +until such men are in their graves that full justice is +done to their merit. I shall be most happy to concur in +any step which may be taken to express, in a public +manner, our respect for the character of one to whom we +were too sparing of public distinctions in his +lifetime, and beg that I may be included in the +proceedings of the occasion as if I were present. I am, +very respectfully yours,</p> + +<p class="right"> +WM. C. BRYANT.</p> +<p> +Rev. <span class="smcap">R. W. Griswold</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"> +<i>From Bishop Doane.</i></p> +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Riverside</span>, Tuesday, Sept. 22, 1851.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Sir</span>:—...I beg you to say, generally, in your +discretion, that I yield to no one who will be present, +in my estimate of the distinguished talents and +admirable services of Mr. Cooper, or in my readiness to +do the highest honor to his illustrious memory. His +name must ever find a place among the "household words" +of all our hearts; a name as beautiful for its +blamelessness of life, as it is eminent for its +attainments in letters, which has subordinated to the +higher interests of patriotism and piety, the fervors +of fancy and the fascinations of romance. Very +faithfully, your friend and servant,</p> + +<p class="right"> +G. W. DOANE.</p> +<p> +Rev. <span class="smcap">Rufus W. Griswold</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="center"> +<i>From Mr. Bancroft.</i></p> +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Newport</span>, R. I., Thursday, Sept. 18, 1851.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Sir</span>:—I heartily sympathize with the design of +a public tribute to the genius, manly character, and +great career of the illustrious man whose loss we +deplore. Others have combined very high merit as +authors, with professional pursuits. Mr. Cooper was, of +those who have gone from among us, the first to devote +himself exclusively to letters. We must admire the +noble courage with which he entered on a course which +none before him had tried; the glory which he justly +won was reflected on his country, of whose literary +independence he was the pioneer, and deserves the +grateful recognition of all who survive him.</p> + +<p>By the time proposed for the meeting, I fear I shall +not be able to return to New-York; but you may use my +name in any manner that shall strongly express my +delight in the writings of our departed friend, my +thorough respect for his many virtues, and my sense of +that surpassing ability which has made his own name and +the names of the creations of his fancy, household +words throughout the civilized world. I remain, dear +sir, very truly yours,</p> + +<p class="right"> +GEORGE BANCROFT. +</p> +<p>Rev. <span class="smcap">R. W. Griswold</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="center"> +<i>From John P. Kennedy.</i></p> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Baltimore</span>, October, 1851.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>:—Your invitation reached me too late to +enable me to participate in the meeting which has just +been held at the City Hall in your city, to render +appropriate honors to the memory of Mr. Cooper.</p> + +<p>I rejoice to see what has been done and what you +propose to do. It is due to the eminent merits of +Fenimore Cooper, that there should be an impressive +public recognition of the loss which our country has +sustained in his death. He stood confessedly at the +head of a most attractive and popular department of our +literature, in which his extraordinary success had +raised him up a fame that became national. The country +claimed it as its own. This fame was acknowledged and +appreciated not only wherever the English tongue is the +medium of thought, but every where amongst the most +civilized nations of Europe.</p> + +<p>Our literature, in the lifetime of the present +generation, has grown to a maturity which has given it +a distinction and honorable place in that aggregate +which forms national character. No man has done more in +his sphere to elevate and dignify that character than +Fenimore Cooper: no man is more worthy than he, for +such services, of the highest honors appropriate to a +literary benefactor. His genius has contributed a rich +fund to the instruction and delight of his countrymen, +which will long be preserved amongst the choicest +treasures of American letters, and will equally induce +to render our national literature attractive to other +nations. We owe a memorial and a monument to the man +who has achieved this. This work is the peculiar +privilege of the distinguished scholars of New-York, +and I have no doubt will be warmly applauded, and if +need be, assisted, by every scholar and friend of +letters in the Union.</p> + +<p>With the best wishes for the success of this +enterprise, I am, my dear sir, very truly yours,</p> + +<p class="right"> +JOHN P. KENNEDY.</p> +<p> +Rev. <span class="smcap">Rufus W. Griswold</span>.</p> + +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="center"> +<i>From C. J. Ingersoll.</i></p> +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Fonthill, Philadelphia</span>, September, 30th, 1851.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>:—Your favor, inviting me to a meeting of the +friends of Fenimore Cooper, did not reach me till this +morning, owing probably to irregularity of the +post-office. Otherwise I should have tried to attend +the proposed meeting, not only as a friend of Mr. +Cooper, but as one among those of his countrymen who +consider his memory a national trust for honored +preservation.</p> + +<p>In my opinion of Fenimore Cooper as a novelist he is +entitled to one merit to which few if any one of his +cotemporary European romance writers can lay claim, to +wit, originality. Leatherstocking is an original +character, and entirely American, which is probably one +of the reasons why Cooper was more appreciated in +Continental Europe than even Scott, whose magnificent +fancy embellished every thing, but whose genius, I +think, originated nothing. And then, in my estimate of +Mr. Cooper's superior merits, was manly independence—a +rare American virtue. For the less free Englishman or +Frenchman, politically, there was a freeness in the +expression as well as adoption of his own views of men +and things. And a third kindred merit of Cooper was +high-minded and gentlemanly abstinence from +self-applause. No distinguished or applauded man ever +was less apt to talk of himself and his performances. +Unlike too many modern poets, novelists, and other +writers, apt to become debauchees, drunkards, +blackguards and the like (as if, as some think, genius +and vice go together), Mr. Cooper was a gentleman +remarkable for good plain sense, correct deportment, +striking probity and propriety, and withal +unostentatiously devout. Not meaning to disparage any +one in order by odious comparisons to extol him, I deem +his Naval History a more valuable and enduring +historical work than many others, both English and +American, of contemporaneous publication and much wider +dissemination. In short, if the gentlemen whose names I +have seen in the public journals with yours, proposing +some concentrated eulogium, should determine to appoint +a suitable person, with time to prepare it, I believe +that Fenimore Cooper may be made the subject of +illustration in very many and most striking lights, +justly reflecting him, and with excellent influence on +his country.</p> + +<p>I do not recollect, from what I read lately in the +newspapers, precisely what you and the other gentlemen +associated with you in this proceeding propose to do, +or whether any thing is to take place. But if so, +whatever and wherever it may be, I beg you to use this +answer to your invitation, and any services I can +render, as cordial contributions, which I shall be +proud and happy to make. I am very respectfully your +humble servant,</p> + +<p class="right"> +C. J. INGERSOLL.</p> +<p>Rev. <span class="smcap">Rufus W. Griswold</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="center"> +<i>From G. P. R. James.</i></p> +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Stockbridge</span>, Mass., 23d September, 1851.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Doctor Griswold</span>:—I regret extremely that it will +not be in my power to be present at the meeting to +testify respect for the memory of Mr. Cooper. I grieve +sincerely that so eminent a man is lost to the country +and the world; and though unacquainted with him +personally, I need hardly tell you how highly his +abilities as an author, and his character, were +appreciated by yours faithfully,</p> + +<p class="right"> +G. P. R. JAMES.<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"> +<i>From Mr. Everett.</i></p> +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Cambridge</span>, 23d September, 1851.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>:—I received this afternoon your favor of the +17th, inviting me to attend and participate in the +meeting to be held in your City Hall, for the purpose +of doing honor to the memory of the late Mr. Fenimore +Cooper.</p> + +<p>I sincerely regret that I cannot be with you. The state +of the weather puts it out of my power to make the +journey. The object of the meeting has my entire +sympathy. The works of Mr. Cooper have adorned and +elevated our literature. There is nothing more purely +American, in the highest sense of the word, than +several of them. In his department he is <i>facile +princeps</i>. He wrote too much to write every thing +equally well; but his abundance flowed out of a full, +original mind, and his rapidity and variety bespoke a +resolute and manly consciousness of power. If among his +works there were some which, had he been longer spared +to us, he would himself, on reconsideration, have +desired to recal, there are many more which the latest +posterity "will not willingly let die."</p> + +<p>With much about him that was intensely national, we +have but one other writer (Mr. Irving), as widely known +abroad. Many of Cooper's novels were not only read at +every fireside in England, but were translated into +every language of the European continent.</p> + +<p>He owed a part of his inspiration to the magnificent +nature which surrounded him; to the lakes, and forests, +and Indian traditions, and border-life of your great +state. It would have been as difficult to create +Leatherstocking anywhere out of New-York, or some state +closely resembling it, as to create Don Quixotte out of +Spain. To have trained and possessed Fenimore Cooper +will be—is already—with justice, one of your greatest +boasts. But we cannot let you monopolize the care of +his memory. We have all rejoiced in his genius; we have +all felt the fascination of his pen; we all deplore his +loss. You must allow us all to join you in doing honor +to the name of our great American novelist. I remain, +dear sir, with great respect, very truly yours,</p> + +<p class="right"> +EDWARD EVERETT.</p> +<p>Rev. <span class="smcap">Rufus W. Griswold</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>Letters of similar import were received from Richard H. Dana, George +Ticknor, William H. Prescott, John Neal, and many other eminent men, all +approving the design to render the highest honors to the illustrious +deceased.</p> + +<p>At the meeting of the New-York Historical Society, on the evening of +Tuesday, the 7th of October, after the transaction of the regular business, +the following resolutions were moved by Rev. Rufus W. Griswold, and +seconded by Mr. George Bancroft:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Whereas</i>, It has pleased Almighty God to remove from +this life our illustrious associate and countryman, +<span class="smcap">James Fenimore Cooper</span>, while his fame was in its +fulness, and his intelligence was still unclouded by +age or any infirmity, therefore:</p> + +<p>Resolved, That this society has heard of the death of +James Fenimore Cooper with profound regret:</p> + +<p>That it recognizes in him an eminent subject and a +masterly illustrator of our history:</p> + +<p>That, in his contributions to our literature he +displayed eminent genius and a truly national spirit:</p> + +<p>That, in his personal character, he was honorable, +brave, sincere, and generous, as respectable for +unaffected virtue as he was distinguished for great +capacities:</p> + +<p>That this society, appreciating the loss which, +however<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span> heavily it has fallen upon this country and +the literary world, has fallen most heavily upon his +family, instructs its officers to convey to his family, +assurances of respectful sympathy and condolence.</p></div> + +<p>Dr. <span class="smcap">John W. Francis</span> addressed the society in a very interesting speech, in +support of these resolutions. Among the great men of letters, he said, whom +our country has produced, there were none greater than Mr. Cooper. I knew +him for a period of thirty years, and during all that time I never knew any +thing of his character that was not in the highest degree praiseworthy. He +was a man of great decision of character, and a fair expositor of his own +thoughts on every occasion—a thorough American, for I never knew a man who +was more entirely so in heart and principle. He was able, with his vast +knowledge, and a powerful physical structure, to complete whatever he +attempted. He had studied the history of this country with a large +philosophy, and understood our people and their character better than any +other writer of the age. He was not only perfectly acquainted with our +general history, but was thoroughly conversant with that of every state, +county, village, lake, and river. And with his vast knowledge he was no +less remarkable for ability as a historian than for his intrepidity of +personal character. I could not, said Dr. Francis, allow this opportunity +to pass without paying my tribute to the merits of this truly great man.</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">George Bancroft</span> next addressed the society. My friend, he said, has +spoken of the illustrious deceased as an American—I say that he was an +embodiment of the American feeling, and truly illustrated American +greatness. We were endeavoring to hold up our heads before the world, and +to claim a character and an intellect of our own, when Cooper appeared with +his powerful genius to support our pretensions. He came forth imbued with +American life, and feeling, and sentiment. Another like Cooper cannot +appear, for he was peculiarly suited to his time, which was that of an +invading civilization. The fame and honor which he gained, were not +obtained by obsequious deference to public opinion, but simply by his great +ability and manly character. Great as he was in the department of romantic +fiction, he was not less deserving of praise in that of history. In Lionel +Lincoln he has described the battle of Bunker Hill better than it is +described in any other work.</p> + +<p>In his naval history of the United States he has left us the most masterly +composition of which any nation could boast on a similar subject. Mr. +Bancroft proceeded in a masterly analysis of some of Mr. Cooper's +characters, and ended with an impressive assertion of the purity of his +contributions to our literature, the eminence of his genius, and the +dignity of his personal character.</p> + +<p>Dr. <span class="smcap">Hawks</span> spoke with his customary eloquence of the personal character of +Mr. Cooper, his indefectible integrity, his devotion to the best interests +of his country, and his religious spirit. He approved the resolutions which +had been offered to the society.</p> + +<p>The Rev. <span class="smcap">Samuel Osgood</span> said:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>It must seem presumptuous in me, Mr. President, to try +to add any thing to the tribute which has been paid to +the memory of Cooper, by gentlemen so peculiarly +qualified from their experience and position to speak +of the man and his services. But all professions have +their own point of view, and I may be allowed to say a +few words upon the relation of our great novelist to +the historical associations and moral standards of our +nation. I cannot claim more than a passing acquaintance +with the deceased, and it belongs to friends more +favored to interpret the asperities and illustrate the +amenities which are likely to mark the character of a +man so decided in his make and habit. With his position +as an interpreter of American history and a delineator +of American character, we are in this society most +closely concerned. None in this presence, I am sure, +will rebuke me for speaking of the novelist as among +the most important agents of popular education, +powerful either for good or ill.</p> + +<p>Is it not true, Sir, that the romance is the prose epic +of modern society, and that we now look to its pages +for the most graphic portraitures of men, manners, and +events? Social and political life is too complex now +for the stately march of the heroic poem, and this age +of print needs not the carefully measured verse to make +sentences musical to the ear, or to save them from +being mutilated by circulation. The romance is now the +chosen form of imaginative literature, and its gifted +masters are educators of the popular ideal. What epic +poem of our times begins to compare in influence over +the common mind with the stories of Scott and Cooper? +Our novelist loved most to treat of scenes and +characters distinctively national, and his name stands +indelibly written on our fairest lakes and rivers, our +grandest seas and mountains, our annals of early +sacrifice and daring. With some of his criticisms on +society, and some of his views of political and +historical questions, I have personally little +sympathy. But, when it is asked, in the impartial +standard of critical justice, what influence has he +exerted over the moral tone of American literature, or +to what aim has he wielded the fascinating pen of +romance, there can be but one reply. With him, fancy +has always walked hand in hand with purity, and the +ideal of true manhood, which is everywhere most +prominent in his works, is one of which we may well be +proud as a nation and as men.</p> + +<p>The element of will, perhaps more strongly than +intellectual analysis, or exquisite sensibility, or +high imagination, is the distinguished characteristic +of his heroes, and in this his portraitures are good +types of what is strongest in the practical American +mind. His model man, whether forester, sailor, servant, +or gentleman, is always bent on bringing some especial +thing to pass, and the progress from the plan to the +achievement is described with military or naval +exactness. Yet he never overlooks any of the essential +traits of a noble manhood, and loves to show how much +of enterprise, courage, compassion, and reverence, it +combines with practical judgment and religious +principle.</p> + +<p>It has seemed to me that his stories of the seas and +the forests are fitted to act more than ever upon the +strong hearts in training for the new spheres of +triumph which are now so wonderfully opening upon our +people. Who does not wish that his noted hero of the +backwoods might be known in every loghouse along our +extending frontier, and teach the rough pioneer always +to temper daring by humanity? Who can ever forget that +favorite character, as dear to the reader as to the +author—that paladin of the forest, that lion-heart of +the wilderness, Leatherstocking, fearless towards +man—gentle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span> towards woman—a rough-cast gentleman of +as true a heart as ever beat under the red cross of the +crusader. The very qualities needed in those old times +of frontier strife are now needed for new emergencies +in our more peaceful border life, and our future +depends vastly upon the characters that give edge to +the advancing mass of our population now crowding +towards the rocky mountains and the Pacific coast. It +is well that this story-teller of the forest has been +so true to the best traits of our nature, and in so +many points is a moralist too. As a romancer of the +sea, Cooper's genius may perhaps be but beginning to +show its influence, as a new age of commercial +greatness is opening upon our nation.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cooper did not shrink from battle scenes and had no +particular dread of gunpowder, yet his best laurels +upon the ocean have been won in describing feats of +seamanship and traits of manhood that need no bloody +conflict for their display, and may be exemplified in +fleets as peaceful and beneficent as ever spread their +sails to the breezes to bear kindly products to +friendly nations. As we sit here this evening under the +influence of the hour, the images of many a famous +exploit on the water seems to come out from his +well-remembered pages and mingle themselves with recent +scenes of marine achievement. Has not the "Water Witch" +herself reappeared of late in our own bay, and laden +not with contraband goods, but a freight of +stout-hearted gentlemen, borne the palm as "Skimmer of +the Seas," from all competitors in presence of the +royalty and nobility of England? And the Old Ironsides, +has not she come back again, more iron-ribbed than +ever—not to fight over the old battles which our naval +chronicler was so fond of rehearsing, but under the +name of the Baltic or (better omen) the Pacific, to win +a victory more honorable and encouraging than ever was +carried by the thundering broadsides of the noble old +Constitution! The commanders and pilots so celebrated +by the novelist, have they not successors indomitable +as they? and just now our ship-news brings good tidings +of their achievements, as they tell us of the Flying +Cloud that has made light of the storms of the fearful +southern cape, and of the return of the adventurous +fleet that has stood so well the hug of the Polar +icebergs, and shown how nobly a crew may hunt for men +on the seas with a Red Rover's daring and a Christian's +mercy.</p> + +<p>It is well that the most gifted romancer of the sea is +an American, and that he is helping us to enact the +romance of history so soon to be fact. The empire of +the waters, which in turn has belonged to Tyre, Venice, +and England, seems waiting to come to America, and no +part of the world now so justly claims its possession +as that state in which Cooper had his home. Who does +not welcome the promise of the new age of powerful +commerce and mental blessing? Who does not feel +grateful to any man who gives any good word or work to +the emancipation of the sailor from his worst enemies, +and to the freedom of the seas from all the violence +that stains its benignant waters? While proud of our +fleet ships, let us not forget elements in their +equipment more important than oak and iron. In this age +of merchandise, let us adorn peace with something of +the old manhood that took from warfare some of its +horrors. Did time allow, I might try to illustrate the +power of an attractive literature in keeping alive +national associations and moulding national character, +but I am content to leave these few fragmentary words +with the society as my poor tribute to a writer who +charmed many hours of my boyhood, and who has won +regard anew as the entertaining and instructive +beguiler of some recent days of rural recreation. May +we not sincerely say that he has so used the treasures +of our national scenery and history as to elevate the +true ideal of true manhood, and quicken the nation's +memory in many respects auspiciously for the nation's +hopes?</p></div> + +<p>It is understood that a public discourse on the life and genius of Mr. +Cooper will be delivered by one of the most eminent of his contemporaries, +at Tripler Hall, early in December, and that measures will be adopted to +secure the erection of a suitable monument to his memory in one of the +public squares or parks of the city. On this subject Mr. Washington Irving +has written the following letter:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Sunnyside</span>, October, 1851.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Sir</span>:—My occupations in the country prevent my +attendance in town at the meeting of the committee, but +I am anxious to know what is doing. I signified at our +first meeting what I thought the best monument to the +memory of Mr. Cooper—a statue. It is the simplest, +purest, and most satisfactory—perpetuating the +likeness of the person. I understand there is an +excellent bust of Mr. Cooper extant, made when he was +in Italy. He was there in his prime; and it might +furnish the model for a noble statue. Judge Duer +suggested that his monument should be placed at +Washington, perhaps in the Smithsonian Institute. I was +rather for New-York, as he belonged to this State, and +the scenes of several of his best works were laid in +it. Besides, the seat of government may be changed, and +then Washington would lose its importance; whereas +New-York must always be a great and growing +metropolis—the place of arrival and departure for this +part of the world—the great resort of strangers from +abroad, and of our own people from all parts of the +Union. One of our beautiful squares would be a fine +situation for a statue. However, I am perhaps a little +too local in my notions on this matter. Cooper +emphatically belongs to the nation, and his monument +should be placed where it would be most in public view. +Judge Duer's idea therefore may be the best. There will +be a question of what material the statue (if a statue +is determined on) should be made. White marble is the +most beautiful, but how would it stand our climate in +the open air? Bronze stands all weathers and all +climates, but does not give so clearly the expression +of the countenance, when regarded from a little +distance.</p> + +<p>These are all suggestions scrawled in haste, which I +should have made if able to attend the meeting of the +committee. I wish you would drop me a line to let me +know what is done or doing.</p> + +<p class="right"> +Yours very truly,<br /> +<br /> +WASHINGTON IRVING.</p> +<p>The Rev. <span class="smcap">Rufus Griswold</span>. +</p></div> + +<p>The plan thus recommended by Mr. Irving will undoubtedly be approved by the +committee and the public, and there is little doubt that it will soon be +carried into execution.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<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> The accomplished authoress of "Rural Hours."—<i>Ed. +International.</i></p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_LONDON_TIMES_ON_AMERICAN_INTERCOMMUNICATION" id="THE_LONDON_TIMES_ON_AMERICAN_INTERCOMMUNICATION"></a>THE LONDON TIMES ON AMERICAN INTERCOMMUNICATION.</h2> + + +<p>We are by no means confident that the Mexican War, with all its victories, +was more serviceable to our reputation in Europe, than the single victory +of Mr. Stevens, in his yacht America, off the Isle of Wight. This triumph +has been celebrated in a dinner at the Astor House, but the city might have +well afforded to welcome the returning owner of the America with an +illumination, or the fathers, in council assembled, might have voted him a +statue. Mr. Collins and Mr. Stevens have together managed to deprive +England of the "trident of the seas," and as soon as it was transferred +there began a shower of honors, which continues still, from the <i>Times</i> +down to the very meanest of its imitators. From that time the Americans +have had all the "solid triumphs" in the Great Exhibition. We have been +regarded as a wonderful people, and our institutions as the most +interesting study that is offered for contemporary statesmen and +philosophers. We copy below a specimen of the leaders with which the +<i>Times</i> has honored us, and commend it to our readers, not more for its +tone than for the valuable information contained in it:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="center">LOCOMOTION BY RIVER AND RAILWAY IN THE UNITED STATES.</p> + +<p>England has been so dazzled by the splendor of her own +achievements in the creation of a new art of transport +by land and water within the last thirty years, as to +become in a measure insensible to all that has been +accomplished in the same interval and in the same +department of the arts elsewhere, improvements less +brilliant, indeed, intrinsically, than the stupendous +system of inland transport, which we lately noticed in +these columns, and having a lustre mitigated to our +view by distance, yet presenting in many respects +circumstances and conditions which may well excite +profound and general interest, and even challenge a +respectful comparison with the greatest of those +advances in the art of locomotion of which we are most +justly proud.</p> + +<p>It will not, therefore, be without utility and +interest, after the detailed notice which we have +lately given of our own advances in the adaptation of +steam to locomotion, to direct attention to the +progress in the same department which has been +simultaneously made in other and distant countries, and +first, and above all, by our friends and countrymen in +the other hemisphere.</p> + +<p>The inland transport of the United States is +distributed mainly between the rivers, the canals, and +the railways, a comparatively small fraction of it +being executed on common roads. Provided with a system +of natural water communication on a scale of magnitude +without any parallel in the world, it might have been +expected that the "sparse" population of this recently +settled country might have continued for a long period +of time satisfied with such an apparatus of transport. +It is, however, the character of man, but above all of +the Anglo-Saxon man, never to rest satisfied with the +gifts of nature, however munificent they be, until he +has rendered them ten times more fruitful by the +application of his skill and industry, and we find +accordingly that the population of America has not only +made the prodigious natural streams which intersect its +vast territory over so many thousands of miles, +literally swarm with steamboats, but they have, +besides, constructed a system of canal navigation, +which may boldly challenge comparison with any thing of +the same kind existing in the oldest, wealthiest, and +most civilized States of Europe.</p> + +<p>It appears from the official statistics that, on the +1st of January, 1843, the extent of canals in actual +operation amounted to 4,333 miles and that there were +then in progress 2,359 miles, a considerable portion of +which has since been completed, so that it is probable +that the actual extent of artificial water +communication now in use in the United States +considerably exceeds 5,000 miles. The average cost of +executing this prodigious system of artificial water +communication was at the rate of 6,432<i>l.</i> per mile, so +that 5,000 miles would have absorbed a capital of above +32,000,000<i>l.</i></p> + +<p>This extent of canal transport, compared with the +population, exhibits in a striking point of view the +activity and enterprise which characterize the American +people. In the United States there is a mile of canal +navigation for every 5,000 inhabitants, while in +England the proportion is 1 to every 9,000 inhabitants, +and France 1 to every 13,000. The ratio, therefore, of +this instrument of intercommunication in the United +States is greater than in the United Kingdom, in +proportion to the population, as 9 to 5, and greater +than in France in the ratio of 13 to 5.</p> + +<p>The extent to which the American people have +fertilized, so to speak, the natural powers of those +vast collections of water which surround and intersect +their territory, is not less remarkable than their +enterprise in constructing artificial lines of water +communication. Besides the internal communication +supplied by the rivers, properly so called, a vast +apparatus of liquid transport is derived from the +geographical character of their extensive coast, +stretching over a space of more than 4,000 miles, from +the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the delta of the +Mississippi, indented and serrated with natural harbors +and sheltered bays, fringed with islands forming +sounds, throwing out capes and promontories which +inclose arms of the sea in which the waters are free +from the roll of the ocean, and which, for all the +purposes of navigation, have the character of rivers +and lakes. The lines of communication formed by the +vast and numerous rivers are, moreover, completed in +the interior by chains of lakes presenting the most +extensive bodies of fresh water in the known world.</p> + +<p>Whatever question may be raised on the conflicting +claims for the invention of steam navigation, it is an +incontestable fact that the first steamboat practically +applied for any useful purpose was placed on the +Hudson, to ply between New-York and Albany, in 1808; +and, from that time to the present that river has been +the theatre of the most remarkable series of +experiments of locomotion on water ever recorded in the +history of man. The Hudson is navigable by steamers of +the largest class as high as Albany, a distance of +nearly 150 miles from New-York. The steam navigation +upon this river is entitled to attention, not only +because of the immense traffic of which it is the +vehicle, but because it forms a sort of model<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span> for all +the rivers of the Atlantic States. Two classes of +steamers work upon it—one appropriated to the swift +transport of passengers, and the other to the towing of +the vast traffic which is maintained between the city +of New-York and the interior of the State of that name, +into the heart of which the Hudson penetrates.</p> + +<p>The passenger steamers present a curious contrast to +the sea-going steamers with which we are familiar. Not +having to encounter the agitated surface of the ocean, +they are supplied with neither rigging nor sails, are +built exclusively with a view to speed, are slender and +weak in their structure, with great length in +proportion to their beam, and have but small draught of +water. The position and form of the machinery are +peculiar. The engines are placed on deck in a +comparatively elevated situation. It is but rarely that +two engines are used. A single engine placed in the +centre of the deck drives a crank constructed on the +axle of the enormous paddle-wheels, the magnitude of +which, and the velocity imparted to them, enable them +to perform the office of fly-wheels. These vessels, +which are of great magnitude, are splendidly fitted up +for the accommodation of passengers, and have been +within the last ten or twelve years undergoing a +gradual augmentation of magnitude, to which it would +seem to be difficult to set a limit.</p> + +<p>In the following table, which we borrow from the work +on <i>Railway Economy</i>, from which we have already +derived so large a portion of our information, are +given the dimensions and the details of fourteen of the +principal steamers plying on the Hudson in the year 1838:—</p></div> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Names.</td><td align='left'>Length of deck.</td><td align='left'>Breadth of beam.</td><td align='left'>Draught.</td><td align='left'>Diameter of wheels.</td><td align='left'>Length of paddles.</td><td align='left'>Depth of paddles.</td><td align='left'>Number of engines.</td><td align='left'>Diameter of cylinder.</td><td align='left'>Length of stroke.</td><td align='left'>Number of revolutions.</td><td align='left'>Part of stroke at which steam is cut off.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'> ft.</td><td align='left'> ft.</td><td align='left'> ft.</td><td align='left'> ft.</td><td align='left'> ft.</td><td align='left'>ft.</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'> in.</td><td align='left'> ft.</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dewit Clinton</td><td align='left'> 230</td><td align='left'>28</td><td align='left'>5·5</td><td align='left'>21</td><td align='left'>13·7</td><td align='left'>36</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>65</td><td align='left'> 10</td><td align='left'>29</td><td align='left'>·75</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Champlain</td><td align='left'> 180</td><td align='left'>27</td><td align='left'>5·5</td><td align='left'>22</td><td align='left'>15</td><td align='left'>34</td><td align='left'>2</td><td align='left'>44</td><td align='left'> 10</td><td align='left'>27·5</td><td align='left'>·50</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Erie</td><td align='left'> 180</td><td align='left'>27</td><td align='left'>5·5</td><td align='left'>22</td><td align='left'>15</td><td align='left'>34</td><td align='left'>2</td><td align='left'>44</td><td align='left'> 10</td><td align='left'>27·5</td><td align='left'>·50</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>North America</td><td align='left'> 200</td><td align='left'>30</td><td align='left'>5</td><td align='left'>21</td><td align='left'>13</td><td align='left'>30</td><td align='left'>2</td><td align='left'>44·5</td><td align='left'> 8</td><td align='left'>24</td><td align='left'>·50</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Independence</td><td align='left'> 148</td><td align='left'>26</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'>—</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>44</td><td align='left'> 10</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'> —</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Albany</td><td align='left'> 212</td><td align='left'>26</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'>24·5</td><td align='left'>14</td><td align='left'>30</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>65</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'>19</td><td align='left'> —</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Swallow</td><td align='left'> 233</td><td align='left'>22·5</td><td align='left'>3·75</td><td align='left'>24</td><td align='left'>11</td><td align='left'>30</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>46</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'>27</td><td align='left'> —</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rochester</td><td align='left'> 200</td><td align='left'>25</td><td align='left'>3·75</td><td align='left'>23·5</td><td align='left'>10</td><td align='left'>24</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>43</td><td align='left'> 10</td><td align='left'>28</td><td align='left'> —</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Utica</td><td align='left'> 200</td><td align='left'>21</td><td align='left'>3·5</td><td align='left'>22</td><td align='left'> 9·5</td><td align='left'>24</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>39</td><td align='left'> 10</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'> —</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Providence</td><td align='left'> 180</td><td align='left'>27</td><td align='left'>9</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'>—</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>65</td><td align='left'> 10</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'> —</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lexington</td><td align='left'> 207</td><td align='left'>21</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'>23</td><td align='left'> 9</td><td align='left'>30</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>48</td><td align='left'> 11</td><td align='left'>24</td><td align='left'> —</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Narraganset</td><td align='left'> 210</td><td align='left'>26</td><td align='left'>5</td><td align='left'>25</td><td align='left'>11</td><td align='left'>30</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>60</td><td align='left'> 12</td><td align='left'>20</td><td align='left'>·50</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Massachusetts</td><td align='left'> 200</td><td align='left'>29·5</td><td align='left'>8·5</td><td align='left'>22</td><td align='left'>10</td><td align='left'>28</td><td align='left'>2</td><td align='left'>44</td><td align='left'> 8</td><td align='left'>26</td><td align='left'> —</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rhode Island</td><td align='left'> 210</td><td align='left'>26</td><td align='left'>6·5</td><td align='left'>24</td><td align='left'>11</td><td align='left'>30</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>60</td><td align='left'> 11</td><td align='left'>21</td><td align='left'> —</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Averages</td><td align='left'> 200</td><td align='left'>26</td><td align='left'>5·6</td><td align='left'>24·8</td><td align='left'>11</td><td align='left'>30</td><td align='left'>—</td><td align='left'>50·8</td><td align='left'> 10</td><td align='left'>24·8</td><td align='left'> —</td></tr> +</table></div> +<div class="blockquot"><p>The changes more recently made all have a tendency to +increase the magnitude and power of those vessels—to +diminish their draught of water—and to increase the +play of the expansive principle. Vessels of the largest +class now draw only as much water as the smallest drew +a few years ago, four feet five inches being regarded +as the <i>maximum</i>.</p> + +<p>It appears from the following table that the average +length of these prodigious floating hotels is above 300 +feet; some of them approaching 400. In the passenger +accommodation afforded by them no water communication +in any country can compete. Nothing can exceed the +splendor and luxury with which they are fitted up, +furnished, and decorated. Silk, velvet, the most costly +carpetings and upholstery, vast mirrors, gilding, and +carving, are profusely displayed in their decoration. +Even the engine-room in some of them is lined with +mirrors. In the Alida, for example, the end of the +engine-room is one vast mirror, in which the movements +of the brilliant and highly-finished machinery are +reflected. All the largest class are capable of running +from twenty to twenty-two miles an hour, and average +nearly twenty miles without difficulty.</p> + +<p>In the annexed table are exhibited the details of ten +of the most recently constructed passenger vessels:—</p></div> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td rowspan="2">Names.</td><td colspan="4"> DIMENSIONS OF VESSEL.</td><td colspan="3"> ENGINE.</td><td colspan="3"> PADDLE-WHEEL.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Length.</td><td align='left'>Breadth.</td><td align='left'> Depth of Hold.</td><td align='left'>Tonnage.</td><td align='left'> Diameter of cylinder.</td><td align='left'>Length of stroke.</td><td align='left'>Number of strokes.</td><td align='left'> Diameter.</td><td align='left'>Length of bucket.</td><td align='left'>Depth of bucket.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'> ft.</td><td align='left'> ft.</td><td align='left'> ft.</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>in.</td><td align='left'>ft.</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'> ft.</td><td align='left'>ft.</td><td align='left'> in.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Isaac Newton</td><td align='left'>333</td><td align='left'>40·4</td><td align='left'>10·0</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>81</td><td align='left'>12</td><td align='left'> 18-1/2</td><td align='left'>39·0</td><td align='left'>12·4</td><td align='left'> 32</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bay State</td><td align='left'>300</td><td align='left'>39·0</td><td align='left'>13·2</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>76</td><td align='left'>12</td><td align='left'> 21-1/2</td><td align='left'>38·0</td><td align='left'>10·3</td><td align='left'> 32</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Empire State</td><td align='left'>304</td><td align='left'>39·0</td><td align='left'>13·6</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>76</td><td align='left'>12</td><td align='left'> 21-1/2</td><td align='left'>38·0</td><td align='left'>10·3</td><td align='left'> 32</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Oregon</td><td align='left'>308</td><td align='left'>35·0</td><td align='left'> —</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>72</td><td align='left'>11</td><td align='left'> 18</td><td align='left'>34·0</td><td align='left'>11·0</td><td align='left'> 28</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hendrick Hudson</td><td align='left'>320</td><td align='left'>35·0</td><td align='left'> 9·6</td><td align='left'> 1,050</td><td align='left'>72</td><td align='left'>11</td><td align='left'> 22</td><td align='left'>33·0</td><td align='left'>11·0</td><td align='left'> 33</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>C. Vanderbilt</td><td align='left'>300</td><td align='left'>35·0</td><td align='left'>11·0</td><td align='left'> 1,075</td><td align='left'>72</td><td align='left'>12</td><td align='left'> 21</td><td align='left'>35·0</td><td align='left'> 9·0</td><td align='left'> 33</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Connecticut</td><td align='left'>300</td><td align='left'>37·0</td><td align='left'>11·0</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>72</td><td align='left'>13</td><td align='left'> 21</td><td align='left'>35·0</td><td align='left'>11·6</td><td align='left'> 36</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Commodore</td><td align='left'>280</td><td align='left'>33·0</td><td align='left'>10·6</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>65</td><td align='left'>11</td><td align='left'> 22</td><td align='left'>31·6</td><td align='left'> 9·0</td><td align='left'> 33</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>New-York</td><td align='left'>276</td><td align='left'>35·0</td><td align='left'>10·6</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>76</td><td align='left'>15</td><td align='left'> 18</td><td align='left'>44·6</td><td align='left'>12·0</td><td align='left'> 36</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Alida</td><td align='left'>286</td><td align='left'>28·0</td><td align='left'> 9·6</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>56</td><td align='left'>12</td><td align='left'> 24-1/2</td><td align='left'>32·0</td><td align='left'>10·0</td><td align='left'> 32</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Averages</td><td align='left'>310</td><td align='left'>35·8</td><td align='left'>11·0</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>71·8</td><td align='left'>12·1</td><td align='left'>20·8</td><td align='left'>35·0</td><td align='left'>10·8</td><td align='left'> 37</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>It may be observed, in relation to the navigation of +those eastern rivers (for we do not here speak of the +Mississippi and its tributaries), that the occurrence +of explosions is almost unheard of. During the last ten +years not a single catastrophe of this kind has been +recorded, although cylindrical boilers ten feet in +diameter, composed of plating 5-16ths of an inch thick, +are commonly used with steam of 50lb. pressure.</p> + +<p>Previously to 1844 the lowest fare from New-York to +Albany, a distance of 145 miles, was 4s. 4d.; at +present the fare is 2s. 2d.—and for an additional sum +of the same amount the passenger can command the luxury +of a separate cabin. When the splendor and magnitude of +the accommodation is considered, the magnificence of +the furniture and accessories, and the luxuriousness of +the table, it will be admitted that no similar example +of cheap locomotion can be found in any part of the +globe. Passengers may there be transported in a +floating palace, surrounded with all the conveniences +and luxuries of the most splendid hotel, at the average +rate of twenty miles an hour, for less than <i>one-sixth +of a penny per mile</i>! It is not an uncommon occurrence +during the warm season to meet persons on board these +boats who have lodged themselves there permanently, in +preference to hotels on the banks of the river. Their +daily expenses in the boat are as follows:</p></div> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Fare</td><td align='left'>2<i>s.</i></td><td align='left'> 2<i>d.</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Separate bedroom</td><td align='left'>2</td><td align='left'>2</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Breakfast, dinner, and supper</td><td align='left'>6</td><td align='left'>6</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>———</td><td align='left'>———</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Total daily expense for board, lodging, attendance, and travelling 150 miles, at 20 miles an hour</td><td align='left'>10</td><td align='left'>10</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Such accommodation is, on the whole, more economical +than a hotel. The bedroom is as luxuriously furnished +as the handsomest chamber in an hotel or private house, +and is much more spacious than the room similarly +designated in the largest packet ships.</p> + +<p>The other class of steamers, used for towing the +commerce of the river, corresponds to the goods trains +on railways. No spectacle can be more remarkable than +this class of locomotive machines, dragging their +enormous load up the Hudson. They may be seen in the +midst of this vast stream, surrounded by a cluster of +twenty or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span> thirty loaded craft of various magnitudes. +Three or four tiers are lashed to them at each side, +and as many more at their bow and at their stern. The +steamer is almost lost to the eye in the midst of this +crowd of vessels which cling around it, and the moving +mass is seen to proceed up the river, no apparent agent +of propulsion being visible, for the steamer and its +propellers are literally buried in the midst of the +cluster which clings to it and floats round and near +it.</p> + +<p>As this <i>water-goods train</i>, for so it may be called, +ascends the river, it drops off its load, vessel by +vessel, at the towns which it passes. One or two are +left at Newburgh, another at Poughkeepsie, two or three +more at Hudson, one or two at Fishkill, and, finally, +the tug arrives with a residuum of some half-dozen +vessels at Albany.</p> + +<p>The steam navigation of the Mississippi and the other +western rivers is conducted in a manner entirely +different from that of the Hudson. Every one must be +familiar with the lamentable accidents which happen +from time to time, and the loss of life from explosion +which continually takes place on those rivers. Such +catastrophes, instead of diminishing with the +improvement of art, seem rather to have increased. +Engineers have done literally nothing to check the +evil.</p> + +<p>In a Mississippi steamboat the cabins and saloons are +erected on a flooring six or eight feet above the deck, +upon which and under them the engines are placed, which +are of the coarsest and most inartificial structure. +They are invariably worked with high-pressure steam, +and in order to obtain that effect which in the Hudson +steamers is due to a vacuum, the steam is worked at an +extraordinary pressure. We have ourselves actually +witnessed boilers of this kind, on the western rivers, +working under a full pressure of 120lb. per square inch +above the atmosphere, and we have been assured that +this pressure has been recently considerably increased, +so that it is not unfrequent now to find them working +with a bursting pressure of 200lb. per square inch!</p> + +<p>As might naturally be expected, the chief theatre of +railway enterprise in America is the Atlantic States. +The Mississippi and its tributaries have served the +purposes of commerce and intercommunication to the +comparatively thinly scattered population of the +Western States so efficiently that many years will +probably elapse, notwithstanding the extraordinary +enterprise of the people, before any considerable +extent of railway communication will be established in +this part of the States. Nevertheless, the traveller in +these distant regions encounters occasionally detached +examples of railways even in the valley of the +Mississippi. In the State of Mississippi there are five +short lines, ten or twelve in Louisiana, and a limited +number scattered over Florida, Alabama, Illinois, +Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio. These, however, are +generally detached and single lines, unconnected with +the vast network which we shall presently notice. To +the traveller in these wild regions the aspect of such +artificial agents of transport in the midst of a +country, a great portion of which is still in the state +of native forest, is most remarkable, and strongly +characteristic of the irrepressible spirit of +enterprise of its people. Travelling in the back woods +of Mississippi, through native forests, where till +within a few years human foot never trod, through +solitudes, the silence of which was never broken, even +by the red man, we have been sometimes filled with +wonder to find ourselves transported by an engine +constructed at Newcastle-on-Tyne, and driven by an +artisan from Liverpool, at the rate of twenty miles an +hour. It is not easy to describe the impression +produced by the juxtaposition of these refinements of +art and science with the wildness of the country, where +one sees the frightened deer start from its lair at the +snorting of the ponderous machine and the appearance of +the snakelike train which follows it.</p> + +<p>The first American railway was opened for passengers on +the last day of 1829. According to the reports +collected and given in detail in the work already +quoted, it appears that in 1849, after an interval of +just twenty years, there were in actual operation 6,565 +miles of railway in the States. The cost of +construction and plant of this system of railways +appears by the same authority to have been +53,386,885<i>l.</i>, being at the average rate of 8,129<i>l.</i> +per mile.</p> + +<p>The reports collected in Dr. Lardner's work come up to +the middle of 1849. We have, however, before us +documents which supply data to a more recent period, +and have computed from them the following table, +exhibiting the number of miles of railway in actual +operation in the United States, the capital expended in +their construction and plant, and the length of the +lines which are in process of construction, but not yet completed:—</p></div> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'> Railways in operation.</td><td align='left'> Cost of Building and Plant.</td><td align='left'> Projected and in progress.</td><td align='left'> Cost per Mile.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'> Miles.</td><td align='left'> £</td><td align='left'> Miles.</td><td align='left'> £</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Eastern States, including Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut</td><td align='left'> 2,845</td><td align='left'> 23,100,987</td><td align='left'> 567</td><td align='left'> 8,123</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Atlantic States, including New-York, the Jerseys, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Maryland</td><td align='left'> 3,503</td><td align='left'> 27,952,500</td><td align='left'> 2,020</td><td align='left'> 7,979</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Southern States, including Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia, Florida, and Alabama</td><td align='left'> 2,103</td><td align='left'> 8,253,130</td><td align='left'> 1,283</td><td align='left'> 3,919</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Western States, including Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Iowa, and Wisconsin</td><td align='left'> 1,835</td><td align='left'> 7,338,290</td><td align='left'> 5,762</td><td align='left'> 3,999</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Totals and averages</td><td align='left'> 10,289</td><td align='left'> 66,653,907</td><td align='left'> 9,632</td><td align='left'> 6,478</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>It must be admitted that the results here exhibited +present a somewhat astonishing spectacle. It appears +from this statement that there are in actual operation +in the United States 10,289 miles of railway, and that +there are 9,632 projected and in process of execution. +So that when a few years more shall have rolled away, +this extraordinary people will actually have 20,000 +miles of iron road in operation.</p> + +<p>It appears from the above report, compared with the +previous report quoted from Dr. Lardner, that the +average cost of construction has been diminished as the +operations progressed. According to Dr. Lardner, the +average cost of construction of the 6,500 miles of +railway in operation in 1849 was 8,129<i>l.</i> per mile +whereas, it appears from the preceding table that the +actual cost of 10,289 miles now in operation has been +at the average rate of 6,478<i>l.</i> per mile. On +examining<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span> the analysis of the distribution of these +railways among the States, it appears that this +discordance of the two statements is apparent rather +than real, and proceeds from the fact that the railways +opened since Dr. Lardner's report, being chiefly in the +southern and western States, are cheaply constructed +lines, in which the landed proprietors have given to a +great extent their gratuitous co-operation, and in +which the plant and working stock is of very small +amount, so that their average cost per mile is a little +under 4,000<i>l.</i>—the average cost per mile in the +eastern and northern States corresponding almost to a +fraction with Dr. Lardner's estimate. It is also worthy +of observation that the distribution of this network of +railways is extremely unequal, not only in quantity, +but in its capability, as indicated by its expense of +construction. Thus, in the populous and wealthy States +of Massachusetts, New-Jersey, and New-York, the +proportion of railways to surface is considerable, +while in the southern and western States it is +trifling. In the following table is given the number of +miles of surface for each mile of railway in some of +the principal States:—</p></div> + +<h4>Square miles of surface for each mile of railway.</h4> +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Massachusetts</td><td align='left'>7</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>New-Jersey</td><td align='left'>22</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>New-York</td><td align='left'>28</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Maryland</td><td align='left'>31</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ohio</td><td align='left'>58</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Georgia</td><td align='left'>76</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>When it is considered that the railways in this country +have cost upon an average about 40,000<i>l.</i> per mile, +the comparatively low cost of the American railways +will doubtless appear extraordinary.</p> + +<p>This circumstance, however, is explained partly by the +general character of the country, partly by the mode of +constructing the railways, and partly by the manner of +working them. With certain exceptions, few in number, +the tracts of country over which these lines are +carried, is nearly a dead level. Of earthwork there is +but little; of works of art, such as viaducts and +tunnels, commonly none. Where the railways are carried +over streams or rivers, bridges are constructed in a +rude but substantial manner of timber supplied from the +roadside forest, at no greater cost than that of hewing +it. The station houses, booking offices, and other +buildings, are likewise slight and cheaply constructed +of timber. On some of the best lines in the more +populous States the timber bridges are constructed with +stone pillars and abutments, supporting arches of +trusswork, the cost of such bridges varying from 46s. +per foot, for 60 feet span, to 6<i>l.</i> 10s. per foot for +200 feet span, for a single line, the cost on a double +line being 50 per cent. more.</p> + +<p>When the railways strike the course of rivers such as +the Hudson, Delaware, or Susquehanna—too wide to be +crossed by bridges—the traffic is carried by steam +ferries. The management of these ferries is deserving +of notice. It is generally so arranged that the time of +crossing them corresponds with a meal of the +passengers. A platform is constructed level with the +line of railway and carried to the water's edge. Upon +this platform rails are laid by which the wagons which +bear the passengers' luggage and other matters of light +and rapid transport are rolled directly upon the upper +deck of the ferry boat, the passengers meanwhile going +under a covered way to the lower deck. The whole +operation is accomplished in five minutes. While the +boat is crossing the spacious river the passengers are +supplied with their breakfasts, dinner, or supper, as +the case may be. On arriving at the opposite bank the +upper deck comes in contact with a like platform, +bearing a railway upon which the luggage wagons are +rolled; the passengers ascend, as they descended, under +a covered way, and, resuming their places in the +railway carriages, the train proceeds.</p> + +<p>But the prudent Americans have availed themselves of +other sources of economy by adopting a mode of +construction adapted to the expected traffic. Formed to +carry a limited commerce the railways are generally +single lines, sidings being provided at convenient +situations. Collision is impossible, for the first +train that arrives at a siding must enter it and remain +there until the following train arrives. This +arrangement would be attended with inconvenience with a +crowded traffic like that of many lines on the English +railways, but even on the principal American lines the +trains seldom pass in each direction more than twice a +day, and their time and place of meeting is perfectly +regulated. In the structure of the roads, also, +principles have been adopted which have been attended +with great economy compared with the English lines. The +engineers, for example, do not impose on themselves the +difficult and expensive condition of excluding all +curves but those of large radius, and all gradients +exceeding a certain small limit of steepness. Curves of +500 feet radius, and even less, are frequent, and +acclivities rising at the rate of 1 foot in 100 are +considered a moderate ascent, while there are not less +than 50 lines laid down with gradients varying from 1 +in 100 to 1 in 75, nevertheless these lines are worked +with facility by locomotives, without the expedient, +even, of assistant or stationary engines. The +consequences of this have been to reduce in an immense +proportion the cost of earthwork, bridges, and +viaducts, even in parts of the country where the +character of the surface is least favorable. But the +chief source of economy has arisen from the structure +of the line itself. In many cases where the traffic is +lightest the rails consist of flat bars of iron, 2-1/2 +inches broad and 6-10ths of an inch thick, nailed and +spiked to planks of timber laid longitudinally on the +road in parallel lines, so as to form what are called +continuous bearings. Some of the most profitable +American railways, and those of which the maintenance +has proved least expensive, have been constructed in +this manner. The road structure, however, varies +according to the traffic. Rails are sometimes laid +weighing only from 25lb. to 30lb. per yard. In some +cases of great traffic they are supported on transverse +sleepers of wood like the European railways, but in +consequence of the comparative cheapness of wood and +the high price of iron, the strength necessary for the +road is mostly obtained by reducing the distance +between the sleepers so as to supersede the necessity +of giving greater weight to the rails.</p> + +<p>The same observance of the principles of economy is +maintained with regard to their locomotive stock. The +engines are strongly built, safe and powerful, but are +destitute of much of that elegance of exterior and +beauty of workmanship which has excited so much +admiration, in the machines exhibited in the Crystal +Palace. The fuel is generally wood, but on certain +lines near the coal districts coal is used. The use of +coke is nowhere<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span> resorted to. Its expense would make it +inadmissible, and in a country so thinly inhabited the +smoke proceeding from coal is not objected to. The +ordinary speed, stoppages included, is from 14 to 16 +miles an hour. Independently of other considerations, +the light structure of many of the roads would not +allow a greater velocity without danger; nevertheless +we have frequently travelled on some of the better +constructed lines at the ordinary speed of the English +railways, say 30 miles an hour and upwards.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the apparently feeble and unsubstantial +structure of many of the lines, accidents to passenger +trains are scarcely ever heard of. It appears by +returns now before us that of 9,355,474 passengers +booked in 1850 on the crowded railways of +Massachusetts, each passenger making an average trip of +18 miles, there were only 15 who sustained accidents +fatal to life or limb. It follows from this, by the +common principles explained by us in a former article, +that when a passenger travels one mile on these +railways the chances against an accident producing +personal injury, even of the slightest kind, are +11,226,568 to 1, and of course in a journey of 100 +miles the chances against such accident are 112,266 to +1. We have shown in a former article that the chances +against accident on an English railway, under like +circumstances, are 85,125 to 1. The American railways +are, therefore, safer than the English in the ratio of +112 to 85.</p> + +<p>The great line of communication is established, 400 +miles in length, between Philadelphia and Pittsburg, on +the left bank of the Ohio, composed partly of railway +and partly of canal. The section from Philadelphia to +Columbia (82 miles) is railway; the line is then +continued by canal for 172 miles to Holidaysburg; it is +then carried by railway 37 miles to Johnstown, whence +it is continued 104 miles further to Pittsburg by +canal. The traffic on this mixed line of transport is +conducted so as to avoid the expense and inconvenience +of transhipment of goods and passengers at the +successive points where the railway and canals unite. +The merchandise is loaded and the passengers +accommodated in the boats adapted to the canals at the +dépôt in Market-street, Philadelphia. These boats, +which are of considerable magnitude and length, are +divided into segments by partitions made transversely +and at right angles to their length, so that such boat +can be, as it were, broken into three or more pieces. +These several pieces are placed each on two railway +trucks, which support it at the ends, a proper body +being provided for the trucks adapted to the form of +the bottom and keel of the boat. In this manner the +boat is carried in pieces, with its load, along the +railway. On arriving at the canal the pieces are united +so as to form a continuous boat, which being launched, +the transport is continued on the water. On arriving +again at the railway the boat is once more resolved +into its segments, which, as before, are transferred to +the railway trucks and transported to the next canal +station by locomotive engines. Between the dépôt in +Market-street and the locomotive station which is +situated in the suburbs of Philadelphia the segments of +the boat are drawn by horses on railways conducted +through the streets. At the locomotive station the +trucks are formed into a continuous train and delivered +over to the locomotive engine. As the body of the truck +rests upon a pivot, under which it is supported by +wheels, it is capable of revolving, and no difficulty +is found in turning the shortest curves, and these +enormous vehicles, with their contents of merchandise +and passengers, are seen daily issuing from the gates +of the dépôt in Market-street, and turning with +facility the corners at the entrance of each successive +street.</p> + +<p>By a comparison of the returns published by Dr. +Lardner, in his work already quoted, with the more +recent results which we have already given, it will +appear that within the last two years not less than +3,700 miles of railway have been opened for traffic in +the United States. Among these are included several of +the most important lines, among which are more +especially to be noticed the great artery of railway +communication extending across the State of New York to +the shores of Lake Erie, the longest line which any +single company has yet constructed in the United +States, its length being 467 miles. The total cost of +this line, including the working stock, has been +4,500,000<i>l.</i> sterling, being at the average rate of +9,642<i>l.</i> per mile—a rate of expense about 50 per +cent. above the average cost of American railways taken +collectively. This is explained by the fact that the +line itself is one constructed for a large traffic +between New York and the interior, and therefore built +to meet a heavy traffic. Although it is but just +opened, its average receipts have amounted to +11,000<i>l.</i> per week, which have given a net profit of +6-1/2 per cent. on the capital, the working expenses +being taken at 50 per cent. of the gross receipts. One +of the great lines in a forward state, and likely to be +opened by the close of the present year, connects New +York with Albany, following the valley of the Hudson. +It will no doubt create surprise, considering the +immense facility of water transport afforded by this +river, that a railway should be constructed on its +bank, but it must be remembered that for a considerable +interval during the winter the navigation of the Hudson +is suspended from the frost.</p> + +<p>A great line of railway, which will intersect the +States from south to north, connecting the port of +Mobile on the Gulf of Mexico with Lake Michigan and the +lead mines of Galena on the Upper Mississippi, is also +in progress of construction, large grants of land being +conceded to the company by the Federal Government. This +line will probably be opened in 1854.</p> + +<p>It is difficult to obtain authentic reports from which +the movement of the traffic on the American railways +can be ascertained with precision. Dr. Lardner, +however, obtained the necessary statistical data +relating to nearly 1,200 miles of railway in the States +of New England and New York, from which he was enabled +to collect all the circumstances attending the working +of these lines, the principal of which are collected in +the following table:—</p></div> + +<h4>Tabular analysis of the average daily movement of the traffic on 28 of the +principal railways in the States of New England and New York.</h4> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Passenger Traffic.—</td><td align='left'>Number booked</td><td align='left'>23,981</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Mileage</td><td align='left'>437,350</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Receipts</td><td align='left'>£2,723</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Mileage of trains</td><td align='left'>8,091</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Goods Traffic.—</td><td align='left'>Tons booked</td><td align='left'>6,547</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Mileage</td><td align='left'>248,351</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Receipts</td><td align='left'>£1,860</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Mileage of trains</td><td align='left'>4,560</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Total length of the above railways in the State of New York</td><td align='left'>490 miles</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ditto, in the States of New England</td><td align='left'>670 "</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>——</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> Total</td><td align='left'>1,160 miles.</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Average cost of construction and stock in the State of New York</td><td align='left'>£7,010</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ditto, in the States of New England</td><td align='left'>£10,800</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>General average</td><td align='left'>£9,200</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'> Receipts</td><td align='left'> Expenses.</td><td align='left'> Profits.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Total average receipts, expenses, and</td><td align='left'> £</td><td align='left'> £</td><td align='left'> £</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>profits per day in the State of New York</td><td align='left'> 1,654</td><td align='left'> 684</td><td align='left'> 970</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ditto, States of New England</td><td align='left'> 3,040</td><td align='left'> 1,505</td><td align='left'> 1,535</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> Totals</td><td align='left'> 4,694</td><td align='left'> 2,189</td><td align='left'> 2,505</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Per mile of railway per day.</td><td align='left'>Per mile run by trains.</td><td align='left'>Per cent. per annum on capital.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'> £</td><td align='left'></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Receipts</td><td align='left'> 4,05</td><td align='left'> 7s. 5d.</td><td align='left'> 16,1</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Expenses</td><td align='left'> 1,89</td><td align='left'>3s. 5-1/2d.</td><td align='left'> 7,5</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> Profits</td><td align='left'> 2,16</td><td align='left'>2s.11-1/2d.</td><td align='left'> 8,6</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Expense per cent. of receipts</td><td align='left'>46,8</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Average receipts for passengers booked</td><td align='left'>27,0d.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Average distance travelled per passenger</td><td align='left'>18,2 miles</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Average receipts per passenger per mile</td><td align='left'>1,47d.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Average number of passengers per train</td><td align='left'>54,0</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Total average receipts per passenger train per mile</td><td align='left'>7s.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Average receipts per ton of goods booked</td><td align='left'>6s. 8-1/2d.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Average distance carried per ton</td><td align='left'>38,0 miles</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Average receipts per ton per mile</td><td align='left'>1s. 8d.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Average number of tons per train</td><td align='left'>54,5</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Total average receipts per goods per mile</td><td align='left'>8,2s.</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The railways, of whose traffic we have here given a +synopsis, are those of the most active and profitable +description in the United States. It would, therefore, +be a great error to infer from the results here +exhibited general conclusions as to the financial +condition of the American railways. It appears, on the +other hand, from a more complete analysis, that the +dividends on the American lines, exclusive of those +contained in the preceding analysis, are in general +small, and in many instances nothing. It is, therefore, +probable that in the aggregate the average profits on +the total amount of capital invested in the American +railways does not exceed, if it indeed equal, the +average profits obtained on the capital invested in +English railways, which we have in a former article +shown to produce little more than 3 per cent.</p> + +<p>The extraordinary extent of railway constructed at so +early a period in the United States has been by some +ascribed to the absence of a sufficient extent of +communication by common roads. Although this cause has +operated to some extent in certain districts it is by +no means so general as has been supposed. In the year +1838 the United States' mails circulated over a length +of way amounting on the whole to 136,218 miles, of +which two-thirds were land transport, including +railways as well as common roads. Of the latter there +must have been about 80,000 miles in operation, of +which, however, a considerable portion was +bridle-roads. The price of transport in the stage +coaches was, upon an average, 3.25d. per passenger per +mile, the average price by railway being about 1.47d. +per mile.</p> + +<p>Of the entire extent of railway constructed in the +United States, by far the greater portion, as has been +already explained, consists of single lines, +constructed in a light and cheap manner, which in +England would be regarded as merely serving temporary +purposes; while, on the contrary, the entire extent of +the English system consists, not only of double lines, +but of railways constructed in the most solid, +permanent, and expensive manner, adapted to the +purposes of an immense traffic. If a comparison were to +be instituted at all between the two systems, its basis +ought to be the capital expended, and the traffic +served by them, in which case the result would be +somewhat different from that obtained by the mere +consideration of the length of the lines. It is not, +however, the same in reference to the canals, in which +it must be admitted America far exceeds all other +countries in proportion to her population.</p> + +<p>The American railways have been generally constructed +by joint stock companies, which, however, the State +controls much more stringently than in England. In some +cases a major limit to the dividends is imposed by the +statute of incorporation, in some the dividends are +allowed to augment, but when they exceed a certain +limit the surplus is divided with the State; in some +the privilege granted to the companies is only for a +limited period, in some a sort of periodical revision +and restriction of the tariff is reserved to the State. +Nothing can be more simple, expeditious, and cheap than +the means of obtaining an act for the establishment of +a railway company in America. A public meeting is held +at which the project is discussed and adopted, a +deputation is appointed to apply to the Legislature, +which grants the act without expense, delay, or +official difficulty. The principle of competition is +not brought into play as in France, nor is there any +investigation as to the expediency of the project with +reference to future profit or loss as in England. No +other guarantee or security is required from the +company than the payment by the shareholders of a +certain amount, constituting the first call. In some +States the non-payment of a call is followed by the +confiscation of the previous payments, in others a fine +is imposed on the shareholders, in others the share is +sold, and if the produce be less than the price at +which it was delivered the surplus can be recovered +from the shareholder by process of law. In all cases +the act creating the companies fix a time within which +the works must be completed, under pain of forfeiture. +The traffic in shares before the definite constitution +of the company is prohibited.</p> + +<p>Although the State itself has rarely undertaken the +execution of railways, it holds out in most cases +inducements in different forms to the enterprise of +companies. In some cases the State takes a great number +of shares, which is generally accompanied by a loan +made to the company, consisting in State Stock +delivered at par, which the company negotiate at its +own risk. This loan is often converted into a +subvention.</p> + +<p>The great extent of railway communication in America in +proportion to its population must necessarily excite +much admiration. If we take the present population of +the United States at 24,000,000, and the railways in +operation at 10,000 miles, it will follow that in round +numbers there is one mile of railway for every 2,400 +inhabitants. Now, in the United Kingdom there are at +present in operation 6,500 miles of railway, and if we +take the population at 30,000,000, it will appear that +there is a mile of railway for every 4,615 inhabitants. +It appears, therefore, that in proportion to the +population the length of railways in the United States +is greater than in the United Kingdom in the ratio of +46 to 24.</p> + +<p>On the American railways passengers are not differently +classed or received at different rates of fare as on +those of Europe. There is but one class and one fare. +The only distinction observable arises from color. The +colored population, whether emancipated or not, are +generally excluded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span> from the vehicles provided for the +whites. Such travellers are but few, and are usually +accommodated either in the luggage van or in the +carriage with the guard or conductor. But little +merchandise is transported, the cost of transport being +greater than goods in general are capable of paying; +nevertheless, a tariff regulated by weight alone, +without distinction of classes, is fixed for +merchandise.</p> + +<p>Although Cuba is not yet <i>annexed</i> to the United +States, its local proximity here suggests some notice +of a line of railway which traverses that island, +forming a communication between the city of Havana and +the centre of the island. This is an excellently +constructed road, and capitally worked by British +engines, British engineers, and British coals. The +impressions produced in passing along this line of +railway, though different from those already noticed in +the forests of the far west, is not less remarkable. We +are here transported at 30 miles an hour by an engine +from Newcastle, driven by an engineer from Manchester, +and propelled by fuel from Liverpool, through fields +yellow with pineapples, through groves of plantain and +cocoa-nut, and along roads inclosed by hedge-rows of +ripe oranges.</p> + +<p>To what extent this extraordinary rapidity of +advancement made by the United States in its inland +communications is observable in other departments will +be seen by the following table, exhibiting a +comparative statement of those <i>data</i>, derived from +official sources, which indicate the social and +commercial condition of a people through a period which +forms but a small stage in the life of a nation:</p></div> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="5" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>1793.</td><td align='left'>1851.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Population</td><td align='left'>3,939,325</td><td align='left'>24,267,488</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Imports</td><td align='left'>£6,739,130</td><td align='left'>£38,723,545</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Exports</td><td align='left'>£5,675,869</td><td align='left'>£32,367,000</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tonnage</td><td align='left'>520,704</td><td align='left'>3,535,451</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lighthouses, beacons, and lightships</td><td align='left'>7</td><td align='left'>373</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Cost of their maintenance</td><td align='left'>£2,600</td><td align='left'>£115,000</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Revenue</td><td align='left'>£1,230,000</td><td align='left'>£9,516,000</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>National expenditure</td><td align='left'>£1,637,000</td><td align='left'>£8,555,000</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Post offices</td><td align='left'>209</td><td align='left'>21,551</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Post roads (miles)</td><td align='left'>5,642</td><td align='left'>178,670</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Revenue of Post-office</td><td align='left'>£22,800</td><td align='left'>£1,207,000</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Expenses of Post-office</td><td align='left'>£15,650</td><td align='left'>£1,130,000</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mileage of mails</td><td align='left'>——</td><td align='left'>46,541,423</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Canals (miles)</td><td align='left'>0</td><td align='left'>5,000</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Railways (miles)</td><td align='left'>0</td><td align='left'>10,287</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Electric telegraph (miles)</td><td align='left'>0</td><td align='left'>15,000</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Public libraries (volumes)</td><td align='left'>75,000</td><td align='left'>2,201,623</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>School libraries (volumes)</td><td align='left'>0</td><td align='left'>2,000,000</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>If they were not founded on the most incontestable +statistical data, the results assigned to the above +table would appear to belong to fable rather than +history. In an interval of little more than half a +century it appears that this extraordinary people have +increased above 500 per cent. in numbers; their +national revenue has augmented nearly 700 per cent., +while their public expenditure has increased little +more than 400 per cent. The prodigious extension of +their commerce is indicated by an increase of nearly +500 per cent. in their imports and exports and 600 per +cent. in their shipping. The increased activity of +their internal communications is expounded by the +number of their post offices, which has been increased +more than a hundred-fold, the extent of their post +roads, which has been increased thirty-six-fold, and +the cost of their post-office, which has been augmented +in a seventy-two-fold ratio. The augmentation of their +machinery of public instruction is indicated by the +extent of their public libraries, which have increased +in a thirty-two-fold ratio, and by the creation of +school libraries, amounting to 2,000,000 volumes. They +have completed a system of canal navigation, which, +placed in a continuous line, would extend from London +to Calcutta, and a system of railways which, +continuously extended, would stretch from London to Van +Diemen's Land, and have provided locomotive machinery +by which that distance would be travelled over in three +weeks, at the cost of 1-1/2d. per mile. They have +created a system of inland navigation, the aggregate +tonnage of which is probably not inferior in amount to +the collective inland tonnage of all the other +countries in the world, and they possess many hundreds +of river steamers, which impart to the roads of water +the marvellous celerity of roads of iron. They have, in +fine, constructed lines of electric telegraph which, +laid continuously, would extend over a space longer by +3,000 miles than the distance from the north to the +south pole, and have provided apparatus of transmission +by which a message of 300 words despatched under such +circumstances from the north pole might be delivered +<i>in writing</i> at the south pole in one minute, and by +which, consequently, an answer of equal length might be +sent back to the north pole in an equal interval.</p> + +<p>These are social and commercial phenomena for which it +would be vain to seek a parallel in the past history of +the human race.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_LAST_EARTHQUAKE_IN_EUROPE" id="THE_LAST_EARTHQUAKE_IN_EUROPE"></a>THE LAST EARTHQUAKE IN EUROPE.</h2> + + +<p>A correspondent of the <i>Athenæum</i> gives the following account—the best we +have yet seen—of the recent earthquake at Amalfi, in the kingdom of +Naples:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I have, however, seen several persons from Malfi; and +from their narratives will endeavor to give you some +idea of this awful visitation. The morning of the 14th +of August was very sultry, and a leaden atmosphere +prevailed. It was remarked that an unusual silence +appeared to extend over the animal world. The hum of +insects ceased—the feathered tribes were mute—not a +breath of wind moved the arid vegetation. About +half-past two o'clock the town of Malfi rocked for +about six seconds, and nearly every building fell in. +The number of edifices actually levelled with the earth +is 163—of those partially destroyed 98, and slightly +damaged 180. Five monastic establishments were +destroyed, and seven churches including the cathedral. +The awful event occurred at a time when most of the +inhabitants of a better condition were at dinner; and +the result is, that out of the whole population only a +few peasants laboring in the fields escaped. More than +700 dead bodies have already been dug out of the ruins, +and it is supposed that not less than 800 are yet +entombed. A college accommodating 65 boys and their +teachers is no longer traceable. But the melancholy +event does not end here. The adjoining village of +Ascoli has also suffered:—32 houses laving fallen in, +and the church being levelled with the ground. More +than 200 persons perished there. Another small town, +Barile, has actually disappeared; and a lake has arisen +from the bowels of the earth, the waters being warm and +brackish.</p> + +<p>"I proceed to give a few anecdotes, as narrated by +persons who have arrived in Naples from the scene of +horror:—'I was travelling,' says one,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span> 'within a mile +of Malfi when I observed three cars drawn by oxen. In a +moment the two most distant fell into the earth; from +the third I observed a man and a boy descend and run +into a vineyard which skirted the road. Shortly after, +I think about three seconds, the third car was +swallowed up. We stopped our carriage, and proceeded to +the spot where the man and boy stood. The former I +found stupified—he was both deaf and dumb; the boy +appeared to be out of his mind, and spoke wildly, but +eventually recovered. The poor man still remains +speechless.' Another informant says:—'Malfi, and all +around present a singular and melancholy appearance: +houses levelled or partially fallen in—here and there +the ground broken up—large gaps displaying volcanic +action—people wandering about stupified—men searching +in the ruins—women weeping—children here and there +crying for their parents, and some wretched examples of +humanity carrying off articles of furniture. The +authorities are nowhere to be found.' A third person +states:—'I am from Malfi, and was near a monastery +when the earthquake occurred. A peasant told me that +the water in a neighboring well was quite hot,—a few +moments after I saw the building fall. I fell on the +ground, and saw nothing more. I thought that I had had +a fit.'</p> + +<p>"The town of Malfi—or, Amalfi—is 150 miles from +Naples, and about the centre of the boot. It is +difficult, therefore, to gain information. The +government, I should add, sent a company of sappers and +miners to assist the afflicted <i>nine days after the +earthquake</i>!—and a medical commission is to set off +to-morrow. In conclusion, I may observe, that Vesuvius +has for a long time been singularly quiet. The shock of +the earthquake was felt slightly, though sensibly, from +Naples round to Sorrento. I have just heard that the +shocks have not ceased in the district of Malfi; and it +is supposed that volcanic agency is still active. +Indeed, my informant anticipates that an eruption will +take place; and probably some extraordinary phenomena +may appear in this neighborhood. The volcanic action +appears to have taken the direction of Sicily, as +reports have arrived stating that the shocks were felt +in that direction far more strongly than in that of +Naples. I shall send you further particulars as soon as +I can do so with certainty."</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MR_JEFFERSON_ON_THE_STUDY_OF_THE_ANGLO-SAXON_LANGUAGE" id="MR_JEFFERSON_ON_THE_STUDY_OF_THE_ANGLO-SAXON_LANGUAGE"></a>MR. JEFFERSON ON THE STUDY OF THE ANGLO-SAXON LANGUAGE.</h2> + + +<p>The trustees of the University of Virginia have had printed a few copies of +<i>An Essay towards facilitating Instruction in the Anglo-Saxon and Modern +Dialects of the English Language</i>: <i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas Jefferson</span>. The MS. has been +preserved in the library of their University ever since Mr. Jefferson's +death. It is a very characteristic production, and is printed in a thin +quarto volume, prefaced by the following letter from Mr. Jefferson to +Herbert Croft, LL.B., of London:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Monticello</span>, <i>Oct. 30th, 1798</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir; The copy of your printed letter on the English and +German languages, which you have been so kind as to +send me, has come to hand; and I pray you to accept of +my thanks for this mark of your attention. I have +perused it with singular pleasure, and, having long +been sensible of the importance of a knowledge of the +Northern languages to the understanding of English, I +see it, in this letter, proved and specifically +exemplified by your collations of the English and +German. I shall look with impatience for the +publication of your "English and German Dictionary." +Johnson, besides the want of precision in his +definitions, and of accurate distinction in passing +from one shade of meaning to another of the same word, +is most objectionable in his derivations. From a want +probably of intimacy with our own language while in the +Anglo-Saxon form and type, and of its kindred languages +of the North, he has a constant leaning towards Greek +and Latin for English etymon. Even Skinner has a little +of this, who, when he has given the true Northern +parentage of a word, often tells you from what Greek +and Latin source it might be derived by those who have +that kind of partiality. He is, however, on the whole, +our best etymologist, unless we ascend a step higher to +the Anglo-Saxon vocabulary; and he has set the good +example of collating the English word with its kindred +word in the several Northern dialects, which often +assist in ascertaining its true meaning.</p> + +<p>Your idea is an excellent one, in producing authorities +for the meanings of words, "to select the prominent +passages in our best writers, to make your dictionary a +general index to English literature, and thus to +intersperse with verdure and flowers the barren deserts +of Philology." And I believe with you that "wisdom, +morality, religion, thus thrown down, as if without +intention, before the reader, in quotations, may often +produce more effect than the very passages in the books +themselves;"—"that the cowardly suicide, in search of +a strong word for his dying letter, might light on a +passage which would excite him to blush at his want of +fortitude, and to forego his purpose;"—"and that a +dictionary with examples at the words may, in regard to +every branch of knowledge, produce more real effect +than the whole collection of books which it quotes." I +have sometimes myself used Johnson as a Repertory, to +find favorite passages which I wished to recollect, but +too rarely with success.</p> + +<p>I was led to set a due value on the study of the +Northern languages, and especially of our Anglo-Saxon, +while I was a student of the law, by being obliged to +recur to that source for explanation of a multitude of +law-terms. A preface to Fortescue on Monarchies, +written by Fortescue Aland, and afterwards premised to +his volume of Reports, developes the advantages to be +derived to the English student generally, and +particularly the student of law, from an acquaintance +with the Anglo-Saxon; and mentions the books to which +the learner may have recourse for acquiring the +language. I accordingly devoted some time to its study, +but my busy life has not permitted me to indulge in a +pursuit to which I felt great attraction. While engaged +in it, however, some ideas occurred for facilitating +the study by simplifying its grammar, by reducing the +infinite diversities of its unfixed orthography to +single and settled forms, indicating at the same time +the pronunciation of the word by its correspondence +with the characters and powers of the English alphabet. +Some of these ideas I noted at the time on the blank +leaves of my Elstob's Anglo-Saxon Grammar: but there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span> I +have left them, and must leave them, unpursued, +although I still think them sound and useful. Among the +works which I proposed for the Anglo-Saxon student, you +will find such literal and verbal translations of the +Anglo-Saxon writers recommended, as you have given us +of the German in your printed letter. Thinking that I +cannot submit those ideas to a better judge than +yourself, and that if you find them of any value you +may put them to some use, either as hints in your +dictionary, or in some other way, I will copy them as a +sequel to this letter, and commit them without reserve +to your better knowledge of the subject. Adding my +sincere wishes for the speedy publication of your +valuable dictionary, I tender you the assurance of my +high respect and consideration.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Jefferson.</span>"<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>Of the Essay itself we have room for only the initial paragraph, which is +as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The importance of the Anglo-Saxon dialect towards a +perfect understanding of the English language seems not +to have been duly estimated by those charged with the +education of youth; and yet it is unquestionably the +basis of our present tongue. It was a full-formed +language; its frame and construction, its declension of +nouns and verbs, and its syntax were peculiar to the +Northern languages, and fundamentally different from +those of the South. It was the language of all England, +properly so called, from the Saxon possession of that +country in the sixth century to the time of Henry III. +in the thirteenth, and was spoken pure and unmixed with +any other. Although the Romans had been in possession +of that country for nearly five centuries from the time +of Julius Cæsar, yet it was a military possession +chiefly, by their soldiery alone, and with dispositions +intermutually jealous and unamicable. They seemed to +have aimed at no lasting settlements there, and to have +had little familiar mixture with the native Britons. In +this state of connection there would probably be little +incorporation of the Roman into the native language, +and on their subsequent evacuation of the island its +traces would soon be lost altogether. And had it been +otherwise, these innovations would have been carried +with the natives themselves when driven into Wales by +the invasion and entire occupation of the rest of the +Southern portion of the island by the Anglo-Saxons. The +language of these last became that of the country from +that time forth, for nearly seven centuries; and so +little attention was paid among them to the Latin, that +it was known to a few individuals only as a matter of +science, and without any chance of transfusion into the +vulgar language. We may safely repeat the affirmation, +therefore, that the pure Anglo-Saxon constitutes at +this day the basis of our language. That it was +sufficiently copious for the purposes of society in the +existing condition of arts and manners, reason alone +would satisfy us from the necessity of the case. Its +copiousness, too, was much favored by the latitude it +allowed of combining primitive words so as to produce +any modification of idea desired. In this +characteristic it was equal to the Greek, but it is +more specially proved by the actual fact of the books +they have left us in the various branches of history, +geography, religion, law, and poetry. And although +since the Norman conquest it has received vast +additions and embellishments from the Latin, Greek, +French, and Italian languages, yet these are but +engraftments on its idiomatic stem; its original +structure and syntax remain the same, and can be but +imperfectly understood by the mere Latin scholar. Hence +the necessity of making the Anglo-Saxon a regular +branch of academic education. In the sixteenth and +seventeenth centuries it was assiduously cultivated by +a host of learned men. The names of Lambard, Parker, +Spelman, Wheeloc, Wilkins, Gibson, Hickes, Thwaites, +Somner, Benson, Mareschal, Elstob, deserve to be ever +remembered with gratitude for the Anglo-Saxon works +which they have given us through the press, the only +certain means of preserving and promulgating them."</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_OBELISKS_OF_EGYPT" id="THE_OBELISKS_OF_EGYPT"></a>THE OBELISKS OF EGYPT.</h2> + + +<p>In the last number of the <i>International</i> we gave an interesting article +from the London <i>Times</i> respecting "Cleopatra's Needle." The subject of its +removal has since been largely discussed in England, and Mr. Tucker, a +civil engineer, has been sent out to Alexandria to "report on the condition +and site of the obelisk," and Lord Edward Russell has been appointed to the +Vengeance to proceed to Egypt for the purpose of bringing it to England. On +the publication of these facts Mr. Nathaniel Gould writes to the <i>Times</i> as +follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>How far a "man-of-war" is a proper vessel for this +purpose may be seen hereafter. The Premier is, however, +ready enough to appropriate some little <i>éclat</i> to a +member of his own family. I stated that, so far as I +could make out, the bringing the obelisk of Luxor to +Paris had cost the French Government 40,000<i>l.</i>; but it +is stated by Mr. Gliddon, late United States Consul at +Cairo, that it actually cost France 2,000,000f., or +80,000<i>l.</i>! Private offers have been made to bring the +Needle to England for from 7,000<i>l.</i> to 12,500<i>l.</i> +within a twelvemonth; it remains to be seen what it +will cost when brought on Government account.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding that so much has of late appeared upon +the subject of Egyptian obelisks, but little has been +given of value to the public touching the nature, +origin, inscriptions, numbers, and localities of these +curious and interesting objects. Perhaps, Sir, you may +not think it out of the way to give room for such +information as I have got together in my researches, +while contemplating the removal of the obelisk from +Alexandria. Obelisks are of Egyptian invention, and are +purely historical records, placed in pairs before +public buildings, stating when, by whom, and for what +purpose the building was erected, and the divinity or +divinities to whom it was dedicated.</p> + +<p>We read that the ancient Hebrews set up stones to +record signal events, and such stones are called by +Strabo "books of history;" but, as they were +uninscribed, the Egyptian monoliths are much more so. +The Celts, too, have left similar stones in every +country in which they settled, as our own islands +sufficiently prove, whether in those of the Channel or +of Ireland and Scotland. The Scandinavian nations have +in more recent periods left similar records, some of +them inscribed with Runic characters, which, like the +hieroglyphics of Egypt, are now translated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span></p> + +<p>Egyptian obelisks are all of very nearly similar +proportions, however they may differ in height; the +width of the base is usually about one-tenth of the +length of the shaft, up to the finish or pyramidion, +which, again, is one-tenth of the length of the shaft. +The image of gold set up by king Nebuchadnezzar agrees +with these proportions—viz., sixty cubits high and six +cubits wide. They are generally cut out of granite, +though there are two small ones in the British Museum +of basalt, and one at Philoe of sandstone. The +pyramidions of several appear to be rough and +unfinished, leading some persons to suppose that they +were surmounted with a cap of bronze, or of rays. Bonom +writes, that Abd El Latief saw bronze coverings on +those of Luxor and that of Materiah in the 13th +century; with such a belief it is not improbable that +the obelisk of Arles, in France, found and re-erected +to the glory of the Great Louis, was surmounted with a +gilt sun. The temples of Egypt may be considered not +only as monuments of the intelligence and ancient +civilization of mankind, as vignettes in the great book +of history, but also as possessing a peculiar interest, +as belonging to a people intimately connected with +sacred records.</p> + +<p>As regards the original sites of the obelisks, none are +found on the west bank of the Nile, neither are any +pyramids found on the eastern bank of Egypt Proper; +this caused Bonomi to think that obelisks were intended +as decorations to the temples of the living, symbolized +by the rising sun, and pyramids decorations of the +temples of the dead, symbolized by its setting. The +greater number of obelisks are engraven on the four +faces; some are engraven on one face only, and some +have never been inscribed. Some of the faces are +engraven in one column, some in two, and some in three +columns. In some instances the side or lateral columns +have been additions in after times, in different and +inferior styles of engraving; and in some instances the +name of the king, within the oval or cartouche, has +been erased and another substituted. The inscriptions +are hieroglyphic or sacred writing, which have been +unintelligible till within the last few years. The +French occupation of Egypt commenced that discovery, +which has been perfected by the key of Young and the +alphabet of Champollion—though mainly perhaps indebted +to the Rosetta Stone, found in 1799, engraven in three +characters, hieroglyphic, Demotic and Greek. The more +ancient inscriptions are beautifully cut, and as fresh +as if just from the tool, and are curiously caved +inwardly, and exquisitely polished.</p> + +<p>It would take too much of your space and of my time to +give a history of the progress of this wonderful +discovery, by which we now know more of the Egyptian +history before the time of Abraham than of England +before Alfred the Great, or of France before +Charlemagne. Some of these monuments are considered to +date as far back as 2,000 years before the Christian +era. It is sufficiently evident, from the small number +that are known to exist, that they were a most costly +production, requiring a long time for their completion, +and the most elaborate skill of the most perfect +sculptors to execute. Bonomi, to whose indefatigable +research, and clear and positive style of writing, and +condensation of his knowledge I am indebted, out of his +papers read before the Royal Society of Literature (of +which I am a member), gives us an account of all the +known obelisks.</p> + +<p>The number of Egyptian obelisks now standing is 30; of +which there are remaining in Egypt, 8; in Italy, 14; in +Constantinople, 2; in France, 2; in England, 4. The +loftiest is that of the "Lateran," at Rome, which is +105 feet, though 4 feet were cut from its broken base, +to enable it to stand when re-erected. The shortest is +the minor "Florentine," which is 5 feet 10 inches. The +number of prostrate obelisks known is 12, viz.: at +Alexandria, 1; in the ruins of Saan, or Tanais, 9; at +Carnack, 2; all in Egypt, and all colossal, and of the +18th and 20th dynasties. Thus it seems that, like the +cedars of Lebanon, there are more in other parts of the +world than in the country of their original location.</p> + +<p>The 12 obelisks at Rome were conveyed thither by the +Cæsars to adorn the eternal city; that of the Lateran +was brought by Constantine from Heliopolis to +Alexandria, and from Alexandria by Constantius, and +placed in the "Circus Maximus." It was brought from +Alexandria in an immense galley. When the barbarians +sacked Rome they overthrew all the obelisks, which were +broken in their fall; this was in three pieces, and the +base so destroyed that when raised by Fontana in 1588, +by order of Sixtus V., above 4 feet were cut from its +base; it is now 105 feet 7 inches in shaft. It is +sculptured on all four sides, and the same subject on +each. There are three columns—the inner the most +ancient and best cut. The obelisk of the Piazza del +Popolo was brought from Heliopolis by Augustus, and, +like the preceding, was broken in three pieces, and +required above three feet to be cut off its damaged +base. This, too, was re-erected by order of Sixtus V., +in 1589. Its height, as now shortened, is 87 feet 5 +inches. It is sculptured on all four sides in three +columns of different age and excellence. The obelisk of +"Piazza Rotunda" was re-erected by Clement XI., A. D., +1711. It is 19 feet 9 inches shaft. It has only one +column of hieroglyphics, with the name of Rameses on +each. Those of Materiah and the Hippodrome at +Constantinople also have but one centre column +engraved. So much for some of those at Rome. Of the +four in England, two small ones, of basalt, are in the +British Museum; they are only 8 feet 1 inch in height. +That at Alnwick Castle was found in the Thebaid, and +presented to Lord Prudhoe by the Pacha in 1838, and got +to England by Bonomi. It is of red granite, 7 feet 3 +inches in height, and 9-3/4 inches at the base. It is +inscribed on one face only. That at Corfe Castle was +brought over for Mr. Bankes by the celebrated Belzoni. +It is of granite, and 22 feet in height.</p></div> + +<p>Mr. Gould proceeds to repeat the particulars respecting Cleopatra's Needle, +which were contained in the October number of this magazine. Signor +Tisvanni D'Athanasi also writes to the <i>Times</i>, proposing to undertake the +removal of this obelisk, and says:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Every body knows that from the time of the Romans up +to the present century the only colossal objects which +have been transported from Egypt, with the exception of +the obelisk of Luxor, are the two sphynxes which are +now at St Petersburgh, and which were found and sent to +Alexandria through my means."</p></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DR_LATHAM_ON_THE_MOSKITO_KINGDOM" id="DR_LATHAM_ON_THE_MOSKITO_KINGDOM"></a>DR. LATHAM ON THE MOSKITO KINGDOM.</h2> + + +<p>The last portion of Dr. <span class="smcap">Robert G. Latham's</span> learned work on the Ethnology of +the British Colonies and Dependencies, treats of American ethnology, a +branch of the subject which, though extensively investigated, is greatly in +want of systematic arrangement. Some of Dr. Latham's views are novel. The +following sketch of the Nicaraguan Indians is interesting at the present +moment for political reasons:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The Moskito Indians are no subjects of England, any +more than the Tahitians are of France, or the Sandwich +Islanders of America, France, and England conjointly. +The Moskito coast is a Protectorate, and the Moskito +Indians are the subjects of a native king. The present +reigning monarch was educated under English auspices at +Jamaica, and, upon attaining his majority, crowned at +Grey Town. I believe that his name is that of the +grandfather of our late gracious majesty. King George, +then, King of the Moskitos, has a territory extending +from the neighborhood of Truxillo to the lower part of +the River San Juan; a territory whereof, inconveniently +for Great Britain, the United States, and the commerce +of the world at large, the limits and definition are +far from being universally recognized. Nicaragua has +claims, and the Isthmus canal suffers accordingly. The +King of the Moskito coast, and the Emperor of the +Brazil, are the only resident sovereigns of the New +World. The subjects of the former are, really, the +aborigines of the whole line of coast between Nicaragua +and Honduras—there being no Indians remaining in the +former republic, and but few in the latter. Of these, +too—the Nicaraguans—we have no definite ethnological +information. Mr. Squier speaks of them as occupants of +the islands of the lakes of the interior. Colonel +Galindo also mentions them; but I infer, from his +account, that their original language is lost, and that +Spanish is their present tongue; just as it is said to +be that of the aborigines of St. Salvador and Costa +Rica. This makes it difficult to fix them. And the +difficulty is increased when we resort to history, +tradition, and archæology. History makes them +Mexicans—Asteks from the kingdom of Montezuma, and +colonists of the Peninsula, just as the Ph[oe]nicians +were of Carthage. Archæology goes the same way. A +detailed description of Mr. Squier's discoveries is an +accession to ethnology which is anxiously expected. At +any rate, stone ruins and carved decorations have been +found; so that what Mr. Stephenson has written about +Yucatan and Guatemala, may be repeated in the case of +Nicaragua. Be it so. The difficulty will be but +increased, since whatever facts make Nicaragua Mexican, +isolate the Moskitos. They are now in contact with +Spaniards and Englishmen—populations whose +civilization differs from their own; and populations +who are evidently intrusive and of recent origin. +Precisely the same would be the case if the Nicaraguans +were made Mexican. The civilization would be of another +sort; the population which introduced it would be +equally intrusive; and the only difference would be a +difference of stage and degree—a little earlier in the +way of time, and a little less contrast in the way of +skill and industry. But the evidence in favor of the +Mexican origin of the Nicaraguans is doubtful; and so +is the fact of their having wholly lost their native +tongue; and until one of these two opinions be proved, +it will be well to suspend our judgment as to the +isolation of the Moskitos. If, indeed, either of them +be true, their ethnological position will be a +difficult question. With nothing in Honduras to compare +them with—with nothing tangible, or with an apparently +incompatible affinity in Nicaragua—with only very +general miscellaneous affinities in Guatemala—their +ethnological affinities are as peculiar as their +political constitution. Nevertheless, isolated as their +language is, it has undoubtedly general affinities with +those of America at large; and this is all that it is +safe to say at present. But it is safe to say this. We +have plenty of data for their tongue, in a grammar of +Mr. Henderson's, published at New-York, 1846. The chief +fact in the history of the Moskitos is that they were +never subject to the Spaniards. Each continent affords +a specimen of this isolated freedom—the independence +of some exceptional and impracticable tribes, as +compared with the universal empire of some encroaching +European power. The Circassians in Caucasus, the +Tshuktshi Koriaks in North-Eastern Asia, and the +Kaffres in Africa, show this. Their relations with the +buccaneers were, probably, of an amicable description. +So they were with the negroes—maroon and imported. And +this, perhaps, has determined their <i>differentiæ</i>. They +are intertropical American aborigines, who have become +partially European, without becoming Spanish. Their +physical conformation is that of the South rather than +the North American; and, here it must be remembered, +that we are passing from one moiety of the new +hemisphere to the other. With a skin which is +olive-colored rather than red, they have small limbs +and undersized frames; whilst their habits are, +<i>mutatis mutandis</i>, those of the intertropical African. +This means, that the exuberance of soil, and the heat +of the climate, make them agriculturists rather than +shepherds, and idlers rather than agriculturists, since +the least possible amount of exertion gives them roots +and fruits, whilst it is only those wants which are +compatible with indolence that they care to satisfy. +They presume rather than improve upon the warmth of +their suns, and the fertility of the soil. When they +get liquor, they get drunk; when they work hardest, +they cut mahogany. Canoes and harpoons represent the +native industry. Wulasha is the name of their evil +spirit, and Liwaia that of a water-dog. I cannot but +think that there is much intermixture amongst them. At +the same time, the data for ascertaining the amount are +wanting. Their greatest intercourse has, probably, been +with the negro; their next greatest with the +Englishman. Of the population of the interior we know +next to nothing. Here their neighbors are Spaniards. +They are frontagers to the river San Juan. This gives +them their value in politics. They are the only well +known extant Indians between Guatemala and Veragua. +This gives them their value in ethnology. The +populations to which they were most immediately allied +have disappeared from history. This isolates them; so +that there is no class to which they can be +subordinated. At the same time, they are quite as like +the nearest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span> known tribes as the American ethnologist +is prepared to expect. What they were in their truly +natural state, when, unmodified by either Englishman or +Spaniard, Black or Indian, they represented the +indigenous civilization (such as it was) of their +coast, is uncertain."</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="GOLD-QUARTZ_AND_SOCIETY" id="GOLD-QUARTZ_AND_SOCIETY"></a>GOLD-QUARTZ AND SOCIETY.</h2> + + +<p>The Burns Ranch Union Mining Company in California have published a +prospectus—we suppose to facilitate the sale of their stock—and the +writer indulges in some speculations respecting the influence of the +discovery that the chief mineral riches of the new state are in mines, +instead of the sands of rivers, thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>It appears to be the destiny of America to carry on the +greatness of the future, and that Providence—which +shapes the ends of nations as well as of persons, at a +time when it was most needful for the prosecution of +her mission, when war and the expedients of political +strategy are out of vogue, and the people is most +powerful of which the individual civilization, energy, +ambition, and resources are greatest—that Providence, +at this crisis, has opened the veins of the Continent, +slumbering so many thousand years, in order that we +might derive from them all that remained necessary for +investing the United States with the leadership of the +world.</p> + +<p>The first intelligence of the discovery of gold in +California fell upon the general mind like news of a +great and peculiar revolution. It was at once—even +before the statements on the subject assumed a definite +or certain form—it was at once felt that a new hour +was signally on the dial-plate of history. Immediately, +those immense fortunes which were acquired by the +Portuguese and Spaniards nearly four centuries +ago—fortunes which, in the decline of nations, have +still remained in families as the sign and substance of +the only nobility and power which mankind at large +acknowledge—those astonishing fortunes which raised +the enterprising poor man to the dignity and happiness +of the most elevated classes in society, were recalled, +and made suggestive of like successes to new and more +hardy adventurers. The reports came with increased +volume; every ship confirmed the rumors brought by its +predecessor, and new intelligence, that, in its turn, +tasked the popular credulity; and it came soon to be +understood that we had found a land literally flowing +with gold and silver, as that promised to the earlier +favorites of Heaven did with milk and honey. As many as +were free from controlling engagements, and had means +with which to do so, started for our El Dorado, making +haste, in fear that the wealth of the country would +quickly be exhausted—not dreaming, even yet, that +there was any thing to be acquired but flakes and +scales and scattered masses of ore, which would be +exhausted by the first hunters who should scour the +rivers and turn the surface soil.</p> + +<p>But at length the geologists began to apprehend, what +experience soon confirmed, that, extraordinary as were +the amounts of gold found in drifts of gravel, and +deposits that had been left in the beds of streams, +these were merely the signs of far greater +riches—merely indexes of the presence of rocks and +hills, and underlayers of plains, impregnated with +gold, in quantities that the processes of nature could +never disclose, and that would reward only the +scientific efforts of miners having all the mechanical +appliances which the laborious experiments of other +nations had invented. The fact of the existence of +veins of gold in vast quartz formations, and ribs of +gold in hills, was as startling almost as the first +news of the presence of the precious metal in the +country. This at once changed the prospect, and from a +game of chance, elevated the pursuit of gold in +California to a grand industrial purpose, requiring an +energy and sagacity that invest it with the highest +dignity, and to such energy and sagacity promising, +with absolute certainty, rewards that make it worthy of +the greatest ambition.</p> + +<p>Now, men of character and capital—the class of men +whose speculating spirit is held in subjection by the +most exact reason—began to turn to the subject their +investigations, and to connect with it their plans. +This will account for the fact that has so much +astonished the world, which had supposed our Pacific +colony to be composed of the reckless, profligate and +desperate only—the fact, that when California made her +constitution of government, it shot at once in +unquestionable wisdom directly and far in advance of +all the states on the Atlantic, presenting to mankind +the very highest type of a free government that had +ever been conceived. The demonstration that California +was a <i>mine</i>, like other mines in all but its +surpassing richness, elevated it from a scene of +gambling to one for the orderly pursuit of riches, and +by the splendor of its promises, drew to it the most +sagacious and most heroical intelligences of the time.</p> + +<p>Astonishing as are the present and prospective results +of the discovery in California, however, we are not to +suppose that there is any possibility of a decline in +the value of the precious metals. In absolute material +civilization, the world in the last three-quarters of a +century has advanced more than it had in any previous +three full centuries; and the supply of gold, for +currency and the thousand other objects for which it +was demanded, was becoming alarmingly insufficient, so +that the addition of more than thirty per cent. to the +total annual product of the world, which we are led by +the officially-stated results thus far to expect from +California, will merely preserve the historical and +necessary proportion and standard value.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="INEDITED_LETTER_OF_DR_FRANKLIN" id="INEDITED_LETTER_OF_DR_FRANKLIN"></a>INEDITED LETTER OF DR. FRANKLIN.</h2> + + +<p>The following characteristic and interesting letter by Dr. Franklin is +first printed in the <i>International</i>. Captain Falconer, to whom it is +addressed, took Dr. Franklin to France when he was appointed commissioner, +and proceeded thence with his ship to London. The letter is directed <i>To +Captain Nathaniel Falconer, at the Pennsylvania Coffee-house, Birchin Lane, +London</i>, and the autograph is in the collection of Mr. George W. Childs, of +Philadelphia:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Passy</span>, July 28, 1783.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>:—I received your favor of the 18th. +Captain Barney brought us the dispatches we so long +expected. Mr. Deane as you observe is lost. Dr. +Bancroft is I believe steady to the interest of his +country, and will make an agreeable passenger if you +can take him. You desire to know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span> something of the +state of affairs here. Every thing goes well with +respect to this court and the other friendly powers; +what England is doing or means to do, or why the +definitive treaty is so long delayed, I know perhaps +less than you do; as, being in that country, you may +have opportunities of hearing more than I can. For +myself, I am at present as hearty and well as I have +been these many years; and as happy as a man can be +where every body strives to make him so. The French are +an amiable people to live with; they love me, and I +love them. Yet I do not feel myself at home, and I wish +to die in my own country. Barney will sail this week +with our dispatches. A good voyage to you, my friend, +and may God ever bless you.</p> + +<p class="right"> +B. FRANKLIN.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain Falconer.</span></p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_BALLAD_OF_SIR_JOHN_FRANKLIN" id="A_BALLAD_OF_SIR_JOHN_FRANKLIN"></a>A BALLAD OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.</h2> + +<h3>FROM A FORTHCOMING VOLUME OF POEMS BY GEORGE H. BOKER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The ice was here, the ice was there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ice was all around."—<span class="smcap">Coleridge.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, whither sail you, Sir John Franklin?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried a whaler in Baffin's Bay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know if between the land and the pole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may find a broad sea-way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I charge you back, Sir John Franklin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As you would live and thrive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For between the land and the frozen pole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man may sail alive.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But lightly laughed the stout Sir John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spoke unto his men:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half England is wrong, if he is right;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear off to westward then.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, whither sail you, brave Englishman?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried the little Esquimaux.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the land and the polar star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My goodly vessels go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come down, if you would journey there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little Indian said;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And change your cloth for fur clothing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your vessel for a sled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But lightly laughed the stout Sir John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the crew laughed with him too:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sailor to change from ship to sled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ween, were something new!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All through the long, long polar day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vessels westward sped;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wherever the sail of Sir John was blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ice gave way and fled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gave way with many a hollow groan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with many a surly roar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it murmured and threatened on every side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And closed where he sailed before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ho! see ye not, my merry men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The broad and open sea?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bethink ye what the whaler said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of the little Indian's sled!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crew laughed out in glee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sir John, Sir John, 'tis bitter cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scud drives on the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ice comes looming from the north,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very sunbeams freeze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bright summer goes, dark winter comes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We cannot rule the year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But long ere summer's sun goes down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On yonder sea we'll steer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dripping icebergs dipped and rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And floundered down the gale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ships were staid, the yards were manned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And furled the useless sail.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The summer's gone, the winter's come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We sail not on yonder sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why sail we not, Sir John Franklin?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A silent man was he.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The summer goes, the winter comes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We cannot rule the year:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ween, we cannot rule the ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sir John, wherein we'd steer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cruel ice came floating on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And closed beneath the lee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the thickening waters dashed no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas ice around, behind, before—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My God! there is no sea!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What think you of the whaler now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What of the Esquimaux?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sled were better than a ship,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cruise through ice and snow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down sank the baleful crimson sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The northern light came out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glared upon the ice-bound ships,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shook its spears about.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snow came down, storm breeding storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the decks was laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the weary sailor, sick at heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sank down beside his spade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sir John, the night is black and long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hissing wind is bleak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hard, green ice is strong as death:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I prithee, Captain, speak!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The night is neither bright nor short,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The singing breeze is cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ice is not so strong as hope—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart of man is bold!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What hope can scale this icy wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High over the main flag-staff?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the ridges the wolf and bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down with a patient, settled stare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down on us and laugh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The summer went, the winter came—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We could not rule the year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But summer will melt the ice again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And open a path to the sunny main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon our ships shall steer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The winter went, the summer went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winter came around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the hard, green ice was strong as death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the voice of hope sank to a breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet caught at every sound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! heard you not the noise of guns?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, and there again?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis some uneasy iceberg's roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he turns in the frozen main.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hurra! hurra! the Esquimaux<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the ice-fields steal:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God give them grace for their charity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye pray for the silly seal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sir John, where are the English fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where are the English trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where are the little English flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That open in the breeze?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be still, be still, my brave sailors!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall see the fields again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smell the scent of the opening flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grass, and the waving grain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! when shall I see my orphan child?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Mary waits for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! when shall I see my old mother<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pray at her trembling knee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be still, be still, my brave sailors!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think not such thoughts again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a tear froze slowly on his cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thought of Lady Jane.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! bitter, bitter grows the cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ice grows more and more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More settled stare the wolf and bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More patient than before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! think you, good Sir John Franklin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll ever see the land?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas cruel to send us here to starve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a helping hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas cruel, Sir John, to send us here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far from help or home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To starve and freeze on this lonely sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ween, the Lords of the Admiralty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had rather send than come.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! whether we starve to death alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sail to our own country,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have done what man has never done—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The open ocean danced in the sun—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We passed the Northern Sea!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="REMARKABLE_PROPHECY" id="REMARKABLE_PROPHECY"></a>REMARKABLE PROPHECY.</h2> + +<h3>TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF M. LAHARPE FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE.</h3> + +<h4>BY H. J. BEYERLE, M.D.</h4> + + +<p>It seems to me as if it had been but yesterday, and yet it happened in the +beginning of the year 1788. We were at table with one of our colleagues of +the Academy, a respectable and lively gentleman. The company was numerous, +and selected from all ranks: nobles, judges, professional men, +academicians, &c. We had enjoyed ourselves as is customary at a well-loaded +table. At the desert, the <i>malvasier</i> and Cape wine exalted the pleasure +and increased in a good company that kind of liberty which does not remain +within precise limits.</p> + +<p>People in the world had then arrived at the point where it was allowed to +say every thing, if it was the object to excite laughter. Chamfort had read +to us some of his blasphemous and unchaste tales, and the noble ladies +heard them without even taking for refuge to the fan. Then followed a whole +volley of mockery on religion. One mentioned a tirade from the Pucelle; the +other reminded us of those philosophical stanzas of Diderot, wherein he +says: "With the intestines of the last priest tie up the throat of the last +king;" and all clapped approbation. Another rises, holds up the full +tumbler, and cries: "Yes, gentlemen, I am just as certain that there is no +God, as I am certain that Homer was a fool!" and really, he was of the one +as certain as he was of the other: we had just spoken of Homer and of God, +and there were guests present, too, who had said something good of the one +and of the other.</p> + +<p>The conversation now became more serious. We spoke with astonishment of the +revolution Voltaire had effected, and we agreed that it is the most +distinguished foundation of his fame. He had given the term to his +half-century; he had written in such a manner, that he is read in the +anteroom as well as in the hall.</p> + +<p>One of the guests told us with great laughter, that his hairdresser, as he +powdered him, said, "You see, sir, though I am only a miserable fellow, I +yet have not more religion than others." We concluded that the revolution +would soon be completed, and that superstition and fanaticism must +absolutely yield to philosophy; we calculated the probability of the time, +and who of this company may have the happiness to live to see the reign of +reason. The older ones were sorry that they could not flatter themselves to +see this; those younger rejoiced with the hope that they shall live to the +time, and we particularly congratulated the Academy for having introduced +the great work, and that they have been the chief source, the centre, the +mainspring of freedom of thought.</p> + +<p>One of the guests had taken no part in this gay conversation, and had even +scattered a few jokes in regard to our beautiful enthusiasm. It was M. +Cazotte, an agreeable and original gentleman; but who, unfortunately, was +prepossessed by the idle imaginations of those who believe in a higher +inspiration. He took the word, and said, in the most serious manner: "Sirs, +rejoice; you all will be witnesses of that great and sublime revolution for +which you wish so much. You are aware that I make some pretensions to +prophecy. I repeat it to you, you will all see it!"</p> + +<p>"For this a man needs no prophetic gifts," was answered him.</p> + +<p>"This is true," he replied, "but probably a little more for what I have to +tell you yet. Do you know what will arise from this revolution (where, +namely, reason will triumph in opposition to religion)? what her immediate +consequence, her undeniable and acknowledged effects will be?"</p> + +<p>"Let us see," said Condorcet, with his affected look of simplicity, "a +philosopher is not sorry to meet a prophet."</p> + +<p>"You, M. Condorcet," continued M. Cazotte, "you will be stretched out upon +the floor of a dungeon, there to yield up your ghost. You will die of +poison, which you will swallow to save yourself from the hangman—of the +poison which the good luck of the times, which then will be, will have +compelled you always to have carried with you."</p> + +<p>This at first excited great astonishment, but we soon remembered that the +good Cazotte occasionally dreamed waking, and we all laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"M. Cazotte," said one of the guests, "the tale you relate to us here is +not as merry as your 'Devil in Love' (a romance which Cazotte had written). +What kind of a devil has given you the dungeon, the poison, and the +hangman?—what has this in common with philosophy, and with the reign of +Reason?"</p> + +<p>"This is just what I told you," replied Cazotte. "In the name of +philosophy, in the name of humanity, of liberty, of reason, it shall be +that you shall take such an end; and then reason will still reign, for she +will have temples; yes, at the same time there will be no temples in all +France, but temples of Reason."</p> + +<p>"Truly," said Chamfort, with a scornful smile, "you will not be one of the +priests in these temples?"</p> + +<p>"This I hope," replied Cazotte, "but you, M. de Chamfort, who will be one +of them—and very worthy you are to be one—you will open your veins with +twenty-two incisions of the razor—and yet you will only die a few months +afterwards."</p> + +<p>They look at each other, and continue to laugh. Cazotte continues:</p> + +<p>"You, M. Vicq d'Azyr, you will not open your veins yourself; but afterwards +you will get them opened six times in one day, and during the night you +will die."</p> + +<p>"You, M. Nicolli, you will die on the scaffold."</p> + +<p>"You, M. Bailly, on the scaffold!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You, M. Malesherbes—you, on the scaffold!"</p> + +<p>"God be thanked," exclaimed M. Roucher, "it appears M. Cazotte has it to do +only with the Academy; he has just started a terrible butchery among them; +I—thanks to heaven—"</p> + +<p>Cazotte interrupted him: "you?—you, too, will die on the scaffold."</p> + +<p>"Ha! this is a bet," they exclaimed from all sides; "he has sworn to +extirpate everything!"</p> + +<p><i>Cazotte.</i>—"No, it is not I that has sworn it."</p> + +<p>"Then we must be put under the yokes of the Turks and Tartars?—and yet—"</p> + +<p><i>Cazotte.</i>—"Nothing less: I have told you already; you will then be only +under the reign of philosophy and reason; those who shall treat you in this +manner, will all be philosophers, will always carry on the same kind of +conversation which you have peddled out for the last hour, will repeat all +your maxims; they will, like you, cite verses from Diderot and the +Pucelle."</p> + +<p>It was whispered into one another's ear: "You all see that he has lost his +reason—(for he remains very serious while he is talking)—Do you not see +that he is joking?—and you know that he mixes something mysterious into +all his jokes." "Yes," said Chamfort, "but I must confess his mysteries are +not agreeable, they are too scaffoldish! And when shall all this occur?"</p> + +<p><i>Cazotte.</i>—"Six years will not expire, before all I told you will be +fulfilled."</p> + +<p>"There are many wonders." This time it was I (namely Laharpe) who took the +word, "and of me you say nothing?"</p> + +<p>"With you," replied Cazotte, "a wonder will take place, which will at least +be as extraordinary; you will then be a Christian!"</p> + +<p>Here was a universal exclamation. "Now I am easy," cried Chamfort, "if we +don't perish until Laharpe is a Christian, we shall be immortal!"</p> + +<p>"We, of the female sex," then said the Duchess de Grammont, "we are lucky +that we shall be counted as nothing with the revolutions. When I say +nothing, I do not mean to say as if we would not mingle ourselves a little +into them; but it is assumed that nobody will, on that account, loath at us +or at our sex."</p> + +<p><i>Cazotte.</i>—"Your sex will this time not protect you, and you may ever so +much desire not to mingle into anything; you will be treated just like men, +and no distinction will be made!"</p> + +<p><i>Duchess.</i>—"But what do you tell us here, M. Cazotte? You preach to us the +end of the world!"</p> + +<p><i>Cazotte.</i>—"That I do not know; but what I do know, is, that you, Madame +Duchess, will be led to the scaffold, you, and many other ladies, and on +the public cart, with your hands tied on your back!"</p> + +<p><i>Duchess.</i>—"In this case, I hope I shall have a black trimmed coach?"</p> + +<p><i>Cazotte.</i>—"No, madam! Nobler ladies than you, shall, like you, be drawn +on that same cart, with the hands tied on the back!"</p> + +<p><i>Duchess.</i>—"Nobler ladies? How? the princesses by birth?"</p> + +<p><i>Cazotte.</i>-"Nobler yet!"</p> + +<p>Now was observed a visible excitement in the whole company, and the master +of the table took on a dark appearance; they began to see that the joke had +been carried too far.</p> + +<p>Madame de Grammont, to scatter the clouds which the last answer had +occasioned, contented herself by saying in a facetious tone: "You shall see +that he will not even allow me the comfort of a father confessor!"</p> + +<p><i>Cazotte.</i>—"No, madam! you will not get one; neither you nor any one else! +The last one executed, who, out of mercy, will have received a father +confessor"—here he stopped a moment—</p> + +<p><i>Duchess.</i>—"Well, who will be the fortunate one, when this fortunate +preference will be granted?"</p> + +<p><i>Cazotte.</i>—"It will be the only preference that he shall yet keep; and +this will be the king of France!"</p> + +<p>Now the host arose from the table, and all with him. He went to Cazotte, +and said with an excited voice, "My dear M. Cazotte, this lamentable jest +has lasted long. You carry it too far, and within a degree where you place +the company in which you are, and yourself, into danger."</p> + +<p>Cazotte answered not, and made himself ready to go away, when madame +Grammont, who always tried to prevent the matter from being taken +seriously, and exerted herself to restore the gaiety of the company, went +to him, and said: "Now, M. Prophet! you have told us all our fortunes, but +you say nothing of your own fate?"</p> + +<p>He was silent and cast down his eyes; then he said: "Have you, madame, +read, in Josephus, the history of the siege of Jerusalem?"</p> + +<p><i>Duchess.</i>—"Certainly! who has not read it? but you seem to think that I +have not!"</p> + +<p><i>Cazotte.</i>—"Well, madame, during the siege a man went round the city, upon +the walls, for seven days, in the face of the besiegers and the besieged, +and cried continually, with a mournful voice, 'Wo unto Jerusalem! Wo unto +Jerusalem!' but on the seventh day he cried, 'Wo unto me!' and at that +moment he was dashed to pieces by an immense stone, which the machines of +the enemy had thrown."</p> + +<p>After these words, M. Cazotte bowed himself, and went away.</p> + +<p>In relation to the above extraordinary prediction, a certain M.... has +inserted the following article in the public journals of Paris: "That he +well knew this M. Cazotte, and has often heard from him the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span> announcement +of the great oppression which was to come over France, and this at a time +when not the least of it was suspected. The attachment to the monarchy was +the reason why, on the second of September, 1792, he was brought to the +abbey, and was saved from the hands of the bloodthirsty rabble only through +the heroic courage of his daughter, who mitigated the raging populace. This +same rabble which wanted to destroy him, led him to his house in triumph. +All his friends came to congratulate him, that he had escaped death. A +certain M. D... who visited him after the terrible days, said to him: "Now, +you are saved!"—"I believe it not," answered Cazotte; "in three days I +shall be guillotined!"—"How can this be?" replied M. D... Cazotte +continued: "Yes, my friend, in three days I will die on the scaffold!" As +he said this he was very much affected, and added: "Shortly before your +arrival, I saw a gend'armes enter, who fetched me by order of Petion; I was +under the necessity of following him: I appeared before the mayor of Paris, +who ordered me to the <i>Conciergerie</i>, and thence I came before the +revolutionary tribunal. You see, therefore (by this vision, namely, which +Cazotte had seen), my friend, that my hour has arrived; and I am so much +convinced of this, that I am arranging my papers. Here are papers for which +I care very much, which you will deliver to my wife; I entreat you to give +them to her, and to comfort her.""</p> + +<p>M. D... declared this all folly, and left him with the conviction, that his +reason had suffered by the sight of the scenes of terror from which he had +escaped.</p> + +<p>The next day he came again; but he learned that a gensd'arme had taken M. +Cazotte to the Municipality. M. D... went to Petion; arrived at the +mayoralty, he heard that his friend had just been taken to prison; he +hurried thither; but he was informed that he could not speak to him, he +would be tried before the revolutionary tribunal. Soon after this, he heard +that his friend had been condemned and executed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="GREENWOOD" id="GREENWOOD"></a>GREENWOOD.</h2> + +<h3>WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.</h3> + +<h3>BY MAUNSELL B. FIELD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would that I were dreaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where lovely flowers are gleaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tall green grass is streaming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the gone—for ever gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i19"><span class="smcap">Motherwell.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The evening glories of a summer sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brimming the heart with yearnings to be blest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wood-bird's wailing as he soars on high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winging his weary way to distant nest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The murmuring billows as they kiss the strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bearing dim memories of stranger land;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sad mysterious voices of the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bathing the soul in reverie and love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The low wind, whispering of its former might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the tall trees that sigh the hills above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like angel-tones that roll from sphere to sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dimly echo to the faithful ear;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flitting shadows glancing o'er the sail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some proud ship that's dreaming on the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lighthouse fires that fitful glow and pale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The far-off strains of martial minstrelsy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wechawken's hoary head o'er hill and dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gloomy and proud, a giant sentinel;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such the soft charms, thou Paradise of Death!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My languid spirit hath erewhile confest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When wearied with the city's tainted breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fever'd and faint I've sought thy shades of rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all combines in heaven, and earth, and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To image life, death, immortality!—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here where the dusky savage twanged his bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the old time at startled doe or fawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raised the shrill war-whoop at the approach of foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wild eye flashing with revenge and scorn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here where the Indian maiden told her love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the soft sighing spirits of the grove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here, where the bloody fiend of frantic war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flapped its red wings o'er hill-top and o'er plain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sharp musket ring, and cannon roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crashed o'er the valley, thundered o'er the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sound is heard, save the sweet symphony<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Nature's all-pervading harmony.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here the pale willow, drooping o'er the wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dips its long tresses in the silvery flood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here the blue violet, blooming o'er the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Distils its fragrance to the enamored wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the complaining turtle's mournful woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steals on the ear in murmurs soft and low.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here its cold shaft the polished marble rears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, eloquent of grief, the sculptured urn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bares its white bosom to the dewy tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dropt pure from heaven, far purer to return!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here the grim granite's sempeternal pile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In monumental grandeur stands the while.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the still stars with gentlest radiance shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On forest green and flower-enamelled vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two simple columns circled by one vine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell to the traveller's eye the tender tale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of constancy in life and death—and love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not e'en the horrors of the tomb could move.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here strained, and struggling with the unequal might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sea and tempest, the poor foundering bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the snapp'd cable, chiselled on yon height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where calmly sleeps the wave-tossed pilot mark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope, with her anchor, pointing to the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triumphant hails the spirit flight on high!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! how the solemn spirit dirge ascends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In floating cadence on the evening air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where with clasped hands the weeping angel bends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In human grief o'er her that's buried there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle maid, in festive garments hurled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From life's gay glitter to the gloomy world!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy childish laughter lingers on mine ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy fairy form still floats before mine eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still is the music of thy footsteps near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Visioned to sense by tenderest memory;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy soul too pure for purest mortal love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enraptured seraphs snatched to realms above!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here where the sparkling fountain flings its spray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sportive freedom, frolicksome and wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mocking the wood-nymphs with its gladsome lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Serenely sleeps the dark-eyed forest child—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her kinsman's glory and her nation's pride!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chieftain's daughter and a warrior's bride!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft shall the pale face, pensive o'er thy mound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weep for the white man's shame, the red man's wrong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft from spring warblers, o'er this hallowed ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall gush the tenderest melody of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the poor pilgrim to that distant shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fathers loved, their sons shall see no more!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pause, weary wanderer, pause! In yon lone glade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where silence reigns in deep funereal gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the pale moonbeams struggle through the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open the portals of "The Stranger's Tomb!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No holier symbol taught since time began<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sacred sympathy of man for man!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear Greenwood! when the solemn heights I tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And catch the gray old ocean's sullen roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chanting the dirge of the mighty dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over whose graves the oblivious billows pour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tearful prayer is gushing from my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Here in thy peaceful bosom may I rest!—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Rest till the signal calls the ransomed throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With shouts their Saviour and their God to greet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest till the harp, the trumpet, and the song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Summon the dead, Death's conqueror to meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love, imperfect, man's best gift below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heaven eternal rapture shall bestow!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="AN_AUGUST_REVERIE" id="AN_AUGUST_REVERIE"></a>AN AUGUST REVERIE.</h2> + +<h3>WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE</h3> + +<h3>BY A. OAKLEY HALL.</h3> + + +<p>I have "laid" the tiniest ghost of my professional duties. I shook off city +dust twenty hours ago, and my lungs are rejoicing this August morning with +the glorious breezes that sweep from the summits of the "Trimountains" of +Waywayanda lake—that stretches its ten miles expanse before my freshened +vision.</p> + +<p>Waywayanda lake?</p> + +<p>A Quere. Shall I play geographer to those who are learned in the +nomenclature of snobbism? Who allow innkeepers and railroad guides to +assassinate Aboriginal terms in order that petty pride may exult in petty +fame? No! But if snobbism has a curiosity, I refer it to the first +landscape painter of its vicinage: or the nearest fisherman amateur: or the +Recorder of New-York: or sportsman Herbert and the pages of his "Warwick +Woodlands;" a list of references worthy of the spot.</p> + +<p>And as I gaze and breathe I feel as if the waters before me had bubbled +from the fountains of rejuvenescence for which Ponce de Leon so +enthusiastically searched in the everglades of Florida; and as if, too, I +had just emerged from their embraces.</p> + +<p>My pocket almanac says that I am living in the dogdays. Perhaps so. But +"Sirius" hath no power around these mountains and primeval solitudes. Were +the fiercest theological controversialist at my elbow, he would be as cool +as an Esquimaux.</p> + +<p>I feel at peace with all things. My friend M. says the conscience lieth in +the stomach. Perhaps so; and perhaps I owe my quietude of spirit to the +influence of as comforting a breakfast as ever blessed the palate of a +scientific egg-breaker.</p> + +<p>Shall I join forces with the laughing beauties who are handling maces in +the billiard room of the inn hard by? Shall I challenge my "Lady Gay +Spanker" of last night's acquaintance to a game of bowling? Shall I tempt +the unsophisticated pickerel of the lake under the shadow of yonder +frowning precipice, with glittering bait? Shall I clamber the mountain side +and feast my vision with an almost boundless view—rich expanses of farm +land stretching away for miles and miles, and edging themselves in the blue +haze of the horizon where the distant Catskill peaks rise solitary in their +sublimity?</p> + +<p>It is very comfortable here. Is there always poetry in motion? How far +distant are the confines of dreamland: that magical kingdom where the tired +soul satiates itself in the intoxications of fancy?</p> + +<p>I had just carefully deposited upon a velvety tuft of grass Ik Marvel's +"Reveries of a Bachelor." I had arrived at the conclusion that its pages +should be part and parcel of the landscape about. Surely there is a unison +between them both. There are always certain places where only certain +melodies can be sung to the proper harmony of the heart-strings. Who ever +learned "Thanatopsis" on the summit of the Catskills, and afterwards forgot +a line of it? Now I have seen these same "Reveries" of the said bachelor +upon many a centre-table: in the lap of many a town beauty, half cushioned +in the velvet of a drawing room sofa: but the latter half of the volume +never looked so inviting as it does here just in the middle of one of +nature's lexicons. May the page of it never be blurred.</p> + +<p>Reveries of a Bachelor!</p> + +<p>'Tis a sugared pill of a title. Its morals are sad will o' wisps. And if +the definition "that happiness consists in the search after it" be true, it +is so when the definition settles itself on the mind of a bachelor. Hath +<i>he</i> reveries half so sweet for morsels under the tongues of memory and +fancy as those which come nigh to the brain of the married man? As sure as +the lesser is always included in the greater: as certain as the maxim <i>de +minimis lex non curat</i>: the reveries of the first are but bound up in the +reveries of the last; one is a <i>pleasing</i> romance, the other its enchanting +sequel.</p> + +<p>What is that yonder? There is a merry-faced form in the distant haze, +shaking a dreamy negative with his head. A head whose reality is miles and +miles away, airing its brow of single blessedness in foreign travel.</p> + +<p>Let us argue the point: he smiles as if willing. Man socially is at least a +three volumed work: however much longer the James-like pen of destiny may +extend him. Volume first—bachelor. Volume second—husband. Volume +third—father. There <i>may</i> be a dozen more—there <i>should</i> be none less.</p> + +<p>You have been a bachelor: you are a husband and a father. You always had, +perhaps, a bump of self-esteem attractive to the digits of Fowler. You +never believed half so well of yourself as when one morning at your +business you were first asked concerning the well being of your <i>family</i>. +At the moment, you were in a fog, like the young attorney upon the first +question of his first examination: next, memory rallied and your face +brightened; your stature increased as you replied. You felt you were going +up in the social numeration table of life. Two years ago you were a unit: +you next counted your importance by tens over the parson's shoulder; when +your child was born you felt that the leap to hundreds in the scale was far +from enough and should have been higher.</p> + +<p>Before the publication of your third volume—the father—you had been +measurably blind. Your mental sight was afflicted with amaurosis. Like the +philosopher of old you are now tempted to grasp every one by the hand and +cry "Eureka." How indignantly you take down "Malthus" from your upper +library shelf and bury him on the lowest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span> among the books of possible +reference. Your political views upon education are cured of their jaundice. +You pray of Sundays in the service for the widow and the orphan with a +double unction. You walk the streets with a new mantle of comfort. The +little beggar child whose importunities of the last wet day at the street +crossings excited your petulance, upon the next wet day invites your +sympathies. You stop and talk to her, nor perceive until you have +ascertained where her hard-hearted parents live, and that she is uncommonly +bright for the child of poverty and wretchedness, and that you have a half +dollar unappropriated—nor perceive until these are found out, I say, that +your umbrella has been dripping upon the skirts of your favorite coat, and +that you have stood with one foot in a puddle. How this would have annoyed +you years ago. But now—? How unconcernedly of the curious looks from +pedestrians around do you stop the careless nurse in Broadway, who has +allowed her infant charge to fall asleep in a painful attitude, and lay +"it" tenderly and comfortably in position. You recall to mind with much +remorse the execrations of five years ago, when the moanings of a dying +babe in the next apartment to your own at the hotel disturbed your rest; +and you wonder whether the mother still thinks of the little grave and the +white slab which a sympathetic fancy <i>now</i> brings up before you.</p> + +<p>You are at your business: the lamps are lighting: in the suggestions of +profit by an hour or longer at the desk you recognize an unholy temptation. +Now, as often before, through all the turmoils of business memory suggests +the lines of Willis:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I sadden when thou smilest to my smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Child of my love! I tremble to believe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That o'er the mirror of thine eye of blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadow of my soul must always pass—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soul which from its conflicts with the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes <i>ever</i> to thy guarded cradle home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And careless of the staining dust it brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Asks for its idol!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And you dwell on them. You bless the author first, and truly think how +cruelly unjust are they who can call into torturing question the loyalty as +husband and father of him whose soul could plan and whose pen could write +such holy lines. And then you think deeper of the sentiments. And then the +profit-tempter hides himself in the farthest corner of the money-drawer; +and you begin to think your clerk a very clever manager: and wonder if +<i>his</i> remaining will not do as well—poor fellow, he's <i>only</i> a bachelor. +And then you decide that he will, and so yourself, "careless of the +staining dust" your coming brings, fly to "the guarded cradle home."</p> + +<p>You have been in Italy. Or you have studied the pictures in the <i>Louvre</i>. +But the hours which you passed before the canvas whereon was embodied +Madonna and child never seemed so agreeable in their realization as they +now appear in the glass of memory, as you see the child of your love in the +arms of your life companion whose eyes, always bright to yours, and +brighter still at your coming after absence, grow brightest when they are +lifted from the slumbering innocence beneath them. Men call you rough in +your bearing, perhaps. What would they say to see how gently your arms +receive the sleeping burthen and transfer it softly to its snowy couch? +Your step abroad is heavy and impetuous: how noiselessly it falls upon the +floor—<i>now!</i> And how the modulated voice accords with every present +thought!</p> + +<p>You cannot give the child a sweeter sleep by watching over him so intently: +and yet you choose to stay. Moments are not so precious to you that at this +one household shrine they will become valueless in some most chastened +heart-worship! Your infant does not when awake understand the language +which your affection addresses: and yet you look with rapture to the +future, when the now inquiring eye will become one of understanding; when +the cautiously put forth arms will clasp in loving confidence; when the +fond endearing name now half intelligibly and doubtingly lisped forth will +be uttered in the boldness of love.</p> + +<p>The shadowy form in the distant cloud over the lake has been listening +intently. It listens still; and the face of it bends towards me as if to +say, there's a hidden truth and mysterious sympathy in all you say; and yet +the language soundeth strangely in these bachelor ears—</p> + +<p>Bachelor ears!</p> + +<p>Listless and deaf, as yet, to all the sweeter human music of our nature. +Deafer yet to the clarion call of emulation in the race of life and +struggles for power, rank, and fame. Deafest of all to that which spurreth +on man to be a king of kings among the great men of his race.</p> + +<p>You are a father, then, I say; and working in your mental toil by night and +day, in the severest and darkest frowning of all professions. But in the +crowded senate-room, and in the close committee-chamber; and in the +court-room among the multitudes of faces all about, (some of these +anticipating in their changing features defeat and disgrace,) there is a +<i>something</i> which overrides all agitation: clears the heavy brain, and oils +the tongue with every pungency of rhetoric.</p> + +<p>What is that "something?"</p> + +<p>Were I home and in my library the downturned leaf of the duodecimo +biography in the left corner of the first shelf would tell it you at a +glance. The biography of Lord Erskine; marked at the page which speaks of +his dauntless legal debut in the Sandwich case, when not the necessity of +speaking in a crowded court-room from the obscure back benches: when not +the sarcastic eyes of a hundred (etiquette-ly termed) brethren; when not +the awful presence of Lord Mansfield nor his rebuking interruption at a +critical sentence frightened the self-possession of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span> the enthusiastic +advocate, or stopped the current of his eloquent invective. The biography, +which goes on to tell how, when the speech was ended, all the attorneys in +the room flocked around the debutant with retainers—needed, more than all +the smiles and congratulations to be drawn from earnest heart-wells: and +how the advocate replied—(when some one, timid of the judge, asked how the +barrister had the courage to stand the rebuking interruption, and never to +quail with embarrassment before it)—<i>I felt my little children tugging at +my gown and crying, now is the time, father, to get us bread</i>.</p> + +<p>How eloquent!</p> + +<p>How worthy of a father's heart! And in the reference, the dullest mind +cannot fail to read the "something" which, to every father in a like +position, nerves the will, disarms all agitation, clears the heavy brain, +and oils the tongue with every pungency of rhetoric.</p> + +<p>—The shadowy form turns closer towards me as my reverie yet chains me to +the lake side, where the mountain breezes still are freshening all the +August air.—</p> + +<p>You have a purpose now in life, which, like the messenger of the king, that +every morning knocked at his bedroom door to say, "Oh king, remember all +this day that you are mortal," hourly brings to mind the bright reward of +every toil and every aspiration. Besides a physical frame there is a mental +constitution hinging on your own. There's a long life far beyond your own +brief years of breath to provide for. Your name is to be perpetuated. In +the very evening of your life there is to be a star that is now in its +morning of existence, which will cheer and enliven. You feel all this as in +some sad hour of the sickly night; you pace your room with the little +sufferer wrestling with disease, and you feel that in the future will be +found ample rewards for all your present bitter draughts of anxiety.</p> + +<p>Wrestling with disease!</p> + +<p>The thought is ugly to the mental sight. I pause to brush its cobweb from +my August Reverie as an idle vaporish thing. But the shadowy form, in the +edge of the distant cloud, over the far off waters of the lake, hisses the +words back into my brain. And then it comes nearer. And then the atmosphere +grows more dreamy and hazy about. And I half feel the mountain breezes, and +half miss them from off my temples. And next I feel my thoughts less +concentrate, as the shadowy form I know so well seems to be looking under +my half-closed lids, and dwelling on the words I brushed like +cob-webs—"wrestling with disease."</p> + +<p>And I think of the still chamber, with the blue edge of the bracket, as it +is rimmed with the faintest glimmer of the turned-down gas. And I see the +half-closed shutters. And the tumbler with its significant spoon on the +mantel. And the pale watcher by the ghostly curtains of the bed. And I am +bending silently and almost pulseless over the sleeping boy, upon whose +face each minute the fever-flushes play like summer lightning under a satin +cloud.</p> + +<p>And days go by. There is a strange hush in the household, with a horridly +sensitive jarring from the vehicles in the street, which never, never were +before so noisy, neither have the thronging passengers from the pavements +ever gossipped so discordantly, as they go under the windows of the silent +house. There's a strange echo of infantile prattle by the niches on the +landings of the stairs, and from the couches, and behind the curtains; but +the substantive music, whence the conjured-up echo came, is nowhere found. +Then the echo itself becomes but an illusion. And Memory is strangely and +impassionately chid for its creation.</p> + +<p>I pass into a little room scarcely wide enough to wheel a sofa within. It +seems as boundless in its desolation as an untenanted temple-ruin. There +are mournful spirits in the little atmosphere which sting me to the +heart—not to be torn away. The little cotton-dog, and morocco-ball, and +jingling-bells, and coral-toys, so strangely scattered all about, are +prodigious ruins to the sight. There's a gleeful laugh, a cunning smile, an +artless waving of the hands, which should be here as tenants of the room. +All gone! all gone into that hushed and silent chamber where yet the +patient-watcher is by the snowy curtains; and the sickly blue still edges +the rim of the bracket light, and the fever-flushes still play about the +wasted cheek.</p> + +<p>How long to last? What next to come? And the shadowy form no longer can +peep under the all-closed eyelids, but enters its whisperings through the +delicate passages of the ear into the brain, which tortures in a maze of +bitter conjecture and horrid contemplation. And my reverie becomes a +painful nightmare dream.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>But the mountain-breezes, and the uprising-to-meridian sun, are merciful. +The shadowy form my reverie hinged itself upon is blown away. The open eyes +once more glance upon the glassy waters of the lake close by the shore, and +onward to the dancing ripples far away. And a merry prattling voice, from +out of loving arms, is coming nearer and nearer over the velvety lawn—a +voice so full of spirit, and life, and health, and sparkling innocence of +care, that in a moment the frightful nightmare-dream is quite forgotten.</p> + +<p>More—</p> + +<p>My reverie turns itself into a lesson of bright reality; a present study of +budding mind; a jealous watch of care encroaching upon innocence; a kindly +outpouring of the father's manly heart upon the shrine of his idol.</p> + +<p>Could such a reverie better end?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HEROINES_OF_HISTORY_LAURA" id="HEROINES_OF_HISTORY_LAURA"></a>HEROINES OF HISTORY—LAURA.</h2> + +<h3>WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE BY MARY E. HEWITT.</h3> + + +<p>Laura, rendered immortal by the love and lyre of Petrarch, was the daughter +of Audibert de Noves, who was of the <i>haute noblesse</i> of Avignon. He died +in the infancy of Laura, leaving her a dowry of one thousand gold crowns, +(about fifty thousand dollars,) a magnificent portion for those times. She +was married at the age of eighteen to Hugh de Sade, a young noble only a +few years older than his bride, but not distinguished by any advantages +either of person or mind. The marriage contract is dated in January, 1325, +two years before her first meeting with Petrarch; and in it her mother, the +Lady Ermessende, and her brother, John de Noves, stipulate to pay the dower +left by her father; and also to bestow on the bride two magnificent dresses +for state occasions; one of green, embroidered with violets; the other of +crimson, trimmed with feathers. In all the portraits of Laura now extant, +she is represented in one of these two dresses, and they are frequently +alluded to by Petrarch. He tells us expressly that when he first met her at +matins in the church of Saint Claire, she was habited in a robe of green +spotted with violets. Mention is also made of a coronal of silver with +which she wreathed her hair; of her necklaces and ornaments of pearls. +Diamonds are not once alluded to because the art of cutting them had not +then been invented. From all which it appears that Laura was opulent, and +moved in the first class of society. It was customary for women of rank in +those times to dress with extreme simplicity on ordinary occasions, but +with the most gorgeous splendor when they appeared in public.</p> + +<p>There are some beautiful descriptions of Laura surrounded by her young +female companions, divested of all her splendid apparel, in a simple white +robe and a few flowers in her hair, but still preëminent over all by her +superior loveliness.</p> + +<p>She was in person a fair, Madonna-like beauty, with soft dark eyes, and a +profusion of pale golden hair parted on her brow, and falling in rich curls +over her neck. The general character of her beauty must have been pensive, +soft, unobtrusive, and even somewhat languid. This softness and repose must +nave been far removed from insipidity, for Petrarch dwells on the rare and +varying expression of her loveliness, the lightning of her smile, and the +tender magic of her voice, which was felt in the inmost heart. He dwells on +the celestial grace of her figure and movements, and describes the beauty +of her hand and the loveliness of her mouth. She had a habit of veiling her +eyes with her hand, and her looks were generally bent on the earth.</p> + +<p>In a portrait of Laura, in the Laurentinian library at Florence, the eyes +have this characteristic downcast look.</p> + +<p>Laura was distinguished, then, by her rank and fortune, but more by her +loveliness, her sweetness, and the untainted purity of her life and manners +in the midst of a society noted for its licentiousness. Now she is known as +the subject of Petrarch's verses, as the woman who inspired an immortal +passion, and, kindling into living fire the dormant sensibility of the +poet, gave origin to the most beautiful and refined, the most passionate, +and yet the most delicate amatory poetry that exists in the world.</p> + +<p>Petrarch was twenty-three years of age when he first felt the power of a +violent and inextinguishable passion. At six in the morning on the sixth of +April, <span class="smcap">A. D.</span> 1327, (he often fondly records the exact year, day and hour,) +on the occasion of the festival of Easter, he visited the church of Saint +Claire at Avignon, and beheld, for the first time, Laura de Sade. She was +just twenty years of age, and in the bloom of beauty—a beauty so touching +and heavenly, so irradiated by purity and smiling innocence, and so adorned +by gentleness and modesty, that the first sight stamped the image in the +poet's heart, never thereafter to be erased.</p> + +<p>Petrarch beheld the loveliness and sweetness of the young beauty, and was +transfixed. He sought acquaintance with her, and while the manners of the +times prevented his entering her house, he enjoyed many opportunities of +meeting her in society, and of conversing with her. He would have declared +his love, but her reserve enforced silence. "She opened my breast and took +my heart into her hand, saying 'speak no word of this,'" he writes. Yet the +reverence inspired by her modesty and dignity was not always sufficient to +restrain her lover. Being alone with her on one occasion, and she appearing +more gracious than usual, Petrarch tremblingly and fearfully confessed his +passion; but she, with altered looks, replied, "I am not the person you +take me for!" Her displeasure froze the very heart of the poet, so that he +fled from her presence in grief and dismay.</p> + +<p>No attentions on his part could make any impression on her steady and +virtuous mind. While love and youth drove him on, she remained impregnable +and firm; and when she found that he still rushed wildly forward, she +preferred forsaking to following him to the precipice down which he would +have hurried her. Meanwhile, as he gazed on her angelic countenance, and +saw purity painted on it, his love grew spotless as herself. Love +transforms the true lover into a resemblance of the object of his passion. +In a town, which was the asylum of vice, calumny never breathed a taint +upon Laura's name: her actions, her words, the very expression of her +countenance, and her slightest gestures were replete with a modest reserve<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481]</a></span> +combined with sweetness, and won the applause of all.</p> + +<p>Francesco Petrarch was of Florentine extraction, and the son of a notary, +who, being held in great esteem by his fellow-citizens, had filled several +public offices.</p> + +<p>When the Ghibelines were banished Florence, in 1302, Petraccolo was +included in the number of exiles; his property was confiscated, and he +retired with his wife, Eletta Canigiani, whom he had lately married, to the +town of Arrezzo, in Tuscany. And here on the night of the 20th of July, +1304, Petrarch first saw the light. When the child was seven months old his +mother was permitted to return from banishment, and she established herself +at a country house belonging to her husband near Ancisa, a small town +fifteen miles from Florence. The infant who, at his birth, it was supposed +would not survive, was exposed to imminent peril during this journey. In +fording a rapid stream, the man who had charge of him carried him, wrapped +in swaddling clothes, at the end of a stick; he fell from his horse, and +the babe slipped from the fastenings into the water; but he was saved, for +how could Petrarch die until he had seen his Laura?</p> + +<p>The youth of Petrarch was obscure in point of fortune, but it was attended +by all the happiness that springs from family concord, and the excellent +character of his parents. At the age of fifteen he was sent to study in the +university of Montpellier, then frequented by a vast concourse of students. +His father intended his son to pursue the study of the law, as the +profession best suited to ensure his reputation and fortune; but to this +pursuit Francesco was invincibly repugnant. He was soon after sent to +Bologna, where, as at Montpellier, he continued to display great taste for +literature, much to his father's dissatisfaction.</p> + +<p>At Bologna, Petrarch made considerable progress in the study of the law, +moved thereto, doubtless, by the entreaties of his excellent parent.</p> + +<p>After three years spent at Bologna, Petrarch was recalled to France by the +death of his father. Soon after his mother died also, and he and his +brother were left entirely to their own guidance, with very slender means, +and those diminished by the dishonesty of those whom his father named as +trustees to their fortune. Under these circumstances Petrarch entirely +abandoned the profession of the law, as it occurred to both him and his +brother that the clerical profession was their best resource in a city +where the priesthood reigned supreme. They resided at Avignon, and became +the favorites and companions of the ecclesiastical and lay nobles who +formed the papal court. His talents and accomplishments were of course the +cause of this distinction; besides that his personal advantages were such +as to prepossess every one in his favor. He was so handsome as frequently +to attract observation when he passed along the streets. When, to the +utmost simplicity and singleness of mind, were added splendid talents, the +charm of poetry, so highly valued in the country of the Troubadours, an +affectionate and generous disposition, vivacious and pleasing manners, an +engaging and attractive exterior; we cannot wonder that Petrarch was the +darling of his age, the associate of its greatest men, and the man whom +princes delighted to honor.</p> + +<p>The passion of Petrarch for Laura was purified and exalted at the same +time. She filled him with noble aspirations, and divided him from the +common herd. He felt that her influence made him superior to vulgar +ambition, and rendered him wise, true, and great. She saved him in the +dangerous period of youth, and gave a worthy aim to all his endeavors. The +manners of his age permitted one solace; a Platonic attachment was the +fashion of the day. The Troubadours had each a lady to adore, to wait upon, +and to celebrate in song; without its being supposed that she made him any +return beyond a gracious acceptance of his devoirs, and allowing him to +make her the heroine of his verses. Petrarch endeavored to merge the living +passion of his soul into this airy and unsubstantial devotion. Laura +permitted the homage: she perceived his merit and was proud of his +admiration; she felt the truth of his affection, and indulged the wish of +preserving it and her own honor at the same time. Without her +inflexibility, this had been a dangerous experiment: but she always kept +her lover distant from her; rewarding his reserve with smiles, and +repressing by frowns all the overflowings of his heart.</p> + +<p>By her resolute severity, she incurred the danger of ceasing to be the +object of his attachment, and of losing the gift of an immortal name, which +he has conferred upon her. But Petrarch's constancy was proof against +hopelessness and time. He had too fervent an admiration of her qualities +ever to change: he controlled the vivacity of his feelings, and they became +deeper rooted. "Untouched by my prayers," he says, "unvanquished by my +arguments, unmoved by my flattery, she remained faithful to her sex's +honor; she resisted her own young heart, and mine, and a thousand, thousand +things, which must have conquered any other. She remained unshaken. A woman +taught me the duty of a man! to persuade me to keep the path of virtue, her +conduct was at once an example and a reproach."</p> + +<p>But whether, in this long conflict, Laura preserved her heart untouched, as +well as her virtue immaculate; whether she shared the love she inspired; or +whether she escaped from the captivating assiduities and intoxicating +homage of her lover, "fancy free;" whether coldness, or prudence, or pride, +or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482]</a></span> virtue, or the mere heartless love of admiration, or a mixture of all +together, dictated her conduct, is at least as well worth inquiry as the +color of her eyes, or the form of her nose, upon which we have pages of +grave discussion. She might have been <i>coquette par instinct</i>, if not <i>par +calent</i>; she might have felt, with feminine <i>tacte</i>, that to preserve her +influence over Petrarch, it was necessary to preserve his respect. She was +evidently proud of her conquest: she had else been more or less than woman; +and at every hazard, but that of self-respect, she was resolved to retain +him. If Petrarch absented himself for a few days, he was generally better +treated on his return. If he avoided her, then her eye followed him with a +softer expression. When he looked pale from sickness of heart and agitation +of spirits, Laura would address him with a few words of pitying tenderness. +When he presumed on this benignity, he was again repulsed with frowns. He +flew to solitude,—solitude! Never let the proud and torn heart, wrung with +the sense of injury, and sick with unrequited passion, seek that worst +resource against pain, for there grief grows by contemplating itself, and +every feeling is sharpened by collision. Petrarch sought to "mitigate the +fever of his heart" amid the shades of Vaucluse, a spot so gloomy, and so +solitary, that his very servants forsook him; and Vaucluse, its fountains, +its forests, and its hanging cliffs, reflected only the image of Laura.</p> + +<p>He passed several years thus, cut off from society; his books were his +great resource; he was never without one in his hand. Often he remained in +silence from morning till night, wandering among the hills when the sun was +yet low; and taking refuge, during the heat of the day, in his shady +garden. At night, after performing his clerical duties (for he was canon of +Lombes), he rambled among the hills; often entering, at midnight, the +cavern, whose gloom, even during the day, struck his soul with awe. "Fool +that I was!" he exclaims in after life, "not to have remembered the first +school-boy lesson—that solitude is the nurse of love!"</p> + +<p>While living at Vaucluse, Petrarch, invited to Rome by the Roman Senate, +repaired thither to receive the laurel crown of poesy. The ceremony was +performed in the Capitol with great solemnity, in presence of all the +nobles and high-born ladies of the city. Leaving Rome soon after his +coronation, he repaired to Parma, where Clement VI. rewarded him for +subsequent political services by naming him prior of Migliarino in the +diocese of Pisa.</p> + +<p>Petrarch returned to Avignon. The sight of Laura gave fresh energy to a +passion which had survived the lapse of fifteen years. She was no longer +the blooming girl who had first charmed him. The cares of life had dimmed +her beauty. She was the mother of many children, and had been afflicted at +various times by illness. Her home was not happy. Her husband, without +loving or appreciating her, was ill-tempered and jealous. Petrarch +acknowledged that if her personal charms had been her sole attraction he +had already ceased to love her. But his passion was nourished by sympathy +and esteem; and, above all, by that mysterious tyranny of love, which, +while it exists, the mind of man seems to have no power of resisting, +though in feebler minds it sometimes vanishes like a dream. Petrarch was +also changed in personal appearance. His hair was sprinkled with gray, and +lines of care and sorrow trenched his face. On both sides the tenderness of +affection began to replace, in him the violence of passion, in her the +coyness and severity she had found necessary to check his pursuit. The +jealousy of her husband opposed obstacles to their seeing each other. They +met as they could in public walks and assemblies. Laura sang to him, and a +soothing familiarity grew up between them as her fears became allayed, and +he looked forward to the time when they might sit together and converse +without dread.</p> + +<p>At length he resolved to leave Laura and Avignon forever; and instead of +plunging into solitude, to seek the wiser resource of travel and society. +Laura saw him depart with regret. When he went to take leave of her, he +found her surrounded by a circle of her ladies. Her mien was dejected; a +cloud overcast her face, whose expression seemed to say, "Who takes my +faithful friend from me?" Petrarch was struck to the heart by a sad +presentiment: the emotion was mutual; they both seemed to feel that they +should never meet again.</p> + +<p>Petrarch departed. The plague, which had been extending its ravages over +Asia, entered Europe. It spread far and wide: nearly one half the +population of the world became its prey. Petrarch saw thousands die around +him, and he trembled for his friends. He heard that it was at Avignon. A +thousand sad presentiments haunted his mind. At last the fatal truth +reached him, Laura was dead! By a singular coincidence, she died on the +anniversary of the day when he first saw her. She was taken ill on the +third of April, and languished but three days. As soon as the symptoms of +the plague declared themselves, she prepared to die: she made her will, +which is dated on the third of April, and received the sacraments of the +church. On the sixth she died, surrounded by her friends and the noble +ladies of Avignon, who braved the dangers of infection to attend on one so +lovely and so beloved. On the evening of the same day on which she died, +she was interred in the chapel of the Cross which her husband had lately +built in the church of the Minor Friars at Avignon.</p> + +<p>Her tomb was discovered and opened in 1533, in the presence of Francis the +First, whose celebrated stanzas on the occasion are well known.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483]</a></span></p> + +<p>Of the fame which, even in her lifetime, love and poetical adoration of +Petrarch had thrown around his Laura, a curious instance is given which +will characterize the manners of the age. When Charles of Luxembourg +(afterwards Emperor) was at Avignon, a grand fête was given, in his honor, +at which all the noblesse were present. He desired that Petrarch's Laura +should be pointed out to him; and when she was introduced, he made a sign +with his hand that the other ladies present should fall back; then going up +to Laura, and for a moment contemplating her with interest, he kissed her +respectively on the forehead and on the eyelids.</p> + +<p>Petrarch survived her twenty-six years, dying in 1374. He was found +lifeless one morning in his study, his hand resting on a book.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_KING_AND_OUTLAW" id="THE_KING_AND_OUTLAW"></a>THE KING AND OUTLAW.</h2> + +<h3>WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Robin Hood was a gentleman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An outlaw bold was he;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lost his Earldom and his land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And took to the greenwood tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The king had just come home from war<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the Soldan over sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Robin dwelt in merry Sherwood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lived by archerie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Five bucks as fat as fat could be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were bleeding on the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When up there came a hunter bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a horn and leashéd hound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Who's this, who's this, i' th' merry greenwood?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who's this with horn and hound?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll hang him, an' he pay not down<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For his life a thousand pound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come hither, hither, Friar John,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And count your rosarie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shrive this sinful gentleman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Under the greenwood tree!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stand back, stand back, thou wicked Friar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor dare to stop my way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll tear your cowl and cassock off,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hurl your beads away!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Nay! hold your hands, my merry man!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I like his gallant mood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sir Hunter pray you take a staff,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And play with Robin Hood."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They played an hour with quarter staffs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A good long hour or more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Robin Hood was beat at the game,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That never was beat before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hold off, hold off," he said at length,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wiped the blood away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thou art a noble gentleman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come dine with me to-day."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With the quarter staff, as a yeoman might,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For love I played with thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now draw thy sword, as fits a knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And play awhile with me."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They fought an hour with rapiers keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A weary hour or more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Robin Hood began to fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That never failed before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But still he fought as best he might,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the summer's burning heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he sank at last with loss of blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fell at the Stranger's feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He brought him water from the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And took him by the hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Rise up!" he said, "my good old Earl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The best man in the land!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Rise up, rise up, Earl Huntington,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No longer Robin Hood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will be king in London town,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you in green Sherwood!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SAINT_ESCARPACIOS_BONES" id="SAINT_ESCARPACIOS_BONES"></a>SAINT ESCARPACIO'S BONES.</h2> + +<h3>TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE.</h3> + + +<p>Upon a fine May morning in the year 1585, a Spanish vessel lay at anchor in +the Port of St. Jago, in the island of Cuba. She was about to sail for +Cadiz, the passengers were on board, and the sailors at their several +stations, awaiting the word of command. The captain, a small, tight-built, +shrewd-looking man, with the voice and manner of a naval officer, which, +indeed, he had formerly been, was brave and experienced, and although +somewhat wild and daring, he was a good fellow at heart, but now and then +violent and headstrong to a fault, in short, Captain Perez was the terror +of his men.</p> + +<p>He was walking the deck with rapid strides, and exhibiting the greatest +impatience, now stopping to observe the direction of the wind, and casting +a glance at the shore, then resuming his walk with a preliminary stamp of +disappointment and vexation; no one, in the meanwhile, daring to ask why he +delayed getting under way.</p> + +<p>At length strains of church music at a distance are heard on board the +vessel, and all eyes are directed to the shore. A long procession of monks, +holding crosses and lighted wax tapers, and singing, is seen approaching +the beach opposite the vessel. The procession moves slowly and solemnly to +the cadence of the music. Between two rows of monks dressed in deep black +is a coffin richly decorated with all the symbols of the Catholic faith, +and covered with garlands and chaplets, and, what is singular, the coffin +is carried with difficulty by six stout negroes. Four venerable Jesuits +support the corners of the pall, and, immediately behind the coffin, walks +alone, with a grave and dignified step, the Right Reverend Father Antonio, +superior of the Jesuit missionaries of the island of Cuba. An immense crowd +of citizens, the garrison of the island, and the military and civil +authorities, piously form the escort.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the singing ceases, the procession halts, the coffin is placed on +elevated supporters. Father Antonio approaches it, and, kissing the pall +with reverence, exclaims, with a solemnity befitting the occasion,</p> + +<p>"Adieu! Saint Escarpacio, thou worthy model of our order, adieu! In +separating myself from thy holy remains, I fulfil thy last wishes; may they +piously repose in our happy Spain, and may thy saintly vows and aspirations +be thus accomplished. But before their departure from our shores, we +conjure thee, holy saint, to look down from thy holy place of rest in +heaven, and deign to bless this people, and us, thy mourning friends on +earth."</p> + +<p>The whole assembly then knelt upon the ground, after which the negroes, +resuming their heavy burden, carried it on board a boat, closely followed +by Father Antonio. With<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484]</a></span> vigorous rowing the boat soon reached the vessel's +side, and the coffin was hoisted on board.</p> + +<p>"You are very late, reverend father," said Captain Perez, "and you know +<i>wind and tide wait for no man</i>. I ought to have been far on my way long +before this hour."</p> + +<p>"We could not get ready sooner, my son," the holy father replied, "but fear +not, God will reward you for the delay, and these precious remains will +speed you on your voyage. I hope you have made your own private cabin, as +you promised, worthy of their reception?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly, I have."</p> + +<p>"You must not for a moment lose sight of the coffin."</p> + +<p>"Make yourself easy on that point, holy father; I shall watch over it as if +it were my own. Hollo there forward, bear a hand aft," the captain cried.</p> + +<p>Four sailors place themselves at the corners of the coffin, but they can +hardly raise it from the deck; two more are called, and the six, bending +under its weight, succeed in carrying it down into the cabin, followed by +the Captain and by Father Antonio.</p> + +<p>When the coffin was properly bestowed, the reverend father addressed +Captain Perez in the most earnest and solemn manner:</p> + +<p>"I hope you will be found worthy of the great confidence and trust I now +repose in you. These precious remains should occupy your every moment, and +you will sacredly and faithfully account to me for their safety—the +smallest negligence will cost you dear. On your arrival at Cadiz, you will +deliver the coffin to none other than Father Hieronimo, and not to him +even, unless he shall first place in your hands a letter from me—you +understand my instructions and commands? Now depart, and may God speed you +on your way."</p> + +<p>Father Antonio then came upon deck, and bestowed his benediction upon the +vessel, and upon all it contained; after which, descending to the boat, he +was rowed to the shore. As he placed himself at the head of the procession, +the singing recommenced, the anchor was weighed, and, to the sound of +music, the cheering of the people, and the roar of cannon, the vessel moved +slowly on her destined voyage.</p> + +<p>When fairly at sea, the wind was favorable, and all went well. The second +evening out, Captain Perez was alone in his private cabin, and in a +contemplative mood, when the feeble light of the single lamp glancing +across the coffin, as the vessel rocked from side to side, attracted his +attention, and led him to think about the singularity of its great weight.</p> + +<p>"It is very strange," he said musingly, "six stout fellows to carry a man's +dry bones!—it cannot be possible. But what does the coffin contain if it +does not contain the saint's bones? Father Antonio was very, <i>very</i> +particular. I should really like to know what there is in the coffin. It +took a good half dozen strong healthy negroes, and then as many sailors, to +carry it: what can there be in the coffin? Why, after all, I <i>can</i> know if +I please. I have but to take out a few screws, it can be done without the +slightest noise, and I am alone, and the cabin door is easily fastened."</p> + +<p>Suiting the action to his soliloquy, he bolted the door of the cabin, took +from his tool-chest a screw-driver, and, after a moment's indecision, began +cautiously to loosen one of the screws in the lid of the coffin, his hands +all the while trembling violently.</p> + +<p>"If," thought he, "I am committing a heinous sin, if the saint should start +up, and if, in his anger, he should in some appalling manner punish my +sacrilegious meddling with his bones?"</p> + +<p>A cold sweat overspread his bronzed visage, and he stood still a moment, +hesitating as to whether he should go on. But curiosity conquered, and he +rallied his energies with the reflection, that if he opened the coffin, +Saint Escarpacio himself well knew it was only to find out what made his +bones so heavy; there could be no impiety in that—quite the contrary. His +conscience was by this time somewhat fortified, his superstitious fears +gradually grew fainter, and keeping his eyes steadily fixed upon the lid of +the coffin—to be sure the saint did not stir—he slowly and silently took +out the first screw. He then stopped short: the saint showed no signs of +anger.</p> + +<p>"I knew it," said Perez, going to work more boldly upon the second screw, +"I knew there was nothing sinful in opening the coffin, for the sin lies in +the intention."</p> + +<p>All the screws were soon drawn out, and to gratify his curiosity it only +remained to raise the coffin lid, and here his heart beat violently—but +courage—Perez did raise the lid, <i>and, and, he saw—no saint, but hay—the +hay is carefully removed—then strips of linen—they are removed—then hay +again, but no saint, nothing like the bone of a saint—but a wooden box</i>.</p> + +<p>"Well, that is odd," thought Perez, "and what can there be in it? I must +open the box, but how? there is no key, what is to be done? Shall I force +the lock, or break the cover of the box? Either attempt would make a noise, +which the passengers or sailors might hear, but what is to be done? Good +Saint Escarpacio, take pity on me, and direct me how to open the box," +whispered Perez, and there was perhaps a little irony in the supplication.</p> + +<p>In feeling among the hay surrounding the box, Perez found a key at one of +its corners secured by a small iron chain.</p> + +<p>"Ah! ha! I have it at last" Perez cried, "<i>the key, the key</i>," and quickly +putting it into the key-hole, he opened the Box—and he saw—what? +<i>Leathern bags filled to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485]</a></span> top</i> according to the beautifully written +tickets, with <span class="smcap">gold pistoles—silver crowns</span>, closely ranged in shining +piles—all in the most perfect order. "But what is this? a letter? I must +read it," exclaimed the excited Perez—"<i>by your leave, gentle wax</i>," and he +tears the letter open. It began thus:</p> + +<p>"Father Antonio, of Cuba, to the reverend fathers in Cadiz, greeting.</p> + +<p>"As agreed between us, Most Reverend Fathers, I send you <span class="smcap">three hundred +thousand livres</span>, in the name, and under the semblance of Father Escarpacio, +whose bones I am supposed to be sending to Spain. The annexed memorandum of +accounts will show that this sum comprises the whole of our little +gleanings and savings up to this time, for the benefit of our Holy Order. +You will pardon I am sure this innocent artifice on our part, Most Reverend +Fathers, as it will prove a safeguard to the treasure, and avoid awakening +the avarice and cupidity of the person to whom I am obliged to intrust it. +(Signed) <span class="smcap">Antonio</span>, of Cuba."</p> + +<p>"Three hundred thousand livres! there are, then, three hundred thousand +livres," exclaimed Perez in amazement, as he realized that this immense sum +lay in real gold and silver coin before his eyes. "Oh, reverend, right +reverend and worthy fellows of the crafty Ignatius! you are indeed cunning +foxes! a hundred to one your trick was not discovered, for who but a Jesuit +could have imagined it, and who could have guessed that the coffin +contained <i>money</i>? And so these bags of gold are your <i>holy remains</i>, and I +too, old sea shark as I am, to be humbugged like a land lubber, with your +procession and your mummery—but I am deceived no longer, my eyes are +opened; and by my patron saint, trick for trick my pious masters—bones you +shall have, and burn me for a heretic, if you get any thing better than +bones;" and he began to untie and examine the contents of the money-bags. +"Let me consider" said he, "I want some bones, and where the devil shall I +find them?"</p> + +<p>He was on his knees, his body bent over the box, with his hands in the open +gold-bags. His agitated countenance expressed with energy the mingled +emotions, of desire to keep the rich booty all to himself, and of fear that +in some mysterious manner it might elude his grasp—but he must, he <i>must</i> +have it.</p> + +<p>"A lucky thought strikes me," said he; "what a fool I am to give myself any +trouble about it. What says my bill of lading? '<i>Received from the Reverend +Father Antonio, a coffin containing bones, said to be those of Saint +Escarpacio.</i>' A coffin containing bones, said to be those, &c.—very good, +and have I seen the bones, <i>said</i> to be delivered to me, and <i>said</i> to be +the saint's bones? certainly not, and the coffin might contain—any thing +else—<i>the said coffin containing</i>—what you please—how should I know? +<i>said to be the bones of Saint Escarpacio</i>," &c. &c.</p> + +<p>In short, Captain Perez began noiselessly and methodically to empty the box +of its bags of gold and piles of silver, taking care to stow the treasure +away in a chest, to which he alone had access. He then filled the box with +whatever was at hand, bits of rusty iron, lead, stones, shells, old junk, +hay, &c., substituting as nearly as possible pound for pound in weight if +not in value, conscientiously adding some bones which were far removed from +<i>canonisation</i>, and at last carefully screwing down the lid, the right +reverend father Antonio himself, had he been on board, could not have +discovered that the coffin had been touched by mortal hand.</p> + +<p>In about a month the vessel arrived at the port of Cadiz. The quarantine +for some unexplained reason was much shorter than usual, and had hardly +expired, when a venerable Jesuit was the first person who stood before the +captain, a few minutes only after he had taken possession of his lodgings +on shore.</p> + +<p>"I would speak with Captain Perez," said the Jesuit, gravely.</p> + +<p>"I am he," the captain replied, somewhat disconcerted at the abruptness of +the inquiry. Quickly recovering his presence of mind, however, he added, +with perfect calmness, "You have probably come, holy father, to take charge +of the precious remains intrusted to my care by Father Antonio, of Cuba?" +The Jesuit bowed his head, in token of assent.</p> + +<p>"And I have the honor of addressing Father Hieronimo?"</p> + +<p>"You have," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"You are no doubt the bearer of a letter for me, from Father Antonio?"</p> + +<p>"Here it is," said Father Hieronimo, handing Captain Perez a letter.</p> + +<p>"I beg a thousand pardons, holy father," the captain said, with much +humility, "but I hope you will not take offence at these necessary +precautions?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary they speak in your favor."</p> + +<p>"I see all is right," said the captain, "and I will go myself and order the +coffin brought on shore."</p> + +<p>The captain went immediately on board, Father Hieronimo meanwhile placing +himself at an open window whence he could over-look the vessel and watch +every movement. The coffin was brought on shore by eight sailors, who, +bending under its weight, slowly approach the captain's quarters.</p> + +<p>"How heavy it is, how <i>very</i> heavy," said the Jesuit, rubbing his hands in +exultation.</p> + +<p>Captain Perez had of course accompanied the coffin from the vessel, and now +that he was about to deliver it into Father Hieronimo's keeping, he said to +him, in a solemn and impressive manner,</p> + +<p>"I place in your hands, holy father, the precious remains intrusted to my +care."</p> + +<p>"I receive them with pious joy."</p> + +<p>"The responsibility was great."</p> + +<p>"It will henceforth be mine."</p> + +<p>"It was a precious treasure."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very precious."</p> + +<p>"I have watched over it with vigilance."</p> + +<p>"God will reward you."</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"From this hour every thing will prosper with you."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so, holy father?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure of it. I must now bid you adieu."</p> + +<p>"You have forgotten, holy father, to give me a receipt; but if—"</p> + +<p>"You are right," said the Jesuit, "it had escaped me." And he seated +himself at a table on which lay writing materials, first sending a servant +for his carriage.</p> + +<p>The receipt spoke of the piety and zeal of Captain Perez in the most +flattering terms; and, while the captain was reading it with becoming +humility, the carriage drew up opposite to the coffin, which was soon +resting upon the cushioned seats within the vehicle.</p> + +<p>"I go immediately to Madrid," said Father Hieronimo. "You can no doubt +imagine the impatience of the holy fathers to possess the sacred relics; +they have waited so long. Once more adieu, believe me we shall never forget +you."</p> + +<p>With these words, and a parting benediction on Perez, Father Hieronimo +stepped into the carriage, and, with his holy remains by his side, started +at a brisk trot of his well-fed mules on the road to Madrid. When fairly +out of sight and hearing of Captain Perez, the good father laughed aloud. +"The captain, poor simple soul," said he, "suspects nothing."</p> + +<p>And Perez, he too would have laughed aloud if he had dared; indeed he could +with difficulty restrain himself in presence of his crew. "The crafty old +fox," he said exultingly, "he has got his holy remains—ha! ha!—and he +<i>suspects nothing</i>."</p> + +<p>A day or two after the delivery of the coffin, Captain Perez sailed for +Mexico.</p> + +<p>After an interval of ten years, during which period, according to the +Jesuit's prediction, prosperity had constantly waited upon Perez, he became +weary of successful enterprise, and tired of the roving and laborious life +he was leading. Worth a million, and a bachelor, he wisely resolved to give +the remainder of his days to enjoyment. Seville was judiciously selected +for his residence, where a magnificent mansion, extensive grounds, a well +furnished cellar, good cooks, chosen friends, with all the other et ceteras +which riches can bring, enabled him to pass his days and nights joyously. +Captain Perez was indeed a <i>happy dog</i>.</p> + +<p>One night he was at table, surrounded by his friends of both sexes. The +cook had done his duty; there were excellent fruits from the tropics; there +were wines in abundance and variety, and with songs and laughter the very +windows rattled, when Perez, the jolly Perez, <i>half seas over</i>, begged a +moment's silence.</p> + +<p>"I say, my worthy friends, I have something to tell you better than all +your singing. I must tell you a story that will make you split your +sides—a real good one, about a capital trick I served them poor devils the +Jesuits. You must know I was lying at anchor in Cuba, and—"</p> + +<p>Suddenly the door of the apartment is thrown open with great violence, and +a monk, clothed in deep black, enters, followed by a guard of <i>alguazils</i> +armed to the teeth.</p> + +<p>"Profane impious wretches!" he cried, in a voice of appalling harshness, +"is it thus you do penance for your sins? Is it in riotous feasting and +drunkenness you spend the holy season of Lent?" Then, turning to Captain +Perez, he said, "Follow me to the palace of the Holy Inquisition. Before +that tribunal you must answer for your sacrilegious conduct."</p> + +<p>The guests were stupefied with fear, and Perez, now completely sobered, +stared in affright at the monk.</p> + +<p>"Do you recollect me, Captain Perez?" said the monk.</p> + +<p>"No—but—it appears to me I have somewhere seen—"</p> + +<p>"I am Father Antonio, of Cuba," cried the monk, fixing his eyes, sparkling +with savage fury, upon Perez.</p> + +<p>"And you are a member of the Holy Inquisition?" Perez faltered out in +trembling accents.</p> + +<p>"I am. Again I say, follow me on the instant."</p> + +<p>Poor Captain Perez, or rather rich Captain Perez, at the early day in which +he lived had, perhaps, never heard the avowal made by a man who, in +speaking of honesty and dishonesty, declared <i>honesty to be the best +policy, for</i>, said he, <i>I have tried both</i>.</p> + +<p>That the captain was not born to be hanged is certain; and although from +childhood a sojourner upon the ocean, it was not his destiny to be drowned. +There is a tradition handed down, that had it not been for very +considerable donations, under his hand and seal, to a religious community +in Spain, a method of bidding adieu to this life more in accordance with +the pious notions prevalent three hundred years ago, would certainly have +been chosen for our hero. Indeed, there were not wanting many +heretic-hating persons who affirmed that an <i>auto-da-fe</i> was got up +expressly for the occasion. But we have ascertained beyond a doubt that he +reformed in his manner of living, that he secured to the Holy Order the +donations already mentioned, that the reverend fathers kindly took from his +legal heirs all trouble in the division of his riches, and that he died in +his bed at last, as a pious Catholic should die, and was buried in +consecrated ground, with every rite and ceremony belonging to the community +he had so munificently contributed to enrich.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DIRGE_FOR_AN_INFANT" id="DIRGE_FOR_AN_INFANT"></a>DIRGE FOR AN INFANT.</h2> + +<h3>WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He is dead and gone—a flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born and withered in an hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coldly lies the death-frost now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his little rounded brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the seal of darkness lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever on his shrouded eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will never feel again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touch of human joy or pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never will his once-bright eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open with a glad surprise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the death-frost leave his brow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All is over with him now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vacant now his cradle-bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a nest from whence hath fled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some dear little bird, whose wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest from timid flutterings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrown aside the childish rattle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hushed for aye the infant prattle—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little broken words that could<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By none else be understood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the childless one that weeps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the grave where now he sleeps.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closed his eyes, and cold his brow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All is over with him now!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">R. S. Chilton.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_CHIMES" id="THE_CHIMES"></a>THE CHIMES.</h2> + +<h3>WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. BY E.W. ELLSWORTH.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was evening in New England,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the air was all in tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I sat at an open window,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the emerald month of June.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the maples by the roadway,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The robins sang in pairs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listening and then responding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each to the other's airs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sounds of calm that wrought the feeling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the murmur of a shell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the drip of a lifted bucket<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a wide and quiet well.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I thought of the airs of bargemen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who tunefully recline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they float by Ehrenbreitstein,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the twilight of the Rhine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then of an eve in Venice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the song of the gondolier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the far lagunes replying<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the wingéd lion pier.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then of the verse of Milton,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the music heard to rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the solemn night from angels<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stationed in Paradise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus I said it is with music,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wheresoe'er at random thrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It will seek its own responses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is loth to die alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus I said the poet's music,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though a lovely native air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May appeal unto a rhythm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That is native everywhere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For although in scope of feeling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Human hearts are far apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the depths of every bosom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beats the universal heart;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beats with wide accordant motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the chimes among the towers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the grandest of God's temples<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seem as if they might be ours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And we grow in such a seeming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till indeed we may control<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To an echo, our communion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the good and grand in soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As an echo in a valley<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May revive a cadence there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a bell that may be swaying<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a lofty Alpine air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As a screen of tremulous metal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the rolling organ tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rings out to a note of the music<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That can never be its own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As an earnest artist ponders<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On a study nobly wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till his fingers gild his canvas<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a touch of the self-same thought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the sun had now descended<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far along his cloudy stairs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the night had come like the angels<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Abraham, unawares.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_STORY_WITHOUT_A_NAME2" id="A_STORY_WITHOUT_A_NAME2"></a>A STORY WITHOUT A NAME.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h2> + +<h3>WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.</h3> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XLVI.</h4> + +<p>Mrs. Hazleton fancied herself in high good luck; for just as she was +passing through the door into the hall, Lady Hastings' maid crossed and +made her a curtsey. Mrs. Hazleton beckoned her up, saying in a quiet, easy, +every-day tone, "I suppose your lady is awake by this time?"</p> + +<p>"No, madam," replied the maid, "she is asleep still. She did not take her +nap as early as usual to-day; for Mistress Emily was with her, and my lady +would not go to sleep till she went out to take a walk."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hazleton was somewhat alarmed at this intelligence; for she had not +much confidence in her good friend's discretion. "How is Miss Emily?" she +said in a tender tone. "She seemed very sad and low when last I saw her."</p> + +<p>"She is just the same, Madam," replied the maid. "She did not seem very +cheerful when she went out, and has been crying a good deal to-day."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hazleton was better satisfied, and paused for an instant to think; but +the maid interrupted her cogitations by saying—"I think I may wake my lady +now, if you please to come up, Madam."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no," replied Mrs. Hazleton. "Do not wake her. I will go in +quietly and sit with her till she wakes naturally. It is a pity to deprive +her of one moment's calm sleep. You needn't come, you needn't come. I will +ring for you when your mistress wakes;" and she quietly ascended the +stairs, though the maid offered some civil remonstrances to her undertaking +the task of watching by her sleeping mistress.</p> + +<p>The most careful affection could not have prompted greater precautions in +opening the door of the sick lady's chamber, than those which were taken by +Mrs. Hazleton. It was a good solid door, however, well seasoned, and well +hung, and moved upon its hinges without noise. She closed it with the same +care, and then with a soft tread glided up to the side of the bed.</p> + +<p>Lady Hastings was sleeping profoundly and quietly; and as she lay in an +attitude of easy grace, a shadow of her youthful beauty seemed to have +returned, and all the traces of after cares and anxiety were banished for +the time. On the table, near the bed-head, stood the vial of medicine, with +the glass and spoon; and Mrs. Hazleton eyed it for a moment or two without +touching it. She saw that she had hit the color exactly; but the quantity +in that vial, and the one she had with her, was somewhat different. She +felt puzzled and doubtful. She asked herself—"Would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488]</a></span> the difference be +discovered when the time came for giving her the medicine?" and a certain +degree of trepidation seized her. But she was bold, and said to +herself—"They will never see it. They suspect nothing. They will never see +it." She took the vial from her pocket, and held it for an instant or two +in her hand. Again a doubt and hesitation took possession of her. She gazed +at the sleeper with a haggard eye. The face was so calm, so sweet, so +gentle in expression, that the pleasant look perhaps did move her a little +with remorse. The voice within said again, and again, "Forbear!" She tried +to deafen herself against it, or to fill the ear of conscience with +delusive sounds. "She is dying," she said—"She will die—she cannot +recover. It is but taking away a few short hours, in order to stop that +fatal marriage, which shall never be. I am becoming a fool—a weak +irresolute fool."</p> + +<p>Just as she thus thought, Lady Hastings moved uneasily, as if to wake from +her slumber. That moment was decisive. With a hurried hand, and quick as +light, Mrs. Hazleton changed the two vials, and concealed the one which she +had taken away.</p> + +<p>Then it was, probably for the first time, that all the awful consequences +of the deed, for time and for eternity, flashed upon her. The scales fell +from her eyes: no longer passion, or mortified vanity, or irritated pride, +or disappointed love, distorted the objects or concealed their forms. She +stood there consciously a murderer. She trembled in every limb; and, unable +to support herself, sunk down in the chair that stood near.</p> + +<p>Had Lady Hastings slept on, Mrs. Hazleton would have been saved; for her +impulse was immediately to reverse the very act she had done—all would +have been saved—all to whom that act brought wretchedness. But the +movement of the chair—the sound of the vial touching the marble table—the +rustle of the thick silk—dispelled what remained of slumber, and Lady +Hastings opened her eyes drowsily, and looked round. At the very moment she +would have given worlds to recall it. The deed became irrevocable. The +barrier of Fate fell: it was amongst the things done; it was written in the +book of God as a great crime committed. Nothing remained but to insure, +that the end she aimed at would be obtained; that the evil consequences, in +this world at least, should be averted from herself. There was a terrible +struggle to recover her self-command—a wrestling of the spirit—against +the turbulent and fierce emotions which shook the body. She was still much +agitated when Lady Hastings recognized her and began to speak; but her +determination was taken to obtain the utmost that she could from the act +she had committed—to have the full price of her crime. She was no Judas +Iscariot, to be content with the thirty pieces of silver for the innocent +blood, and then hang herself in despair. Oh no! She had sold her own soul, +and she would have its price.</p> + +<p>But yet, as I have said, the struggle was terrible, and lasted longer than +usual with her.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, my kind friend, is that you?" said Lady Hastings. "Have you been +here long? I did not hear you come in."</p> + +<p>Her words, and her tone, were gentle and affectionate. All the coldness and +the sharpness of the preceding day seemed to have passed away, and to have +been forgotten; but words and tone were equally jarring to the feelings of +Mrs. Hazleton. The sharpest language, the most angry manner, would have +been a relief to her. They would have afforded her some sort of +strength—some sort of support.</p> + +<p>It is painful enough to hear sweet music when we are very sad. I have known +it rise almost to agony; but the tones of friendship and regard, of +gentleness and tender kindness, to the ear of hatred and malice, must be +more terrible still.</p> + +<p>"I have been here but a moment," said Mrs. Hazleton, gloomily—almost +peevishly. "I suppose it was my coming in woke you; but I am sure I made as +little noise as possible."</p> + +<p>"Why, what is the matter?" said Lady Hastings. "You look quite pale and +agitated, and you speak quite crossly."</p> + +<p>"Your sudden waking startled me," said Mrs. Hazleton; "and, besides, you +looked so ill, my dear friend. I almost thought you were dead till you +began to move."</p> + +<p>There was malice in the sentence, simple as it seemed, and it had its +effect. Nervous, hypochondriac, Lady Hastings was frightened at the mere +sound, and her heart beat strangely at the very thought of being supposed +dead. It seemed to her to augur that she was very ill; that she was much +worse than her friends allowed her to believe; that they anticipated her +speedy dissolution, and she remained silent and sad for several minutes, +giving Mrs. Hazleton time to recover herself completely. She was a little +piqued too at the abruptness of Mrs. Hazleton's manner. Neither the speech, +nor the mode, nor the speaker, pleased her; and she replied at +length—"Nevertheless, I feel a good deal better to-day. I have slept well +for, I dare say, a couple of hours; and my dear child Emily has been with +me all the morning. I must say she bears opposition and contradiction very +sweetly."</p> + +<p>She knew that would not please Mrs. Hazleton, and she laid some emphasis on +the words by way of retaliation. It was petty, but it was quite in her +character. "Now I think of it," she added, "you promised to tell me what +you discovered in regard to Marlow's relationship to Lord Launceston. I +find—but never mind. Tell me what you have found out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Hazleton hesitated. The first impulse was to tell a lie—to assert +that Marlow was not the old earl's heir; but there was something in Lady +Hastings' manner which made her suspect that she had received more certain +information, and she made up her mind to speak the truth.</p> + +<p>"It is very true," she said; "Mr. Marlow is the old lord's nearest male +relation, and heir to his title. I suspect," she added with a silly +sounding laugh, "you have found this out yourself, my dear friend, and have +made your peace with Emily, by withdrawing your opposition to her +marriage."</p> + +<p>Her heart was very bitter at that moment; for she really did suspect all +that she said. The idea presented itself to her mind (producing a feeling +of fierce disappointment), of all her efforts being rendered fruitless, her +dark schemes frustrated, her cunning contrivances without effect, at the +very moment when the crime, by which she proposed to insure success, was so +far consummated as to be beyond recall. She was relieved on that score in a +moment.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no," cried Lady Hastings. "I promised you, my dear friend, that I +would say nothing till I saw you, and I have said nothing either to my +husband or Emily. But I will of course now tell her all immediately, and I +do confess it will give me greater satisfaction than any act of my whole +life, to withdraw the opposition to her marriage which has made her so +miserable, and to bid her be happy with the man of her own choice—an +excellent good young man he is too. He has been laboring, I find, for the +last fortnight or three weeks, night and day, in our service, and has +detected the horrible conspiracy by which my husband was deprived of his +rights and property. I shall tell Emily, with great joy, as soon as ever +she comes back, that were it for nothing but this zeal in our cause, I +would receive him joyfully as my son-in-law."</p> + +<p>"You had better wait till to-morrow morning," said Mrs. Hazleton, in a cold +but significant tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no," said Lady Hastings, somewhat petulantly, "I have waited quite +long enough—perhaps too long. You surely would not have me protract my +child's anxiety and sorrow unnecessarily. No, I will tell her the moment +she returns. She read me part of a letter from Marlow to-day, which shows +me that he has lost no time in seeking to serve us and make us happy, and I +will lose no time in making my child and him happy also."</p> + +<p>"As you please," replied Mrs. Hazleton; "I only thought that in this +changeable world, there are so many unexpected things occurring between one +day and another, it might be well for you to pause and consider a +little—in order, I mean, that after-thought may not show you reason to +withdraw your consent, as you now withdraw your objection."</p> + +<p>"My consent once given, shall never be withdrawn," replied Lady Hastings, +in a determined tone.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hazleton looked at the vial by the bedside, and then at her watch. +"You had better avoid all agitation," she said, "and at all events before +you speak with Emily, take a dose of the medicine, which Short tells me he +has given you to soothe and calm your spirits—shall I give you one now?"</p> + +<p>"No, I thank you," replied Lady Hastings, briefly; "not at present."</p> + +<p>"Is it not the time?" said Mrs. Hazleton, looking at her watch again: "the +good man told me you were to take it very regularly."</p> + +<p>"But he told me," replied Lady Hastings, "that nobody was to give it to me +but Emily, and she will be back at the right time, I am sure. What o'clock +is it?"</p> + +<p>"Past five," replied Mrs. Hazleton, advancing the hour a little.</p> + +<p>"Then it wants three quarters of an hour to the time," said Lady Hastings, +"and Emily has only gone to take a walk. We are expecting Marlow to-night, +so she will not go far I am sure."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hazleton fell into profound thought. In proposing to give Lady +Hastings the portion herself, she had deviated a little from her original +plan. She had intended all along, that the mortal draught should be +administered by the hand of Emily, and she had only been tempted to depart +from that purpose by the fear of Lady Hastings withdrawing her opposition +to her daughter's marriage with Marlow before the deed was fully +accomplished. There was no help for it, however. She was obliged to take +her chance of the result; and while she mused at that moment, vague +notions—what shall I call them?—not exactly schemes or purposes, but +rather dreams of turning suspicion upon Emily herself, of making men +believe—suspect, even if they could not prove—that the daughter knowingly +deprived the mother of life, crossed her imagination. She meditated rather +longer than was quite decorous, and then suddenly recollecting herself she +said, "By the way, has Emily yet condescended to particularize her +astounding charges against your poor friend? I am really anxious to hear +them, and although I confess that the matter has afforded me some +amusement, it has brought painful feelings and doubts with it too. I have +sometimes fancied, my dear friend, that there is a slight aberration in +your poor Emily's mind, and I can account for her conduct in this instance +by no other mode. You know her grandfather, Sir John, had moments when he +was hardly sane. I have heard your own good father declare upon one +occasion, that Sir John was as mad as a lunatic. Tell me then, has Emily +brought forward any proofs, or alluded to these accusations since I saw +you? You said she would explain all in a few hours."</p> + +<p>"She has not as yet explained all," replied Lady Hastings, "but I cannot +deny that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span> has alluded to the charges, and repeated them all +distinctly. She said that the delay had been rather longer than she +expected; but that as soon as Mr. Dixwell came, every thing should be +told."</p> + +<p>"The suspense is unpleasant," said Mrs. Hazleton, somewhat sarcastically; +"I trust the young lady does not play with the feelings of her lover as she +does with those of her friends, otherwise I should pity Marlow."</p> + +<p>Lady Hastings was a good deal nettled. "I do not think he much deserves +your pity," she replied; "and besides, I think he is quite satisfied with +Emily's conduct, as I am also. I am quite confident she has good reason for +what she says, my dear Madam—not that I mean to assert that the charges +are true, by any means—she may be mistaken, you know—she may be +misinformed—but that she brings them in good faith, and fully believes +that she can prove them distinctly, I do not for a moment doubt. If she is +wrong, nobody will be more grieved, or more ready to make atonement than +herself; but whether she is right or wrong, remains to be proved."</p> + +<p>"All that I have to request then is," said Mrs. Hazleton, "that you will be +kind enough to let me know, immediately you are yourself informed, what are +the specific charges, and upon what grounds they rest. That they must be +false, I know; and therefore I shall give myself no uneasiness about them. +All I regret is, that you should be troubled about what must be frivolous +and absurd. Nevertheless, I must beg you to let me hear immediately."</p> + +<p>"Sir Philip will do that," replied Lady Hastings, coldly. "If Emily is +right in her views, the matter will require the intervention of a man. It +will be too serious for a woman to deal with."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Hazleton, with an air of offended dignity. "Good +morning, my dear Lady;" and she quitted the room.</p> + +<p>She paused upon the broad staircase for two or three minutes, leaning upon +the balustrade in deep thought; but when she descended to the hall, she +asked a servant who stood there if Mistress Emily had returned. The man +replied in the negative, and she then inquired for Sir Philip, asking to +see him.</p> + +<p>The servant said he was in his library, and proceeded to announce her. She +followed him so closely as to enter the room almost at the same moment, and +beheld Sir Philip Hastings, with his head leaning on his hand, sitting at +the table and gazing earnestly down upon it. There was a book before him, +but it was closed.</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon for intruding, my dear sir," said Mrs. Hazleton, "but I +wished to ask if you know where Emily is. I want to speak with her."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about her," said Sir Philip, abruptly; and then muttered to +himself, "would I knew more."</p> + +<p>"I thought I saw her in the fields as I came," said Mrs. Hazleton, +"gathering flowers and herbs—she is fond of botany, I believe."</p> + +<p>"I know not," said Sir Philip, recovering himself a little. "Pray be +seated. Madam—I have not attended much to her studies lately."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I must go," said Mrs. Hazleton. "Perhaps I shall meet her as I +drive along. Do not let me interrupt you, do not let me interrupt you;" and +she quietly quitted the room.</p> + +<p>"Gathering herbs!" said Sir Philip Hastings, "what new whim is this?"</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XLVII.</h4> + +<p>Emily Hastings was not three hundred yards from the house when Mrs. +Hazleton drove away from the house door. She had never been more than three +hundred yards from it during that day. She had gathered no herbs, she had +wandered through no fields; but, at her mother's earnest request, she had +gone out to breathe the fresh air for half an hour, and had ascended +through the gardens to a little terrace on the hill, where she had +continued to walk up and down under the shade of some tall trees; had seen +Mrs. Hazleton arrive, and saw her depart. The scene which the terrace +commanded was very beautiful in itself, and the house below, the +well-cultivated gardens, a fountain here and there, neat hedge-rows, and +trim, well-ordered fields, gave the whole an air of home comfort, and +peaceful affluence, such as few countries but England can display.</p> + +<p>I have shown, or should have shown, that Emily was somewhat of an +impressible character, and the brightness and the pleasant character of the +scene had its usual effect in cheering. Certainly, to any one who had stood +near her, looking over even that fair prospect, she herself would have been +the loveliest object in it. Every year had brought out some new beauty in +her face, and without diminishing one charm of extreme youth, had expanded +her fair form into womanly richness. The contour of every limb was perfect: +the whole in symmetry complete; and her movements, as she walked to and +fro, upon the terrace, were all full of that easy, floating grace, which +requires a combination of youth and health, and fine proportion, and a +pure, high mind. If there was a defect it was that she was somewhat pale +that day; for she had not slept at all during the preceding night from +agitated feelings, and busy thoughts that would not rest. But the slight +degree of languor, which watching and anxiety had given, was not without +its own peculiar charm, and the liquid brightness of her eyes seemed but +the more dazzling for the drooping of the eyelid, with its long sweeping +fringe.</p> + +<p>There was a mixture, too, strange as it may seem to say so, of sadness and +cheerfulness, in the expression of her face that day—perhaps I should say +an alternation of the two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[Pg 491]</a></span> expressions; but the change from the one to the +other was too rapid for distinctness; and the well of feelings from which +the expressions flowed, was of very mingled waters. The scene of death and +suffering which she had lately witnessed at the cottage, her father's wild +and gloomy manner, her mother's sickness, the displeasure of one parent, +however unjust, and the opposition of another, to her dearest wishes, +however unreasonable, naturally produced anxiety and sadness. But then +again, on the other hand, Marlow's letter had cheered and comforted her +much; the prospect of seeing him so speedily, rejoiced her more than she +had even anticipated, and the certainty that a few short hours would remove +for ever all doubts as to her conduct, her thoughts and her feelings, from +the mind of both her parents, and especially from that of her father, gave +her strength and happy confidence.</p> + +<p>Poor Emily! How lovely she looked as she walked along there with the ever +varying expressions fluttering over her face, and her rich nut brown hair, +free and uncovered, floating in curls on the sportive breath of the breeze.</p> + +<p>When first she came out the general tone of her feelings was sad; but the +bright hopes seemed to gain vigor in the open air, and her mind fixed more +and more gladly on the theme of Marlow's letter. As it did so she extracted +fresh motives of comfort from it. He had given her many details in regard +to his late proceedings. He had openly and plainly spoken of the conduct of +Mrs. Hazleton, and told her he could prove the facts which he asserted. He +had not even hinted at an injunction to secrecy, and although her first +impulse had been to wait for his arrival and let him explain the whole +himself, yet, as it was now getting late in the day, and he had not +come—as the obligation to secrecy, laid upon her by John Ayliffe, might +not be removed till the following morning, and her mother was evidently +anxious and uneasy for want of all explanations—Emily thought she might be +fully justified in reading more of Marlow's letter to Lady Hastings than +she had hitherto done, and showing her that she had asserted nothing +without reasonable cause. The sight of Mrs. Hazleton's carriage arriving +confirmed her in this intention. She knew that fair lady to possess very +great influence over her mother's mind. She believed that influence to have +been always exerted balefully, and she judged it better, much better, to +cut it short at once, rather than suffer it to endure even for another day.</p> + +<p>When she saw the carriage drive away, then, she returned rapidly to the +house, went to her room to get Marlow's letter, and then proceeded to her +mother's chamber.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Hazleton has been here, my love," said Lady Hastings, as soon as +Emily approached, "and really, she has been very strange and disagreeable. +She seems not to have the slightest consideration for me; but even in my +weak state, says every thing that can agitate and annoy me."</p> + +<p>"I trust, my dear mother, that you will see her no more," said Emily. "The +full proofs of what I told you concerning her, I cannot yet give; but +Marlow lays me under no injunction to secrecy, and I have brought his +letter to read you the part in which he speaks of her. That will show you +quite enough to convince you that Mrs. Hazleton should never be permitted +within these doors again."</p> + +<p>"Oh read it, pray read it, my dear," said Lady Hastings. "I am all anxiety +to know the facts; for really one does not know how to behave to this +woman, and I feel in a very awkward position towards her."</p> + +<p>Emily sat down by the bedside and read, word for word, all that Marlow had +written in reference to Mrs. Hazleton, which was interspersed, here and +there, with many kindly and respectful expressions towards Lady Hastings +and her husband, which he knew well would be gratifying to her whom he +addressed. His statements were all clear and precise, and from them Lady +Hastings learned he had obtained proof, from various different sources, +that her seeming friend had knowingly and willingly supplied John Ayliffe +with the means of carrying on his fraudulent suit against Sir Philip +Hastings: that she had been his counsel and coöperator in all his +proceedings, and had suggested many of the most criminal steps he had +taken. The last passage which Emily read was remarkable: "To see into the +dark abyss of that woman's heart, my dearest Emily," he said, "is more than +I can pretend to do; but it is perfectly clear that she has been moved in +all her proceedings for some years, by bitter personal hatred towards Sir +Philip, Lady Hastings, and yourself. Mere self-interest—to which she is by +no means insensible on ordinary occasions—has been sacrificed to the +gratification of malice, and she has even gone so far as to place herself +in a situation of considerable peril for the purpose of ruining your +excellent father, and making your mother and yourself unhappy. What offence +has been committed by any of your family to merit such persevering and +ruthless hatred, I cannot tell. I only know that it must have been +unintentional; but that it has not been the less bitterly revenged. Perhaps +the disclosures which must be made as soon as I return, may give us some +insight into the cause; but at present I can only tell you the result."</p> + +<p>"My dear Emily," said Lady Hastings, "your father should know this +immediately. He has been very sad and gloomy since his return. I really +cannot tell what is the matter with him; but something weighs upon his +spirits, evidently; but this news will give him relief, or, at all events, +will divert his thoughts. It was very natural, my dear girl, that you +should first tell your mother, but I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[Pg 492]</a></span> really think that we must now take +him into our councils."</p> + +<p>"I will go and ask him to come here, at once," said Emily. "I think my dear +father has not understood me rightly lately, and has chilled me by cold +looks and words when I would fain have spoken to him, and poured my whole +thoughts into his bosom. Oh, I shall be glad to do any thing to regain his +confidence; and although I know it must be regained in a very, very short +space of time, yet I would gladly do any thing to prevent its being +withheld from me even a moment longer."</p> + +<p>She took a step towards the door as she spoke; but Lady Hastings, +unhappily, called her back. "Stay, my Emily," she said. "Come hither, my +dear child; I have something to say that will cheer you and comfort you, +and give you strength to meet any little crosses of your father's with +patience and resignation. He has been sorely tried, and is much troubled. +But I was going to say, dear Emily," and she threw her arms round her +daughter's neck as she leaned over her, "that I have been thinking much of +all that was said the other day, in regard to your marriage with Marlow. I +see that your heart is set upon it, and that you can only be happy in a +union with him. I know him to be a good and excellent young man; and after +all that he has done to serve us, I must not interpose your wishes any +longer; although, perhaps, I might have chosen differently for you had the +choice rested with me. I give you, therefore, my full and free consent, +Emily, and trust you will be as happy as you deserve, my dear girl. I think +you might very well have made a higher alliance, but——"</p> + +<p>"But none that would have made me half so happy," replied Emily, embracing +her mother. "Oh, dear mother, if you could know the load you take from my +heart, you would be amply repaid for any sacrifice of opinion you make to +your child's happiness. I cannot conceive any situation more painful to be +placed in than a conflict between two duties. My positive promise to +Marlow, my obedience to you, are now reconciled, and I thank you a thousand +thousand times for having thus relieved me from so terrible a struggle."</p> + +<p>The tears rose in her eyes as she spoke, and Lady Hastings made her sit +down by her bedside, saying—"Nay, my dear child, do not suffer yourself to +be so much agitated. I did not know till the other day," she said, feeling +some self-reproach at having been brought to play the part she had acted +lately, "I did not know till the other day that you were really so much in +love, my Emily. But I have known what such feelings are, and can sympathize +with you. Indeed I should have yielded long ago if it had not been for the +persuasions of that horrid Mrs. Hazleton. She always stood in the way of +every thing I wanted to do, and would not even let me know the truth about +your real feelings—pretending all the time to be my friend too!"</p> + +<p>"She has been a friend to none of us, I fear," replied Emily, "and to me +especially an enemy; although I cannot at all tell what I ever did to merit +such pertinacious hatred as she seems to feel towards me."</p> + +<p>"Do you know, my child," said Lady Hastings, with a meaning smile, "I have +been sometimes inclined to think that she wished to marry Marlow herself?"</p> + +<p>Emily started and looked aghast, and then that delicate feeling, that +sensitiveness for the dignity of woman's nature, which none, I suspect, but +woman's heart can clearly comprehend, caused her cheek to glow like a rose +with shame at the very thought of a woman loving unloved, and seeking +unsought. She felt, however, at once, that there might be—that there +probably was—much truth in what her mother said, that she had touched the +true point, and had discovered one at least of the causes of Mrs. +Hazleton's strange conduct. Nevertheless, she answered, "Oh, dear mother, I +hope it is not so. Sure I am that Marlow would never trifle with any +woman's love, and I cannot think that Mrs. Hazleton would so degrade +herself as even to dream of a man who never dreamt of her; besides, she is +old enough to be his mother."</p> + +<p>"Not quite, my child, not quite," replied Lady Hastings. "She is, I +believe, younger than I am; and though old enough to be your mother, Emily, +I could not have been Marlow's, unless I had married at ten years old. +Besides, she is very beautiful, and she knows it, and may have thought that +such beauty as hers, and her great wealth, might well make up for a small +difference of years."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right," replied Emily, thoughtfully, as many a +circumstance flashed upon her memory, which had seemed to her dark and +mysterious in times past; but to which the cause suggested by her mother +seemed now to afford a key. "But if it was me, only, she hated," added +Emily, "why should she so persecute my father and yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," replied Lady Hastings, speaking with a clear-sighted wisdom +which she seldom evinced, "perhaps because she knew that the most terrible +blows are those which are aimed at us through those we love. Besides, one +cannot tell what offence your father may have given. He is very plain +spoken, and not accustomed to deal very tenderly. Now Mrs. Hazleton is not +well pleased to hear plain truths, nor to bear with patience any sharpness +or abruptness of manner. Moreover, my child, I have heard that it was old +Sir John Hastings' wish, when we were all young and free, that your father +should marry Mrs. Hazleton. But he preferred another, perhaps less worthy +of him in every respect."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[Pg 493]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no," cried Emily, with eager affection. "More worthy of him a +thousand times in all ways. More good—more kind—more beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay, flatterer," said Lady Hastings, with a smile. "I was well enough +to look at once, Emily, and more to his taste. That is enough. My glass +tells me clearly that I cannot compete with Mrs. Hazleton now. But it is +growing dark, my dear, I must have lights."</p> + +<p>"I will ring for them, and then go and seek my father," replied Emily.</p> + +<p>She rang, and the maid appeared from the anteroom, just as Lady Hastings +was saying that it was time to take her medicine. Emily took up the vial +and the spoon, poured out the quantity prescribed, with a steady hand, very +unlike that with which Mrs. Hazleton had held the same bottle an hour +before, and having put the dose into a wine-glass, handed it to her mother.</p> + +<p>"Bring lights," said Lady Hastings, addressing her maid; and the moment +after, she raised the glass to her lips, and drank the contents.</p> + +<p>"It tastes very odd, Emily," she said, "I think it must be spoiled by the +heat of the room."</p> + +<p>"Indeed," said Emily. "That is very strange. The last vial kept quite well. +But Mr. Short will be here to-night, and we will make him send some more."</p> + +<p>She paused for a moment or two, and then added, "Now, shall I go for my +father?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Lady Hastings, somewhat faintly; "wait till the girl comes back +with the lights."</p> + +<p>She was silent for a few moments, and then raised herself suddenly on her +arm, saying in a tone of great alarm, "Emily, Emily! I feel very ill.—Good +God, I feel very ill!"</p> + +<p>Emily sprang to her side and threw her arm round her; but the next instant +Lady Hastings uttered a fearful scream, like the cry of a sea-bird, and her +head fell back upon her daughter's arm.</p> + +<p>Emily rang the bell violently: ran to the door and shrieked loudly for aid; +for she saw too well that her mother was dying.</p> + +<p>The maid, several of the other servants, and Sir Philip Hastings himself, +rushed into the room. Lights were brought: Mr. Short was sent for; but ere +the servant had well passed the gates, Lady Hastings, after a few +convulsive sobs, had yielded up her spirit.</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h4> + +<p>When the surgeon entered the room of Lady Hastings there was a profound +silence. Sir Philip Hastings was standing by his wife's bedside, motionless +as a statue; gazing with a knitted brow and fixed stony eye upon the +features of her whom he had so well and constantly loved. Emily lay +fainting upon the floor, with her head supported by one of the maids, while +another tried to recall her to life. Two more servants were in the room, +but they, like all the rest, remained silent in presence of the awful scene +before them. The windows were not yet closed, and the faint, struggling, +gray twilight came in, and mingled sombrely with the pale light of the wax +candles, giving even a more deathlike hue to the face of the corpse, and +throwing strange crossing lights and shades upon features which remained +convulsed even after the agony of death was past.</p> + +<p>"Good God! Sir Philip, what is this I hear?" exclaimed Mr. Short before he +caught the whole particulars of the scene.</p> + +<p>Sir Philip Hastings made no answer. He did not even seem to hear; and the +surgeon advanced to the bedside, and gazed for an instant on the face of +Lady Hastings. He took her hand in his. It was still warm; but when he put +his fingers on her wrist, no pulse vibrated beneath his touch. The heart, +too, was quite still: not a flutter indicated a lingering spark of +vitality. The breath was gone; and though the surgeon sought on the +dressing-table for a small mirror, and applied it to the lips, it remained +undimmed. He shook his head sadly; but yet he made some efforts. Ho took a +vial of essence from his pocket, and applied it to the nostrils; he opened +a vein, and a few drops of blood issued from it, but stopped immediately; +and several other experiments he tried, that not a lingering doubt might +remain of death having taken possession completely.</p> + +<p>At length he ceased, saying, "It is in vain. How did this happen? It is +very strange. There was not an indication of such an event yesterday. She +was decidedly better."</p> + +<p>"And so she was this morning, sir," said Lady Hastings' maid; "she slept +quite well too, sir, before Mrs. Hazleton came."</p> + +<p>Sir Philip Hastings remained profoundly silent; but Mr. Short gave a sudden +start at the name of Mrs. Hazleton, and asked the maid when that lady had +left her mistress.</p> + +<p>"Not half an hour before her death, sir," replied the maid; "and even for a +little time after she was gone, my lady seemed quite well and cheerful with +Mistress Emily."</p> + +<p>"Were you with her when she was seized so suddenly?" asked the surgeon.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said the maid. "No one was with her but Mistress Emily. My lady +had sent me away for lights; but just when I was coming up the stairs, I +heard my young lady ringing the bell violently, and screaming for help, and +in two minutes after I came in my lady was dead."</p> + +<p>"I must hear the first symptoms," said Mr. Short, "and this dear young lady +needs attending to. If I know her right, this shock will well nigh kill +her."</p> + +<p>He moved towards Emily as he spoke, but in passing across, his eye lighted +upon the vial which was standing upon the table at the bedside, with the +spoon and wine-glass which had been used in administering the medicine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[Pg 494]</a></span> +Something in the appearance of the bottle seemed to strike him suddenly, +and he raised it sharply and held it to the candle. "Good God!" exclaimed +Mr. Short; "Good God!" and his face turned as pale as death, and a fit of +trembling seized upon him.</p> + +<p>It was several moments before he uttered another word. He put his hand to +his brow, and seemed to think deeply and anxiously. Then he examined the +bottle again, took out the cork, held it to his nostrils, tasted a single +drop poured upon the end of his finger, and shook his head sadly and +solemnly. Every eye but those of the maid, who was supporting Emily's head, +was now turned upon him. There was something in his manner so unusual, so +strange, that even the attention of Sir Philip Hastings was attracted by +it; and he looked gloomily at the surgeon for a moment, as if in a dreamy +wonder at his proceedings.</p> + +<p>At length, Mr. Short spoke again. "Can any body tell me," he said, "when +Lady Hastings took a dose of this stuff?"</p> + +<p>No one remarked the irreverent term which he applied to the contents of the +vial; for every one who listened to him would probably have given it the +same name, had it been a mithridate; but the maid of the deceased lady +replied at once, "Only a few minutes before she died, sir. I saw her take +it myself."</p> + +<p>"Who gave it to her?" demanded the surgeon, sternly.</p> + +<p>"My young lady, sir," answered the maid, "just before I went for the +lights, and I am sure she did not give her a drop too much of it; for she +measured it out carefully in the spoon before she put it into the glass."</p> + +<p>Mr. Short remained silent again, and Sir Philip Hastings spoke for the +first time with a great effort.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, sir?" he asked, gloomily; "you seem confounded, +thunder-struck. What has befallen to draw your eyes from that?" and he +pointed to the bed of his dead wife.</p> + +<p>"I am bound to say, Sir Philip," replied Mr. Short, "that it is my belief +that the dose given to Lady Hastings from that bottle, has been the cause +of her death. In a word, I believe it to be poison."</p> + +<p>Sir Philip Hastings gazed in his face with a wild look of horror. His teeth +chattered in his head, his whole frame shook visibly to the eyes of those +around, but he uttered not a word, and it was the maid who answered, +exclaiming in a shrill voice, "Oh, how horrible! How could you send my lady +such stuff?"</p> + +<p>"I never sent it to her, woman!" said Mr. Short, sternly; "if you had eyes +you would see that it is not of the same color, nor has it the same taste +of that which I sent. It is different in every respect; and if no other +proof were wanting that which I sent Lady Hastings was harmless, it would +be sufficient to say, that the last vial I brought was delivered to you +yourself yesterday quite full, that Lady Hastings ought to have taken four +or five doses of that medicine between that time and this, and——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the maid, interrupting him, "she took it quite +regularly. I saw Mistress Emily give her three doses myself."</p> + +<p>"Well, did those hurt her?" asked Mr. Short, sharply.</p> + +<p>"I can't say they did," replied the woman, "indeed she always seemed better +a little while after taking them."</p> + +<p>"Well that shows that this is not the same," said Mr. Short; "besides, this +bottle has never come out of my surgery. I always choose mine perfectly +clear and white, that I may be enabled to see if the medicine is at all +troubled or not. This has a green tinge, and must have come from some +common druggist's, and the stuff that it contains must be strictly +analyzed."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, Sir Philip Hastings strode up to him, grasped his hand, and +wrung it hard, saying in a hollow husky tone, and pointing to the bottle, +"What is it you mean? What is it all about? What is that?"</p> + +<p>"Poison! Sir Philip," replied Mr. Short, moved by the feelings of the +moment beyond all his ordinary prudence; "poison! and I very much fear that +it has been administered to your poor lady intentionally."</p> + +<p>"Gathering herbs!—gathering herbs!" screamed Sir Philip Hastings, like a +madman; and tearing the hair out of his head, he rushed away from the room, +and locked himself into his library.</p> + +<p>No one could tell to what his words alluded, nor did they trouble +themselves much to discover; for every one at once concluded that the shock +of his wife's sudden death, and the discovery of its terrible cause, had +driven him insane.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do run after my master, sir," cried the maid; "he has gone into the +library, I heard him bang the door."</p> + +<p>"Has he got any arms there?" asked Mr. Short, "there used to be pistols at +the Hall."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, no," exclaimed one of the house-maids, "they are not there. They +are in his dressing-room out yonder."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I will leave him alone for the present," said the surgeon; +"here is one who demands more immediate care. Poor young lady! If she +should discover, in her present state of grief, how her mother has died, +and that her hand has been employed to produce such a catastrophe, it will +destroy either her life or her intellect."</p> + +<p>"But who could have done it, sir?" exclaimed Lady Hastings' maid.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind that for the present," said Mr. Short; "I have my +suspicions; but they are no more than suspicions at present. You stay with +me here, and let the other woman carry your poor young lady to her room. I +will be with her presently, and will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[Pg 495]</a></span> give her what will do her good. One +of you, as soon as possible, send me up a man-servant—a groom would be +best."</p> + +<p>His orders were obeyed promptly; for he spoke with a tone of decision and +command which the terrible circumstances of the moment enabled him to +assume; although in ordinary circumstances he was a man of mild and gentle +character.</p> + +<p>As soon as poor Emily was borne away to her own chamber, Mr. Short turned +to the maid again, inquiring, "How long had Mistress Hazleton gone when +your mistress was seized with these fatal convulsions?"</p> + +<p>"About half an hour, sir," said the maid. "It couldn't have been longer. +Mrs. Hazleton came when my lady was asleep, and went in alone, saying she +would not disturb her."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" cried the surgeon; "was she with her for any time alone?"</p> + +<p>"All the time that she staid, sir," replied the maid; "for I did not like +to go in, and Mistress Emily was walking on the terrace up the hill."</p> + +<p>"I suppose then you cannot tell how long Mrs. Hazleton remained alone with +your lady before she woke?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can pretty nearly, sir," answered the maid, "for though Mrs. +Hazleton told me not to come in with her, and said she would ring when my +lady waked, I came after her into the anteroom, and sat there all the time. +For about five minutes, or it might be ten, all was quiet enough; but at +the end of that time I heard my lady and Mrs. Hazleton begin to speak."</p> + +<p>"You heard no other sounds previously?" asked the surgeon.</p> + +<p>"Nothing but the rustle of Mrs. Hazleton's gown, as she moved about once or +twice," said the maid, "and of that I can't be rightly sure."</p> + +<p>"You did not by chance look through the key-hole?" asked Mr. Short.</p> + +<p>"No, that I didn't," said the maid, tossing her head, "I never did such a +thing in my life."</p> + +<p>"Well, well. Get me a sheet of paper," replied the surgeon, "and a pen and +ink—oh, they are here are they?" But before he could sit down to write, a +groom crept in through the half-open door, and received orders from the +surgeon to saddle a horse instantly and return. Mr. Short then sat down and +wrote as follows:</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Mr. Atkinson</span>:—As you are high constable of Hartwell, I write as a justice +of the peace for the county of ——, to authorize and require you to follow +immediately the carriage of The Honorable Mistress Hazleton, to apprehend +that lady and to keep her in your safe custody, taking care that her person +be immediately searched by some proper person, and that any vials, bottles, +powders, or other objects whatsoever bearing the appearance of drugs or +medicines, or of having contained them, be carefully preserved, and marked +for identification. I have not time or means to fill up a regular warrant; +but I will justify you in, and be responsible for, whatever you may do to +insure that Mrs. Hazleton has no means or opportunity allowed her of +concealing or making away with any thing she has carried away from this +house, where Lady Hastings has just deceased from the effects of poison. +You had better take the fresh horse of the bearer, and lose not an instant +in overtaking the carriage."</p> + +<p>He then signed his name just as the groom returned; but ere he gave the man +the paper he added in a postscript:</p> + +<p>"You had better search the carriage minutely, and make any preliminary +investigation that you may think fit before I arrive. The hints given above +will be sufficient for your guidance."</p> + +<p>"Take this paper immediately to Jenny Best's cottage," said Mr. Short to +the groom. "Ask if Mr. Atkinson is there. Should he be so, give it to him, +and let him take your horse if he requires it. Should you not find him +there, seek for him either at the house of Mr. Dixwell, or at the farm +close by. Should he be at neither of those places, follow him on to his +house near Hartwell at full speed. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite well, sir," said the groom, who was a shrewd, keen fellow; and +he left the room without more words.</p> + +<p>When he got down to the hall door, however, he thought he might as well +know more of his errand, and read the paper which he had received with the +butler and the footman. A brief consultation followed between them, and not +a little horror and anger was excited by the information they had gained +from the paper, for Lady Hastings had been well loved by her servants, and +Mrs. Hazleton was but little loved by any of her inferiors in station.</p> + +<p>"Go you on, John, as fast as possible," said the footman. "I'll get a horse +and come after you as fast as possible with Harry; for this grand dame has +three servants with her, and mayn't choose to be taken easily."</p> + +<p>"Ay, come along, come along," said the groom; "we'll run her down, I'll +warrant," and hurrying away he got to his horse's back.</p> + +<p>In the mean time Mr. Short had proceeded to the room of poor Emily +Hastings, whom he found recovering from her fainting fit, and sobbing in +the bitterness of grief.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Short," she said, "this is very terrible. There surely was +something wrong about that medicine, for my poor mother was taken ill the +moment she had swallowed it. She had had the same quantity three times +to-day before; but she said that it tasted strange and unpleasant. It could +not surely have been spoiled by keeping so short a time, and that could not +have killed her even if it had been so. Pray do examine it."</p> + +<p>"I will, I will, my dear," replied Mr. Short<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[Pg 496]</a></span> kindly, "but I don't think +the medicine I sent could spoil, and if it did it could have no evil +effect. Now quiet yourself, my dear Mistress Emily; I am going to give you +a draught which will soothe your nerves, and fit you better to bear all +these terrible things."</p> + +<p>He then had recourse to the little store of medicines he usually carried in +his pocket, and administered first a stimulant and then a somewhat powerful +narcotic. For about ten minutes he remained seated by Emily's bedside with +her own maid standing at the foot, and during that time the poor girl spoke +once or twice, asking anxiously after her father, and expressing a great +desire to go to him. Gradually, however, her eyelids began to droop, her +sentences remained unfinished, and, in the end, she fell into a deep and +profound sleep.</p> + +<p>"She will not wake for six or eight hours," said Mr. Short, addressing the +maid. "But when she does wake it would be better you should be with her, my +good girl. If you like, therefore, you can go and take some rest in the +meanwhile; but order yourself to be called at the end of five hours."</p> + +<p>"If you are quite sure that she will remain asleep, sir," said the maid, "I +will lie down, for I am sure sorrow wearies one more than work."</p> + +<p>"She won't wake," said Mr. Short, "for six hours at least. I will now go +and see Sir Philip," and descending the stairs, he knocked at the door of +the library, thinking that probably he should find it locked. The stern +voice of Sir Philip Hastings, however, said "Come in," in a wonderfully +calm tone; and when the surgeon entered he found Sir Philip seated at the +library table, and apparently reading a Greek book, the contents of which +Mr. Short could not at all divine.</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XLIX.</h4> + +<p>I must now follow the groom on his road, first to the cottage of good Jenny +Best, where he learned that Mr. Atkinson had gone away some five minutes +before, and then to the house of the neighboring farm, where he found the +person he sought still seated on his horse, but talking to the tenant at +the door.</p> + +<p>"Here, Mr. Atkinson," cried the groom as he came up; "here's a note for you +from Mr. Short the surgeon—a sort of warrant, I believe; for he's a +justice of the peace, you know, as well as a surgeon. Read it quick, Mr. +Atkinson, read it quick; for it won't keep hot long; and if that woman +isn't caught I think I'll hang myself."</p> + +<p>"Bring us a light, farmer," said Mr. Atkinson, "quickly. What is all this +about, John?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Madam Hazleton has poisoned my lady, and she's as dead as a door +nail," said the groom, "that's all; and bad enough too. Zounds, I thought +she'd do some mischief; she was always so hard upon her horses."</p> + +<p>"Good heaven!" exclaimed Mr. Atkinson, "you do not mean to say that she has +certainly poisoned Lady Hastings?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Short believes it, and every one believes it," answered the +groom.</p> + +<p>Mr. Atkinson might have endeavored to reduce the number comprised in the +term "every body" to its just proportions; but before he could do so, the +farmer returned with a light shaded from the wind by his hat; and the good +high constable of Hartwell, bending over his saddle, read hurriedly Mr. +Short's brief note.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter? what's the matter?" cried the farmer; and great was his +surprise and consternation to hear that Lady Hastings was dead, and that +strong suspicion existed of her having been poisoned by Mrs. Hazleton. +There is a stern, dogged love of justice, however, in the English peasant, +which rises into energy and excitement; and the farmer was instantly heard +calling for his horse.</p> + +<p>"Zounds, I'll ride with you, Atkinson," he said. "This great dame has got +so many servants, she may think fit to set the law at defiance; but she +must be taught that high people cannot poison other people any more than +low ones. But you go on; you go on. I'll catch you up, perhaps. If not, +I'll come in time, don't you be afraid."</p> + +<p>"I'm going along too," said the groom, "and two others are coming; so if +her tall men show fight, I think we'll leather their jackets."</p> + +<p>Away they went as fast as they could go, and to say truth, Mr. Atkinson was +not at all sorry to have some assistance; for without ever committing any +one act which could be characterized as criminal, unjust, or wrong, within +the knowledge of her neighbors, Mrs. Hazleton had somehow impressed the +minds of all who surrounded her with the conviction, that hers was a most +daring and remorseless nature. The general world received their impression +of her character—and often a false one, be it good or evil—by her greater +and more important actions: the little circle that surrounds us forms a +slower but more certain judgment from minute but often repeated traits.</p> + +<p>On rode Mr. Atkinson and the groom, as fast as their horses could carry +them. Wherever there was turf by the roadside they galloped; and at the +rate of progression made by carriages in that day, they made sure they must +be gaining very rapidly upon the object of their pursuit. When first they +set out it was very dark; but at the end of twenty minutes, in which period +they had ridden somewhat more than four miles, the edge of the moon began +to appear above the horizon, and her light showed them well nigh another +mile on the road before them. Still no carriage was in sight, and the groom +exclaimed, "Dang it, Mr. Atkinson, we must spur on, or she will get home +before we catch her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[Pg 497]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is impossible to run after any thing without feeling some of the +eagerness of the fox-hound, and it is not to be denied that Mr. Atkinson +shared in some degree in the impetuous spirit of the chase with the groom. +He said nothing about it, indeed; but he made his spurs mark his horse's +sides, and on they went up the opposite slope at a quicker pace than ever. +From the top was a very considerable descent into the bottom of the valley, +in which Hartwell is situated; but the moon had not yet risen high enough +to illuminate more than half the scene, and darkness, doubly dark, seemed +to have gathered over the low grounds beneath the eyes of the two horsemen.</p> + +<p>Mr. Atkinson thought he perceived some large object below, moving on +towards Hartwell; but he could not be sure of it till he had descended some +way down the hill, when the carriage of Mrs. Hazleton, mounting a little +rise into the moonlight, became plainly visible to the eye. The groom took +off his cap and waved it, saying, "Tally ho!" but neither he nor his +companion paused in their rapid course, but went thundering down at the +risk of their necks, and of their horses' knees. The carriage moved slowly; +the pursuers went very fast: and at the end of about four minutes they had +reached and passed the two mounted men-servants, who, as customary in those +days, rode behind the vehicle. Robberies on the highway were by no means +uncommon; so that it was the custom for the attendants upon a carriage to +travel armed, and Mrs. Hazleton's two men instantly laid their hands upon +the holsters of their pistols, when those too rapid riders passed them at +such a furious pace. Mr. Atkinson, however, was not a man to be easily +frightened from anything he undertook, and wheeling his horse sharply when +in a little advance of the coachman, he exclaimed, "In the King's name I +command you to stop. I am James Atkinson, high constable of Hartwell. You +know me, sir; and I command you in the King's name to stop!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Master Atkinson, what is all this about?" cried the coachman. "There +is nobody but Mrs. Hazleton here. Don't you know the carriage?"</p> + +<p>"Quite well," replied Mr. Atkinson; "but you hear what I say, and will +disobey at your peril. John, ride round to the other side, while I speak to +the lady here."</p> + +<p>Now Mrs. Hazleton had heard the whole of this conversation, and had there +been sufficient light, Mr. Atkinson, whose eye was turned towards where she +sat, would have seen her turn deadly pale. It might naturally be supposed +that in any ordinary circumstances she would have directed her first +attention to the side from which the sounds proceeded; but so far from that +being the case, she instantly put her hand in her pocket, and was almost in +the act of throwing something into the road, when John the groom presented +himself at the window, and she stopped suddenly.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Mr. Atkinson?" she exclaimed, turning to the other window, and +speaking in a tone of high indignation. "Why do you presume to stop my +carriage on the King's highway?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am ordered, Madam, by lawful authority, so to do," replied Mr. +Atkinson. "I am sorry, Madam, to tell you that you must consider yourself +as a prisoner."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hazleton would fain have asked upon what charge; but she did not dare, +and for a moment strength and courage failed her. It was but for a moment, +however, and in the next she exclaimed in a loud and more imperious tone +than ever, "This is a pretence for robbery or insult. Drive on, coachman. +Mathew—Rogerson—clear the way!"</p> + +<p>She reckoned wrongly, however, if she counted upon any great zeal in her +servants. The two men hesitated; for the King's name was a tower of +strength which they did not at all like to assail. Their mistress repeated +her order in an angry tone, and one of them, with habitual deference to her +commands, went so far as to cock the pistol which he now held in his hand; +but at that moment the adverse party received an accession of strength +which rendered all assistance hopeless. The other two servants of Sir +Philip Hastings came down the hill at full speed, and a gentleman, followed +by a servant, rode up from the side of Hartwell, and addressed Mr. Atkinson +by his name.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mr. Marlow!" said Mr. Atkinson. "You come at a very melancholy moment, +sir, and to witness a very unpleasant scene; but, nevertheless, I must +require your assistance, sir, as this lady seems inclined to resist the +law."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" asked Marlow. "I hope there is no mistake here. If I +see rightly this is Mrs. Hazleton's carriage. What is she charged with?"</p> + +<p>"Murder, sir," replied Mr. Atkinson, who had been a little irritated by the +lady's resistance, and spoke more plainly than he might otherwise have +done. "The murder of Lady Hastings by poison."</p> + +<p>It was spoken. She heard the words clearly and distinctly. She had been +detected. Some small oversight—some accidental circumstance—some +precaution forgotten—some accidental word, or gesture, had betrayed the +dark secret, revealed the terrible crime. It was all known to men, as well +as to God, and Mrs. Hazleton sunk back in the carriage overpowered by the +agony of detection.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ho; here come the other men," said Mr. Atkinson, as the two servants +of Sir Philip Hastings rode up. "Now, coachman, drive on till I tell you to +stop. You, John, keep close to the other window, and watch it well. I will +take care of this one. The others come behind. Mr. Marlow, you had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[Pg 498]</a></span> perhaps +better ride with us for half a mile or so; for I must stop at the house of +Widow Warmington, as I have orders to make a strict search."</p> + +<p>"Oh, take me to my own house—take me to my own house," said Mrs. Hazleton, +in a faint tone.</p> + +<p>"I dare not venture to do that, Madam," said Mr. Atkinson; "for we are +nearly three miles distant, and accidents might happen by the way which +would defeat the ends of justice. I must have a full search made at the +very first place where I can procure lights. That will be at Mrs. +Warmington's; but she is a friend of your own, Madam, and you will be +received there with all kindness."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hazleton did not reply; and the carriage drove on, Mr. Atkinson +keeping a keen watch upon one window, and the groom riding close to the +other.</p> + +<p>A few minutes brought them to the house of the shrewd widow, and the bell +was rung sharply by one of the servants. A woman servant appeared in answer +to the summons, and without asking whether her mistress was at home, or +not, Atkinson took the candle from her hand, saying, "Lend me the light for +a moment. I wish to light Mrs. Hazleton into the house. Now, Madam, will +you please to descend.—John, dismount, and come round here; assist Mrs. +Hazleton to alight, and come with us on her other side."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hazleton saw that she could not double or turn there. She withdrew her +hand from her pocket where she had hitherto held it, resumed her forgotten +air of dignity, and though, to say the truth, she would rather have met her +"dearest foe in heaven," than have entered that house so escorted, she +walked with a firm step and dauntless eye, with the high constable on one +side, and the groom on the other.</p> + +<p>"They shall not see me quail," she said to herself. "They shall not see me +quail. I know the worst, and I can meet it—I have had my revenge."</p> + +<p>In the mean time, the maid had run in haste to tell her mistress the +marvels of the scene she had just witnessed, and Mrs. Warmington had +gathered enough, without divining the whole, to rejoice her with +anticipated triumph. The arrest of Shanks the attorney on a charge of +conspiracy and forgery, had set going the hundred tongues of Rumor, few of +which had spared the name of Mrs. Hazleton; and Mrs. Warmington, at the +worst, suspected that her dear friend was implicated in the guilt of the +attorney. That, however, was sufficient to give the widow considerable +satisfaction, for she had not forgotten either some coldness and neglect +with which Mrs. Hazleton had treated her for some time, or her impatient +and insolent conduct that morning; and though upon the strength of her +plumpness, and easy manners, people looked upon Mrs. Warmington as a very +good natured person, yet fat people can be very vindictive sometimes.</p> + +<p>"Good gracious me, my dear, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mrs. Warmington, +as the prisoner was brought in, while Mr. Atkinson, speaking to those +behind, exclaimed, "Let no one touch or approach the carriage till I +return."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hazleton made no answer to her dear friend's questions, and the high +constable, taking a little step forward, said, "I beg pardon, Mrs. +Warmington, for intruding into your house; but I have been ordered to +apprehend this lady, and to have her person and her carriage strictly +searched, without giving the opportunity for the concealment or destruction +of any thing. It seems to me that Mrs. Hazleton has something bulky in that +left hand pocket. As I do not like to put my hand rudely upon a lady, may I +ask you, Madam, to let me see what that pocket contains?"</p> + +<p>Without the slightest hesitation, but with a good deal of curiosity, Mrs. +Warmington advanced at once and took hold of the rich silk brocade of the +prisoner's gown.</p> + +<p>"Out, woman!" cried Mrs. Hazleton, with the fire flashing from her eyes; +and she struck her.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Warmington did not quit her hold or her purpose. "Good gracious, +what a termagant!" she exclaimed, and at once thrust her right hand into +the pocket, and drew forth the vial which had been sent by the surgeon to +Lady Hastings.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Warmington. "Why, this is the very bottle I saw +you mixing stuff in this morning, when you seemed so angry and vexed at my +coming into the still-room.—No, it isn't the same either; but it was one +very like this, only darker in the color."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" said Mr. Atkinson. "Madam, will you have the goodness to put a mark +upon that bottle by which you can know it again?—Scratch it with a diamond +or something."</p> + +<p>"Oh, poor I have no diamonds," said Mrs. Warmington. "My dear, will you +lend me that ring?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hazleton gave her a withering glance, but made no reply; and Marlow +pointed to two peculiar spots in the glass of the bottle, saying, "By those +marks it will be known, so that it cannot be mistaken." His words were +addressed to Mr. Atkinson; for he felt disgusted and sickened by the +heartless and insulting tone of Mrs. Warmington towards her former friend.</p> + +<p>At the sound of his voice—for she had not yet looked at him—Mrs. Hazleton +started and looked round. It is not possible to tell the feelings which +affected her heart at that moment, or to picture with the pen the varied +expressions, all terrible, which swept over her beautiful countenance like +a storm. She remembered how she had loved him. Perhaps at that moment she +knew for the first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[Pg 499]</a></span> time how much she had loved him. She felt too, how +strongly love and hate had been mingled together by the fiery alchemy of +disappointment, as veins of incongruous metals have been mixed by the great +convulsions of the early earth. She felt too, at that moment, that it was +this love and this hate which had been the cause of her deepest crimes, and +all their consequences—the awful situation in which she there stood, the +lingering tortures of imprisonment, the agonies of trial, and the bitter +consummation of the scaffold.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Marlow, Marlow," she cried—in a tone for the first time +sorrowful—"to see you mingling in these acts!"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to do with the present business, Mrs. Hazleton," replied +Marlow, "but I am bound to say that in consequence of information I have +procured, it would have been my duty to have caused your apprehension upon +other charges, had not this, of which I know nothing, been preferred +against you. All is discovered, madam; all is known. With a slight clue, at +first, I have pursued the intricate labyrinth of your conduct for the last +two years to its conclusion, and every thing has been made plain as day."</p> + +<p>"You, Marlow, you?" cried Mrs. Hazleton, fixing her eyes steadfastly upon +him, and then adding, as he bowed his head in token of assent, "but all is +not known, even to you. You shall know all, however, before I die; and +perhaps to know all may wring your heart, hard though it be. But what am I +talking of?" she continued, her face becoming suddenly suffused with +crimson, and her fine features convulsed with rage. "All is discovered, is +it? And you have done it? What matters it to me, then, whose heart is +wrung—or what becomes of you, or me, or any one? A drop more or less is +nothing in the overflowing well. Why should I struggle longer? Why should I +hide any thing? Why should I fly from this charge to meet another? I did +it—I poisoned her—I put the drug by her bedside. It is all true—I did it +all—I have had my revenge as far as it could be obtained, and now do with +me what you like. But remember, Marlow, remember, if Emily Hastings marries +you, she does it with a mother's curse upon her head—a curse that will +fall upon her heart like a milldew, and wither it for ever—a curse that +will dry up the source of all fond affections, blacken the brightest hours, +and embitter the purest joys—a dying mother's curse! She knows it—she has +heard it—it can never be recalled. I have put that beyond fate. Ha ha! It +is upon you both; and if you venture to unite your unhappy destinies, may +that curse cling to you and blast you for ever."</p> + +<p>She spoke with all the vehemence of intense passion, breaking, for the +first time in life, through strong habitual self-control; and when she had +done, she cast herself into a chair, and covered her eyes with her hands.</p> + +<p>She wept not; but her whole frame heaved and shivered, with the terrible +emotion that tore her heart.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, Marlow and Mrs. Warmington and the high constable spoke +upon it, consulting what was to be done with her. The prison system of +England was at that time as bad as it could be, and those who condemned and +abhorred her the most, were anxious to spare her as long as possible the +horrors of the jail. At length, after many difficulties, and a good deal of +hesitation, Mr. Atkinson agreed, at the suggestion of Mrs. Warmington, to +leave her in the house where she then was, under the charge of a constable +to be sent for from Hartwell. There was a high upper room from which there +was no possibility of escape, with an antechamber in which the constable +could watch, and there he was determined to confine her till she could be +brought before the magistrate on the following day.</p> + +<p>"I must have her thoroughly searched in the first place," said Mr. +Atkinson; "for she may have some more of the poison about her, and in her +present state, after all she has confessed, she is just as likely to +swallow it as not. However, Mr. Marlow, you had better, I think, ride on as +fast as possible to see Sir Philip Hastings, and tell him what has occurred +here. If I judge rightly, your presence will be very needful there."</p> + +<p>"It will indeed," said Marlow, a sudden vague apprehension of he knew not +what, seizing upon him; "God grant I have not tarried too long already;" +and quitting the room, he sprang upon his horse's back again.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<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> Continued from page 327.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TWO_SONNETS" id="TWO_SONNETS"></a>TWO SONNETS.</h2> + +<h3>WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.</h3> + + +<h4>TRUTH.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For constant truth my aching spirit yearns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And finds no comfort in a glorious cheat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the firm rock I wish to set my feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look upon the star that changeless burns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon gorgeous clouds that in the sunset glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fire-wrought domes for angel-palace meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath my gaze their surface beauties fleet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With parting light how dull their splendors grow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot worship vapors, and the hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on the dove's neck flickers, as it veers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bewilders, but not charms me; whilst the blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the clear sky gives comfort 'mid all fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And but to think on that unshadowed white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The angels walk in, makes my dark path bright.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>THE FUTURE.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Eternal sunshine withers; constant light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would make the beauty of the world look wan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The storm that sleeps with dark'ning terror on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaves verdant freshness where it seemed to blight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most dreary is the land where comes no night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there the sun is chill, and slowly drawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round the horizon, spreads a sickly dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No promise of a day more warm and bright.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless then the clouds and darkness, for we can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Discern with awe through them what angel faces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch and direct, and from their holy places<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smile with sublime benignity on man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dearly cherish sickness, pain, and sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As gloomy heralds of a bright to-morrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i30">V.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[Pg 500]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_COUNT_MONTE-LEONE_OR_THE_SPY_IN_SOCIETY3" id="THE_COUNT_MONTE-LEONE_OR_THE_SPY_IN_SOCIETY3"></a>THE COUNT MONTE-LEONE: OR, THE SPY IN SOCIETY.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></h2> + +<h3>TRANSLATED FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE FROM THE FRENCH OF H. DE. +ST. GEORGES.</h3> + + +<h4>VIII.—THE GARRET.</h4> + +<p>Half demented, Monte-Leone left the Duke's Hotel. His existence had become +a terrible dream, a hideous nightmare, every hour producing a new terror +and surprise. D'Harcourt was gone. He went to find Von Apsberg. "He at +least will speak. He will say something about this atrocious accusation. He +will explain the meaning of the perfidious reply of the chief of police. If +he repeated this atrocious calumny, if he persisted in thinking him guilty, +his heart would be open to Monte-Leone's blows. He would at least crush and +bury one of his enemies."</p> + +<p>A new misfortune awaited him. The doctor was not to be found. The police +had occupied the house at the time that the Vicomte was being arrested. The +doctor had beyond a doubt been previously informed of their coming and +escaped, but his papers were seized. All the archives and documents of +Carbonarism fell into the hands of M. H——. One might have said some evil +genius guided the police and led them in their various examinations into +the invisible mines of their prey. Furniture, drawers, and all were +examined. Count Monte-Leone, when he heard of the disappearance of the +Doctor and of the seizure of his papers, felt an increase of rage. The +discovery of the archives ruined for a long time, if not for ever, the +prospects of the work to which Monte-Leone had consecrated his life. The +flight of Matheus also deprived him of any means of extricating himself +from the cloud of mystery which surrounded him, and made futile any hope of +vengeance. Taddeo alone remained, and he was protected by the oath he had +taken to the Marquise. One other deception yet awaited him. A devoted +member of the Carbonari, on the next day, came to Monte-Leone's house and +informed the Count that on the day after the Vicomte's arrest and the +escape of Matheus, a similar course had been adopted against Rovero, who +was indebted for his liberty only to information from Signor Pignana on the +night before the coming of the police. A note from Aminta told Monte-Leone +of the disappearance of Rovero. The Count was then completely at sea, and +he was abandoned by all to a horrible imputation which he could neither +avenge nor dispute. He could, therefore, only suffer and bide his time. +Resignation, doubt, and delay, were terrible punishments to his energetic +and imperative character. One hope remained, which, if realized, would +enable him to contradict all the imputations on his honor. This was, that +he would be able to share the fate of his comrades, not of Von Apsberg and +Taddeo, who had escaped, but of those who languished in the cells of <i>la +Force</i> and the <i>Conciergerie</i>. The Count knew that the police, from the +perusal of the archives, must be aware of his position, and awaited hourly +and daily his arrest. This did not take place, though he perpetually +received anonymous letters of the most perplexing and embarrassing +character, charging him, in the grossest terms of the language, with being +a spy and a traitor to the association to which he had pledged his life and +his honor. He resolved at last to play a desperate game—to exhibit an +unheard of energy and power. He repudiated the disdainful impunity which +apparently was inflicted on him intentionally. He surrendered himself to +the police....</p> + +<p>While Count Monte-Leone acted thus courageously, the following scene took +place in a hotel whither our readers have been previously taken.</p> + +<p>A man apparently about thirty years old sat pale and downcast at a table, +writing with extreme rapidity. Occasionally he rested his weary head on his +hand, and his eyes wandered across the sky which he saw through a +trap-window, so usual in that room of houses known as the garret.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> He +then glanced on the paper, and wrote down the inspirations he seemed to +have evoked from the abode of angels. He was the occupant of a garret, +which, though small, seemed so disguised by taste and luxury that the +narrow abode appeared even luxurious. The table at which the writer sat was +of Buhl, and was ornamented by vases of Sevres ware. The wooden bedstead +was hidden by a silken coverlet, and a large arm-chair occupied a great +portion of the room. On the small chimney-piece of varnished stone was a +china vase filled with magnificent flowers from hot-houses, above which +arose a superb camelia. A curtain of blue shut out the glare of the sun. It +was easy to see that female taste had presided over the arrangements of +this room. A beautiful woman really had done so. The inmate of the room was +Doctor von Apsberg. The girl of whom we have spoken was Marie d'Harcourt.</p> + +<p>On the day of René's arrest, a fortnight before the one we write of, the +Doctor was alone when the secret panel was opened. Pignana suddenly +appeared before the Doctor and told him that his house as well as the +Doctor's was surrounded by suspicious looking people. Pignana therefore +advised him to go at once. Von Apsberg was about to go to his bureau and +take possession of his papers. The police did not allow him time to do so; +they knocked at that very moment at the door and entered the house before +Von Apsberg had time to leave. It will be remembered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[Pg 501]</a></span> that the studio of +the Doctor in which the archives were kept, was in the third story of the +house. Matheus was, therefore, forced to fly through the opening, into +Pignana's house, and with his ear to the wall listened to the noise made by +the police, with thankfulness for the secret passage. He heard a deep voice +say, "If your Jacobin Doctor has escaped, you shall answer for it." This +was said to Mlle. Crepineau. The good maiden swore the Doctor was absent, +as she thought, or feigned to think. Another voice, with a deep southern +accent, said the following words, which the young Doctor heard with +surprise and fear:</p> + +<p>"The one you seek is gone. If, though, you would find him, press that +copper nail which you see on the third row of books. You will find the +means of his escape into the next house."</p> + +<p>A cry was heard from the interior of the room. A female voice thus spoke to +the man who had just spoken: "Señor Muñez, it is abominable for you thus to +betray the poor fellows. You are a bad and heartless man."</p> + +<p>When the Doctor heard thus revealed the secret of his retreat, he had +pushed through the inner door, and it was well he did, for it gave him time +to leave the room. The door of the library offered but a feeble resistance, +which was soon overcome, and Pignana's house was carefully entered and +searched.</p> + +<p>He at once conceived an idea of a plan of escape. He said to Pignana, "Not +a word; but follow me." Von Apsberg, accompanied by Pignana, left the place +where they were concealed, went into the yard, and proceeded to a shed +which was separated from his house by a few badly joined planks. One of +these he removed, passed through the opening, and stood in an outhouse +where he remembered he had once made some anatomical inquiries.</p> + +<p>"But you are going back," said Pignana, "you will again fall in the hands +of the enemy."</p> + +<p>"You would be a bad general, Pignana," said Von Apsberg; "this is a common +<i>ruse de guerre</i>, and is known as a counter-march. These places have been +explored by the enemy, and consequently they will return no more. While the +agents are looking where we are not, we will return where they have been."</p> + +<p>When night came, and at this time of the year it was at four o'clock, +Pignana told his companion of his plan. He purposed to scale the wall of +the yard by means of the trellices of the vines. When once on the other +side they would be in the garden of the Duke d'Harcourt, from which the +young physician expected to go to the hotel to obtain protection from the +Vicomte. The execution of this plan was easy for one as thin as d'Harcourt, +but was impracticable to a person with an abdomen like Pignana. As soon as +night had come, the latter said to Von Apsberg, "Go through the air, +Doctor, if you can. I intend to adopt a more earthly route—through the +door of the house, even if, much to Mlle. Crepineau's terror, I have the +audacity to assume the guise of the suicide, and terrify her into opening +the door for me. Besides, I am but slightly compromised, and will extricate +myself. Adieu, then, Doctor," said he, "and good luck to you amid the +clouds!" Von Apsberg clasped his hand, hurried from his retreat, ascended +the wall, passed it, and a few minutes after was in the Duke's garden. +Taking advantage of the darkness he went to the hotel, every window of +which, to his surprise, he found closed. He went without being seen to the +door of the reception rooms on the ground floor. The window had not been +shut since the arrest of the Vicomte. The Doctor entered it. At the back of +this room was a boudoir à la Louis XIV., of rare elegance, and appropriated +to Marie d'Harcourt. Amid the darkness he heard a strange sound of sighs +and sobs. The Doctor drew near, expecting that there was some pain for him +to soothe. "Who is there?" said the Duke d'Harcourt.</p> + +<p>"It is I, my lord, Doctor Matheus."</p> + +<p>"You here, sir!" said the Duke; "they told me that, like my unfortunate +son, you were arrested; and for the same offence."</p> + +<p>"What say you, sir?" said Von Apsberg, with deep distress; "René, dear +René, arrested?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the old Duke; "arrested and torn from his father's arms. +Yet the blow did not overwhelm me. This, though, will take place ere long, +and the executioner's axe will strike father and son at once."</p> + +<p>A footman appeared with lights, and the Doctor saw the whole family +weeping. His head rested on Marie's shoulder, and the long white hair of +the old man was mingled with the young girl's dark locks, and seemed like +the silvery light of the moon resting on her brown hair. The Duke saw at a +glance how the Doctor participated in all his sorrows, and how the fate of +his son lacerated the heart of his visitor. He gave his hand to the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"I forgive you," said he, "the part you have had in my son's error, when I +remember how you love him, and the care you have taken of Marie."</p> + +<p>"Alas! Monsieur," said Von Apsberg; "that duty I can discharge no longer. +The fate of René must be mine, to-morrow, to-day, in a few moments—for I +came to seek for concealment. If, though, he has lost his liberty; if all +his plans are destroyed, why should I any longer contend against +misfortune? Adieu, Duke! I will rejoin René, share his misfortune, and +defend his life; if not against men, at least against the cruel disease +which menaces his career."</p> + +<p>As she heard these words, the cheeks of Marie d'Harcourt became pale as +marble, and she said, in tones of deep distress, "Father, will you suffer +him to go thus?"</p> + +<p>Von Apsberg looked at her with trouble and surprise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[Pg 502]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, my child," said the Duke, "the Doctor will not leave us; and we will +protect him." Von Apsberg then told the bold means by which he had entered +the house.</p> + +<p>"No one saw," said the Duke, "<i>how</i> you came hither?"</p> + +<p>"No one."</p> + +<p>"There is no suspicion?"</p> + +<p>"None."</p> + +<p>Assisted by Marie, the Duke contrived a plan for an impenetrable asylum for +the Doctor. In the right wing of the hotel were many rooms intended for +servants, and uninhabited; for, since the death of his other sons, the Duke +had greatly reduced his household. In one of these rooms, carefully decked +and furnished, by Marie's care, Doctor Matheus was fixed. The old secretary +of the Duke d'Harcourt alone was in the secret, and this worthy man took +charge of the food of the Doctor, who saw no one except Marie and her +father. The young girl gradually became bolder, and touched with pity at +the loneliness of the prisoner, obeyed the dictates of her own heart and +went frequently to the young Doctor's room to be sure that he was in want +of nothing. Like a consoling angel, she came with her celestial presence to +adorn the captive's retreat, and restore something of happiness to his +heart. Von Apsberg, who had been for some days left alone, had reflected +deeply on his political opinions and on their consequences. The immense +difference between all old principles and the innovating ideas of +Carbonarism caused him to doubt the triumph of the latter; the great +discouragement which Monte-Leone's <i>apparent treason</i> had produced, and the +fate of his associates, produced a deep impression on him. Amid all these +gloomy thoughts, one fresh and prominent idea reinvigorated his mind, and +gave him ineffable joy.</p> + +<p>Without wishing to analyze his feelings towards Marie, the Doctor was under +their influence. He did not dream of ever possessing that aristocratic +heart from which he was separated by rank, birth, and fortune. The heart of +man, nevertheless, is so constituted, that the most honest and loyal man is +never exempt from a shadow of egotism. Perhaps, therefore, in the Doctor's +mind there was a feeble hope of approaching that class whose position he so +envied. Let this be as it may, abandoning himself to the luxury of seeing +always by his side this beautiful creature, whose health his care had +already revived, the Doctor blessed his captivity, and lived in anxious +expectation of the hours when Marie used to visit him. Von Apsberg +possessed that Platonic heart which enabled him to look on Marie as a +creature of pure poetry. He entertained so respectful a tenderness for the +young girl, that he distrusted her no more than she did him.</p> + +<p>On the day we found the Doctor writing in his retreat with such ardor, he +was writing out a <i>regime</i> for his patient. He told her what to do, and, as +if gifted with prescience, provided for her future life.</p> + +<p>"If," said he, "I be discovered—if the future have in reserve for the +heiress d'Harcourt"—and his heart felt as if a sharp iron had transfixed +it—"if a noble marriage separate me from her; at least in this painful +study of her health she will be able to contend against her family disease, +and perhaps will be indebted to me for life, happy and unsuffering." The +idea seemed too much for the strength of the young physician as he saw thus +fade before him all hope of a union with Marie. Steps just then were heard +outside his room just as he was concluding the sad <i>memoire</i> we have spoken +of.</p> + +<p>The Doctor, in obedience to the request of his host, answered no knock, and +gave no evidence of life, except at a concerted signal known only to three +persons—the Duke, his daughter, and D'Arbel. Therefore he listened. The +person who advanced paused for a time before his door, and then left +rapidly as it had come. Von Apsberg, however, by means of that lover's +intuition, guessed who it was. The eyes of his heart pierced the opacity of +the door, to enable him to admire the charming angel who had alighted at +his door and flown away. Before this angel had disappeared from the long +corridor which led to the Doctor's room, the door was opened, and he paused +to glance at the young girl who was ready to escape. Marie returned to the +Doctor, and advanced slowly towards him.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Monsieur," said she to Matheus, "it is wrong in you not to keep your +promise better. You promised my father never to open the door without a +signal—"</p> + +<p>"Why then, Mademoiselle, did you not give the signal?"</p> + +<p>"I did not come to see you," said Marie; "but I brought you books and +flowers. I am so afraid you will grow weary in this little room, where you +are always alone and sad."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, the angel girl went to the Doctor's room, as she would have +done to her brother's, without any hesitation or trouble. She was robed in +innocence; and if her heart beat a little louder than usual then, the child +attributed it entirely to the rapidity with which she had ascended the +stairs. The Doctor took the books and flowers which she had placed at his +door, and put them in the vase on the mantle. He was glad to be able to +look away from Marie's face, for he felt that his countenance told all he +thought.</p> + +<p>"I took the most amusing books from my little library," said she. "One +learned as you are, always immersed in study, may not approve of my choice. +Perhaps though, Monsieur, as you read them you will think of your +patient—"</p> + +<p>"Ah! I do so always," said Von Apsberg. "I was thinking of you when you +came."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[Pg 503]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You were writing," said Marie, as she looked at the sheet Von Apsberg +pointed out to her.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Mademoiselle, I wrote for you. You must follow one rule of conduct in +relation to your health, when you are separated from your father—when you +are married."</p> + +<p>"Married!" said Mlle. d'Harcourt, and she grew pale. "I never thought of +being married."</p> + +<p>"But marry you must. You will marry rich; and, Mlle., a husband worthy of +you. Ere long you will have many suitors."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," said the girl, "our house now is hung with mourning. The life +of my brother is in danger, and my health, as you said, is frail and +feeble. All this you know is altogether contradictory to what you say. As +for myself," said she, with an emotion she experienced for the first time, +"I am happy as I now am, and desire no other position, I must leave you, +though," added she: "for now my father must have come from the prison where +he obtained leave to visit my brother. I am anxious to hear from him. The +Duke and myself will soon tell you about him."</p> + +<p>Light as a vapor, rapid as a cloud, the young girl left the Doctor's room, +to his eyes radiant with the lustre she left behind her.</p> + + +<h4>IX.—THE CONCIERGERIE.</h4> + +<p>Eight days after the conversation between Von Apsberg and Marie, the Doctor +heard a knock at his door. The latter was reading over for the twentieth +time one of the books which had been brought him. This book was Telemachus, +the poetical romance one might have fancied Homer himself had dreamed of, +and which Virgil and Ovid had written—the book in which morals are +enwrapped in so dense a covering of flowers, that a reader often refuses to +glance at the serious part of the work, and pays attention only to the +graceful superficies. Von Apsberg, however, read the book, not for its own +sake, but for the sake of her who had given it to him. Marie had read every +page, and her hands had turned over every leaf. This fact gave the history +of the son of Ulysses an immense value in the eyes of the young Doctor, and +made Telemachus, not Fenelon's, but Marie d'Harcourt's book. The knock at +the Doctor's door was followed by the concerted signal. He opened it, and +saw the Duke's old secretary. "Monsieur," said he, "as the Duke is absent, +I am come to say that Mlle. Marie is ill. I know your care will be useful. +She does not, though, send for you, being too feeble to come up stairs, and +afraid to ask you to come down."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur d'Arbel, let no one into the hotel; and tell Mlle. I will visit +her.</p> + +<p>"She will see you, Monsieur, in the window next to the drawing-room. I will +send the servants out of the way, so that you can see Mlle. Marie without +fear of discovery."</p> + +<p>All the Secretary's arrangements were carried out, and a few minutes after +Matheus waited on his fair patient. She was ill. Since her conversation +with the Doctor, her health had really changed. Something mental seemed to +influence it. Her complexion, sullied by the tears she had shed since her +brother's arrest, was faded, and a flush was visible on her cheeks alone. +These symptoms made the Doctor unhappy. He, therefore, approached Marie +with great uneasiness.</p> + +<p>She said: "How kind you are, Doctor, to risk your liberty: I could not +otherwise have seen you. I have not strength enough."</p> + +<p>"I will try soon to confer it on you, if God grants me power to attend to +you."</p> + +<p>"I shall die," said she with an anxious voice, which penetrated the +Doctor's very heart, "if you cannot."</p> + +<p>"For your sake," said Matheus, "I will defend my liberty by every means in +my power, for I wish to restore your health, and preserve an existence +indispensable to your father's happiness."</p> + +<p>"How I suffer," said Marie, placing her hand on her snowy brow. "I have an +intense pain, which passes from temple to temple, and gives me much +suffering."</p> + +<p>"Do you sleep well?" asked Matheus.</p> + +<p>"No, no, for many days I have not slept, or if I have, phantoms have +flitted across my slumbers." She blushed as she spoke. This the Doctor did +not see, for he was searching out a remedy.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, "I think we must use a remedy which has hitherto +succeeded. Magnetism will enable you to sleep, and perhaps will soothe your +sufferings." Rising, then, he placed his hand on the patient's brow, as he +had done a few months before when the Marquise had experienced such good +effects from it. He placed his hands on the young girl's temples, and then +made passes across her face, the result of which was that she sank softly +to sleep. The state of somnambulism ensued, and Marie unfolded the +condition of her heart to the young physician. While he was thus engaged +the Duke entered.</p> + +<p>"You here, Doctor?" said he; "how imprudent!"</p> + +<p>"<i>She</i> was suffering," said the physician; "now she sleeps." The Duke +thanked Von Apsberg for his care, but seemed to centre all his hope in the +young Doctor, as the sailor devotes himself to the lord of storms and +waves. Now, though, every word the Duke said seemed a reproach. He +shuddered as he thought of the confessions of Mlle. d'Harcourt, and asked +himself if he participated in her sentiments or had suffered her to divine +his. All his delicacy and loyalty revolted from the idea that this +confession would cost the unfortunate father the life of his daughter.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> +Von Apsberg saw that henceforth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[Pg 504]</a></span> it would be impossible for him to remain +longer at the Duke's hotel, and that it would be criminal to remain with +one the secret thoughts of whom he knew. He, therefore, made up his mind to +speak to the Duke. Just then Marie, who had been for some time free from +any magnetic influence, awoke calm and smiling. "How deliciously I have +slept," said she; "how well I am!"</p> + +<p>The Duke kissed her affectionately. He said, "All this you owe to the +Doctor; and I thank heaven amid our misfortunes that he has been preserved +to us. I am glad I have been able to rescue him from his persecutors, and +preserve my daughter's health by means of his own watchful care."</p> + +<p>Marie gave the Doctor her hand. The young girl did not remember what she +had said while she slept. This slumber of the heart, however, could not +last, and the young Doctor knew it. He resolved on the painful sacrifice +which, but for the waking of his patient, he would at once have +communicated to the Prince.</p> + +<p>The reflections of the night confirmed the Doctor in the course he had +resolved to adopt. On the next day he put on a long cloak, which disguised +his stature, and went to the room of the Duke, after having also put on a +wig which René often wore when he visited Matheus, and which the Duke had +sent for to enable him in case of a surprise to leave unrecognized.</p> + +<p>The distress of the Duke at the Vicomte's imprisonment increased every day. +He had only once been able to reach his son, and had contrived to inspire +the captive with hopes of liberty he was far from entertaining himself. The +Vicomte was actively watched, and his most trifling actions were observed. +Ever alone in the sad cell in which he had been confined, ennui and despair +took possession of him, and his brilliant mind, to which mirth and activity +had been indispensable, became downcast and miserable. Since the visit of +his father, also, his delicate chest had begun to suffer. What the Doctor +especially apprehended for his friend was the possibility of cold and +dampness producing a dangerous irritation of the respiratory organs. This +took place; for nothing could be more humid and icy than the cell of René. +He had a dry and incessant cough. The keepers paid no attention to it, and +the keeper of the Conciergerie treated it as a simple cold of no +importance. The Vicomte was unwilling to inform his father of it lest he +should be uneasy, and the mere indisposition rapidly became a serious and +terrible disease. This was the state of things when Von Apsberg presented +himself before the Duke. "What is the matter?" said the old man. "Are you +discovered and forced to leave us?"</p> + +<p>"Duke," said the Doctor, "let me first express my deepest thanks for your +generous hospitality. Let me tell you how much your kindness has soothed +the cruel suffering to which I have been subjected day and night for three +weeks. I would, had it not been for your kindness, have weeks ago shared +the captivity of René; and the hope I entertained of being of use to your +daughter, alone prevented me from surrendering myself to despair at the +prospect of a crushed and prospectless life, when I saw my brethren +arrested in consequence of one whom I had always looked on as a devoted +friend."</p> + +<p>"Do not speak to me of that man," said the Duke in a terrible tone, "for my +son, in my presence, charged him with having betrayed him."</p> + +<p>"I have spoken to you of my gratitude," said the Doctor, "that you might +not doubt it now at our separation."</p> + +<p>"What danger now menaces you?" said the Duke, "why do you leave us?"</p> + +<p>"To avoid being ungrateful," said Von Apsberg. "That you may never accuse +your guest of selfishness, and that he may always deserve the esteem with +which you honor him."</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of this mysterious language?"</p> + +<p>"Grant me," said the young physician, with a trembling voice, "the boon of +being permitted to keep the cause of my departure a secret. You would be as +sorry to hear as I would be to tell you."</p> + +<p>"No," said the old man, "I will not consent to this. You shall not quit the +house which shelters you from your enemies: no, you shall not. Ah! sir," +continued the Duke, "if you will not remain for your own sake do so for +mine, for you alone have preserved the life of my daughter thus far." The +Doctor said, as he gave a paper to the Duke: "Here is the result of my +study, in which I have traced out all the means known to science calculated +to strengthen the health of your daughter, and to parry the dangers which +menace her."</p> + +<p>"Doctor," said the Duke, "do not distress me by leaving the hotel. Do not +make me perpetually miserable, Doctor, I am already unfortunate enough."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the young man, unable to resist his prayers any longer, "you +shall know what forces me to go, and shall yourself judge of my duty." He +fell at the Duke's feet, and told him all he had learned during Marie's +slumber, his combats with himself, and his resolution.</p> + +<p>"You are an honest man," said the Duke, with an expression of poignant +grief, and lifting him up: "but I am a most unfortunate father."</p> + +<p>D'Asbel just then came in with a letter.</p> + +<p>"From my son," said the Duke, and he opened it. The features of the old man +assumed, as he read, such an expression of terror, that Von Apsberg and the +Secretary advanced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[Pg 505]</a></span> towards him and sustained him, for he seemed ready to +faint. "Read," said he, with a voice half indistinct, and he gave the +Doctor the letter. It was as follows:</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Father:</span>—I can conceal no longer that I am dying. One man alone, +who has often soothed me by his care and advice, can now save me. This is +Von Apsberg. I cannot, though, ask him to accompany you, for he would +endanger his own liberty. Come, then, dear father, to see me for the last +time."</p> + +<p>"Let us go, sir," said the Doctor. "Let us not delay a minute, for in an +hour—it may be too late."</p> + +<p>"But you expose your life, Doctor, by going among your enemies," said the +Duke.</p> + +<p>"But I will save his," said Von Apsberg. The Duke rushed into his arms.</p> + +<p>Half an hour afterwards two men entered the Conciergerie. They were the +Vicomte's father and an English doctor whom the Duke brought to see his +son. The Director of the prison did not dare to refuse a father and +physician permission to see a sick son and patient. With the turnkeys they +passed an iron grate, beyond which was seen a vaulted passage, which, in +the darkness, seemed interminable. On the inner side of the grate sat a +morose looking man, whom nature seemed to have created exclusively to live +in one of these earthly hells. His only duty was to open and shut the +grate, to which he seemed as firmly attached as one of its own bars. His +duty was not without danger, for in case of a mutiny, the Cerberus had +orders to throw on the outside the heavy key he was intrusted with, and +thus expose himself, without means of escape, to the rage of the criminals. +They showed this man their pass. The key turned in the lock, and the grate +permitted them to enter. It then swung to, filling the vaulted passage with +its clash. Near this was a dark room, in which were several dark-browed +jailers and gend'armes.</p> + +<p>The Duke and the Doctor were minutely examined. One of them, whose features +hidden by a dirty cap might recall one of the persons of this history, left +the group, opened the grate, and disappeared rapidly, just as a new jailer +guided the visitors to a long corridor in one of the cells, on opening +which was the Vicomte D'Harcourt. On a miserable pallet, in a kind of dark +cellar, into which the day seemed to penetrate reluctantly, through a +grated window, was René D'Harcourt, the last hope of an illustrious house, +without air or any of the attentions his situation demanded. The Duke wept +to see him. René, with hollow cheeks, and eyes sparkling with a burning +fever, arose with pain and extended his arms to his father, who embraced +him tenderly.</p> + +<p>Fifteen days had expanded his disease, the germs of which had long slept in +his system. The bad air and icy dew, amid which he lived, the absence of +constant and vigilant care, in such cases so indispensable, had, as it +were, conspired against him. A violent and dry cough every moment burst +from his chest, and at every access his strength seemed more and more +feeble. Had he sooner informed his father of his condition, beyond doubt, +some active remedy would have been used, not for pity's sake, for at that +time little was shown to conspirators, but from fear of the liberal press, +whose censure the administration dreaded. René, however, was too disdainful +of the persons he called his executioners to ask any favors. The physician +of the prison, as we have said, was satisfied with ordering a few trifling +palliatives. The Vicomte was dying without his even being aware of it. When +the turnkey had introduced the Duke and the Englishman he left, telling +them that in a few minutes he would return. Then the Vicomte saw that a +stranger was with his father. The latter approached, and taking the young +man's hand pressed it to his heart with an affection which told the +prisoner who visited him.</p> + +<p>"Von Apsberg! Ah! father, I knew he would come."</p> + +<p>"Be silent, dear René; be silent," said the Doctor, "for your sake and +mine. Forget that I am your friend, and remember me only as a doctor. Tell +me how you suffer. Speak quick, for time is precious. Tell me nothing—and +do not exhaust yourself in describing—what is plain enough, I am sorry to +say. I see, I read in your eyes, what is your condition."</p> + +<p>To hide his tears Von Apsberg looked away. A father's heart though could +not be deceived, and the Duke had seen the Doctor's tears. The old man +said, "Save, Doctor, save my son."</p> + +<p>Von Apsberg made an effort to surmount the grief which overcame him.</p> + +<p>"We will save him," said he, calmly; "there is a remedy for such cases, +which in a few hours will terminate the progress of the malady, and enable +us to adopt other means. He took a card from his pocket and wrote a +prescription, which he ordered to be sent immediately to the nearest +apothecary. He yet had the card in his hand when the door of the cell was +violently thrown open, and several men accompanied by gend'armes rushed in +and seized the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"Arrest him," said an officer. "It is he, the German physician whom we have +so long sought for. He has been recognized." Nothing could equal the effect +of this scene. The Vicomte made useless attempts to leave his bed and +assist his friend. The Duke was pale and agitated; and Von Apsberg, calm +and resigned, gave himself up to the men who surrounded him. In anxiety for +René he had forgotten himself.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said he, "you may do as you please with me, but, for heaven's +sake, let me remain a few moments with this young man, and one of you hurry +for this prescription I have written."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[Pg 506]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A paper," said the principal agent with joy, when he saw what Von Apsberg +had in his hand. "It is, perhaps, a plan of escape. This must be taken to +the Director for the <i>Procureur du Roi</i>. Another scheme, perhaps, of the +Jacobin has come to light——" He put the paper in his huge pocket.</p> + +<p>"Take this man away, said he to the gens d'armes, and do not let him speak +a word to the prisoner." Rushing on Von Apsberg like famished wolves, they +bore him away, and left the Duke alone with his son. The shock had done the +prisoner much injury. He sunk back on his bed with a violent cough, and +felt a mortal coldness glide over his frame and chill his blood.</p> + +<p>"A doctor, a doctor," said the Duke, rushing towards the door. "A +physician, for heaven's sake. My son is dying." The door did not close. The +poor father leaning over his child pressed his lips to his burning brow, +and then supported his head, from time to time attempting to warm his icy +hands with his breath. He continued to call in heaven's name for a +physician.</p> + +<p>Half an hour after Von Apsberg's arrest, and while the Duke yet pressed his +son's inanimate body, three men appeared in the room. They were the +Director, Doctor, and Jailer of the prison.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," said the Duke to the Director, rising to his full stature, and +with a tone of painful solemnity, "you are an accomplice in a great crime, +and before the country and king, I, Duke d'Harcourt, peer of France, and +grand cordon of the Saint Esprit, will accuse you."</p> + +<p>"What mean you, sir?" said the Director, with a terror he could not +conceal. "Of what do you complain?"</p> + +<p>"That you have placed in a cell, without air and light, as if he were +sentenced to death, a man against whom there is now a mere suspicion; for +he has not been tried. I complain that you have wrested from me a physician +I have brought hither to attend to my son—and that with horrible brutality +you have taken possession of a prescription for a remedy which might have +preserved him, and have by this means deprived him of life."</p> + +<p>The Duke spoke but too truly, for a kind of suffocation took possession of +the young man. His breast seemed oppressed, and every sign of death was +visible.</p> + +<p>The Director muttered some apology in defence of himself, but the Duke +said, "Not another word here, sir; accomplish your task in peace; or at +least, give me back the paper. It is the life of my son——"</p> + +<p>As the Director was about to go in person for it, the Doctor called him +back and pointed to the patient over whose countenance death began to +steal. He said, "It is too late!"</p> + +<p>The Vicomte arose with difficulty and said, "Father, forgive me the wrong I +have done. Forgive me, as I forgive others. No, no, not so; for there is +one person I cannot forgive!" He looked around with an expression of +intense hatred and contempt. "He has ruined and destroyed me, and all of +us; he has delivered us to our enemies,—<i>that</i> man, hear all of you, is +Count Monte-Leone!" His head sank on his breast, and his last breath +mingled with the kisses of his father.</p> + +<p>"I have no son!" said the old man in despair; and he sank by the side of +the child God had taken away from him.</p> + + +<h4>X.—THE CONFESSION.</h4> + +<p>As we have seen in a previous chapter, Count Monte-Leone went to the +Prefect of Police to surrender himself to his enemies. The Count did not +hesitate, for he preferred a sudden and cruel death to the intolerable life +he now led. The Prefect was as civil as possible, and altogether different +from what he would have been three days before to a person pointed out as +one of the agents. The reason was, that after the energetic protestation of +the Count in the presence of M. H—— at the Duke d'Harcourt's, grave +doubts had arisen in the mind of the chief of the political police in +relation to the services said to have been rendered by the Neapolitan. +Making use then of the police itself, and causing the man who said he was +an agent of the Count's to be watched, his conviction of the +non-participation of Monte-Leone in the treachery became almost certain, +and he began to tremble at the idea that he had been made a dupe in this +affair, and at the probable consequences. The first of these was the fear +of ridicule, that powerful instrument against a police; next, the just +recrimination to which the Count might subject them as having slandered +him; and the capital error of having left at liberty the most powerful of +the Carbonari in Europe, under the belief that he was an ally of the +Government—to which he was a mortal foe. All this crowd of faults H—— +had committed in his blind confidence, and had led astray the police and +all the agents. Thus uneasy, the Chief of Police saw that but one course of +safety was left him. This was both bold and adroit, for it foresaw danger +and prepared a conductor to turn its thunders aside. H—— went to the +Prefect and owned all. The first anger of the latter having passed away, +the two chiefs saw with terror that they were equally compromised—the one +for acting, and the other for suffering his subordinate to act. They, +therefore, adopted the only course left them, Machiavelian it is true, but +which extricated them from a great difficulty. This course was, to deny all +participation in the malicious reports circulated in relation to the Count, +but to suffer the public to imagine what it pleased, and attribute their +inaction to carelessness for the result, or to the mystery necessary to be +observed in police matters. Count Monte-Leone, too, since the arrest of his +accomplices, and the discovery of his friends, was not greatly to be +feared, especially<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[Pg 507]</a></span> as he was now repelled by society as a double traitor.</p> + +<p>Two things alone disturbed H——. The first was the course of the strange +man who had used the Count's name to unveil so completely the plans of the +conspiracy. He, however, was soon restored to confidence by remembering +that he was now strictly carrying out this man's plans. Besides, in case of +need, there were a thousand methods of securing this man's eternal silence. +As for the pass in Monte-Leone's name, which might be a terrible arm in the +possession of the Count in case he attacked the Government, H——learned +much to his satisfaction, from Salvatori himself, that it had been +destroyed. The Prefect, therefore, did not hesitate to receive the Count. +"Sir," said the latter, "a horrible slander is circulated against me. In +disregard of my character and name I have been charged with being one of +your agents, and beg you to contradict this."</p> + +<p>"The Prefect says your honor is above any such suspicion, and I should fear +I injured you even by referring to so idle a tale."</p> + +<p>"But one of your principal officers has given credit to this rumor by the +perfidious reply he made a few days since, when the Vicomte d'Harcourt was +arrested."</p> + +<p>The Prefect rang his bell and sent for M. H——. When the latter arrived, +he asked him, sternly, if he had seemed to believe that Count Monte-Leone +had any participation in the acts of the Police.</p> + +<p>H—— said, "The Count is in error, if he understood me thus. I did not +believe that his self-accusation was true, for I could not realize that one +so exalted in rank as the Count, could be guilty of conspiracy. I had no +idea of insulting him, as he thinks. Were it not likely to give the affair +too much gravity, I would every where repel it."</p> + +<p>This amazed the Count. His mind, which seemed to give way beneath so many +blows, had looked on this man's reply as an answer. The object of this +perfidy yet escaped him; and reason and good sense could form no idea of +the motive.</p> + +<p>"You see, Count," said the Prefect, "all think you so far above the calumny +of which you complain, that we would not dare even to defend you; the +character of the department makes it impossible for us to mix in +discussions about reputations."</p> + +<p>"I have already asked this gentleman," and the Count pointed to M. H——, +"to furnish a striking proof that I am not the creature they say I am. I +now ask you the same favor." The two officials were annoyed. "I am as +guilty as those you have arrested," continued he, "and demand a fate like +that of my associates."</p> + +<p>The Prefect said, "I never act except from the orders of a higher +authority, and have none in relation to you. I prefer to think that your +devotion to those you call your associates has caused you to exaggerate +your complicity, and when that is proven you will find us just and stern to +yourself, as we have been to them." The Prefect bowed and returned to his +private office, and the Count left in indescribable agitation. He was +deprived of his last justification, of one he wished to buy at the price of +his life. His rage and despair had no limits. He was to experience a new +shock in the death of Vicomte d'Harcourt, which was circulated through all +Paris. He also heard that the Duke charged him with being the cause of his +death, and with having denounced him.</p> + +<p>We will now leave our hero for a few moments, to refer to a terrible event +which at this crisis overwhelmed the Royal family and France with grief. +This circumstance, yet enwrapped in mystery, was the death of the Duke de +Berry. This Prince, the hope of France, expiring in the spring time of life +beneath the dagger of a vulgar assassin; the obscurity which covered the +details of the murder distressed all Europe. There was a general outcry +against secret societies. The one, the chief members of which were now in +prison, was especially thought guilty of having instigated the murder. The +chiefs of the Carbonari <i>ventas</i> saw their chains grow heavier and their +prisons become dungeons. Ober, the banker F——, General A——, and Von +Apsberg, were not spared: their papers were examined, their past life +scrutinized in search of some connection with this odious murder. The trial +of the ruffian was anxiously waited for, in the hope that something would +connect him with Carbonarism. Nothing, however, was found in the whole of +the long and minute examination; and it soon became evident that the crime +had been committed by a fanatic who was isolated, without adherents, +instigators, or accomplices. Thus at least France thought of the result of +the trial. This was the impression produced by the execution of Louvel.</p> + +<p>The liberals, who had been for a time terrified by the reports circulated +in relation to their partisans, began to regain their courage, and, +fortified by their acquittal, complained of the calumnies circulated in +relation to them. The first reproach cast on Government, and especially on +the ministry of Decazes, was great injustice towards the Carbonari. The +ministry was accused of having invented a conspiracy and +conspirators—questions of political humanity were mooted—and true or +imaginary tortures, to which the prisoners had been subject, were +recounted. French generosity and pity became interested for the sake of +victims who languished in chains. One voice, though, was heard above all +others, and spoke so distinctly, that it touched every heart and mind. It +reached the very throne, and aroused one of those powerful influences which +truth alone can. This voice was that of the Duke d'Harcourt—a king in +virtue and feeling. His word was a law people of every shade of opinion +listened to, in consequence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[Pg 508]</a></span> of the admiration caused by his life and +conduct. The Duke, who was entitled to sympathy from the successive death +of his sons, accused those who had taken the last from him of barbarity. He +told of the death of the Vicomte while suspected of a crime which perhaps +was imaginary; and in the sublime tones of his despair uttered loud charges +against the fallen administration. The new one trembled before a unanimous +sentiment, and sought to win popularity from clemency. This sentiment, +which in Louis XVIII. was innate, his ministers echoed. One by one the +prisons were opened and their sad inmates restored to life and light. The +chief Carbonari were less fortunate than their followers. Their trial +progressed, and though many abortive schemes were discovered, no act was +found. There were ideas, utopias, and social paradoxes, but nothing +positive. F——, B——, Ober and their associates, whose friends acted +busily, were subjected to some months' imprisonment, which, added to their +previous incarceration, seemed to their judges a sufficient punishment for +their hopes, which, though criminal, had never been realized. General A—— +was exiled, and Von Apsberg was detained for a long time in the +conciergerie. He was ultimately released. As for Taddeo, all the inquiries +of Aminta and of the Prince de Maulear, who loved him as a son, were vain. +Every day increased their uneasiness on this account, bringing to light the +disappointment of some hope. Thus a year passed....</p> + +<p>Early in April, 1821, a man of about forty sat on a bench in a little +garden attached to a modest country abode near Neuilly. The garden was on +the Seine, which was the limit of a kind of town. The man of whom we speak +was almost bent beneath the double weight of grief and suffering. His +features were sharp and thin, his eyes sunken, and his hair, almost white, +gave him the appearance of one far more advanced in age. In this person +prematurely old and wretched, none would have recognized the brilliant and +elegant Count Monte-Leone, who once had been so deservedly admired. A deep +sorrow had crushed his strong constitution—months to him had become +years—and he had suffered all that a mind, richly endowed as his was, +could. Pursued by the atrocious slanders we refer to, he had given way +beneath the blow. In vain had he striven for some time after his useless +visit to the Prefect against them. The hideous monster which pursued him +redoubled its attacks, and cries of reprobation burst from every lip. The +relations and friends of the prisoners reproached him, and adversity seemed +to have seized him with its iron claw. In vain did he protest and call for +proof. All appealed to the circumstances. His many duels made people say in +his favor only this, "<i>Brave as he is, he is a spy!</i>" Despair, then, took +possession of him, and he fled from the world which cursed him, and hid +himself. One reason alone restrained him from suicide. This was, that he +knew another life depended on his, and clung to it as the ivy does to the +oak. The Count lived that another might not die. This person was an angel +rather than a woman. It was Aminta. Watching the unfortunate man as a +mother watches a child, braving the public opinion which dishonored him she +adored, Aminta rarely left the Count, whose tears fell on her heart like +burning lava.</p> + +<p>The Marquise had purchased an establishment near the house of Monte-Leone, +with whom she passed all her time; for her visits made his desolate heart +more serene. On the day we speak of, the Count sat in the garden, and old +Giacomo advanced towards him, taking care to announce himself with a slight +cough. "Monseigneur," said he, "it is I, your intendant. I am come to speak +to you."</p> + +<p>"I have no intendant," said the Count, "a miserable outlaw like myself can +indulge in no such luxury. Do not call me Monseigneur; the title now is +become an ironical insult."</p> + +<p>"It, however, is your excellency's name, and <i>that</i> the slanderous villains +cannot deprive you of."</p> + +<p>"They have done more than that," said the Count, with a bitter smile; "they +have destroyed my honor. You shall not call me thus any longer."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the good man, whom the Marquise had told not to thwart +his master; "I will call Monseigneur, Count only. You are Monseigneur, for +all that."</p> + +<p>"Enough," said the Count, "go away, you fatigue me, you injure me."</p> + +<p>"I injure you," said Giacomo, "when you know I would die for you?"</p> + +<p>The Count looked around on the companion of all his life; he saw the tears +the old man shed, and threw himself into his arms. "Ah! you love me in +spite of all—"</p> + +<p>"And so does <i>she</i>," said Giacomo, whose features became kindled with +pleasure at this sudden exhibition of his master's love; "yes, that noble, +true woman loves you dearly."</p> + +<p>"Aminta!" said the Count, "ah! but for her you would have no master."</p> + +<p>"Monseigneur,—no—Count!" said the old valet; "Madame la Marquise has come +hither."</p> + +<p>"Let her come—let her come—when she is with me, I pass my only happy +hours."</p> + +<p>"True," said Giacomo, "but she is not alone—"</p> + +<p>"Who accompanies her? Who has come to see the informer? Who dares to brave +the leprosy?"</p> + +<p>The old man said, "The Prince de Maulear."</p> + +<p>"The Prince! The Prince in my house! No, no! Tell him to go, that I see no +one! I will see no one—"</p> + +<p>"You will see me, Monsieur?" said the old nobleman, advancing with Aminta +on his arm.</p> + +<p>"What do you wish, sir?" said Monte-Leone;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[Pg 509]</a></span> "if you insult me again, you +are indeed cruel."</p> + +<p>"Monte-Leone," said Aminta, "the Prince is your friend. His words will be +of service; I brought him hither."</p> + +<p>The Count sank on his seat and was silent.</p> + +<p>"Count," said the Prince, "had I not been confined at one of my estates for +eight months by an obstinate <i>gout</i>, you would have seen me long since."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the Count, with surprise.</p> + +<p>"You would have seen me brought to you by repentance for the injury I did +you. I gave way, Monte-Leone, to an indignant feeling I shall regret all my +life. Reflection has enlightened me. The account I have heard from my +daughter-in-law, the resources which you concealed, and especially your +despair, the wasted condition of your health, the ravages of your misery, +her love, her respect, have long told me how unjust I was to you."</p> + +<p>The Count looked at the Prince with mingled astonishment and doubt. The +Prince said, "As men of our rank are glad to confess their faults, and ask +pardon for them, I beg you, sir, to forgive me." The Prince bowed to +Monte-Leone, who seemed overcome by emotion.</p> + +<p>Taking the Prince's hand he placed it on his heart and said, "Now, sir, +feel this palpitation, and tell me whether the heart of a bad or guilty man +ever beat thus with joy, at justice being done him."</p> + +<p>From this day Monte-Leone enjoyed two of the greatest pleasures of life—a +tender love, and a noble friendship....</p> + +<p>A month after the first visit of the Prince de Maulear to the house at +Neuilly, the following scene took place in a sad room of the <i>rue Casette</i> +in the Faubourg St. Germain.</p> + +<p>A sick woman lay on a bed, and a stern dark man sat beside her. "I tell +you," said she, "I want a priest, and it is cruel for you to refuse me +one."</p> + +<p>"Bah! Signora, you are not sick enough for that. Why have a confidant in +our affairs? Confession is of no use except to the dying!"</p> + +<p>"I am very sick," said she, "and my strength every day decreases!"</p> + +<p>"Well, let us come to terms, then, Duchess. You shall have a priest—but +you do not intend to make your confession only to him, I know."</p> + +<p>"Your old ideas again, Stenio!" said La Felina.</p> + +<p>"They are not my ideas. Did you not say once when you were very sick, '<i>No, +I will not die until I am completely avenged. I wish to know whence came +the shaft which crushed him. I wish him to curse me as I have cursed +him!</i>'"</p> + +<p>"True!" said the Duchess, who, as she listened to the Italian, seemed lost +in thought. "It is true, I said all that."</p> + +<p>"Well, the time is come. You fear you are dying, and would not leave your +work incomplete!"</p> + +<p>"But if I tell all," said La Felina, "do you fear nothing for yourself?"</p> + +<p>"That man is now but a shadow," said Salvatori, "and now in my strong hand +I can grasp him, as he once grasped me, with his iron nerves, when he +stabbed me. Besides, no one would believe him. <i>Is he not a spy?</i>"</p> + +<p>The first words of the Italian, "<i>That man is but a shadow</i>," had arrested +La Felina's attention. She said, "Is he much changed? is he very sick?" She +could not restrain her accent.</p> + +<p>"He? yes, indeed; he is dying. Public contempt has completely crushed the +proud giant. We have effected that. Besides," continued he, "in order to +make a suitable return for the touching interest you inspired me with just +now, I must tell you I am going. You have made me rich, and if I were so +unfortunate as to lose you—Ah, words never kill," added he, as he saw how +terrified La Felina was—"I would not remain an hour in this accursed +country."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said she; "give me writing materials." She wrote a few lines +with a trembling hand.</p> + +<p>"To the Count," said she, giving them to Salvatori; "I expect him +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the Italian, sternly. "This will kill him."</p> + +<p>Scarcely had he left the room when La Felina rang her bell, and the servant +who had always accompanied her entered. The Duchess drew her towards her, +and placing her lips close to the ear of the woman, as if she was afraid +some one would hear her, whispered a few words and sank back completely +exhausted.</p> + +<p>Such was the Duchess of Palma, the famous singer of San Carlo, whom we find +dying in this unknown and obscure retreat. The hand of God, who does not +always punish the soul of the criminal alone, but who sometimes strikes the +living body, weighed heavily on her. The Duke, weary of the ties imposed by +marriage on him, and becoming more and more infatuated with his thin +<i>danseuse</i>, sought for an opportunity to throw off his chains. He soon +found one. Feigning to be jealous, the Duke, in consequence of some vague +rumors, obtained the key of the bureau in which the Duchess kept the +"confessions of the heart," as she called the detail of her brief amour +with Monte-Leone. Having gotten possession of this paper, the Duke made a +great noise, threatened her with a suit, and easily obtained the separation +he desired so much. There was a general burst of indignation. The nobles +who had been furious at the <i>mesalliance</i> of the Duke, were more so at the +ingratitude of the guilty wife and low-born woman, who had usurped a rank +and title of which she showed herself so unworthy. The Duchess disappeared +suddenly from the world, which gladly rejected one it had so unwillingly +received. La Felina took refuge in a small house in the retired quarter we +have mentioned. For, like <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[Pg 510]</a></span><i>Venus attached to her prey</i>, she would not +leave Paris, in which she could not divest herself of the idea that +Monte-Leone, completely reinstated, would some day become Aminta's husband. +Sickness had gradually enfeebled her, and Salvatori, who was master of her +secrets, had established himself in her house. Taking advantage of her +complicity, he had, by means of cunning and terror, became in a manner the +master and tyrant, now that her health was gone, of one to whom he had been +an abject slave. For this reason he had, as we have seen, treated her with +such cruel disdain.</p> + +<p>On the very day this scene took place, Monte-Leone received the following +note: "A woman, whose handwriting you will recognize, has but a few hours +to live. Come to see her for the sake of that pity she deserves. Do not +resist the prayers of one who is on her death-bed." Below was the address +of the Duchess.</p> + +<p>The Count had long lost sight of La Felina; he knew she was separated from +her husband, but was so indifferent that he had not even asked why. Always +kind and generous, he thought duty required him to go, and on the next day +at noon, rang at La Felina's door. Stenio had preceded him a few moments, +and in the next room prepared to enjoy the scene. No sooner had the Count +entered the bedroom than Salvatori thought he heard steps in a boudoir +connected with it, and which opened on a back stairway. Uneasy at this +noise, for which he could not account, he was yet unable to satisfy +himself; for to do so, he would have been again obliged to cross the +Duchess's room, and the Count was already with her.</p> + +<p>When the Count and La Felina met, a cry of astonishment burst from the lips +of each. They seemed to each other two spectres.</p> + +<p>"Count," said the Duchess, in faint and broken voice, "the time is come +when the truth must be told, ere the tongue on which it depends be cold in +the grave. You are, therefore, about to hear the truth as the dying tell it +who have lost all dread of men and their wrath."</p> + +<p>"Speak out, Signora; my life has been so strange that nothing now can +surprise me," said the Count.</p> + +<p>"You will be astonished; for I am about to read the riddle, the mystery, +which you have so long attempted to penetrate." The Count was attentive. +"You have," said La Felina, "sought to know who was the secret enemy who +deprived you of name and fame. I am about to tell you." The Count seemed +surprised. "Do not interrupt me," said she. "This enemy has followed your +steps and poisoned your life. Thus has it been effected: You were ruined, +really ruined, but twice have fifty thousand francs been sent to you, and +you have been made to believe that this was but a restoration of your +fortune."</p> + +<p>"Did it not come from Lamberti?" said the Count.</p> + +<p>"No; bankrupts never pay. A forged letter from this banker insisted on +silence in relation to this restoration, and thus the mysterious resources +were created which awakened the suspicions of the world, and caused the +report that you were an agent of the police to be believed."</p> + +<p>The Count grew pale with horror.</p> + +<p>"Wait," said La Felina. "A man, a devil, purchased by your enemy, in +obedience to orders, went to the house of Matheus, your associate in +Carbonarism. This devil opened the drawer in which the archives of the +association were kept, and taking possession of the lists, substituted +copies for the originals."</p> + +<p>"Infamous," said Monte-Leone.</p> + +<p>"This devil did more. He dared to procure you a pass as a 'Spy in Society.' +This pass your friend Taddeo Rovero saw."</p> + +<p>"My God, my God, can I hear aright?"</p> + +<p>"This man did not think you were as yet sufficiently degraded in the eyes +of the world and your brethren. Taking advantage of a visit you paid me, he +went into your carriage with a cloak like yours over his shoulders, and was +driven to the Prefecture of Police."</p> + +<p>"This is hell itself," said the Count.</p> + +<p>"Did I not say this man was a demon?" said La Felina, coldly. "All this +evidence was accumulated against you. The French Government was deceived, +and did not exert severity towards the powerful chief of the Carbonari, now +become, as it believed, its agent. The world and public opinion did their +work."</p> + +<p>"Why was all this? what was the motive?"</p> + +<p>"You had destroyed the happiness of your enemy, and in return the sacrifice +of your honor was exacted; you had deserted one who adored you, and sought +to marry another; to prevent this she disgraced you. Now, Count +Monte-Leone," said La Felina, rising up, "is it necessary for me to name +that woman? Do you know me?"</p> + +<p>"Wretch!" said the Count, "are you not afraid that I will kill you?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" said she, "am I not dying?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, "you shall carry to the tomb one crime in addition to the +offences you have revealed to me. With honor you destroyed my life." Taking +a pistol from his bosom he placed it to his brow, and was about to fire—</p> + +<p>At the last words of the Count a door was thrown open, and an arm seized +Monte-Leone's hand. He looked around and saw the Duke D'Harcourt.</p> + +<p>"Count," said he, "one person alone can restore you the honor of which you +have been so rudely deprived. That person is the Duke D'Harcourt."</p> + +<p>"The voice of the man, of the father," said he, and his eyes became +suffused with tears, "who charged you publicly with having denounced his +son, and surrendered him to the executioners, with having killed him.</p> + +<p>"Ah! God himself sends you hither," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[Pg 511]</a></span> the Count, with an indescribable +accent of hope. "Yes, yes; you have heard all, and will be believed. +Monsieur," said he, with great animation, "have you not heard all? You know +how I have been treated by those monsters. You will say so. Tell me that +you will. I cast myself at your feet to implore you."</p> + +<p>"Count," said the Duke, lifting up Monte-Leone and embracing him, "I am the +guilty man, for louder than any one I have uttered an anathema on the +innocent. I have appealed to man and God for vengeance."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Count, "and touched by the immensity of my sufferings God +has led you hither."</p> + +<p>"Yes, God," said the Duke, "and <i>she</i>;" pointing to La Felina, whose eyes +brightened up with animation, strangely contrasted with the morbid palor of +her face.</p> + +<p>"<i>She?</i>" said the Count.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Duke. "Stricken down by repentance, she besought me +yesterday to come hither to hear her confession."</p> + +<p>Scarcely had the Duke pronounced these words, than a cry of hatred, savage +as that of the jackal, was heard in the next room.</p> + +<p>"Save me, save me," said the Duchess, calling Monte-Leone to her, and +sheltering herself behind his body, "<i>He</i> will murder me."</p> + +<p>"<i>He?</i>" said the Duke and Count together.</p> + +<p>"Whom do you refer to?" said Monte-Leone.</p> + +<p>"To Stenio Salvatori, the accomplice in this tissue of crime."</p> + +<p>The two noblemen rushed towards the room where the cry had been heard. A +door leading to the stairway was open, and there was no one visible. When +they returned, the invalid giving way to so severe a shock and exertion was +dying. She had only strength to repeat the request she had urged on Stenio +the day before. "A priest, for heaven's sake, a priest, that I may repeat +to God what I have said to man."</p> + +<p>The door opened and an ecclesiastic appeared.</p> + +<p>"Quick, father, quick," said the Duchess. "Tell me that God, like man, will +forgive me."</p> + +<p>The priest stood for a few minutes in the middle of the room, apparently +overpowered by emotion. He said, "One person must forgive you, Madame, and +that person is the individual whose life you have made miserable, whom you +have made use of to strike this innocent man;" and he pointed to the Count. +"I, as well as the Duke, was in the adjoining room, and have heard all. +That pardon I give you."</p> + +<p>The Duchess said, "Then Rovero, too, forgives me;" before she had finished +his name, Monte-Leone clasped Taddeo in his arms.</p> + +<p>Two days after, a funeral portage proceeded to a place of eternal rest. +Three men followed a body to the grave. They were Monte-Leone, the Duke +d'Harcourt, and the Abbé Rovero. Love and friendship having been both +betrayed, as he thought, Taddeo sought for consolation in religion. The +Divinity, he knew, did not betray those who love him. A fugitive and an +outlaw, he had sought refuge in a seminary, and subsequently had become a +priest. Chance had assigned him to a church near La Felina's house, and he +had been pointed out by the Duchess's confidential servant, as a priest +worthy her mistress's confidence. Heaven had accomplished the rest.</p> + +<p>All Paris, at that time, was filled with a strange report, and with +amazement learned the truth in relation to Monte-Leone. A letter from the +Duke d'Harcourt appeared in the journals of the day and unfolded this +terrible drama. The Duke told Paris and all Europe, what he had overheard +in the Duchess's boudoir.</p> + +<p>It said, if any voice should do justice to this injured man, it is that of +a father who wrongfully accused him of being the death of a son. The moral +reaction in favor of the Count was as sudden as the censure the world had +heaped on him had been. The person who, next to Monte-Leone, enjoyed this +complete reparation, was the adorable woman who had never doubted the honor +of the man she loved.</p> + +<p>The King sent for the Duke d'Harcourt; he understood and participated in +the grief of an unfortunate father, for he, also, had lost the heir of his +throne. When the old noble left the King he bore with him the pardon of +René's young friend, the generous Von Apsberg. The Duke went to the +conciergerie, and on the Doctor, in his gratitude, asking after Marie, the +former said, "She is a patient who will give you a great deal of trouble, +both her health and her heart being seriously affected. You will have two +grave diseases to attend to, and the husband must assist the physician."</p> + + +<h4>EPILOGUE.</h4> + +<p>A month after these events—on the first of May, that festival of sunlight, +flowers, and universal rejoicings—two couples, followed by many friends +and brilliant attendants, went from the small house on the banks of the +Seine, to the village church of Neuilly. The Prince de Maulear, made young +by happiness, had Marie d'Harcourt on his arm. The Duke escorted the +Marquise, and the Count and Von Apsberg followed them. The priest stood at +the foot of the altar. This priest, who made four persons happy, but who +looked to heaven alone for his own happiness, was Taddeo Rovero.</p> + +<p>The three fiery Carbonari gradually felt their revolutionary ardor grow +dull. The reason is, these three men were now attached to the society they +had sought to destroy, by strong ties. Two were bound to it by family +bonds, and the other by religion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[Pg 512]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Carbonarism</i> was not crushed in Europe, by the disasters of the French +association. It slumbered for ten years, but awoke in 1830. The tree has +grown, and the world now gathers its bitter fruits.</p> + +<p>Stenio Salvatori received in Italy the punishment due his great crimes in +France. His vile heart became the sheath of the stiletto of one of the +brethren of the <i>Venta</i> of <span class="smcap">Castel la Marc</span>.</p> + +<p>Our old acquaintance, Mlle. Celestine Crepinean, touched by divine grace, +repented of having made so bad a disposition of her pure and virgin love. +Like Magdalen, she threw herself at the feet of her Savior, and lived to an +advanced age, greatly to the edification of the faithful as dispenser of +holy water at the church of Saint <span class="smcap">Thomas Aquinas</span>.</p> + +<h4>END OF THE SPY IN SOCIETY.</h4> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<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> Concluded from page 327. +</p><p> +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="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> <i>Mansarde</i> Gallice, from the inventor Mansard, uncle of +another architect of the same name of the time of Louis XIV.</p></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> It is one of the maxims of <i>magnetism</i>, that when once an +entire sympathy between two minds is established equality ensues, and +consequently neither can exert influence over the other.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><h4>From Bentley's Miscellany.</h4> +<h2><a name="A_GHOST_STORY_OF_NORMANDY" id="A_GHOST_STORY_OF_NORMANDY"></a>A GHOST STORY OF NORMANDY.</h2> + +<h3>BY THE AUTHOR OF "HAMON AND CATAR; OR, THE TWO RACKS."</h3> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<p>On a fine summer evening, in 1846, I left my house, which was in the +neighborhood of Honfleur, Normandy, to take a stroll. It was July. All the +morning and all the afternoon the sun had been busily pouring down streams +of radiance like streams of boiling water, and I had kept the house, and +kept it closely shut up too, till the orb of day had gone some way down +towards the sea, as if, like a fire-eater, or like a locomotive, to get a +<i>drink</i> after its work.</p> + +<p>My wife being asleep, I borrowed her parasol, for English life in France is +very free and easy, and I was rather careful of my complexion. I lit a +cigar, and starting, soon left the church of St. Catharine behind. My +business in the town was to post a letter, which I got safely done, and +then passing down the fish-market, I found myself, ere long, at the foot of +the Côte de Grace—a steep hill which rises abruptly from the town, and is +scaleable at one part by a sandy zigzag.</p> + +<p>My cigar was a bad one altogether—a bad one to look at and a bad one to +blow. Of government manufacture, it cost five sous, and was not worth one. +Its skin was as thick as an ass's hide, and no persuasion would make <i>it</i> +draw. Like a false friend, it became quite hollow when I put the fire of +trial to it; and only waxed hot and oily as it burnt on. It was a French +regalia, and had nothing of French royalty about it but bad <i>smoke</i>. The +tobacco had, I think, lost savor, as salt used to do, in passing through +the monopolizing hands of the <i>Citoyen Roi</i>. In a word, my gorge rose at +it.</p> + +<p>I stood awhile at the foot of the zigzag, endeavoring to coax it into +usefulness, for I was a family man, and had given many hostages to fortune, +and dared not to be extravagant. I tried to doctor it by incisions, and by +giving it draughts; but all was in vain. At last it began to unwind, and +some loose ashes found their way to my eyes. I was about to throw it away +in disgust, when a young Frenchman, who had passed me a moment before with +a party (I knew him slightly and we had bowed), returned, and observing +that my cigar seemed troublesome, asked me to try one of his.</p> + +<p>His name was Le Brun. We had met occasionally on the pier, where in the +quiet evenings I used to take refuge from the uproar of my sanctuary at +home, and for awhile almost believed myself a lay bachelor lounging through +France without a charming wife and eight children. He and I had succeeded +well in chit-chat. The Browns, he was fond of saying, were a numerous race +in England, but if he ever settled there he would be distinguished from +them as <span class="smcap">The</span> Brown. He was vain of this play on his name, and I always +laughed when he produced it. I had no hesitation, therefore, when he +offered me a cigar: besides, I knew that he always smoked smuggled Cubas.</p> + +<p>We gossiped for a few moments. At length I saw him glance at my wife's +parasol, which was shielding me from the sun. He <i>said</i> nothing, but I felt +my cheek burn with a sudden sort of shame, and immediately shut it up.</p> + +<p>"Madame will return," he said, "and Monsieur attends her."</p> + +<p>This was not the fact. Monsieur had to return, and Madame attended him. But +the observation was put in the narrative form, and if my friend gave me +information which I knew to be false, I was not bound to say so. I only +bowed, therefore; and he added that he was forced to join his party, and +bowed too; and so we separated.</p> + +<p>He had scarcely left me, when I thought that if I had avowed my solitary +state he might have asked me to join his party, which was evidently a merry +one; and I internally execrated the parasol, which had been the means of +preventing this. If by any accident I should meet him again, I resolved +that he should not see me with <i>it</i>, and without the lady; so I deposited +it at a little lace-maker's, and soon after began to ascend the Côte de +Grace, not without hopes of meeting the party as they returned, perhaps +from Val-à-Reine.</p> + +<p>Between each wind of the zigzag path was a flight of wooden steps, by which +the adventurous might ascend directly from the bottom of the hill. At the +head of some of these flights of steps were rustic seats; they were +generally on the outer edge of the path, but a few were placed far back, so +that the hill immediately below was unseen.</p> + +<p>I always climbed the Côte by the steps, as I used ever and anon to lie down +on the green carpet which nature has spread over each of the short ascents. +On the present occasion I had not mounted far before a pleasant piece of +this turf-flooring near the top of one of the little hills seduced me from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[Pg 513]</a></span> +my toils. I sat down, took Shelley's "Revolt of Islam" from my pocket, +finished my cigar, and in consequence of reading half a dozen stanzas from +the poem—fell asleep.</p> + +<p>I woke suddenly, and as soon as I had my faculties about me, noticed that +people were speaking, and in loud tones, close above me. Otherwise, all was +still around. There was no wind among the little trees; a bee buzzed past +me now and then, and insects hummed, but further off down the hill, and +these voices sounded harsh and dissonant in the quiet air. I listened, at +first mechanically. The conversation was carried on in French.</p> + +<p>"It is time to end this," said a stern, disagreeable voice; "and I will not +wait any longer, M. Raymond."</p> + +<p>"But M. Gray," answered another and more pleasant voice, "you will think of +my situation—my family. I have done all I could."</p> + +<p>"I have thought too much of your family," replied Gray; "but I must also +think of myself. Esther—your daughter—she does not speak with me, for +example, as you said she should."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur!" exclaimed the other.</p> + +<p>"This Le Brun—she is all ears and eyes for him. She——"</p> + +<p>"M. Gray!" said Raymond. His voice had been deprecating before—it was firm +now. "You are so harsh to me; how can you expect kindness from her?"</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, you promised to use your influence with her——"</p> + +<p>"Promised, M. Gray!" Raymond burst in. "You did not think I should sell my +daughter for a debt of the table? I do not think, monsieur, you expected me +to <i>sell</i> my Esther, for example." And there was an emphasis on these last +words which only a Frenchman could give.</p> + +<p>"I did not say you promised that," replied the other; "but I am seeking for +the money you owe me. I love your daughter; you know it; she does not +smile, and I must wait. But my creditors will not wait. I owe money, and +come to you for what you owe me."</p> + +<p>The voice that said this was cold and stern. Suddenly, as I listened to it, +it seemed familiar to me; but where I had heard it I could not remember. +Raymond replied:</p> + +<p>"And suppose I had not played with you and lost? What would you have done?"</p> + +<p>"But my friends in England are so dilatory," was the evasive answer. +"Still—if Mademoiselle Esther——"</p> + +<p>"Sacré!" cried Raymond, starting to his feet, and stamping on the path. +Gray seemed to rise too. "You press me too far. What do I know of you, +monsieur? You live here some few months—you play high—you—you——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, monsieur," said Gray, icily, as he paused.</p> + +<p>"My daughter, too," cried Raymond; "you use my debt to you as a means——." +He stopped again in his sudden passion.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, monsieur," said Gray, sternly, "this is only a debt of honor;" +and he laid a stress on the word which drove it home. "In England we cannot +enforce a debt of honor."</p> + +<p>"What do you do there when it is not paid?"</p> + +<p>"First post the guilty man, and then shoot him," was the answer.</p> + +<p>I felt inclined to start from my concealment and say that this was false. I +recollected, however, just in time, that it was true.</p> + +<p>"But this is folly," pursued Gray, "and we should not quarrel. I am not +going to shoot Esther's father, for example."</p> + +<p>The effect of this cordial and peaceful declaration was instantaneous. Glad +apparently to drop his creditor in his friend at any price, Raymond +answered kindly, and even proposed to give Gray a small sum on account of +his debt, which he accepted. They then began to ascend the zigzag, and ere +long their voices died away in the distance.</p> + +<p>I had remained lying-to where I was all this while, and felt glad when they +left the neighborhood. I never overheard a conversation with pleasure since +I read how the Rev. Dr. Follett declared that his bamboo, and not his +cloth, should protect him from Mr. Eavesdrop. Once, indeed, I had thought +of retiring, but put it off so long that I thought I might just as well +stay out the interview.</p> + +<p>I knew Mr. Raymond by name. He was a banker, and reputed rich. He was also +thought religious—for a Frenchman, even pious. He crossed himself at all +the twopenny representations of the Divine agony. He never galloped past a +crucifix, or calvaire, or burial-place. And yet he now showed himself a +gambler, and apparently on the way to sell his daughter's hand to a man he +did not know, for a gambling debt. The discovery made me feel sick. And yet +I thought how many of my own parisioners, who wave their heads at the +sacred name in the creed, and appear to men to worship, are as false as +this man; packing away their religion like their best hat till next Sunday, +when it seems as good to the next pew as ever.</p> + +<p>But I felt more than an abstract discomfort at my discoveries. Le Brun's +name had been mixed up with Esther Raymond's by this Gray. Now his Cuba +cigar had bound me indissolubly to The Brown, and as long as he asked +nothing but what cost nothing, I was his faithful well-wisher and friend. +This was the time to show my friendship; and accordingly I sprang from my +couch, put Shelley into my pocket, and resumed my ascent of the Côte.</p> + +<p>I had gained the top, and, after looking across the water to Harfleur, +which showed well in the soft light of the westering sun,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[Pg 514]</a></span> was about to +walk on, when I saw a party on the rude bench which is set on the seaward +side of the top of the Côte—Le Brun with them. I looked back across the +Seine, and watched the lights and shades shift on the hills of the opposite +shore, collecting my thoughts the while. Ere they were collected, however, +he joined me.</p> + +<p>"Ah! but madame is no longer with monsieur?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No; she's at home now," I answered, thinking how I should best break +ground, and almost inclined to leave him to his own courses now that it was +time to act. Why should I meddle in these foreigners' affairs? What were +they to me? I felt thus for a moment; Le Brun produced his cigar-case, and +I did not feel so for another.</p> + +<p>"I hope you liked my cigar; it is not French," he said. "Will you try +another?"</p> + +<p>"If you will try one of mine," I answered, ashamed to take without giving, +and forgetting that my property consisted of none but the despised French +article. The young gentleman took one of the great clown-like regalias with +a slight shudder, and I saw him wince as he inhaled a mouthful of its rank +produce, and, ere long, quietly drop the thing when he thought I was not +looking, and substitute one of his own.</p> + +<p>The flavor of his Cuba opened my heart to him, and ere long I broached the +subject with which I had no earthly business.</p> + +<p>"You know a certain M. Gray?" I asked. He started.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said; "that is him talking to mademoiselle. Shall I introduce +you?"</p> + +<p>"Not at present—no, I thank you," I answered. He looked up at me.</p> + +<p>"Do you know him?" he asked. My eye had been bent on him for the last few +seconds.</p> + +<p>"I think I do," I said; "I am not sure."</p> + +<p>"He came here with the Dowlasses; he is the son of an English milord, who +allows him a thousand pounds a year."</p> + +<p>"Why did he leave England, then?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"He was too gay, I believe."</p> + +<p>"And left his debts unpaid, I suppose." He looked up at me again.</p> + +<p>"If you do know him, or anything about him," he exclaimed, "pray tell me; I +am particularly anxious about him."</p> + +<p>"I know you must be, and so ought mademoiselle to be," I said. He blushed +like a girl and was going to speak, but I continued: "If he is the man I +think, never play at cards with him, M. le Brun; and, between us, separate +his hat from those pink ribbons further than they are now."</p> + +<p>His curiosity, his anxiety, was thoroughly aroused; but, as he began to +speak, a lady's voice called him. It was Esther's.</p> + +<p>"Will you join us?" he said. In another moment I was being introduced to +the party.</p> + +<p>I was at first surprised to find Gray and his dupe smoking and chatting as +gayly as any of the party. I am a good wonderer, but always reason my +surprises away. I soon did so now, reflecting that all men use their faces +as masks, by which they lie without speaking falsehood. And, though I +detest hypocrisy myself, I remembered that I often smiled when I could +grind my teeth with rage—that is, if they were not false ones.</p> + +<p>Le Brun had been summoned to rejoin the circle because a curious topic had +been started. M. Raymond was proprietor of an estate near St. Sauveur, the +house of which was reported to be haunted, and Esther had dared Gray to +spend a night there.</p> + +<p>"But I don't believe in ghosts," he recommenced, after the introduction. +"It would only be to waste a night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there <i>is</i> a goblin though," replied the beautiful girl—"a male +Amina; always walking into an occupied chamber, so that you're sure to see +him. He does not, however, stop to be caught napping in the morning, like +La Sonnambula."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what I'll do," answered Gray. "You've called M. le +Brun"—and he looked somewhat fiercely at my friend—"if he'll spend a +night there, I will. I'm engaged to-night, and to-morrow night, so that he +can go first. But I can't believe in your ghost, mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"Not if I acknowledge to have seen him myself?" she asked. There was a +general movement among the listeners. "Well, I will accept for M. le Brun; +he shall go to-night or to-morrow, and you the night after—eh, M. +Frederic?"</p> + +<p>Le Brun murmured something about obedience to her wishes; what, I did not +hear. He evidently, however, did not like the scheme, and Gray saw it; but, +in the general interest for Esther's tale, no one else did.</p> + +<p>I do not give it here, for divers reasons. When she had done, it was found +to be time to return. I would have left the party, but Raymond having +seperated Le Brun from Esther, he joined himself to me, and I was unable to +do so.</p> + +<p>"What will Grace say?" thought I. "I hope she won't wait tea for me." I +should have been somewhat crusty if, on an ordinary occasion, I had +returned from a stroll and found that she and the rest had <i>not</i> waited. Le +Brun asked me—as M. Raymond had already done—to stay all the evening with +the party. That, however, I felt to be impossible, and said so.</p> + +<p>"Well, for the present, then," he said. "What can you tell me of M. Gray?" +he added.</p> + +<p>"I expect my brother here to-morrow," I said, "when I will compare notes +with him. Till then I should be cautious, as I may injure an innocent man. +But do you be cautious too. How about this challenge? Shall you sleep in +the haunted house? It is romantic nonsense—this of a spirit, you know. +Mademoiselle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[Pg 515]</a></span> has seen a clothes-horse, or a—a part of her dress in +moonlight. I don't believe in ghosts myself at all."</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" said he, somewhat sadly. "I—the truth is, mon cher, I am +afraid I do."</p> + +<p>"You must go on now, though," I said, maliciously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—of course—go on," he answered; "but, monsieur——" he hesitated.</p> + +<p>"What is it, my dear friend?" I said.</p> + +<p>"I thought to ask a favor of you," he replied. "Will you accompany me to +this house, monsieur? I feel I ask much—but will you?"</p> + +<p>"Much, my very dear sir!" I exclaimed, in the fullness of my heart—"not at +all too much. I shall be happy to be of any use to you, and will sit and +smoke those cigars of yours, and let the ghosts go to old ——." I stopped +suddenly.</p> + +<p>"And what," thought I, "will Grace say to <i>that</i>?" A sort of dampness +rushed out upon my skin; I had forgotten her. My sentence remained +unfinished, and I looked eagerly about me, as if to question the adjoining +shrubs as to what on earth I was to do. My dear Grace was the light of my +eyes, and the joy of my heart, I'm sure; the best wife, the most amiable of +the sex, but yet she had a kind of will of her own, which was apt to get +grafted, as it were, upon mine. She never opposed me positively in any +thing, but somehow, if she did not like it, it was rarely done. I had just +promised what I might not be able to perform; and yet I did not like to +confess to this foreigner that my wife led me. "A plague upon his Cubas and +him too," I thought. Still, what was to be done?</p> + +<p>"If you cannot sleep there to-night," he said, noticing my uneasiness, "I +will claim the night's grace——"</p> + +<p>"Grace!" I exclaimed; my wife before me in the word.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she said to-night or to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, to-night?—impossible!" I cried. "I have a very—an engagement +to-night. I can not possibly make it to-night. Besides," I exclaimed, +grasping at an idea like a drowner at a rope, or any thing saving, +"mademoiselle may not give leave to share your danger with any one."</p> + +<p>"I asked her," he said—I had noticed them exchange whispers—"and she +will——"</p> + +<p>"Bother!" I muttered; but instantly continued, with a smile, "if it is to +be so I will be at your service to-morrow. Meanwhile, let me slip away +now—that engagement, you know."</p> + +<p>We were at the foot of the Côte de Grace by this time. He brought the party +to a stand-still, and, after some difficulty, I was allowed to desert, Le +Brun asking me to join him next day to dinner, to which I agreed. After I +left the joyous set I walked away fiercely, like a man with a purpose, till +they were out of sight; but, as I neared that sanctuary of the heart where +the tea would be waiting for me, the fierceness of my pace abated, and, +with hands in pockets and head depressed, I slackened my speed more and +more, till at last, when I reached my garden-gate, I came to a stand-still.</p> + +<p>Unhappily I am tall, and my children are all wonderfully quick. I had not +stood at the gate three seconds before I was surrounded by my urchins, +whooping, and getting among my legs, and hanging to my tails, and playing +the wildest pranks off on me.</p> + +<p>But suddenly I saw my wife leave the house and come down the garden without +her bonnet to welcome me. Oh, how I wished that, just for once, she had +been a shrew; I could have brazened out the matter then. But she smiled so +sweetly at me!</p> + +<p>"Well," she exclaimed, heartily, putting her hands in mine, "you have had a +splendid afternoon for your walk! Have you enjoyed it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," I said, "except for one thing."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" she asked; "no accident I hope. You've never, surely, been +among the orchards again; I'm sure the grass swarms with adders and +snakes." And she looked so anxiously and tenderly up into my face that I +was forced to stoop and——. But this is weakness. "What was it? I saw you +took out that divine Shelley."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, jumping at any subject foreign to the one at my heart, +"he <i>is</i> divine. I'll never deny it again; the very god of sleep."</p> + +<p>"For shame!" she cried; "and I saw you took something else, too. But where +is it?—the parasol, I mean?" I had forgotten it! I think I must have +started and changed color, for she immediately proceeded: "Never mind, it's +too late to go into the fields for it now. It will be quite destroyed, +though, by the dew to-night—there's always so much in this weather. But, +never mind—and yet how could you forget it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all right," I replied, somewhat pettishly; "we'll get it in the +morning. I left it in a shop at the foot of the Côte de Grace."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, what was the drawback to your walk?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! never mind it just now," I exclaimed. "Dear Grace, do let me have some +tea; I'll tell you by-and-by." And I bustled among the children towards the +house, she following in some surprise.</p> + +<p>As soon as tea was over I dispatched the children into the garden and +solemnly commenced my tale. Commenced? I plunged into it heels over head, +as a timid bather plunges into the pool when he is the cynosure of the eyes +of all swimmers in it, and by appearing on the brink in Nature's undress +<i>uniform</i>, feels himself pledged to enter the liquid. Like him, too, when +once in, I did not find the water so cold as I feared, after all. I had +made my promise so strong by constantly referring to it, that Grace never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[Pg 516]</a></span> +even proposed my giving it up. My brother would arrive by to-morrow's boat, +and so that the house would have a guardian she would not object—for once. +I inwardly vowed not to put it in her power to refuse or grant such a favor +again.</p> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p>So on the morrow, at the appointed time, I was comfortably seated at M. le +Brun's mahogany; and while, "for this occasion only," I played my old +<i>rôle</i> of bachelor, I loosed the hymeneal reins, and actually told some +ancient Cider-cellar stories—in French, too,—which produced explosion +after explosion of laughter, though whether this was caused by the tales or +the telling I cannot of course guess.</p> + +<p>By-and-by evening came, and it was time to start. Le Brun and I hastened, +therefore, to finish the bottles then in circulation; and, as soon as that +was done, rose to walk to the haunted property. And now the skeptical +blockheads who doubt every thing would say that what follows was the +consequence of our libations. Let them say what they like, I only put it to +<i>you</i>, if it is likely that a thorough-going Church and State rector would +be influenced by a few bottles of <i>vin ordinaire</i> and a mere <i>thought</i> of +cognac after all.</p> + +<p>It was about nine o'clock when we arrived within sight of St. Sauveur. It +was a lovely night. Beyond the little village in the distance loomed the +hills, rising from the Eure, over which the moon was shining brilliantly. +Presently my companion turned sharply off from the main road, and we began +to ascend a narrow stony lane, so thickly fringed with bushes that the +light was excluded; but ere long we came upon a cross-path nearly as +narrow, but lighted by the rays of the bright moon; this we followed, till, +in a few minutes, we arrived before a gate, which we pushed open, and +advanced into a field.</p> + +<p>Le Brun paused to light a fresh cigar from the smoking ruins of the last, +and, as I walked on, I suddenly became reflective. "Your life, my dear and +reverend sir," I ejaculated, "has just been like this evening's walk. Your +school and college life were all bright and silvery as the highway flooded +by the glorious beams, and so forth. Then came the stony lane of +curateship, and then you gained a cross-lane, stony still, but lighted by +the smiles of Grace, and the prospect of a reversion, which your father got +you cheap, because the occupant was young. And then this youthful rector +joined the Church of Rome, leaving the gate open for you; and so you +stepped into your twelve hundred a year, of which you only need to +sacrifice seventy for a hack to do the work. So that after a somewhat +pleasant life you can enjoy yourself in foreign parts, and——"</p> + +<p>"Halloa!" cried a voice behind.</p> + +<p>I started. In a moment I remembered that I was upon haunted ground, and +motioned to fly. I am no coward, but I hate a surprise, and thought that +perhaps the hero of this enchanted ground was close beside me. Le Brun's +voice, however, dissipated those fears. I had strolled from the right path +in my dream, and he wished me to re-rejoin him. I did so, and we pursued +our walk.</p> + +<p>We soon arrived before the house. It was approachable at the rear by a road +which led to St. Sauveur, after winding about the country some two or three +miles more than necessary, as French roads are apt to do: but the main +entrance was from the fields, as we had come. It was a shabby place, and +looked in the staring moonlight as seedy as a bookseller's hack would look +in the glare of an Almack's ball. The windows were mostly broken, and the +portico, like its Greek model, was in ruins. Rude evergreens grew downward +from the rails which had fixed them, when young, in the way they were to +go, and were sprawling about the nominal garden, which was likewise overrun +by weeds and plots of grass, and fallen shrubs and flowers. The moon never +looked on a poorer spot, and yet there was an air about the tattered old +house which seemed to indicate that it had been good-looking once; as we +may see, despite the plaster-work among the wrinkles of some of our +dowagers, that they were not altogether hideous, as they now are, in the +days of the "Greatest Gentleman" in Europe.</p> + +<p>We entered. It was too late and too dark in-doors to survey the mansion; +so, as Le Brun had been directed to the habitable room, we struck a light, +and ascended directly to it. It was handsomely furnished, and a basket +containing that refreshment which we had looked forward to stood on the +table. The windows were whole; still I thought it well to close the +shutters, as I hate Midsummer nights' draughts as much as I love the +"Midsummer Night's Dream." This done, I sank on a sofa; Le Brun drew some +wine; we fell to at an early supper, and fared well.</p> + +<p>When we had finished we lighted cigars, and our conversation grew +frivolous. Le Brun was in the midst of a description of Esther, when I +heard a groan, and said so. He pooh-poohed me, and, half annoyed at the +interruption, proceeded. He had not got on very far before the groan was +repeated. I started up.</p> + +<p>"Pooh!—wind!" said my companion, retaining his seat and emitting his +smoke.</p> + +<p>"If so, it must be wind on the stomach, or wind in the lungs," I said. +"Hark!"</p> + +<p>I heard a faint noise. We both listened intently for some minutes, I +standing. It was not repeated, however; so, growing tired, I said that I +must have been mistaken, and sat down. Le Brun agreed with me, and resumed +his description. I followed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[Pg 517]</a></span> with a tale; he was reminded by it of another; +and so we continued, till our repeated potations, much speaking, and the +late hour, made both of us prosy, and then we fell, as with one accord, +asleep.</p> + +<p>I must have slept for a considerable time, as, when I woke, I found that +the lamp had burned very low, and looked the worse for having been kept up +so late. I woke with a start, caused, as I imagined, by hearing the +room-door suddenly opened. That was a sound which, as a father of a large +family, I had got to know very well, especially about the smaller hours. I +looked towards the door, but my eyes were dim with sleep, and it was not +till Le Brun's boot was projected against my shin that I became +sufficiently awake to see if my idea was correct or no. It was.</p> + +<p>Not only was the door open but a person was evidently standing on the +threshold. In the sickly light his face was not visible; nothing, in fact, +but an outline of him. I rose, and with as much steadiness of voice as I +could command, requested the visitor to come in. He made a deep bow, set +his hat modestly upon the floor, came across the room, and stood as if +awaiting further orders.</p> + +<p>I had, however, none to give him. I had not sufficient impudence to bid him +sit down and help himself to wine, or what he liked; but I kicked Le Brun, +in payment for his attack on me, and motioned to him to do the honors. He +met the advance of my foot, however, in an unexpected way.</p> + +<p>"Diable!" he cried, "Est-ce que——"</p> + +<p>He stopped as if a gag had been thrust between his jaws; for our visitor, +doubtless applying the epithet to himself, suddenly turned his back on us, +walked to the door, picked up his hat, and, though I cried after him, as +the Master of Ravenswood cried after his dead Lucia's ghost, to stop, paid +no more heed than that virgin does to Mario, but retired quickly, his boots +screaming as he trod upon them like veritable souls in pain. We made no +motion to follow, but remained as if glued to our places, looking on each +other from our semi-sleepy eyes in a somewhat foolish manner.</p> + +<p>"He'll come back," said Le Brun. "Hush!"</p> + +<p>The boots had stopped at the bottom of the stairs; we heard no sound.</p> + +<p>"If he does, don't name Sathanas, for Heaven's sake," I said. "He doesn't +like it. It may recall unpleasant things—seem personal, in fact——"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>We listened. The screaming boots were remounting the stairs. The visitor +had got over the personality, and was coming back. "What should be done? I +am no coward; I've said so before; but I seriously thought of running to, +shutting, fastening, and setting chairs against the door. But I did not +move. The footsteps approached, and then began to recede again. This +suspense of the interest—or, rather, dragging out of it—was most +tormenting. What if he should go on walking all night? But the steps were +ere long heard once more coming near the room, and once more the visitor +stood at the door. But he did not enter now. He looked steadfastly towards +us; beckoned slowly; then, turning, began to leave us again. I drew a long, +well-satisfied breath as he disappeared and leaned back on the sofa.</p> + +<p>"I trust he's gone for good now," I said.</p> + +<p>"He beckoned. We must follow," said Le Brun.</p> + +<p>"Follow! Pooh, pooh!" I exclaimed. "Let us sit still and be glad."</p> + +<p>"Not I," was his brave response. "Be he man, or be he——"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" I cried. "He may hear. He doesn't like the word——"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand the impulse," said Le Brun; "but we must follow."</p> + +<p>"I do not <i>feel</i> the impulse," I rejoined. "Still, if you do, and obey it, +I will not desert you."</p> + +<p>"Come," he answered. And with quick steps we chased the vocal boots down +the corridor, and ere long saw the wearer of them, having descended the +stairs, cross the hall, and wait at the door of the house.</p> + +<p>The moon was still shining brightly, and its rays came through the broken +windows on the ground-floor, and fell on the figure of the mysterious one. +He was of middle height, and of broad and muscular build. He seemed more +like an English farmer than a French ghost. His garments were seedy, and +his hat was old; but his boots were like the boots of Thaddeus of Warsaw, +the son of Miss Porter, who was so mortally offended when asked the name of +the maker of his Bluchers, and they gleamed like boots of polished steel. +All, however, did not seem right about the stranger. His head appeared +awry, and his arms out of their places. But perhaps these blemishes were +attributable to the moonlight, and not to the man; for he showed that he +could turn his head and look at us, and use his arms to open the door. We +followed him out into the air.</p> + +<p>He led us through the field we had already traversed, but in a rather +different direction. The night was chilly, and the long grass damp, and I +began to grow weary of the adventure. Suddenly, however, our conductor +stopped before what appeared to be a ruined cow-shed. He looked at it +earnestly for a few moments, then at us, who kept a respectful distance; +then, making an abrupt motion of his arm towards it, too rapid for us to +understand, he seemed to me to spring into the air. Whether he did so or +not, I cannot declare; but I know that when I rubbed my eyes, and looked +round about for him, he was nowhere to be seen. We examined the spot, but +he had left no traces. Boots, and hat, and all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[Pg 518]</a></span> his trappery had gone with +him. He had come like a dream, and vanished like a morning dream.</p> + +<p>We stood for a few moments uncertain what to do, and then it occurred to me +that the room we had left was warm and comfortable, and this field cold and +dreary; so I proposed to return, especially as, the stranger having +vanished, there did not appear to be any business in hand. Le Brun agreed, +and we did so, and, after talking awhile over our adventure, went to sleep +over our talk; and I did not wake again till morning was staring into the +chamber, as Le Brun threw open the shutters.</p> + +<p>The conversation that took place is as well to be imagined as transcribed. +Enough to say that I determined to have no share in Le Brun's narrative, +but left him to heighten it for himself. I parted with him at my house, +where I found Grace looking out for me; and he promised to return in the +course of the morning to pay his respects to her.</p> + +<p>To my surprise, however, when he came, he asked me for five minutes' +conversation, and we went together into the field belonging to my house, +which sloped down to the Seine. His countenance was <i>both</i> joyous and +anxious, and I saw that he had something heavier on his mind than last +night's frolic.</p> + +<p>"I have spoken to you of M. Gray," he said, "and of Mademoiselle Raymond. I +have learnt this morning that M. Gray has her father in his power."</p> + +<p>"You learnt that from her?" I asked.</p> + +<p>He blushed and did not answer.</p> + +<p>I went on. I had compared notes with my brother about this Gray, and found +my suspicions correct. I therefore told Le Brun what I had overheard on the +zigzag, and he in reply told me that Raymond had accepted a bill for the +amount of the debt to Gray.</p> + +<p>"That's serious," I said. "But before we say more, monsieur, are you +engaged to Mademoiselle Esther?"</p> + +<p>He replied in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>"Can you live—excuse the question—with her without dowry?"</p> + +<p>He replied in the affirmative again.</p> + +<p>"Then," I said, "though it may sound oddly from one of my cloth, you must +either elope with her——"</p> + +<p>"But then M. Raymond?—But his family?"</p> + +<p>"He must suffer for his folly; not you. And you are only going to marry one +daughter, not all of them. The other alternative is—you must pay Raymond's +acceptance, as he cannot."</p> + +<p>"It would be ruin. I cannot, either," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Then you must lose Esther."</p> + +<p>"I will not. No. And yet if I was to shoot Gray——"</p> + +<p>"Shoot?" I interrupted, with the virtuous horror of a man who has never +been tempted to fight a duel—"and would you then outrage the laws of +divine and human?"</p> + +<p>"No; it wouldn't do to shoot him," he pursued. "But oh, monsieur, can you +not suggest something to help me—to help us?"</p> + +<p>A thought suddenly came into my head. "Gray is pledged to spend to-night in +the haunted house, is he not?" I asked.</p> + +<p>He answered that it was so.</p> + +<p>"I believe the man to be an arrant coward," I went on. "To be sure, he shot +a dear friend of mine in a duel, and behaved, as the world says, like a +brave man before his witnesses. But he's a coward for all that, and we'll +test it. I don't believe in our friend the Goblin Farmer; I don't believe +we saw any body, or any spirit last night at all. Well, never mind beliefs; +don't interrupt me. I think our eyes were made the fools of other senses, +and that there's no such thing. Gray has to spend the night there—we'll go +again to-night, that is, if my wife will let me, and perhaps get my brother +to help us—eh? Suppose we give him a lesson." And I laughed.</p> + +<p>He laughed too; and after a few more observations, he accompanied me into +my drawing-room. Grace and James, with his wife Emma, were sitting talking +there.</p> + +<p>I have said that I am a lazy rector. During my curatehood, however, I had +learned to preach sufficiently well for the parish where I worked. To be +sure my congregation was neither large or wakeful, except in winter, when +the church was like a Wenham ice depôt, and people could not sleep. But I +was brief, and no faults were ever found in my time with brevity. My +experience in exposition and appeal now stood me in good stead.</p> + +<p>I introduced Le Brun, and then plunged into matters. I gave a brief account +of Esther and her father. I eulogized Le Brun. After that I spoke of Gray, +and reminded James of the life and times—the death, too, of John Finnis, +whom he saved from being plucked alive in St. James's, only that he might +be shot in Hampstead. These dispatched, I opened my plans, which were +listened to with great interest; the only alteration proposed was that +James should go to find the authorities (if there were any, which he +doubted), and give notice of Gray's character to them; after which he was +to return to my house, and stay there till Le Brun and I came back from our +nocturnal expedition, as Grace and Emma feared to be left alone. Poor Emma, +indeed, declared that this was the most romantic thing she had ever heard +of, except one which happened in the village where she was born; but as +neither James or I liked to hear her speak of her origin, we cut her +narrative short.</p> + +<p>The cresset moon was up in heaven—at least, Emma said it was—when we +started. It seemed to me nearly full; but she was poetical. I told her that +if it was a cresset, it was tilting up, and ought, therefore, to be pouring +out oil, and not light, on the earth. We started, I repeat, and a short +time after,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[Pg 519]</a></span> in the language of a favorite novelist, two travellers might +have been seen slowly wending on their way, bundle in hand, towards the +haunted house.</p> + +<p>In another hour or so, when the wind had sunk into repose, and the birds +had ceased their songs, and all things save the ever-watching stars were +sleeping (as that favorite historian might go on, if he were telling this +tale and not I), a tall and ecclesiastical form crept slowly from a place +of concealment near the house, approached it, and gently knocked at the +door. It was opened, and he entered cautiously. A few whispered sentences +passed with some friend within, which being over, he proceeded, though with +some hesitation, to mount the stairs and pace along the corridor.</p> + +<p>My boots (for I was the ecclesiastic) creaked and crackled like mad boots. +Onward I went, like the Ghost in Hamlet, only with very vocal buskins. I +reached Gray's room and opened the door. A strange sight met my eyes +through the green glass goggles which I wore over them.</p> + +<p>Gray was pacing up and down, in evident fear. A quantity of half-burnt +cigars, some bottles of wine, glasses, the lamp, and, above all, two +pistols were on the table. As I opened the door, and the light fell on me, +I feared that I should be discovered. But the gambler was afraid—and fear +has no eyes. I advanced into the room, and solemnly waved to him to follow. +He must have caught up a pistol ere he did so. I led the way.</p> + +<p>It was my determination to lead him a long chase, and leave him in a ditch +if possible, Le Brun being near at hand to cudgel him. He had readily +understood my pantomime (I studied under Jones the player when in training +for orders), for I found he followed me, though at a distance.</p> + +<p>But all my plans were disconcerted. As I reached the stair-head I heard a +noise, and stopped; so did Gray. It was as of some one forcing the house +door. Directly afterwards I heard the loud cries of the real goblin's +boots, and the sound of Le Brun in swift pursuit.</p> + +<p>"Take care, monsieur," he cried up the stairs to me.</p> + +<p>"By heaven they are robbers—murderers! Help! help!" roared Gray from +behind; and as the real apparition came gliding up, he fired his pistol at +it. The unexpected sound of the weapon, so close to my ear, too, stunned me +for a moment; but I recovered myself directly, and flung myself on him, in +fear lest he had his second pistol, too, and might fire at <i>me</i>. The real +goblin continued to advance, and I felt Gray tremble with terror in my arms +as <i>it</i> survived the shot.</p> + +<p>An unwonted boldness came over me. I felt myself committed to be brave.</p> + +<p>"Villain!" I muttered in his ear, "you would swindle my descendant out of +all he has?"</p> + +<p>"No—forgive me. I will not take a sou."</p> + +<p>"His acceptance—where is it? Give it me." He shuddered.</p> + +<p>"I will give it to you," he said.</p> + +<p>I released him, and followed to the lamp-lighted chamber. The other +apparition creaked after him, too, and at the door I gave it the +precedence. It was well I did so. The sudden light seemed to make Gray +bold, for snatching up the other pistol he levelled it at the Simon Pure, +and before I could utter a word, fired. The shot must have passed clean +through the breast of the Mysterious Stranger—he only bowed.</p> + +<p>Gray was now in mortal fear.</p> + +<p>"Give up that bill," I said in solemn, pedal tones. He drew it frantically +from his pocket, and, leaping up, gave it to the mysterious one.</p> + +<p>"Go to th——" he began, with a sort of ferocious recklessness. The next +moment he was sprawling on the floor. The Goblin reached out his hand, and +struck Gray, as it seemed, lightly with it. I would have raised him. I +motioned to do so; but my original touched me on the shoulder, handed me +the bill, and motioned to me to follow. I did not like his notes of +hand—his signature by mark on Gray's face—I therefore at once obeyed. Le +Brun had vanished.</p> + +<p>The stranger led me by the old route till we were again close to the +tottering cow-house. Here he paused, as on the last occasion, and was, +perhaps, preparing to disappear again.</p> + +<p>"One moment, sir," I said. "Be good enough to explain yourself more plainly +than you did last night. However much I may admire your acting, and it has +<i>beaucoup de l'Esprit</i> about it, family arrangements will prevent me from +again assisting——"</p> + +<p>He nodded as though he quite understood me, advanced to the side of the +shed, stopped under a sort of window, and then, deliberately sitting down +on the grass, began to pull off his boots. I gazed at him in amazement, and +was about to address him again, when a little cloud sailed across the moon, +and for a moment shaded all the place. As it passed away, and I looked to +our mysterious visitant and my mysterious Original, no remains of him were +to be seen—except the boots.</p> + +<p>At this moment Le Brun joined me. I was the first (as before and as ever) +to throw aside my natural fears, and I advanced to the spot. There were two +highly polished Bluchers, side by side, as if they waited till the occupant +of the cow-house was out of bed and shaved. I took one of them up. +Something inside chinked. I reversed it, and three Napoleons fell upon the +turf.</p> + +<p>I was wondering why a French farmer-ghost should choose a Blucher to +deliver Napoleons into an Englishman's hands, when Le Brun, finding nothing +in the other boot, suggested that it would be well to get Gray out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[Pg 520]</a></span> of the +neighborhood, and perhaps the three Napoleons might be useful to him. To +this I agreed at once, though I was somewhat dissatisfied with the little +fellow for the small share he had taken in the risks of the evening.</p> + +<p>I went to the room where the gambler was; he was evidently in mortal fear. +I put down the Napoleons on the table, and then in those deep, pedal, and +ecclesiastical notes, which have so often hymned my congregation to repose, +informed him that friends of John Finnis were in the town, that he was +proclaimed to the authorities, and that he had better leave the +neighborhood for ever. With this I left him, joined Le Brun, and was soon +on my way back to Honfleur.</p> + +<p>"It was well I drew the shot from his pistols," said Le Brun, as we were +parting. I did not then see any latent meaning in his words, nor would he +ever afterwards answer any questions on the subject. I had forgotten to +remove my ghostly dresses and decorations, and Grace and Emma both uttered +gentle screams as I stalked into their presence. My tale was soon told, and +we retired to rest.</p> + +<p>Here the whole tale ends. As the events I recorded recede into the past, I +begin almost to doubt the truth of them. But I have one living +evidence—now I am glad to say not single—and Le Brun may fairly lay it to +me that he has at this moment the most agreeable little lady in all +Normandy for his wedded wife. I am not aware if Boots still visits the +glimpses of the moon at St. Sauveur, for soon after these events I was +obliged to return to my parish to put down the Popish fooleries which I +found my hack had begun to introduce. If, however, he does, I only hope his +reappearance will be as useful as in the above little narrative, but the +Brown, the Gray—and the narrator have now done with him for ever.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><h4>From Fraser's Magazine.</h4> +<h2><a name="CREBILLON_THE_FRENCH_AESCHYLUS" id="CREBILLON_THE_FRENCH_AESCHYLUS"></a>CREBILLON, THE FRENCH ÆSCHYLUS.</h2> + + +<p>About the year 1670, there lived at Dijon a certain notary, an original in +his way, named Melchior Jolyot. His father was an innkeeper; but of a more +ambitious nature than his sire, the son, so soon as he had succeeded in +collecting a little money, purchased for himself the office of head clerk +in the Chambres des Comptes of Dijon, with the title of Greffier of the +same. During the following year, having long been desirous of a title of +nobility, he acquired, at a very low price, a little abandoned and almost +unknown fief, that of Crebillon, situated about a league and a half from +the city.</p> + +<p>His son, Prosper Jolyot, the future poet, was at that time a young man of +about two-and-twenty years of age, a student at law, and then on the eve of +being admitted as advocate at the French bar. From the first years of his +sojourn in Paris, we find that he called himself Prosper Jolyot <i>de +Crebillon</i>. About sixty years later, a worthy philosopher of Dijon, a +certain Monsieur J. B. Michault, writes as follows to the President de +Ruffey:—"Last Saturday (June 19th, 1762), our celebrated Crebillon was +interred at St. Gervais. In his <i>billets de mort</i> they gave him the title +of <i>ecuyer</i>; but what appears to me more surprising, is the circumstance of +his son adopting that of <i>messire</i>."</p> + +<p>Crebillon had then ended by cradling himself in a sort of imaginary +nobility. In 1761, we find him writing to the President de Brosse: "I have +ever taken so little thought respecting my own origin, that I have +neglected certain very flattering elucidations on this point. M. de Ricard, +máitre des comptes at Dijon, gave my father one day two titles he had +found. Of these two titles, written in very indifferent Latin, the first +concerned one Jolyot, chamberlain of Raoul, Duke of Burgundy; the second, a +certain Jolyot, chamberlain of Philippe le Bon. Both of these titles are +lost. I can also remember having heard it said in my youth by some old +inhabitants of Nuits, my father's native place, that there formerly existed +in those cantons a certain very powerful and noble family, named Jolyot."</p> + +<p>O vanity of vanities! would it be believed that, under the democratic reign +of the Encyclop[oe]dia, a man like Crebillon, ennobled by his own talents +and genius, could have thus hugged himself in the possession of a vain and +deceitful chimera! For truth compels us to own that, from the fifteenth to +the end of the seventeenth century, the Jolyots were never any thing more +or less than honest innkeepers, who sold their wine unadulterated, as it +was procured from the black or golden grapes of the Burgundy hills.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Crebillon, finding that his titles of nobility were uncontested, +pushed his aristocratic weakness so far as to affirm one day that his +family bore on its shield an eagle, or, on a field, azure, holding in its +beak a lily, proper, leaved and sustained, argent. All went, however, +according to his wishes; his son allied himself by an unexpected marriage +to one of the first families of England. The old tragic poet could then +pass into the other world with the consoling reflection that he left behind +him here below a name not only honored in the world of letters, but +inscribed also in the golden muster-roll of the French nobility. But +unfortunately for poor Crebillon's family tree, about a century after the +creation of this mushroom nobility—which, like the majority of the +nobilities of the eighteenth century, had its foundation in the sand—a +certain officious antiquary, who happened at the time to have nothing +better to do, bethought himself one day of inquiring into the validity of +his claim. He devoted to this strange occupation several years of precious +time. By dint of shaking the dust<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[Pg 521]</a></span> from off the archives of Dijon and +Nuits, and of rummaging the minutes of the notaries of the department, he +succeeded at length in ferreting out the genealogical tree of the Jolyot +family. Some, the most glorious of its members, had been notaries, others +had been innkeepers. Shade of Crebillon, pardon this impious archæologist, +who thus, with ruthless hands, destroyed "at one fell swoop" the brilliant +scaffolding of your vanity!</p> + +<p>Prosper Jolyot de Crebillon was born at Dijon, on the 13th of February, +1674; like Corneille, Bossuet, and Voltaire, he studied at the Jesuits' +college of his native town. It is well known that in all their seminaries, +the Jesuits kept secret registers, wherein they inscribed, under the name +of each pupil, certain notes in Latin upon his intellect and character. It +was the Abbé d'Olivet who, it is said, inscribed the note referring to +Crebillon:—"<i>Puer ingeniosus sed insignis nebulo.</i>" But it must be said +that the collegiate establishments of the holy brotherhood housed certain +pedagogues, who abused their right of pronouncing judgment on the scholars. +Crebillon, after all, was but a lively, frolicksome child, free and +unreserved to excess in manners and speech.</p> + +<p>His father, notary and later <i>greffier en chef</i> of the "Chambre des +Comptes" at Dijon, being above all things desirous that his family should +become distinguished in the magistracy, destined his son to the law, saying +that the best heritage he could leave him was his own example. Crebillon +resigned himself to his father's wishes with a very good grace, and +repaired to Paris, there to keep his terms. In the capital, he divided his +time between study and the pleasures and amusements natural to his age. As +soon as he was admitted as advocate, he entered the chambers of a procureur +named Prieur, son of the Prieur celebrated by Scarron, an intimate friend +of his father, who greeted him fraternally. One would have supposed that +our future poet, who bore audacity on his countenance, and genius on his +brow, would, like Achilles, have recognized his sex when they showed him +arms; but far from this being the case, not only was it necessary to warn +him that he <i>was</i> a poet, but even to impel him bodily, as it were, and +despite himself, into the arena.</p> + +<p>The writers and poets of France have ever railed in good set terms against +procureurs, advocates, and all such common-place, every-day personages; and +in general, we are bound to confess they have had right on their side. We +must, however, render justice to one of them, the only one, perhaps, who +ever showed a taste for poetry. The worthy man to whom, fortunately for +himself, Crebillon had been confided, remarked at an early stage of their +acquaintanceship, the romantic disposition of his pupil. Of the same +country as Piron and Rameau, Crebillon possessed, like them, the same frank +gayety and good-tempered heedlessness of character, which betrayed his +Burgundian origin. Having at an early age inhaled the intoxicating perfumes +of the Burgundian wines, his first essays in poetry were, as might be +expected, certain <i>chansons à boire</i>, none of which, however, have +descended to posterity. The worthy procureur, amazed at the degree of power +shown even in these slight drinking-songs, earnestly advised him to become +a poet by profession.</p> + +<p>Crebillon was then twenty-seven years of age; he resisted, alleging that he +did not believe he possessed the true creative genius; that every poet is +in some sort a species of deity, holding chaos in one hand, and light and +life in the other; and that, for his part, he possessed but a bad pen, +destined to defend bad causes in worse style. But the procureur was not to +be convinced; he had discovered that a spark of the creative fire already +shone in the breast of Crebillon. "Do not deny yourself becoming a poet," +he would frequently say to him; "it is written upon your brow; your looks +have told me so a thousand times. There is but one man in all France +capable of taking up the mantle of Racine, and that man is yourself."</p> + +<p>Crebillon exclaimed against this opinion; but having been left alone for a +few hours to transcribe a parliamentary petition, he recalled to mind the +magic of the stage—the scenery, the speeches, the applause; a moment of +inspiration seized him. When the procureur returned, his pupil extended his +hand to him, exclaiming, enthusiastically, "You have pointed out the way +for me, and I shall depart." "Do not be in a hurry," replied the procureur; +"a <i>chef d'[oe]uvre</i> is not made in a week. Remain quietly where you are, +as if you were still a procureur's clerk; eat my bread and drink my wine; +when you have completed your work, you may then take your flight."</p> + +<p>Crebillon accordingly remained in the procureur's office, and at the very +desk on which he transcribed petitions, he composed the five long acts of a +barbarous tragedy, entitled, "The Death of Brutus." The work finished, our +good-natured procureur brought all his interest into play, in order to +obtain a reading of the piece at the Comedie Française. After many +applications, Crebillon was permitted to read his play: it was unanimously +rejected. The poet was furious; he returned home to the procureur's, and +casting down his manuscript at the good man's feet, exclaimed, in a voice +of despair, "You have dishonored me!"</p> + +<p>D'Alembert says, "Crebillon's fury burst upon the procureur's head; he +regarded him almost in the light of an enemy who had advised him only for +his own dishonor, swore to listen to him no more, and never to write +another line of verse so long as he lived."</p> + +<p>Crebillon, however, in his rage maligned the worthy procureur; he would not +have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[Pg 522]</a></span> found elsewhere so hospitable a roof or as true a friend. He returned +to the study of the law, but the decisive step had been taken; beneath the +advocate's gown the poet had already peeped forth. And then, the procureur +was never tired of predicting future triumphs. Crebillon ventured upon +another tragedy, and chose for his subject the story of the Cretan king, +Idomeneus. This time the comedians accepted his piece, and shortly +afterwards played it. Its success was doubtful, but the author fancied he +had received sufficient encouragement to continue his new career.</p> + +<p>In his next piece, "Atrée," Crebillon, who had commenced as a school-boy, +now raised himself, as it were, to the dignity of a master. The comedians +learned their parts with enthusiasm. On the morning of the first +representation, the procureur summoned the young poet to his bedside, for +he was then stricken with a mortal disease: "My friend," said he, "I have a +presentiment that this very evening you will be greeted by the critics of +the nation as a son of the great Corneille. There are but a few days of +life remaining for me; I have no longer strength to walk, but be assured +that I shall be at my post this evening, in the pit of the Théâtre +Française." True to his word, the good old man had himself carried to the +theatre. The intelligent judges applauded certain passages of the tragedy, +in which wonderful power, as well as many startling beauties, were +perceptible; but at the catastrophe, when Atreus compels Thyestes to drink +the blood of his son, there was a general exclamation of horror—(Gabrielle +de Vergy, be it remarked, had not then eaten on the stage the heart of her +lover). "The procureur," says D'Alembert, "would have left the theatre in +sorrow, if he had awaited the judgment of the audience in order to fix his +own. The pit appeared more terrified than interested; it beheld the curtain +fall without uttering a sound either of approval or condemnation, and +dispersed in that solemn and ominous silence which bodes no good for the +future welfare of the piece. But the procureur judged better than the +public, or rather, he anticipated its future judgment. The play over, he +proceeded to the green-room to seek his pupil, who, still in a state of the +greatest uncertainty as to his fate, was already almost resigned to a +failure; he embraced Crebillon in a transport of admiration: 'I die +content,' said he. 'I have made you a poet; and I leave a man to the +nation!'"</p> + +<p>And, in fact, at each representation of the piece, the public discovered +fresh beauties, and abandoned itself with real pleasure to the terror which +the poet inspired. A few days afterwards, the name of Crebillon became +celebrated throughout Paris and the provinces, and all imagined that the +spirit of the great Corneille had indeed revisited earth to animate the +muse of the young Burgundian.</p> + +<p>Crebillon's father was greatly irritated on finding that his son had, as +they said then, abandoned Themis for Melpomene. In vain did the procureur +plead his pupil's cause—in vain did Crebillon address to this true father +a supplication in verse, to obtain pardon for him from his sire; the +<i>greffier en chef</i> of Dijon was inexorable; to his son's entreaties he +replied that he cursed him, and that he was about to make a new will. To +complete, as it were, his downfall in the good opinion of this individual, +who possessed such a blind infatuation for the law, Crebillon wrote him a +letter, in which the following passage occurs: "I am about to get married, +if you have no objection, to the most beautiful girl in Paris; you may +believe me, sir, upon this point, for her beauty is all that she +possesses."</p> + +<p>To this his father replied: "Sir, your tragedies are not to my taste, your +children will not be mine; commit as many follies as you please, I shall +console myself with the reflection that I refused my consent to your +marriage; and I would strongly advise you, sir, to depend more than ever on +your pieces for support, for you are no longer a member of my family."</p> + +<p>Crebillon, for all that, married, as he said, the most beautiful girl in +Paris—the gentle and charming Charlotte Peaget, of whom Dufresny has +spoken. She was the daughter of an apothecary, and it was while frequenting +her father's shop that Crebillon became acquainted with her. There was +nothing very romantic, it is true, in the match; but love spreads a charm +over all that it comes in contact with. Thus, a short time before his +marriage, Crebillon perceived his intended giving out some marshmallow and +violets to a sick customer: "My dear Charlotte," said he, "we will go +together, some of these days, among our Dijonnaise mountains, to collect +violets and marshmallows for your father."</p> + +<p>It was shortly after his marriage and removal to the Place Maubert, that he +first evinced his strange mania for cats and dogs, and, above all, his +singular passion for tobacco. He was, beyond contradiction, the greatest +smoker of his day. It has been stated by some of the writers of the time, +that he could not turn a single rhyme of a tragedy, save in an obscure and +smoky chamber, surrounded by a noisy pack of dogs and cats; according to +the same authorities, he would very frequently, also, in the middle of the +day, close the shutters, and light candles. A thousand other extravagances +have been attributed to Crebillon; but we ought to accept with caution the +recitals of these anecdote-mongers, who were far too apt to imagine they +were portraying a man, when in reality they were but drawing a ridiculous +caricature.</p> + +<p>When M. Melchior Jolyot learned that his son had, in defiance of his +paternal prohibition, actually wedded the apothecary's daughter, his grief +and rage knew no bounds. The worthy man believed in his recent nobility as +firmly as he did in his religion, and his son's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[Pg 523]</a></span> <i>mesalliance</i> nearly drove +him to despair: this time he actually carried his threat into execution, +and made a formal will, by virtue of which he completely disinherited the +poet.—Fortunately for Crebillon, his father, before bidding adieu to the +world and his nobility, undertook a journey to Paris, curious, even in the +midst of his rage, to judge for himself the merits and demerits of the +theatrical tomfooleries, as he called them, of his silly boy, who had +married the apothecary's daughter, and who, in place of gaining nobility +and station in a procureur's office, had written a parcel of trash for +actors to spout. We must say, however, that Crebillon could not have +retained a better counsel to urge his claims before the paternal tribunal +than his wife, the much maligned apothecary's daughter, one of the +loveliest and most amiable women in Paris; and we may add, that this +nobility of which his father thought so much—the nobility of the +robe—which had not been acquired in a Dijonnaise family until after the +lapse of three generations, was scarcely equal to the nobility of the pen, +which Crebillon had acquired by the exercise of his own talents.</p> + +<p>The old greffier, then, came to Paris for the purpose of witnessing one of +the sad tomfooleries of that unhappy profligate, who in better times had +been his son. Fate so willed it that on that night "Atrée" should be +performed. The old man was seized with mingled emotions of terror, grief, +and admiration. That very evening, being resolved not to rest until he had +seen his son, he called a coach on leaving the theatre, and drove straight +to the Faubourg Saint Marceau, to the house which had been pointed out to +him as the dwelling of Crebillon. No sooner had the doors opened than out +rushed seven or eight dogs, who cast themselves upon the old greffier, +uttering in every species of canine <i>patois</i> the loudest possible +demonstrations of welcome. One word from Madame Crebillon, however, was +sufficient to recall this unruly pack to order; yet the dogs, having no +doubt instinctively discovered a family likeness, continued to gambol round +the limbs of M. Melchior Jolyot, to the latter's no small confusion and +alarm. Charlotte, who was alone, waiting supper for her husband, was much +surprised at this unexpected visit. At first she imagined that it was some +great personage who had come to offer the poet his patronage and +protection; but after looking at her visitor two or three times, she +suddenly exclaimed: "You are my husband's father, or at least you are one +of the Jolyot family." The old greffier, though intending to have +maintained his incognito until his son's return, could no longer resist the +desire of abandoning himself to the delights of a reconciliation; he +embraced his daughter-in-law tenderly, shedding tears of joy, and accusing +himself all the while for his previous unnatural harshness: "Yes, yes," +cried he, "yes, you are still my children—all that I have is yours!" then, +after a moment's silence, he continued, in a tone of sadness: "But how does +it happen that, with his great success, my son has condemned his wife to +such a home and such a supper?"</p> + +<p>"Condemned, did you say?" murmured Charlotte; "do not deceive yourself, we +are quite happy here;" so saying she took her father-in-law by the hand, +and led him into the adjoining room, to a cradle covered with white +curtains. "Look!" said she, turning back the curtains with maternal +solicitude.</p> + +<p>The old man's heart melted outright at the sight of his grandchild.</p> + +<p>"Are we not happy?" continued the mother. "What more do we require? We live +on a little, and when we have no money, my father assists us."</p> + +<p>They returned to the sitting-room.</p> + +<p>"What wine is this?" said the old Burgundian, uncorking the bottle intended +to form part of their frugal repast. "What!" he exclaimed, "my son fallen +so low as this! The Crebillons have always drunk good wine."</p> + +<p>At this instant, the dogs set up a tremendous barking: Crebillon was +ascending the stairs. A few moments afterwards he entered the room escorted +by a couple of dogs, which had followed him from the theatre.</p> + +<p>"What! two more!" exclaimed the father; "this is really too much. Son," he +continued, "I am come to entreat your pardon; in my anxiety to show myself +your father, I had forgotten that my first duty was to love you."</p> + +<p>Crebillon cast himself into his father's arms.</p> + +<p>"But <i>parbleu</i>, Monsieur," continued the old notary, "I cannot forgive you +for having so many dogs."</p> + +<p>"You are right, father; but what would become of these poor animals were I +not to take compassion upon them? It is not good for man to be alone, says +the Scripture. No longer able to live with my fellow-creatures, I have +surrounded myself with dogs. The dog is the solace and friend of the +solitary man."</p> + +<p>"But I should imagine you were not alone here," said the father, with a +glance towards Charlotte, and the infant's cradle.</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" said the young wife, with an expression of touching melancholy +in her voice. "It is perhaps through a presentiment that he speaks thus. I +much fear that I shall not live long. He has but one friend upon the earth, +and that friend is myself. Now, when I shall be no more——"</p> + +<p>"But you shall not die," interrupted Crebillon, taking her in his arms. +"Could I exist without you?"</p> + +<p>Madame Crebillon was not deceived in her presentiments: the poet, who, we +know, lived to a patriarchal age, lived on in widowed solitude for upwards +of fifty years.</p> + +<p>Crebillon and his wife accompanied the old greffier back from Paris to +Dijon, where, to the great surprise of the inhabitants, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[Pg 524]</a></span> father +presented his son as "M. Jolyot de Crebillon, who has succeeded Messieurs +Corneille and Racine in the honors of the French stage." Crebillon had the +greatest possible difficulty in restraining the enthusiasm of his sire. He +succeeded, however, at length, not through remonstrance, but by the +insatiable ardor he displayed in diving into the paternal money-bags. After +a sojourn of three months at Dijon, Crebillon returned to Paris; and well +for him it was that he did so; a month longer, and the father would +indubitably have quarrelled with him again, and would have remade his will, +disinheriting this time, not the rebellious child, but the prodigal son. +Crebillon, in fact, never possessed the art of keeping his money; and in +this respect he but followed the example of all those who, in imagination, +remove mountains of gold.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had he arrived in Paris when he was obliged to return to Dijon. +The old greffier had died suddenly. The inheritance was a most difficult +one to unravel. "I have come here," writes Crebillon to the elder of the +brothers Pâris, "only to inherit law-suits." And, true enough, he allowed +himself to be drawn blindly into the various suits which arose in +consequence of certain informalities in the old man's will, and which +eventually caused almost the entire property to drop, bit by bit, into the +pockets of the lawyers.</p> + +<p>"I was a great blockhead," wrote Crebillon later; "I went about reciting +passages from my tragedies to these lawyers, who feigned to pale with +admiration; and this man[oe]uvre of theirs blinded me; I perceived not that +all the while these cunning foxes were devouring my substance; but it is +the fate of poets to be ever like La Fontaine's crow."</p> + +<p>Out of this property he succeeded only in preserving the little fief of +Crebillon, the income derived from which he gave up to his sisters. On his +return to Paris, however, he changed altogether his style of living; he +removed his penates to the neighborhood of the Luxembourg, and placed his +establishment on quite a seignorial footing, as if he had become heir to a +considerable property. This act of folly can scarcely be explained. The +report, of course, was spread, that he had inherited property to a large +amount. Most probably he wished, by acting thus, to save the family honor, +or, to speak more correctly, the family vanity, by seeking to deceive the +world as to the precise amount of the Jolyot estate.</p> + +<p>True wisdom inhabits not the world in which we dwell. Crebillon sought all +the superfluities of luxury. In vain did his wife endeavor to restrain him +in his extravagances; in vain did she recal to his mind their frugal but +happy meals, and the homely furniture of their little dwelling in the Place +Maubert; "<i>so gay for all that on sunny days</i>."</p> + +<p>"Well," he would reply, "if we must return there, I shall not complain. +What matters if the wine be not so good, so that it is always your hand +which pours it out."</p> + +<p>Fortunately, that year was one of successive triumphs for Crebillon. The +"Electre" carried off all suffrages, and astonished even criticism itself. +In this piece the poet had softened down the harshness of his tints, and +while still maintaining his "majestic" character, had kept closer to nature +and humanity.</p> + +<p>"Electre" was followed by "Rhadamiste," which was at the time extolled as a +perfect <i>chef-d'[oe]uvre</i> of style and vigor. There is in this play, if we +may be allowed the term, a certain rude nobility of expression, which is +the true characteristic of Crebillon's genius. It was this tragedy which +inspired Voltaire with the idea, that on the stage it is better to strike +hard than true. The enthusiastic auditory admitted, that if Racine could +paint love, Crebillon could depict hatred. Boileau, who was then dying, and +who, could he have had his wish, would have desired that French literature +might stop at his name, exclaimed, that this success was scandalous. "I +have lived too long!" cried the old poet, in a violent rage. "To what a +pack of Visigoths have I left the French stage a prey! The Pradons, whom we +so often ridiculed, were eagles compared to these fellows." Boileau +resembled in some respect old "Nestor" of the <i>Iliad</i>, when he said to the +Greek kings—"I would advise you to listen to me, for I have formerly mixed +with men who were your betters." The public, however, amply avenged +Crebillon for the bitter judgment of Boileau; in eight days two editions of +the "Rhadamiste" were exhausted. And this was not all: the piece having +been played by command of the Regent before the court at Versailles, was +applauded to the echo.</p> + +<p>Despite these successes, Crebillon was not long in getting to the bottom of +his purse. In the hope of deferring as long as he possibly could the evil +hour when he should be obliged to return to his former humble style of +living, he used every possible means to replenish his almost exhausted +exchequer. He borrowed three thousand crowns from Baron Hoguer, who was the +resource of literary men in the days of the Regency; and sold to a Jew +usurer his author's rights upon a tragedy which was yet to be written. He +had counted upon the success of "Xerxes;" but this tragedy proved an utter +failure. Crebillon, however, was a man of strong mind. He returned home +that evening with a calm, and even smiling countenance: "Well," eagerly +exclaimed Madame Crebillon, who had been awaiting in anxiety the return of +her husband. "Well," replied he, "they have damned my play; to-morrow we +will return to our old habits again."</p> + +<p>And, true to his word, on the following morning Crebillon returned to the +Place Maubert, where he hired a little apartment near his father-in-law, +who could still offer our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[Pg 525]</a></span> poet and his wife, when hard pressed, a glass of +his <i>vin ordinaire</i> and a share of his dinner. Out of all his rich +furniture Crebillon selected but a dozen cats and dogs, whom he chose as +the companions of his exile. To quote d'Alembert's words—"Like Alcibiades, +in former days, he passed from Persian luxury to Spartan austerity, and, +what in all probability Alcibiades was not, he was happier in the second +state than he had been in the first."</p> + +<p>His wife was in retirement what she had been in the world. She never +complained. Perhaps even she showed herself in a more charming light, as +the kind and devoted companion of the hissed and penniless poet, than as +the admired wife of the popular dramatist. Poor Madame Crebillon hid their +poverty from her husband with touching delicacy; he almost fancied himself +rich, such a magic charm did she contrive to cast over their humble +dwelling. Like Midas, she appeared to possess the gift of changing whatever +she touched into gold, that is to say, of giving life and light by her +winning grace to every thing with which she came in contact. Blessed, +thrice blessed is that man, be he poet or philosopher, who, like Crebillon, +has felt and understood that amiability and a contented mind are in a wife +treasures inexhaustible, compared to which mere mundane wealth fades into +utter insignificance. No word of complaint or peevish expression ever +passed Madame Crebillon's lips; she was proud of her poet's glory, and +endeavored always to sustain him in his independent ideas; she would listen +resignedly to all his dreams of future triumphs, and knew how to cast +herself into his arms when he would declare that he desired nothing more +from mankind. One day, however, when there was no money in the house, on +seeing him return with a dog under each arm, she ventured on a quiet +remonstrance. "Take care, Monsieur de Crebillon," she said, with a smile, +"we have already eight dogs and fifteen cats."</p> + +<p>"Well, I know that," replied Crebillon; "but see how piteously these poor +dogs look at us; could I leave them to die of hunger in the street?"</p> + +<p>"But did it not strike you that they might possibly die of hunger here? I +can fully understand and enter into your feelings of love and pity for +these poor animals, but we must not convert the house into a hospital for +foundling dogs."</p> + +<p>"Why despair?" said Crebillon. "Providence never abandons genius and +virtue. The report goes that I am to be of the Academy."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe it," said Madame Crebillon. "Fontenelle and La Motte, who +are but <i>beaux esprits</i>, will never permit a man like you to seat himself +beside them, for if you were of the Academy, would you not be the king of +it?"</p> + +<p>Crebillon, however, began his canvass, but as his wife had foreseen, +Fontenelle and La Motte succeeded in having him black-balled.</p> + +<p>All these little literary thorns, however, only imparted greater charms to +the calm felicity of Crebillon's domestic hearth; but we must now open the +saddest page of our poet's hitherto peaceful and happy existence.</p> + +<p>One evening, on his return from the Café Procope, the resort of all the +wits and <i>litterateurs</i> of the eighteenth century, Crebillon found his wife +in a state of great agitation, half-undressed, and pressing their sleeping +infant to her bosom.</p> + +<p>"Why, Charlotte, what is the matter?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," replied she, trembling, and looking towards the bed.</p> + +<p>"What folly! you are like the children, you are frightened at shadows."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am frightened at shadows; just now, as I was undressing, I saw a +spectre glide along at the foot of the bed. I was ready to sink to the +earth with terror, and it was with the greatest difficulty that I could +muster strength enough to reach the child's cradle."</p> + +<p>"Child yourself," said Crebillon, playfully; "you merely saw the shadow of +the bed-curtains."</p> + +<p>"No, no," cried the young wife, seizing the poet's hand—"it was Death! I +recognized him; for it is not the first time that he has shown himself to +me. Ah! <i>mon ami</i>, with what grief and terror shall I prepare to lie down +in the cold earth! If you love me as I love you, do not leave me for an +instant; help me to die, for if you are by my side at that hour, I shall +fancy I am but dropping asleep."</p> + +<p>Greatly shocked at what he heard, Crebillon took his child in his arms, and +carried it back to its cradle. He returned to his wife, pressed her to his +bosom, and sought vainly for words to relieve her apprehensions, and to +lead back her thoughts into less sombre channels. He at length succeeded, +but not without great difficulty, in persuading her to retire to rest; she +scarcely closed an eye. Poor Crebillon sat in silence by the bedside of his +wife praying fervently in his heart; for perhaps he believed in omens and +presentiments even to a greater degree than did Charlotte. Finding, at +length, that she had dropped asleep, he got into bed himself. When he awoke +in the morning, he beheld Charlotte bending over him in a half-raised +posture, as though she had been attentively regarding him as he slept. +Terrified at the deadly paleness of her cheeks, and the unnatural +brilliancy of her eyes, and sensitive and tender-hearted as a child, he was +unable to restrain his tears. She cast herself passionately into his arms, +and covered his cheeks with tears and kisses.</p> + +<p>"'Tis all over now," she whispered, in a broken voice; "my heart beats too +strongly to beat much longer, but I die contented and happy, for I see by +your tears that you will not forget me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_526" id="Page_526">[Pg 526]</a></span></p> + +<p>Crebillon rose hastily and ran to his father-in-law. "Alas!" said the poor +apothecary, "her mother, who was as beautiful and as good as she, died +young of a disease of the heart, and her child will go the same way."</p> + +<p>All the most celebrated physicians of the day were called in, but before +they could determine upon a method of treatment, the spirit of poor +Charlotte had taken flight from its earthly tabernacle.</p> + +<p>Crebillon, inconsolable at his loss, feared not the ridicule (for in the +eighteenth century all such exhibitions of feeling were considered highly +ridiculous) of lamenting his wife; he wept her loss during half a +century—in other words, to his last hour.</p> + +<p>During the space of two years he scarcely appeared once at the Théâtre +Française. He had the air of a man of another age, so completely a stranger +did he seem to all that was going on around him. One might say that he +still lived with his divine Charlotte; he would speak to her unceasingly, +as if her gentle presence was still making the wilderness of his solitary +dwelling blossom like the rose. After fifteen years of mourning, some +friends one day surprised him in his solitude, speaking aloud to his dear +Charlotte, relating to her his projects for the future, and recalling their +past days of happiness: "Ah, Charlotte," he exclaimed, "they all tell me of +my glory, yet I think but of thee!"</p> + +<p>The friends of Crebillon, uneasy respecting his future destiny, had advised +him during the preceding year to present himself at court, where he was +received and recognized as a man of genius. In the early days of his +widowhood, he quitted Paris suddenly and took up his residence at +Versailles. But at Versailles he lived as he had done in Paris, immured in +his chamber, and entirely engrossed with his own sombre and lugubrious +thoughts and visions; in consequence of this, he was scarcely noticed; the +king seeing before him a species of Danubian peasant, proud of his genius +and his poverty, treated him with an almost disdainful coldness of manner. +Crebillon did not at first comprehend his position at Versailles. He was a +simple-minded philosopher, who had studied heroes and not men. At length, +convinced that a poet at court is like a fish out of water, he returned to +Paris to live more nobly with his heroes and his poverty. He retired to the +Marais, to the Rue des Deux-Portes, taking with him only a bed, a table, +two chairs, and an arm-chair, "in case," to use his own words, "an honest +man should come to visit him."</p> + +<p>Irritated at the rebuff he had met with at Versailles, ashamed of having +solicited in vain the justice of the king, he believed henceforth only in +liberty. "Liberty," said he, "is the most vivid sentiment engraven on my +heart." Unintentionally, perhaps, he avenged himself in the first work he +undertook after this event: the tragedy of "Cromwell,"—"an altar," as he +said, "which I erect to liberty." According to D'Alembert, he read to his +friends some scenes of this play, in which our British aversion for +absolutism was painted with wild and startling energy; in consequence +thereof, he received an order forbidding him to continue his piece. His +Cromwell was a villain certainly, but a villain which would have told well +upon the stage, from the degree of grandeur and heroic dignity with which +the author had invested the character. From that day he had enemies; but +indeed it might be said that he had had enemies from the evening of the +first representation of his "Electre." Success here below has no other +retinue.</p> + +<p>Crebillon was now almost penniless. By degrees, without having foreseen +such an occurrence, he began to hear his numerous creditors buzzing around +him like a swarm of hornets. Not having any thing else to seize, they +seized at the theatre his author's rights. The affair was brought before +the courts, and led to a decree of parliament which ordained that the works +of the intellect were not seizable, consequently Crebillon retained the +income arising from the performance of his tragedies.</p> + +<p>Some years now passed away without bringing any fresh successes. Compelled +by the court party to discontinue "Cromwell," he gave "Semiramis," which, +like "Xerxes," some time previously, was a failure. Under the impression +that the public could not bring itself to relish "sombre horrors of human +tempests," he sought to arm himself as it were against his own nature, to +subdue and soften it. The tragedy of "Pyrrhus," which recalled the tender +colors of Racine, cost him five years' labor. At that time, so strong in +France was the empire of habit, that this tragedy, though utterly valueless +as a work of art, and wanting both in style, relief, and expression, was +received with enthusiasm. But Crebillon possessed too much good sense to be +blinded by this spurious triumph. "It is," said he, when speaking of his +work, "but the shadow of a tragedy."</p> + +<p>"Pyrrhus" obtained, after all, but a transitory success. After a brief +period, the public began to discover that it was a foreign plant, which +under a new sky gave out but a factitious brilliancy. In despair at having +wasted so much precious time in fruitless labor, and disgusted besides at +the conduct of some shameless intriguers who frequented the literary cafés +of the capital, singing his defeat in trashy verse, Crebillon now retired +almost wholly from the world. He would visit the theatre, however, +occasionally to chat with a few friends over the literary topics of the +day; but at length even this recreation was abandoned, and he was seen in +the world no more.</p> + +<p>He lived now without any other friends than his heroes and his cats and +dogs, devouring the novels of La Calprenède, and relating long-winded +romances to himself. His son<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527">[Pg 527]</a></span> affirms having seen fifteen dogs and as many +cats barking and mewing at one time round his father, who would speak to +them much more tenderly than he would to himself. According to Freron's +account, Crebillon would pick up and carry home under his cloak all the +wandering dogs he met with in the street, and give them shelter and +hospitality. But in return for this, he would require from them an aptitude +for certain exercises; when, at the termination of the prescribed period, +the pupil was convicted of not having profited by the education he had +received, the poet would take him under his cloak again, put him down at +the corner of a street and fly from the spot with tears in his eyes.</p> + +<p>On the death of La Motte, Crebillon was at length admitted into the +Academy. As he was always an eccentric man, he wrote his "Discourse" of +reception in verse, a thing which had never been done before. On +pronouncing this line, which has not yet been forgotten—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aucun fiel n'a jamais empoisonné ma plume—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>he was enthusiastically applauded. From that day, but from that day only, +Crebillon was recognized by his countrymen as a man of honor and virtue, as +well as genius. It was rather late in the day, however; he had lost his +wife, his son was mixing in the fashionable world, he was completely alone, +and almost forgotten, expecting nothing more from the fickle public. More +idle than a lazzarone, he passed years without writing a single line, +though his ever-active imagination would still produce, mentally, tragedy +after tragedy. As he possessed a wonderful memory, he would compose and +rhyme off-hand the entire five acts of a piece without having occasion to +put pen to paper. One evening, under the impression that he had produced a +masterpiece, he invited certain of his brother Academicians to his house to +hear his new play. When the party had assembled, he commenced, and +declaimed the entire tragedy from beginning to end without stopping. +Judging by the ominous silence with which the conclusion was received, that +his audience was not over delighted with his play, he exclaimed, in a pet—</p> + +<p>"You see, my friends, I was right in not putting my tragedy on paper."</p> + +<p>"Why so?" asked Godoyn.</p> + +<p>"Because, I should have had the trouble of throwing it into the fire. Now, +I shall merely have to forget it, which is easier done."</p> + +<p>When Crebillon seemed no longer formidable in the literary world, and all +were agreed he was in the decline of his genius, the very men who had +previously denied his power, now thought fit to combat Voltaire by exalting +Crebillon, in the same way as they afterwards exalted Voltaire so soon as +another star appeared on the literary horizon.</p> + +<p>"With the intention of humbling the pride of Voltaire, they proceeded," says +a writer of the time, "to seek out in his lonely retreat the now aged and +forsaken Crebillon, who, mute and solitary for the last thirty years, was +no longer a formidable enemy for them, but whom they flattered themselves +they could oppose as a species of phantom to the illustrious writer by whom +they were eclipsed; just as, in former days, the Leaguers drew an old +cardinal from out the obscurity in which he lived, to give him the empty +title of king, only that they themselves might reign under his name."</p> + +<p>The literary world was then divided into two adverse parties—the +Crebillonists, and the Voltairians. The first, being masters of all the +avenues, succeeded for a length of time in blinding the public. Voltaire +passed for a mere wit; Crebillon, for the sole heir of the sceptre of +Corneille and Racine. It was this clique which invented the formula ever +afterwards employed in the designation of these three poets—Corneille the +great, Racine the tender, and Crebillon the tragic. One great advantage +Crebillon possessed over Voltaire: he had written nothing for the last +thirty years. His friends, or rather Voltaire's enemies, now began to give +out that the author of "Rhadamiste" was engaged in putting the finishing +hand to a tragedy, a veritable dramatic wonder, by name "Catilina." Madame +de Pompadour herself, tired of Voltaire's importunate ambition, now went +over with her forces to the camp of the Crebillonists. She received +Crebillon at court, and recommended him to the particular care of Louis +XV., who conferred a pension on him, and also appointed him to the office +of censor royal.</p> + +<p>"Catilina" was at length produced with great <i>éclat</i>. The court party, +which was present in force at the first performance, doubtless contributed +in a great measure to the success of the piece. The old poet, thus +encouraged, set to work on a new play, the "Triumvirat," with fresh ardor; +but as was Voltaire's lot in after years, it was soon perceptible that the +poet was but the shadow of what he had been. Out of respect, however, for +Crebillon's eighty-eight years, the tragedy was applauded, but in a few +days the "Triumvirat" was played to empty benches. Crebillon had now but +one thing left to do: to die, which, in fact, he did in the year 1762.</p> + +<p>It cannot be denied that Crebillon was one of the remarkable men of his +century. That untutored genius, so striking in the boldness and brilliancy +of its creations, but which more frequently repels through its own native +barbarity, was eminently the genius of Crebillon. But what, above all, +characterizes the genius of the French nation—wit, grace, and +polish—Crebillon never possessed; consequently, with all his vigor and all +his force, he never succeeded in creating a living work. He has depicted +human perversity with a proud and daring hand—he has shown<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_528" id="Page_528">[Pg 528]</a></span> the +fratricide, the infanticide, the parricide, but he never succeeded in +attaining the sublimity of the Greek drama. And yet J. J. Rousseau affirmed +that of all the French tragic poets, Crebillon alone had recalled to him +the grandeur of the Greeks. If so, it was only through the nudity of +terror, for the "French Æschylus" was utterly wanting in what may be termed +human and philosophical sentiment.</p> + +<p>There is a very beautiful portrait of Crebillon extant, by Latour. It would +doubtless be supposed that the man, so terrible in his dramatic furies, was +of a dark and sombre appearance. Far from it; Crebillon was of a fair +complexion, and had an artless expression of countenance, and a pair of +beautiful blue eyes. It must, however, be confessed, that by his method of +borrowing the gestures of his heroes, coupled, moreover, with the habit he +had acquired of contracting his eyebrows in the fervor of composition, +Crebillon in the end became a little more the man of his works. He was, +moreover, impatient and irritable, even with his favorite dogs and cats, +and occasionally with his sweet-tempered and angelic wife, the ever +cheerful partner alike of his joys and sorrows, who had so nobly resigned +herself to the chances and changes of his good and ill-fortune; that loving +companion of his hours of profusion and gaiety, when he aped the <i>grand +seigneur</i>, as well as the devoted sharer of those days of poverty and +neglect, when he retired from the world in disgust, to the old +dwelling-house of the Place Maubert.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HABITS_OF_FREDERICK_THE_GREAT" id="HABITS_OF_FREDERICK_THE_GREAT"></a>HABITS OF FREDERICK THE GREAT.</h2> + + +<p>The principal part of the life of this great monarch was spent in camp, and +in a constant struggle with a host of enemies. Yet even then, when the busy +day scarcely afforded a vacant moment, that moment, if it came, was sure to +be given to study. Let the young shopocracy of Glasgow never forget that +Frederic had <i>very early</i> formed an attachment to reading, which neither +the opposition of his father—who thought that the scholar would spoil the +soldier—nor the schemes of ambition and conquest, which occupied him so +much in after life, were able to destroy or weaken. When at last, +therefore, he felt himself at liberty to sheathe the sword, he gave himself +up to the cultivation and patronage of literature and the arts of peace, as +eagerly as he had ever done to the pursuit of military renown. Even before +his accession to the throne, and while yet but a young man, he had +established in his residence at Rheimsberg nearly the same system of +studious application and economy in the management of his time to which he +ever afterwards continued to adhere. His relaxations even then were almost +entirely of an intellectual character; and he had collected around him a +circle of literary associates, with whom it was his highest enjoyment to +spend his hours in philosophic conversation, or in amusements not unfitted +to adorn a life of philosophy. In a letter written to one of his friends, +he says—"I become every day more covetous of my time; I render an account +of it to myself, and lose none of it but with great regret. My mind is +entirely turned toward philosophy; it has rendered me admirable services, +and I am greatly indebted to it. I find myself happy, abundantly more +tranquil than formerly; my soul is less subject to violent agitations; and +I do nothing till I have considered what course of action I ought to +adopt." Let young men contrast such conduct with the frivolities of other +noble and royal persons, and be faithful to her whose ways are +pleasantness, and whose paths are peace. I shall conclude this paper with a +sketch of his doings for the ordinary four-and-twenty hours. Dr. Towers, +who has written a history of his reign, informs us that it was his general +custom to rise at five o'clock in the morning, and sometimes earlier. He +commonly dressed his hair himself, and seldom employed more than two +minutes for that purpose. His boots were put at the bedside, for he +scarcely ever wore shoes. After he was dressed, the adjutant of the first +battalion of his guards brought him a list of all the persons that had +arrived at Potsdam, or departed from thence. When he had delivered his +orders to this officer he retired into an inner cabinet, where he employed +himself in private till seven o'clock. He then went into another apartment, +where he drank coffee or chocolate, and here he found all the letters +addressed to him from Potsdam and Berlin. Foreign letters were placed upon +a separate table. After reading all these letters, he wrote hints or notes +on the margin of those which his secretaries were to answer, and then +returning into the inner cabinet carried with him such as he meant to write +or dictate an answer to himself. Here he employed himself until nine +o'clock. At ten the generals who were about his person attended. At eleven +he mounted his horse and rode to the parade, when he reviewed and exercised +his guards; and at the same hour, says Voltaire, all the colonels did the +same throughout the provinces. He afterwards walked for some time in the +garden with his generals. At one o'clock he sat down to dinner. He had no +carver, but did the honors of the table like a private gentleman. His +dinner-time did not much exceed an hour. He then retired into his private +apartment, making low bows to his company. He remained in private till five +o'clock, when his reader waited on him. His reading lasted about two hours, +and this was succeeded by a concert upon the flute which lasted till nine. +He supped at half-past nine with his favorite <i>literati</i>, and at twelve the +king went to bed.—<i>Communication from David Vedder, in the Glasgow +Citizen.</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_529" id="Page_529">[Pg 529]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_OLD_MANS_DEATH" id="THE_OLD_MANS_DEATH"></a>THE OLD MAN'S DEATH.</h2> + +<h3>A CHILD'S FIRST SIGHT OF SORROW.</h3> + +<h4>From "Recollections of our Neighborhood in the West."<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> +</h4> +<h3>BY ALICE CAREY.</h3> + + +<p>Change is the order of nature; the old makes way for the new; over the +perished growth of last year brighten the blossoms of this. What changes +are to be counted, even in a little noiseless life like mine! How many +graves have grown green; how many locks have grown gray; how many, lately +young, and strong in hope and courage, are faltering and fainting; how many +hands that reached eagerly for the roses are drawn back bleeding and full +of thorns; and, saddest of all, how many hearts are broken! I remember when +I had no sad memory, when I first made room in my bosom for the +consciousness of death.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We have gained the world's cold wisdom now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We have learned to pause and fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But where are the living founts whose flow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was a joy of heart to hear!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I remember the twilight, as though it were yesterday—grey, and dim, and +cold, for it was late in October, when the shadow first came over my heart, +that no subsequent sunshine has ever swept entirely away. From the window +of our cottage home, streamed a column of light, in which I sat stringing +the red berries of the brier rose.</p> + +<p>I had heard of death, but regarded it only with that vague apprehension +which I felt for the demons and witches that gather poison herbs under the +new moon, in fairy forests, or strangle harmless travelers with wands of +the willow, or with vines of the wild grape or ivy. I did not much like to +think about them, and yet I felt safe from their influence.</p> + +<p>There might be people, somewhere, that would die some time; I did'nt know, +but it would not be myself, or any one I knew. They were so well and so +strong, so full of joyous hopes, how could their feet falter, and their +smiles grow dim, and their fainting hands lay away their work, and fold +themselves together! No, no—it was not a thing to be believed.</p> + +<p>Drifts of sunshine from that season of blissful ignorance often come back, +as lightly</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As the winds of the May-time flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lift up the shadows brightly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the daffodil lifts the snow—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>the shadows that have gathered with the years! It is pleasant to have them +thus swept off—to find myself a child again—the crown of pale pain and +sorrow that presses heavily now, unfelt, and the graves that lie lonesomely +along my way, covered up with flowers—to feel my mother's dark locks fall +upon my cheek, as she teaches me the lesson or the prayer—to see my +father, now a sorrowful old man whose hair has thinned and whitened almost +to the limit of three score years and ten, fresh and vigorous, strong for +the race—and to see myself a little child, happy with a new hat and a pink +ribbon, or even with the string of briar buds that I called coral. Now I +tie it about my neck, and now around my forehead, and now twist it among my +hair, as I have somewhere read great ladies do their pearls. The winds are +blowing the last yellow leaves from the cherry tree—I know not why, but it +makes me sad. I draw closer to the light of the window, and slyly peep +within—all is quiet and cheerful; the logs on the hearth are ablaze; my +father is mending a bridle-rein, which "Traveller," the favorite riding +horse, snapt in two yesterday, when frightened at the elephant that +(covered with a great white cloth), went by to be exhibited at the coming +show,—my mother is hemming a ruffle, perhaps for me to wear to school next +quarter—my brother is reading in a newspaper, I know not what, but I see, +on one side, the picture of a bear: Let me listen—and flattening my cheek +against the pane, I catch his words distinctly, for he reads loud and very +clearly—it is an improbable story of a wild man who has recently been +discovered in the woods of some far-away island—he seems to have been +there a long time, for his nails are grown like claws, and his hair, in +rough and matted strings, hangs to his knees; he makes a noise like +something between the howl of a beast and a human cry, and, when pursued, +runs with a nimbleness and swiftness that baffle the pursuers, though +mounted on the fleetest of steeds, urged through brake and bush to their +utmost speed. When first seen, he was sitting on the ground and cracking +nuts with his teeth; his arms are corded with sinews that make it probable +his strength is sufficient to strangle a dozen men; and yet on seeing human +beings, he runs into the thick woods, lifting such a hideous scream, the +while, as make his discoverers clasp their hands to their ears. It is +suggested that this is not a solitary individual, become wild by isolation, +but that a race exists, many of which are perhaps larger and of more +terrible aspects; but whether they have any intelligible language, and +whether they live in caverns of rocks or in trunks of hollow trees, remains +for discovery by some future and more daring explorers.</p> + +<p>My brother puts down the paper and looks at the picture of the bear. "I +would not read such foolish stories," says my father, as he holds the +bridle up to the light, to see that it is nearly mended; my mother breaks +the thread which gathers the ruffle; she is gentle and loving, and does not +like to hear even implied reproof, but she says nothing; little Harry, who +is playing on the floor, upsets his block-house, and my father, clapping +his hands together, exclaims, "This is the house that Jack built!" and +adds, patting Harry on the head, "Where is my little boy? this is not he, +this is a little carpenter; you must make your houses stronger, little +carpenter!" But Harry insists that he is the veritable little Harry, and no +carpenter, and hides his tearful eyes in the lap of my mother, who assures<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530">[Pg 530]</a></span> +him that he is her own little boy, and soothes his childish grief by +buttoning on his neck the ruffle she has just completed; and off he +scampers again, building a new house, the roof of which he makes very +steep, and calls it grandfather's house, at which all laugh heartily.</p> + +<p>While listening to the story of the wild man I am half afraid, but now, as +the joyous laughter rings out, I am ashamed of my fears, and skipping +forth, I sit down on a green ridge which cuts the door-yard diagonally, and +where, I am told, there was once a fence. Did the rose-bushes and lilacs +and flags that are in the garden, ever grow here? I think—no, it must have +been a long while ago, if indeed the fence were ever here, for I can't +conceive the possibility of such change, and then I fall to arranging my +string of brier-buds into letters that will spell some name, now my own, +and now that of some one I love. A dull strip of cloud, from which the hues +of pink and red and gold have but lately faded out, hangs low in the west; +below is a long reach of withering woods—the gray sprays of the beech +clinging thickly still, and the gorgeous maples shooting up here and there +like sparks of fire among the darkly magnificent oaks and silvery columned +sycamores—the gray and murmurous twilight gives way to darker shadows and +a deeper hush.</p> + +<p>I hear, far away, the beating of quick hoof-strokes on the pavement; the +horseman, I think to myself, is just coming down the hill through the thick +woods beyond the bridge. I listen close, and presently a hollow rumbling +sound indicates that I was right; and now I hear the strokes more +faintly—he is climbing the hill that slopes directly away from me; but now +again I hear distinctly—he has almost reached the hollow below me—the +hollow that in summer is starry with dandelions and now is full of brown +nettles and withered weeds—he will presently have passed—where can he be +going, and what is his errand? I will rise up and watch. The cloud passes +from the face of the moon, and the light streams full and broad on the +horseman—he tightens his rein, and looks eagerly toward the house—surely +I know him, the long red curls, streaming down his neck, and the straw hat, +are not to be mistaken—it is Oliver Hillhouse, the miller, whom my +grandfather, who lives in the steep-roofed house, has employed three +years—longer than I can remember! He calls to me, and I laughingly bound +forward, with an exclamation of delight, and put my arms about the slender +neck of his horse, that is champing the bit and pawing the pavement, and I +say, "Why do you not come in?"</p> + +<p>He smiles, but there is something ominous in his smile, as he hands me a +folded paper, saying, "Give this to your mother;" and, gathering up his +reins, he rides hurriedly forward. In a moment I am in the house, for my +errand, "Here mother is a paper which Oliver Hillhouse gave me for you." +Her hand trembles as she receives it, and waiting timidly near, I watch her +as she reads; the tears come, and without speaking a word she hands it to +my father.</p> + +<p>That night there came upon my soul the shadow of an awful fear; sorrowful +moans and plaints disturbed my dreams that have never since been wholly +forgot. How cold and spectral-like the moonlight streamed across my pillow; +how dismal the chirping of the cricket in the hearth; and how more than +dismal the winds among the naked boughs that creaked against my window. For +the first time in my life I could not sleep, and I longed for the light of +the morning. At last it came, whitening up the East, and the stars faded +away, and there came a flush of crimson and purple fire, which was +presently pushed aside by the golden disk of the sun. Daylight without, but +within there was thick darkness still.</p> + +<p>I kept close about my mother, for in her presence I felt a shelter and +protection that I found no where else.</p> + +<p>"Be a good girl till I come back," she said, stooping and kissing my +forehead; "mother is going away to-day, your poor grandfather is very +sick."</p> + +<p>"Let me go too," I said, clinging close to her hand. We were soon ready; +little Harry pouted his lips and reached out his hands, and my father gave +him his pocket-knife to play with; and the wind blowing the yellow curls +over his eyes and forehead, he stood on the porch looking eagerly while my +mother turned to see him again and again. We had before us a walk of +perhaps two miles—northwardly along the turnpike nearly a mile, next, +striking into a grass-grown road that crossed it, in an easternly direction +nearly another mile, and then turning northwardly again, a narrow lane, +bordered on each side by old and decaying cherry-trees, led us to the +house, ancient fashioned, with high steep gables, narrow windows, and low, +heavy chimneys of stone. In the rear was an old mill, with a plank sloping +from the door-sill to the ground, by way of step, and a square open window +in the gable, through which, with ropes and pulleys, the grain was drawn +up.</p> + +<p>This mill was an especial object of terror to me, and it was only when my +aunt Carry led me by the hand, and the cheerful smile of Oliver Hillhouse +lighted up the dusky interior, that I could be persuaded to enter it. In +truth it was a lonesome sort of place, with dark lofts and curious binns, +and ladders leading from place to place; and there were cats creeping +stealthily along the beams in wait for mice or swallows, if, as sometimes +happened, the clay nest should be loosened from the rafter, and the whole +tumble ruinously down. I used to wonder that aunt Carry was not afraid in +the old place, with its eternal rumble, and its great dusty wheel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_531" id="Page_531">[Pg 531]</a></span> moving +slowly round and round, beneath the steady tread of the two sober horses +that never gained a hair's breadth for their pains; but on the contrary, +she seemed to like the mill, and never failed to show me through all its +intricacies, on my visits. I have unraveled the mystery now, or rather, +from the recollections I still retain, have apprehended what must have been +clear to older eyes at the time.</p> + +<p>A forest of oak and walnut stretched along this extremity of the farm, and +on either side of the improvements (as the house and barn and mill were +called) shot out two dark forks, completely cutting off the view, save +toward the unfrequented road to the south, which was traversed mostly by +persons coming to the mill, for my grandfather made the flour for all the +neighbourhood round about, besides making corn-meal for Johny-cakes, and +"chops" for the cows.</p> + +<p>He was an old man now, with a tall, athletic frame, slightly bent, thin +locks white as the snow, and deep blue eyes full of fire and intelligence, +and after long years of uninterrupted health and useful labor, he was +suddenly stricken down, with no prospect of recovery.</p> + +<p>"I hope he is better," said my mother, hearing the rumbling of the +mill-wheel. She might have known my grandfather would permit no +interruption of the usual business on account of his illness—the +neighbors, he said, could not do without bread because he was sick, nor +need they all be idle, waiting for him to die. When the time drew near, he +would call them to take his farewell and his blessing, but till then let +them sew and spin, and prepare dinner just as usual, so they would please +him best. He was a stern man—even his kindness was uncompromising and +unbending, and I remember of his making toward me no manifestation of +fondness, such as grandchildren usually receive, save once, when he gave me +a bright red apple, without speaking a word till my timid thanks brought +out his "Save your thanks for something better." The apple gave me no +pleasure, and I even slipt into the mill to escape from his cold, +forbidding presence.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he was a good man, strictly honest, and upright in all his +dealings, and respected, almost reverenced, by everybody. I remember once, +when young Winters, the tenant of Deacon Granger's farm, who paid a great +deal too much for his ground, as I have heard my father say, came to mill +with some withered wheat, my grandfather filled up the sacks out of his own +flour, while Tommy was in the house at dinner. That was a good deed, but +Tommy Winters never suspected how his wheat happened to turn out so well.</p> + +<p>As we drew near the house, it seemed to me more lonesome and desolate than +it ever looked before. I wished I had staid at home with little Harry. So +eagerly I noted every thing, that I remember to this day, that near a +trough of water, in the lane, stood a little surly looking cow, of a red +color, and with a white line running along her back. I had gone with aunt +Carry often when she went to milk her, but, to-day she seemed not to have +been milked. Near her was a black and white heifer, with sharp short horns, +and a square board tied over her eyes; two horses, one of them gray, and +the other sorrel, with a short tail, were reaching their long necks into +the garden, and browsing from the currant bushes. As we approached they +trotted forward a little, and one of them, half playfully, half angrily, +bit the other on the shoulder, after which they returned quietly to their +cropping of the bushes, heedless of the voice that from across the field +was calling to them.</p> + +<p>A flock of turkeys were sunning themselves about the door, for no one came +to scare them away; some were black, and some speckled, some with heads +erect and tails spread, and some nibbling the grass; and with a gabbling +noise, and a staid and dignified march, they made way for us. The smoke +arose from the chimney in blue, graceful curls, and drifted away to the +woods; the dead morning-glory vines had partly fallen from the windows, but +the hands that tended them were grown careless, and they were suffered to +remain blackened and void of beauty, as they were. Under these, the white +curtain was partly put aside, and my grandmother, with the speckled +handkerchief pinned across her bosom, and her pale face, a shade paler than +usual, was looking out, and seeing us she came forth, and in answer to my +mother's look of inquiry, shook her head, and silently led the way in. The +room we entered had some home-made carpet, about the size of a large +table-cloth, spread in the middle of the floor, the remainder of which was +scoured very white; the ceiling was of walnut wood, and the side walls were +white-washed—a table, an old-fashioned desk, and some wooden chairs, +comprised the furniture. On one of the chairs was a leather cushion; this +was set to one side, my grandmother neither offering it to my mother, nor +sitting in it herself, while, by way of composing herself, I suppose, she +took off the black ribbon with which her cap was trimmed. This was a more +simple process than the reader may fancy, the trimming, consisting merely +of a ribbon, always black, which she tied around her head after the cap was +on, forming a bow and two ends just above the forehead. Aunt Carry, who was +of what is termed an even disposition, received us with her usual cheerful +demeanor, and then, re-seating herself comfortably near the fire, resumed +her work, the netting of some white fringe.</p> + +<p>I liked aunt Carry, for that she always took especial pains to entertain +me, showing me her patchwork, taking me with her to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_532" id="Page_532">[Pg 532]</a></span> cowyard and dairy, +as also to the mill, though in this last I fear she was a little selfish; +however, that made no difference to me at the time, and I have always been +sincerely grateful to her: children know more, and want more, and feel +more, than people are apt to imagine.</p> + +<p>On this occasion she called me to her, and tried to teach me the mysteries +of her netting, telling me I must get my father to buy me a little bureau, +and then I could net fringe and make a nice cover for it. For a little time +I thought I could, and arranged in my mind where it should be placed, and +what should be put into it, and even went so far as to inquire how much +fringe she thought would be necessary. I never attained to much proficiency +in the netting of fringe, nor did I ever get the little bureau, and now it +is quite reasonable to suppose I never shall.</p> + +<p>Presently my father and mother were shown into an adjoining room, the +interior of which I felt an irrepressible desire to see, and by stealth I +obtained a glimpse of it before the door closed behind them. There was a +dull brown and yellow carpet on the floor, and near the bed, on which was a +blue and white coverlid, stood a high backed wooden chair, over which hung +a towel, and on the bottom of which stood a pitcher, of an unique pattern. +I know not how I saw this, but I did, and perfectly remember it, +notwithstanding my attention was in a moment completely absorbed by the +sick man's face, which was turned towards the opening door, pale, livid, +and ghastly. I trembled, and was transfixed; the rings beneath the eyes, +which had always been deeply marked, were now almost black, and the blue +eyes within looked glassy and cold, and terrible. The expression of agony +on the lips (for his disease was one of a most painful nature) gave place +to a sort of smile, and the hand, twisted among the gray locks, was +withdrawn and extended to welcome my parents, as the door closed. That was +a fearful moment; I was near the dark steep edges of the grave; I felt, for +the first time, that I was mortal too, and I was afraid.</p> + +<p>Aunt Carry put away her work, and taking from a nail in the window-frame a +brown muslin sun bonnet, which seemed to me of half a yard in depth, she +tied it on my head, and then clapt her hands as she looked into my face, +saying, "bopeep!" at which I half laughed and half cried, and making +provision for herself in grandmother's bonnet, which hung on the opposite +side of the window, and was similar to mine, except that it was perhaps a +little larger, she took my hand and we proceeded to the mill. Oliver, who +was very busy on our entrance, came forward, as aunt Carry said, by way of +introduction, "A little visitor I've brought you," and arranged a seat on a +bag of meal for us, and taking off his straw hat pushed the red curls from +his low white forehead, and looked bewildered and anxious.</p> + +<p>"It's quite warm for the season," said aunt Carry, by way of breaking +silence, I suppose. The young man said "yes," abstractedly, and then asked +if the rumble of the mill were not a disturbance to the sick room, to which +aunt Carry answered, "No, my father says it is his music."</p> + +<p>"A good old man," said Oliver, "he will not hear it much longer," and then, +even more sadly, "every thing will be changed." Aunt Carry was silent, and +he added, "I have been here a long time, and it will make me very sorry to +go away, especially when such trouble is about you all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Oliver," said aunt Carra, "you don't mean to go away?" "I see no +alternative," he replied; "I shall have nothing to do; if I had gone a year +ago it would have been better." "Why?" asked aunt Carry; but I think she +understood why, and Oliver did not answer directly, but said, "Almost the +last thing your father said to me was, that you should never marry any who +had not a house and twenty acres of land; if he has not, he will exact that +promise of you, and I cannot ask you not to make it, nor would you refuse +him if I did; I might have owned that long ago, but for my sister (she had +lost her reason) and my lame brother, whom I must educate to be a +school-master, because he never can work, and my blind mother; but God +forgive me! I must not and do not complain; you will forget me, before +long, Carry, and some body who is richer and better, will be to you all I +once hoped to be, and perhaps more."</p> + +<p>I did not understand the meaning of the conversation at the time, but I +felt out of place some way, and so, going to another part of the mill, I +watched the sifting of the flour through the snowy bolter, listening to the +rumbling of the wheel. When I looked around I perceived that Oliver had +taken my place on the meal bag, and that he had put his arm around the +waist of aunt Carry in a way I did not much like.</p> + +<p>Great sorrow, like a storm, sweeps us aside from ordinary feelings, and we +give our hearts into kindly hands—so cold and hollow and meaningless seem +the formulæ of the world. They had probably never spoken of love before, +and now talked of it as calmly as they would have talked of any thing else; +but they felt that hope was hopeless; at best, any union was deferred, +perhaps, for long years; the future was full of uncertainties. At last +their tones became very low, so low I could not hear what they said; but I +saw that they looked very sorrowful, and that aunt Carry's hand lay in that +of Oliver as though he were her brother.</p> + +<p>"Why don't the flour come through?" I said, for the sifting had become +thinner and lighter, and at length quite ceased. Oliver smiled, faintly, as +he arose, and saying, "This will never buy the child a frock," poured a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_533" id="Page_533">[Pg 533]</a></span> +sack of wheat into the hopper, so that it nearly run over. Seeing no child +but myself, I supposed he meant to buy me a new frock, and at once resolved +to put it in my little bureau, if he did.</p> + +<p>"We have bothered Mr. Hillhouse long enough," said aunt Carry, taking my +hand, "and will go to the house, shall we not?"</p> + +<p>I wondered why she said "Mr. Hillhouse," for I had never heard her say so +before; and Oliver seemed to wonder, too, for he said reproachfully, laying +particular stress on his own name, "You don't bother Mr. Hillhouse, I am +sure, but I must not insist on your remaining if you wish to go."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to insist on my staying," said aunt Carry, "if you don't want +to, and I see you don't," and lifting me out to the sloping plank, that +bent beneath us, we descended.</p> + +<p>"Carry," called a voice behind us; but she neither answered nor looked +back, but seeming to feel a sudden and expressive fondness for me, took me +up in her arms, though I was almost too heavy for her to lift, and kissing +me over and over, said I was light as a feather, at which she laughed as +though neither sorrowful nor lacking for employment.</p> + +<p>This little passage I could never precisely explain, aside from the ground +that "the course of true love never did run smooth." Half an hour after we +returned to the house, Oliver presented himself at the door, saying, "Miss +Caroline, shall I trouble you for a cup, to get a drink of water?" Carry +accompanied him to the well, where they lingered some time, and when she +returned her face was sunshiny and cheerful as usual.</p> + +<p>The day went slowly by, dinner was prepared, and removed, scarcely tasted; +aunt Carry wrought at her fringe, and grandmother moved softly about, +preparing teas and cordials.</p> + +<p>Towards sunset the sick man became easy, and expressed a wish that the door +of his chamber might be opened, that he might watch our occupations and +hear our talk. It was done accordingly, and he was left alone. My mother +smiled, saying she hoped he might yet get well, but my father shook his +head mournfully, and answered, "He wishes to go without our knowledge." He +made amplest provision for his family always, and I believe had a kind +nature, but he manifested no little fondnesses, nor did he wish caresses +for himself. Contrary to the general tenor of his character, was a love of +quiet jests, that remained to the last. Once, as Carry gave him some drink, +he said, "You know my wishes about your future, I expect you to be +mindful."</p> + +<p>I stole to the door of his room in the hope that he would say something to +me, but he did not, and I went nearer, close to the bed, and timidly took +his hand in mine; how damp and cold it felt! yet he spoke not, and climbing +upon the chair, I put back his thin locks, and kissed his forehead. "Child, +you trouble me," he said, and these were the last words he ever spoke to +me.</p> + +<p>The sun sunk lower and lower, throwing a beam of light through the little +window, quite across the carpet, and now it reached the sick man's room, +climbed over the bed and up the wall; he turned his face away, and seemed +to watch its glimmer upon the ceiling The atmosphere grew dense and dusky, +but without clouds, and the orange light changed to a dull lurid red, and +the dying and dead leaves dropt silently to the ground, for there was no +wind, and the fowls flew into the trees, and the grey moths came from +beneath the bushes and fluttered in the waning light. From the hollow tree +by the mill came the bat, wheeling and flitting blindly about, and once or +twice its wings struck the window of the sick man's chamber. The last +sunlight faded off at length, and the rumbling of the mill-wheel was still: +he has fallen asleep in listening to its music.</p> + +<p>The next day came the funeral. What a desolate time it was! All down the +lane were wagons and carriages and horses, for every body that knew my +grandfather had come to pay him the last honors. "We can do him no further +good," they said, "but it seemed right that we should come." Close by the +gate waited the little brown wagon to bear the coffin to the grave, the +wagon in which he was used to ride while living. The heads of the horses +were drooping, and I thought they looked consciously sad.</p> + +<p>The day was mild and the doors and windows of the old house stood all open, +so that the people without could hear the words of the preacher. I remember +nothing he said; I remember of hearing my mother sob, and of seeing my +grandmother with her face buried in her hands, and of seeing aunt Carra +sitting erect, her face pale but tearless, and Oliver near her, with his +hands folded across his breast save once or twice, when he lifted them to +brush away tears.</p> + +<p>I did not cry, save from a frightened and strange feeling, but kept wishing +that we were not so near the dead, and that it were another day. I tried to +push the reality away with thoughts of pleasant things—in vain. I remember +the hymn, and the very air in which it was sung.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye fearful souls fresh courage take,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The clouds ye so much dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are big with mercy, and shall break<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In blessings on your head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind unbelief is sure to err,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And scan his works in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God is his own interpreter,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he will make it plain."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Near the door blue flagstones were laid, bordered with a row of shrubberies +and trees, with lilacs, and roses, and pears, and peach-trees, which my +grandfather had planted long ago, and here, in the open air, the coffin was +placed, and the white cloth removed, and folded over the lid. I remember +how it shook and trembled as the gust came moaning from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_534" id="Page_534">[Pg 534]</a></span> the woods, and +died off over the next hill, and that two or three withered leaves fell on +the face of the dead, which Oliver gently removed and brushed aside a +yellow winged butterfly that hovered near.</p> + +<p>The friends hung over the unsmiling corpse till they were led weeping and +one by one away; the hand of some one rested for a moment on the forehead, +and then the white cloth was replaced, and the lid screwed down. The coffin +was placed in the brown wagon, with a sheet folded about it, and the long +train moved slowly to the burial-ground woods, where the words "dust to +dust" were followed by the rattling of the earth, and the sunset light fell +there a moment, and the dead leaves blew across the smoothly shapen mound.</p> + +<p>When the will was read, Oliver found himself heir to a fortune—the mill +and the homestead and half the farm—provided he married Carry, which I +suppose he did, for though I do not remember the wedding, I have had an +aunt Caroline Hillhouse almost as long as I can remember. The lunatic +sister was sent to an asylum, where she sung songs about a faithless lover +till death took her up and opened her eyes in heaven. The mother was +brought home, and she and my grandmother lived at their ease, and sat in +the corner, and told stories of ghosts, and witches, and marriages, and +deaths, for long years. Peace to their memories! for they have both gone +home; and the lame brother is teaching school, in his leisure playing the +flute, and reading Shakspeare—all the book he reads.</p> + +<p>Years have come and swept me away from my childhood, from its innocence and +blessed unconsciousness of the dark, but often comes back the memory of its +first sorrow!</p> + +<p>Death is less terrible to me now.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<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> In press and soon to be published by J. S. Redfield.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MY_NOVEL" id="MY_NOVEL"></a>MY NOVEL:</h2> + +<h3>OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></h3> + +<h3>BY PISISTRATUS CAXTON.</h3> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XVI.</h4> + +<p>Before a table in the apartments appropriated to him in his father's house +at Knightsbridge, sat Lord L'Estrange, sorting or destroying letters and +papers—an ordinary symptom of change of residence. There are certain +trifles by which a shrewd observer may judge of a man's disposition. Thus, +ranged on the table, with some elegance, but with soldier-like precision, +were sundry little relics of former days, hallowed by some sentiment of +memory, or perhaps endeared solely by custom; which, whether he was in +Egypt, Italy, or England, always made part of the furniture of Harley's +room. Even the small, old-fashioned, and somewhat inconvenient inkstand in +which he dipped the pen as he labelled the letters he put aside, belonged +to the writing-desk which had been his pride as a school-boy. Even the +books that lay scattered round were not new works, not those to which we +turn to satisfy the curiosity of an hour, or to distract our graver +thoughts: they were chiefly either Latin or Italian poets, with many a +pencil-mark on the margin; or books which, making severe demand on thought, +require slow and frequent perusal, and become companions. Somehow or other, +in remarking that even in dumb inanimate things the man was averse to +change, and had the habit of attaching himself to whatever was connected +with old associations, you might guess that he clung with pertinacity to +affections more important, and you could better comprehend the freshness of +his friendship for one so dissimilar in pursuits and character as Audley +Egerton. An affection once admitted into the heart of Harley L'Estrange, +seemed never to be questioned or reasoned with: it became tacitly fixed, as +it were, into his own nature; and little less than a revolution of his +whole system could dislodge or disturb it.</p> + +<p>Lord L'Estrange's hand rested now upon a letter in a stiff legible Italian +character; and instead of disposing of it at once, as he had done with the +rest, he spread it before him, and re-read the contents. It was a letter +from Riccabocca, received a few weeks since, and ran thus:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Letter from Signor Riccabocca to Lord Estrange.</i></p> + +<p>"I thank you, my noble friend, for judging of me with +faith in my honor, and respect for my reverses.</p> + +<p>"No, and thrice no to all concessions, all overtures, +all treaty with Giulio Franzini. I write the name, and +my emotions choke me. I must pause and cool back into +disdain. It is over. Pass from that subject. But you +have alarmed me. This sister! I have not seen her since +her childhood; and she was brought up under his +influence—she can but work as his agent. She wish to +learn my residence! it can be but for some hostile and +malignant purpose. I may trust in you. I know that. You +say I may trust equally in the discretion of your +friend. Pardon me—my confidence is not so elastic. A +word may give the clue to my retreat. But, if +discovered, what harm can ensue? An English roof +protects me from Austrian despotism; true; but not the +brazen tower of Danaë could protect me from Italian +craft. And were there nothing worse, it would be +intolerable to me to live under the eyes of a +relentless spy. Truly saith our proverb, 'He sleeps ill +for whom the enemy wakes.' Look you, my friend, I have +done with my old life—I wish to cast it from me as a +snake its skin. I have denied myself all that exiles +deem consolation. No pity for misfortune, no messages +from sympathizing friendship, no news from a lost and +bereaved country follow me to my hearth under the skies +of the stranger. From all these I have voluntarily cut +myself off. I am as dead to the life I once lived as if +the Styx rolled between <i>it</i> and me. With that +sternness which is admissible only to the afflicted, I +have denied myself even the consolation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_535" id="Page_535">[Pg 535]</a></span> of your +visits. I have told you fairly and simply that your +presence would unsettle all my enforced and infirm +philosophy, and remind me only of the past, which I +seek to blot from remembrance. You have complied on the +one condition, that whenever I really want your aid I +will ask it; and, meanwhile, you have generously sought +to obtain me justice from the cabinets of ministers and +in the courts of kings. I did not refuse your heart +this luxury; for I have a child—(Ah! I have taught +that child already to revere your name, and in her +prayers it is not forgotten.) But now that you are +convinced that even your zeal is unavailing, I ask you +to discontinue attempts that may but bring the spy upon +my track, and involve me in new misfortunes. Believe +me, O brilliant Englishman, that I am satisfied and +contented with my lot. I am sure it would not be for my +happiness to change it. 'Chi non ha provato il male non +conosce il bene.' ('One does not know when one is well +off till one has known misfortune.') You ask me how I +live—I answer, <i>alla giornata</i>—to the day—not for +the morrow, as I did once. I have accustomed myself to +the calm existence of a village. I take interest in its +details. There is my wife, good creature, sitting +opposite to me, never asking what I write, or to whom, +but ready to throw aside her work and talk the moment +the pen is out of my hand. Talk—and what about? Heaven +knows! But I would rather hear that talk, though on the +affairs of a hamlet, than babble again with recreant +nobles and blundering professors about commonwealths +and constitutions. When I want to see how little those +last influence the happiness of wise men, have I not +Machiavel and Thucydides? Then, by-and-by, the Parson +will drop in, and we argue. He never knows when he is +beaten, so the argument is everlasting. On fine days I +ramble out by a winding rill with my Violante, or +stroll to my friend the Squire's, and see how healthful +a thing is true pleasure; and on wet days I shut myself +up, and mope, perhaps, till, hark! a gentle tap at the +door, and in comes Violante, with her dark eyes that +shine out through reproachful tears—reproachful that I +should mourn alone, while she is under my roof—so she +puts her arms round me, and in five minutes all is +sunshine within. What care we for your English gray +clouds without?</p> + +<p>"Leave me, my dear Lord—leave me to this quiet happy +passage towards old age, serener than the youth that I +wasted so wildly: and guard well the secret on which my +happiness depends.</p> + +<p>"Now to yourself, before I close. Of that same +<i>yourself</i> you speak too little, as of me too much. But +I so well comprehend the profound melancholy that lies +underneath the wild and fanciful humor with which you +but suggest, as in sport, what you feel so in earnest. +The laborious solitude of cities weighs on you. You are +flying back to the <i>dolce far niente</i>—to friends few, +but intimate; to life monotonous, but unrestrained; and +even there the sense of loneliness will again seize +upon you; and you do not seek, as I do, the +annihilation of memory; your dead passions are turned +to ghosts that haunt you, and unfit you for the living +world. I see it all—I see it still, in your hurried +fantastic lines, as I saw it when we two sat amidst the +pines and beheld the blue lake stretched below. I +troubled by the shadow of the Future, you disturbed by +that of the Past.</p> + +<p>"Well, but you say, half-seriously, half in jest, 'I +<i>will</i> escape from this prison-house of memory; I will +form new ties, like other men, and before it be too +late; I <i>will</i> marry—aye, but I must love—there is +the difficulty'—difficulty—yes, and heaven be thanked +for it! Recall all the unhappy marriages that have come +to your knowledge—pray have not eighteen out of twenty +been marriages for love? It always has been so, and it +always will. Because, whenever we love deeply, we exact +so much and forgive so little. Be content to find some +one with whom your hearth and your honor are safe. You +will grow to love what never wounds your heart—you +will soon grow out of love with what must always +disappoint your imagination. <i>Cospetto!</i> I wish my +Jemima had a younger sister for you. Yet it was with a +deep groan that I settled myself to a—Jemima.</p> + +<p>"Now, I have written you a long letter, to prove how +little I need of your compassion or your zeal. Once +more let there be long silence between us. It is not +easy for me to correspond with a man of your rank, and +not incur the curious gossip of my still little pool of +a world which the splash of a pebble can break into +circles. I must take this over to a post-town some ten +miles off, and drop it into the box by stealth.</p> + +<p>"Adieu, dear and noble friend, gentlest heart and +subtlest fancy that I have met in my walk through life. +Adieu—write me word when you have abandoned a +day-dream and found a Jemima.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Alphonso.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"<i>P. S.</i>—For heaven's sake caution and re-caution your +friend the minister, not to drop a word to this woman +that may betray my hiding-place."</p></div> + +<p>"Is he really happy?" murmured Harley as he closed the letter; and he sank +for a few moments into a reverie.</p> + +<p>"This life in a village—this wife in a lady who puts down her work to talk +about villagers—what a contrast to Audley's full existence. And I can +never envy nor comprehend either—yet my own—what is it?"</p> + +<p>He rose, and moved towards the window, from which a rustic stair descended +to a green lawn—studded with larger trees than are often found in the +grounds of a suburban residence. There were calm and coolness in the sight, +and one could scarcely have supposed that London lay so near.</p> + +<p>The door opened softly, and a lady past<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_536" id="Page_536">[Pg 536]</a></span> middle age, entered; and, +approaching Harley, as he still stood musing by the window, laid her hand +on his shoulder. What character there is in a hand! Hers was a hand that +Titian would have painted with elaborate care! Thin, white, and +delicate—with the blue veins raised from the surface. Yet there was +something more than mere patrician elegance in the form and texture. A true +physiologist would have said at once, "there are intellect and pride in +that hand, which seems to fix a hold where it rests; and, lying so lightly, +yet will not be as lightly shaken off."</p> + +<p>"Harley," said the lady—and Harley turned—"you do not deceive me by that +smile," she continued sadly; "you were not smiling when I entered."</p> + +<p>"It is rarely that we smile to ourselves, my dear mother; and I have done +nothing lately so foolish as to cause me to smile <i>at</i> myself."</p> + +<p>"My son," said Lady Lansmere, somewhat abruptly, but with great +earnestness, "you come from a line of illustrious ancestors; and methinks +they ask from their tombs why the last of their race has no aim and no +object—no interest—no home in the land which they served, and which +rewarded them with its honors."</p> + +<p>"Mother," said the soldier simply, "when the land was in danger I served it +as my forefathers served—and my answer would be the scars on my breast."</p> + +<p>"Is it only in danger that a country is served—only in war that duty is +fulfilled? Do you think that your father, in his plain manly life of +country gentleman, does not fulfil, though obscurely, the objects for which +aristocracy is created and wealth is bestowed?"</p> + +<p>"Doubtless he does, ma'am—and better than his vagrant son ever can."</p> + +<p>"Yet his vagrant son has received such gifts from nature—his youth was so +rich in promise—his boyhood so glowed at the dream of glory?—"</p> + +<p>"Ay," said Harley very softly, "it is possible—and all to be buried in a +single grave!"</p> + +<p>The Countess started, and withdrew her hand from Harley's shoulder.</p> + +<p>Lady Lansmere's countenance was not one that much varied in expression. She +had in this, as in her cast of feature, little resemblance to her son.</p> + +<p>Her features were slightly aquiline—the eyebrows of that arch which gives +a certain majesty to the aspect: the lines round the mouth were habitually +rigid and compressed. Her face was that of one who had gone through great +emotion and subdued it. There was something formal, and even ascetic, in +the character of her beauty, which was still considerable;—in her air and +in her dress. She might have suggested to you the idea of some Gothic +baroness of old, half chatelaine, half abbess; you would see at a glance +that she did not live in the light world round her, and disdained its +fashion and its mode of thought; yet with all this rigidity it was still +the face of the woman who has known human ties and human affections. And +now, as she gazed long on Harley's quiet, saddened brow, it was the face of +a mother.</p> + +<p>"A single grave," she said, after a long pause. "And you were then but a +boy, Harley! Can such a memory influence you even to this day? It is +scarcely possible; it does not seem to me within the realities of man's +life—though it might be of woman's."</p> + +<p>"I believe," said Harley, half soliloquising, "that I have a great deal of +the woman in me. Perhaps men who live much alone, and care not for men's +objects, do grow tenacious of impressions, as your sex does. But oh," he +cried aloud, and with a sudden change of countenance, "oh, the hardest and +the coldest man would have felt as I do, had he known <i>her</i>—had he loved +<i>her</i>. She was like no other woman I have ever met. Bright and glorious +creature of another sphere! She descended on this earth, and darkened it +when she passed away. It is no use striving. Mother, I have as much courage +as our steel-clad fathers ever had. I have dared in battle and in +deserts—against man and the wild beast—against the storm and the +ocean—against the rude powers of Nature—dangers as dread as ever pilgrim +or Crusader rejoiced to brave. But courage against that one memory! no, I +have not!"</p> + +<p>"Harley, Harley, you break my heart!" cried the Countess, clasping her +hands.</p> + +<p>"It is astonishing," continued her son, so wrapped in his own thoughts that +he did not perhaps hear her outcry—"yea, verily, it is astonishing, that +considering the thousands of women I have seen and spoken with, I never see +a face like hers—never hear a voice so sweet. And all this universe of +life cannot afford me one look and one tone that can restore me to man's +privilege—love. Well, well, well, life has other things yet—Poetry and +Art live still—still smiles the heaven, and still wave the trees. Leave me +to happiness in my own way."</p> + +<p>The Countess was about to reply, when the door was thrown hastily open, and +Lord Lansmere walked in.</p> + +<p>The Earl was some years older than the Countess, but his placid face showed +less wear and tear; a benevolent, kindly face—without any evidence of +commanding intellect, but with no lack of sense in its pleasant lines. His +form not tall, but upright, and with an air of consequence—a little +pompous, but good-humoredly so. The pomposity of the <i>Grand Seigneur</i>, who +has lived much in provinces—whose will has been rarely disputed, and whose +importance has been so felt and acknowledged as to react insensibly on +himself; an excellent man: but when you glanced towards the high brow and +dark eye of the Countess, you marvelled a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_537" id="Page_537">[Pg 537]</a></span> how the two had come +together, and, according to common report, lived so happily in the union.</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho! my dear Harley," cried Lansmere, rubbing his hands with an +appearance of much satisfaction, "I have just been paying a visit to the +Duchess."</p> + +<p>"What Duchess, my dear father?"</p> + +<p>"Why, your mother's first cousin, to be sure—the Duchess of Knaresborough, +whom, to oblige me, you condescended to call upon; and delighted I am to +hear that you admire Lady Mary—"</p> + +<p>"She is very high-bred, and rather-high-nosed," answered Harley. Then +observing that his mother looked pained, and his father disconcerted, he +added seriously, "But handsome certainly."</p> + +<p>"Well, Harley," said the Earl, recovering himself, "the Duchess, taking +advantage of our connection to speak freely, had intimated to me that Lady +Mary has been no less struck with yourself; and to come to the point, since +you allow that it is time you should think of marrying, I do not know a +more desirable alliance. What do you say, Catherine?"</p> + +<p>"The Duke is of a family that ranks in history before the Wars of the +Roses," said Lady Lansmere, with an air of deference to her husband; "and +there has never been one scandal in its annals, or one blot in its +scutcheon. But I am sure my dear Lord must think that the Duchess should +not have made the first overture—even to a friend and a kinsman?"</p> + +<p>"Why, we are old-fashioned people," said the Earl rather embarrassed, "and +the Duchess is a woman of the world."</p> + +<p>"Let us hope," said the Countess mildly, "that her daughter is not."</p> + +<p>"I would not marry Lady Mary, if all the rest of the female sex were turned +into apes," said Lord L'Estrange, with deliberate fervor.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens!" cried the Earl, "what extraordinary language is this! And +pray why, sir?"</p> + +<p><i>Harley.</i>—"I can't say—there is no why in these cases. But, my dear +father, you are not keeping faith with me."</p> + +<p><i>Lord Lansmere.</i>—"How?"</p> + +<p><i>Harley.</i>—"You and my Lady here entreat me to marry—I promise to do my +best to obey you; but on one condition—that I choose for myself, and take +my time about it. Agreed on both sides. Whereon, off goes your +Lordship—actually before noon, at an hour when no lady without a shudder +could think of cold blonde and damp orange flowers—off goes your Lordship, +I say, and commits poor Lady Mary and your unworthy son to a mutual +admiration—which neither of us ever felt. Pardon me, my father—but this +is grave. Again let me claim your promise—full choice for myself, and no +reference to the Wars of the Roses. What war of the roses like that between +Modesty and Love upon the cheek of the virgin!"</p> + +<p><i>Lady Lansmere.</i>—"Full choice for yourself, Harley;—so be it. But we, +too, named a condition—Did we not, Lansmere?"</p> + +<p>The <i>Earl</i> (puzzled).—"Eh—did we! Certainly we did."</p> + +<p><i>Harley.</i>—"What was it?"</p> + +<p><i>Lady Lansmere.</i>—"The son of Lord Lansmere can only marry the daughter of +a gentleman."</p> + +<p>The <i>Earl.</i>—"Of course—of course."</p> + +<p>The blood rushed over Harley's fair face, and then as suddenly left it +pale.</p> + +<p>He walked away to the window—his mother followed him, and again laid her +hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You were cruel," said he gently and in a whisper, as he winced under the +touch of the hand. Then turning to the Earl, who was gazing at him in blank +surprise—(it never occurred to Lord Lansmere that there could be a doubt +of his son's marrying beneath the rank modestly stated by the +Countess)—Harley stretched forth his hand, and said, in his soft winning +tone, "you have ever been most gracious to me, and most forbearing; it is +but just that I should sacrifice the habits of an egotist, to gratify a +wish which you so warmly entertain. I agree with you, too, that our race +should not close in me—<i>Noblesse oblige</i>. But you know I was ever +romantic; and I must love where I marry—or, if not love, I must feel that +my wife is worthy of all the love I could once have bestowed. Now, as to +the vague word 'gentleman' that my mother employs—word that means so +differently on different lips—I confess that I have a prejudice against +young ladies brought up in the 'excellent foppery of the world,' as the +daughters of gentlemen of our rank mostly are. I crave, therefore, the most +liberal interpretation of this word 'gentleman.' And so long as there be +nothing mean or sordid in the birth, habits, and education of the father of +this bride to be, I trust you will both agree to demand nothing +more—neither titles nor pedigree."</p> + +<p>"Titles, no—assuredly," said Lady Lansmere; "they do not make gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said the Earl. "Many of our best families are untitled."</p> + +<p>"Titles—no," repeated Lady Lansmere; "but ancestors—yes."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my mother," said Harley with his most sad and quiet smile, "it is +fated that we shall never agree. The first of our race is ever the one we +are most proud of; and pray, what ancestors had he? Beauty, virtue, +modesty, intellect—if these are not nobility enough for a man, he is a +slave to the dead."</p> + +<p>With these words Harley took up his hat and made towards the door.</p> + +<p>"You said yourself, '<i>Noblesse oblige</i>,'" said the Countess, following him +to the threshold; "we have nothing more to add."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_538" id="Page_538">[Pg 538]</a></span></p> + +<p>Harley slightly shrugged his shoulders, kissed his mother's hand, whistled +to Nero, who started up from a doze by the window, and went his way.</p> + +<p>"Does he really go abroad next week?" said the Earl.</p> + +<p>"So he says."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid there is no chance for Lady Mary," resumed Lord Lansmere, with +a slight but melancholy smile.</p> + +<p>"She has not intellect enough to charm him. She is not worthy of Harley," +said the proud mother.</p> + +<p>"Between you and me," rejoined the Earl, rather timidly, "I don't see what +good his intellect does him. He could not be more unsettled and useless if +he were the merest dunce in the three kingdoms. And so ambitious as he was +when a boy! Catherine, I sometimes fancy that you know what changed him."</p> + +<p>"I! Nay, my dear Lord, it is a common change enough with the young, when of +such fortunes; who find, when they enter life, that there is really little +left for them to strive for. Had Harley been a poor man's son, it might +have been different."</p> + +<p>"I was born to the same fortunes as Harley," said the Earl, shrewdly, "and +yet I flatter myself I am of some use to old England."</p> + +<p>The Countess seized upon the occasion, complimented her Lord, and turned +the subject.</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XVII.</h4> + +<p>Harley spent his day in his usual desultory, lounging manner—dined in his +quiet corner at his favorite club—Nero, not admitted into the club, +patiently waited for him outside the door. The dinner over, dog and man, +equally indifferent to the crowd, sauntered down that thoroughfare which, +to the few who can comprehend the Poetry of London, has associations of +glory and of woe sublime as any that the ruins of the dead elder world can +furnish—thoroughfare that traverses what was once the courtyard of +Whitehall, having to its left the site of the palace that lodged the +royalty of Scotland—gains, through a narrow strait, that old isle of +Thorney, in which Edward the Confessor received the ominous visit of the +Conqueror—and, widening once more by the Abbey and the Hall of +Westminster, then loses itself, like all memories of earthly grandeur, +amidst humble passages and mean defiles.</p> + +<p>Thus thought Harley L'Estrange—ever less amidst the actual world around +him, than the images invoked by his own solitary soul—as he gained the +bridge, and saw the dull lifeless craft sleeping on the "Silent Way," once +loud and glittering with the gilded barks of the antique Seignorie of +England.</p> + +<p>It was on that bridge that Audley Egerton had appointed to meet L'Estrange, +at an hour when he calculated he could best steal a respite from debate. +For Harley, with his fastidious dislike to all the resorts of his equals, +had declined to seek his friend in the crowded regions of Bellamy's.</p> + +<p>Harley's eye, as he passed along the bridge, was attracted by a still form, +seated on the stones in one of the nooks, with its face covered by its +hands. "If I were a sculptor," said he to himself, "I should remember that +image whenever I wished to convey the idea of <i>despondency</i>!" He lifted his +looks and saw, a little before him in the midst of the causeway, the firm +erect figure of Audley Egerton. The moonlight was full on the bronzed +countenance of the strong public man,—with its lines of thought and care, +and its vigorous but cold expression of intense self-control.</p> + +<p>"And looking yonder," continued Harley's soliloquy, "I should remember that +form, when I wished to hew out from the granite the idea of <i>Endurance</i>."</p> + +<p>"So you are come, and punctually," said Egerton, linking his arm in +Harley's.</p> + +<p><i>Harley.</i>—"Punctually, of course, for I respect your time, and I will not +detain you long. I presume you will speak to-night."</p> + +<p><i>Egerton.</i>—"I have spoken."</p> + +<p><i>Harley</i>, (with interest.)—"And well, I hope."</p> + +<p><i>Egerton.</i>—"With effect, I suppose, for I have been loudly cheered, which +does not always happen to me."</p> + +<p><i>Harley.</i>—"And that gave you pleasure?"</p> + +<p><i>Egerton</i>, (after a moment's thought.)—"No, not the least."</p> + +<p><i>Harley.</i>—"What, then, attaches you so much to this life—constant +drudgery, constant warfare—the more pleasurable faculties dormant, all the +harsher ones aroused, if even its rewards (and I take the best of those to +be applause) do not please you?"</p> + +<p><i>Egerton.</i>—"What?—custom."</p> + +<p><i>Harley.</i>—"Martyr!"</p> + +<p><i>Egerton.</i>—"You say it. But turn to yourself; you have decided, then, to +leave England next week."</p> + +<p><i>Harley</i>, (moodily.)—"Yes. This life in a capital, where all are so +active, myself so objectless, preys on me like a low fever. Nothing here +amuses me, nothing interests, nothing comforts and consoles. But I am +resolved, before it be too late, to make one great struggle out of the +Past, and into the natural world of men. In a word, I have resolved to +marry."</p> + +<p><i>Egerton.</i>—"Whom?"</p> + +<p><i>Harley</i>, (seriously.)—"Upon my life, my dear fellow, you are a great +philosopher. You have hit the exact question. You see I cannot marry a +dream; and where out of dreams, shall I find this 'whom?'"</p> + +<p><i>Egerton.</i>—"You do not search for her."</p> + +<p><i>Harley.</i>—"Do we ever search for love? Does it not flash upon us when we +least expect it? Is it not like the inspiration to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_539" id="Page_539">[Pg 539]</a></span> muse? What poet +sits down and says, 'I will write a poem?' What man looks out and says, 'I +will fall in love.' No! Happiness, as the great German tells us, 'falls +suddenly from the bosom of the gods;' so does love."</p> + +<p><i>Egerton.</i>—"You remember the old line in Horace: 'Life's tide flows away, +while the boor sits on the margin and waits for the ford.'"</p> + +<p><i>Harley.</i>—"An idea which incidentally dropped from you some weeks ago, and +which I had before half meditated, has since haunted me. If I could but +find some child with sweet dispositions and fair intellect not yet formed, +and train her up, according to my ideal. I am still young enough to wait a +few years, and meanwhile I shall have gained what I so sadly want—an +object in life."</p> + +<p><i>Egerton.</i>—"You are ever the child of romance. But what"—</p> + +<p>Here the minister was interrupted by a messenger from the House of Commons, +whom Audley had instructed to seek him on the bridge should his presence be +required—</p> + +<p>"Sir, the opposition are taking advantage of the thinness of the House to +call for a division, Mr. —— is put up to speak for time, but they won't +hear him."</p> + +<p>Egerton turned hastily to Lord L'Estrange, "You see you must excuse me now. +To-morrow I must go to Windsor for two days; but we shall meet on my +return."</p> + +<p>"It does not matter,"' answered Harley; "I stand out of the pale of your +advice, O practical man of sense. And if," added Harley with affectionate +and mournful sweetness—"If I worry you with complaints which you cannot +understand, it is only because of old school-boy habits. I can have no +trouble that I do not confide in you."</p> + +<p>Egerton's hand trembled as it pressed his friend's; and, without a word, he +hurried away abruptly. Harley remained motionless for some seconds, in deep +and quiet reverie; then he called to his dog, and turned back towards +Westminster.</p> + +<p>He passed the nook in which had sat the still figure of Despondency. But +the figure had now risen, and was leaning against the balustrade. The dog +who had preceded his master paused by the solitary form, and sniffed it +suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Nero, sir, come here," said Harley.</p> + +<p>"Nero," that was the name by which Helen had said that her father's friend +had called his dog. And the sound startled Leonard as he leant, sick at +heart, against the stone, he lifted his head and looked wistfully, eagerly, +into Harley's face. Those eyes, bright, clear, yet so strangely deep and +absent, which Helen had described, met his own, and chained them. For +L'Estrange halted also; the boy's countenance was not unfamiliar to him. He +returned the inquiring look fixed on his own, and recognized the student by +the book-stall.</p> + +<p>"The dog is quite harmless, sir," said L'Estrange, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"And you called him Nero?" said Leonard, still gazing on the stranger.</p> + +<p>Harley mistook the drift of the question.</p> + +<p>"Nero, sir; but he is free from the sanguinary propensities of his Roman +namesake." Harley was about to pass on, when Leonard said falteringly,—</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, but can it be possible that you are one whom I have sought in +vain, on behalf of the child of Captain Digby?"</p> + +<p>Harley stopped short. "Digby!" he exclaimed, "where is he? He should have +found me easily. I gave him an address."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Heaven be thanked," cried Leonard. "Helen is saved; she will not die;" +and he burst into tears.</p> + +<p>A very few moments, and a very few words sufficed to explain to Harley the +state of his old fellow-soldier's orphan. And Harley himself soon stood in +the young sufferer's room, supporting her burning temples on his breast, +and whispering into ears that heard him, as in a happy dream, "Comfort, +comfort; your father yet lives in me."</p> + +<p>And then Helen, raising her eyes, said "But Leonard is my brother—more +than brother—and he needs a father's care more than I do."</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, Helen. I need no one—nothing now!" cried Leonard; and his +tears gushed over the little hand that clasped his own.</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XVIII.</h4> + +<p>Harley L'Estrange was a man whom all things that belong to the romantic and +poetic side of our human life deeply impressed. When he came to learn the +tie between these two children of nature, standing side by side, alone +amidst the storms of fate, his heart was more deeply moved than it had been +for many years. In those dreary attics, overshadowed by the smoke and reek +of the humble suburb—the workday world in its harshest and tritest forms +below and around them—he recognized that divine poem which comes out from +all union between the mind and the heart. Here, on the rough deal table, +(the ink scarcely dry,) lay the writings of the young wrestler for fame and +bread; there, on the other side the partition, on that mean pallet, lay the +boy's sole comforter—the all that warmed his heart with living mortal +affection. On one side the wall, the world of imagination; on the other +this world of grief and of love. And in both, a spirit equally +sublime—unselfish Devotion—"the something afar from the sphere of our +sorrow."</p> + +<p>He looked round the room into which he had followed Leonard, on quitting +Helen's bedside. He noted the MSS. on the table, and, pointing to them, +said gently, "And these are the labors by which you supported the soldier's +orphan?—soldier yourself, in a hard battle!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_540" id="Page_540">[Pg 540]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The battle was lost—I could not support her," replied Leonard mournfully.</p> + +<p>"But you did not desert her. When Pandora's box was opened, they say Hope +lingered last——"</p> + +<p>"False, false," said Leonard; "a heathen's notion. There are deities that +linger behind Hope;—Gratitude, Love, and Duty."</p> + +<p>"Yours is no common nature," exclaimed Harley, admiringly, "but I must +sound it more deeply hereafter; at present I hasten for the physician; I +shall return with him. We must move that poor child from this low close air +as soon as possible. Meanwhile, let me qualify your rejection of the old +fable. Wherever Gratitude, Love, and Duty remain to man, believe me that +Hope is there too, though she may be oft invisible, hidden behind the +sheltering wings of the nobler deities."</p> + +<p>Harley said this with that wondrous smile of his, which cast a brightness +over the whole room—and went away.</p> + +<p>Leonard stole softly towards the grimy window; and looking up towards the +stars that shone pale over the roof-tops, he murmured, "O thou, the +All-seeing and All-merciful!—how it comforts me now to think that though +my dreams of knowledge may have sometimes obscured the Heaven, I never +doubted that Thou wert there!—as luminous and everlasting, though behind +the cloud!" So, for a few minutes, he prayed silently—then passed into +Helen's room, and sat beside her motionless, for she slept. She woke just +as Harley returned with a physician, and then Leonard, returning to his own +room, saw amongst his papers the letter he had written to Mr. Dale; and +muttering, "I need not disgrace my calling—I need not be the mendicant +now"—held the letter to the flame of the candle. And while he said this, +and as the burning tinder dropped on the floor, the sharp hunger, unfelt +during his late anxious emotion, gnawed at his entrails. Still even hunger +could not reach that noble pride which had yielded to a sentiment nobler +than itself—and he smiled as he repeated, "No mendicant!—the life that I +was sworn to guard is saved. I can raise against Fate the front of the Man +once more."</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XIX.</h4> + +<p>A few days afterwards, and Helen, removed to a pure air, and under the +advice of the first physicians, was out of all danger.</p> + +<p>It was a pretty detached cottage, with its windows looking over the wild +heaths of Norwood, to which Harley rode daily to watch the convalescence of +his young charge—an object in life was already found. As she grew better +and stronger, he coaxed her easily into talking, and listened to her with +pleased surprise. The heart so infantine, and the sense so womanly, struck +him much by its rare contrast and combination. Leonard, whom he had +insisted on placing also in the cottage, had stayed there willingly till +Helen's recovery was beyond question. Then he came to Lord L'Estrange, as +the latter was about one day to leave the cottage, and said quietly, "Now, +my Lord, that Helen is safe, and now that she will need me no more, I can +no longer be a pensioner on your bounty. I return to London."</p> + +<p>"You are my visitor—not my pensioner, foolish boy," said Harley, who had +already noticed the pride which spoke in that farewell; "come into the +garden, and let us talk."</p> + +<p>Harley seated himself on a bench on the little lawn; Nero crouched at his +feet; Leonard stood beside him.</p> + +<p>"So," said Lord L'Estrange, "you would return to London!—What to do?"</p> + +<p>"Fulfil my fate."</p> + +<p>"And that?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot guess. Fate is the Isis whose veil no mortal can ever raise."</p> + +<p>"You should be born for great things," said Harley, abruptly. "I am sure +that you write well. I have seen that you study with passion. Better than +writing and better than study, you have a noble heart, and the proud desire +of independence. Let me see your MSS., or any copies of what you have +already printed. Do not hesitate—I ask but to be a reader. I don't pretend +to be a patron; it is a word I hate."</p> + +<p>Leonard's eyes sparkled through their sudden moisture. He brought out his +portfolio, placed it on the bench beside Harley, and then went softly to +the further part of the garden. Nero looked after him, and then rose and +followed him slowly. The boy seated himself on the turf, and Nero rested +his dull head on the loud heart of the poet.</p> + +<p>Harley took up the various papers before him and read them through +leisurely. Certainly he was no critic. He was not accustomed to analyse +what pleased or displeased him; but his perceptions were quick, and his +taste exquisite. As he read, his countenance, always so genuinely +expressive, exhibited now doubt and now admiration. He was soon struck by +the contrast in the boy's writings; between the pieces that sported with +fancy, and those that grappled with thought. In the first, the young poet +seemed so unconscious of his own individuality. His imagination, afar and +aloft from the scenes of his suffering, ran riot amidst a paradise of happy +golden creations. But in the last, the <span class="smcap">THINKER</span> stood out alone and +mournful, questioning, in troubled sorrow, the hard world on which he +gazed. All in the thought was unsettled, tumultuous; all in the fancy, +serene, and peaceful. The genius seemed divided into twain shapes; the one +bathing its wings amidst the starry dews of heaven; the other wandering +"melancholy, slow," amidst desolate and boundless sands. Harley gently laid +down the paper and mused a little while. Then he rose and walked to +Leonard, gazing on his countenance as he neared the boy, with a new and +deeper interest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_541" id="Page_541">[Pg 541]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have read your papers," he said, "and recognize in them two men, +belonging to two worlds, essentially distinct."</p> + +<p>Leonard started, and murmured, "True, true!"</p> + +<p>"I apprehend," resumed Harley, "that one of these men must either destroy +the other, or that the two must become fused and harmonized into a single +existence. Get your hat, mount my groom's horse, and come with me to +London; we will converse by the way. Look you, I believe you and I agree in +this, that the first object of every noble spirit is independence. It is +towards this independence that I alone presume to assist you; and this is a +service which the proudest man can receive without a blush."</p> + +<p>Leonard lifted his eyes towards Harley's, and those eyes swam with grateful +tears; but his heart was too full to answer.</p> + +<p>"I am not one of those," said Harley, when they were on the road, "who +think that because a young man writes poetry he is fit for nothing else, +and that he must be a poet or a pauper. I have said that in you there seem +to me to be two men, the man of the Ideal world, the man of the Actual. To +each of these men I can offer a separate career. The first is perhaps the +more tempting. It is the interest of the state to draw into its service all +the talent and industry it can obtain; and under his native state every +citizen of a free country should be proud to take service. I have a friend +who is a minister, and who is known to encourage talent—Audley Egerton. I +have but to say to him, 'There is a young man who will well repay to the +government whatever the government bestows on him' and you will rise +to-morrow independent in means, and with fair occasions to attain to +fortune and distinction. This is one offer, what say you to it?"</p> + +<p>Leonard thought bitterly of his interview with Audley Egerton, and the +minister's proffered crown-piece. He shook his head and replied—</p> + +<p>"Oh, my lord, how have I deserved such kindness? Do with me what you will; +but if I have the option, I would rather follow my own calling. This is not +the ambition that inflames me."</p> + +<p>"Hear, then, the other offer. I have a friend with whom I am less intimate +than Egerton, and who has nothing in his gift to bestow. I speak of a man +of letters—Henry Norreys—of whom you have doubtless heard, who, I should +say, conceived an interest in you when he observed you reading at the +book-stall. I have often heard him say, that literature as a profession is +misunderstood, and that rightly followed, with the same pains and the same +prudence which are brought to bear on other professions, a competence at +least can be always ultimately obtained. But the way may be long and +tedious—and it leads to no power but over thought; it rarely attains to +wealth; and, though <i>reputation</i> may be certain, <i>Fame</i>, such as poets +dream of, is the lot of few. What say you to this course?"</p> + +<p>"My lord, I decide," said Leonard, firmly; and then his young face lighting +up with enthusiasm, he exclaimed. "Yes, if, as you say, there be two men +within me, I feel, that were I condemned wholly to the mechanical and +practical world, one would indeed destroy the other. And the conqueror +would be the ruder and the coarser. Let me pursue those ideas that, though +they have but flitted across me vague and formless—have ever soared +towards the sunlight. No matter whether or not they lead to fortune or to +fame, at least they will lead me upward! Knowledge for itself I +desire—what care I, if it be not power?"</p> + +<p>"Enough," said Harley, with a pleased smile at his young companion's +outburst. "As you decide so shall it be settled. And now permit me, if not +impertinent, to ask you a few questions. Your name is Leonard Fairfield?"</p> + +<p>The boy blushed deeply, and bowed his head as if in assent.</p> + +<p>"Helen says you are self-taught; for the rest she refers me to +you—thinking, perhaps, that I should esteem you less—rather than yet more +highly—if she said you were, as I presume to conjecture, of humble birth."</p> + +<p>"My birth," said Leonard, slowly, "is very—very—humble."</p> + +<p>"The name of Fairfield is not unknown to me. There was one of that name who +married into a family in Lansmere—married an Avenel—" continued +Harley—and his voice quivered. "You change countenance. Oh, could your +mother's name have been Avenel?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Leonard, between his set teeth. Harley laid his hand on the +boy's shoulder. "Then indeed I have a claim on you—then, indeed, we are +friends. I have a right to serve any of that family."</p> + +<p>Leonard looked at him in surprise—"For," continued Harley, recovering +himself, "they always served my family; and my recollections of Lansmere, +though boyish, are indelible." He spurred on his horse as the words +closed—and again there was a long pause; but from that time Harley always +spoke to Leonard in a soft voice, and often gazed on him with earnest and +kindly eyes.</p> + +<p>They reached a house in a central, though not fashionable street. A +man-servant of a singularly grave and awful aspect opened the door; a man +who had lived all his life with authors. Poor devil, he was indeed +prematurely old! The care on his lip and the pomp on his brow—no mortal's +pen can describe!</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Norreys at home?" asked Harley.</p> + +<p>"He is at home—to his friends, my lord," answered the man, majestically; +and he stalked across the hall with the step of a Dangeau ushering some +Montmorenci to the presence of <i>Louis le Grand</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_542" id="Page_542">[Pg 542]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Stay—show this gentleman into another room. I will go first into the +library; wait for me, Leonard." The man nodded, and ushered Leonard into +the dining-room. Then pausing before the door of the library, and listening +an instant, as if fearful to disturb some mood of inspiration, opened it +very softly. To his ineffable disgust, Harley pushed before, and entered +abruptly. It was a large room, lined with books from the floor to the +ceiling. Books were on all the tables—books were on all the chairs. Harley +seated himself on a folio of Raleigh's History of the World, and cried—</p> + +<p>"I have brought you a treasure!"</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said Norreys, good-humoredly, looking up from his desk.</p> + +<p>"A mind!"</p> + +<p>"A mind!" echoed Norreys, vaguely. "Your own?"</p> + +<p>"Pooh—I have none—I have only a heart and a fancy. Listen. You remember +the boy we saw reading at the book-stall. I have caught him for you, and +you shall train him into a man. I have the warmest interest in his +future—for I knew some of his family—and one of that family was very dear +to me. As for money, he has not a shilling, and not a shilling would he +accept gratis from you or me either. But he comes with bold heart to +work—and work you must find him." Harley then rapidly told his friend of +the two offers he had made to Leonard—and Leonard's choice.</p> + +<p>"This promises very well; for letters a man must have a strong vocation as +he should have for law—I will do all that you wish."</p> + +<p>Harley rose with alertness—shook Norreys cordially by the hand—hurried +out of the room, and returned with Leonard.</p> + +<p>Mr. Norreys eyed the young man with attention. He was naturally rather +severe than cordial in his manner to strangers—contrasting in this, as in +most things, the poor vagabond Burley. But he was a good judge of the human +countenance, and he liked Leonard's. After a pause he held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said he, "Lord L'Estrange tells me that you wish to enter literature +as a calling, and no doubt to study it is an art. I may help you in this, +and you meanwhile can help me. I want an amanuensis—I offer you that +place. The salary will be proportioned to the services you will render me. +I have a room in my house at your disposal. When I first came up to London, +I made the same choice that I hear you have done. I have no cause, even in +a worldly point of view, to repent my choice. It gave me an income larger +than my wants. I trace my success to these maxims, which are applicable to +all professions—1st, Never to trust to genius—for what can be obtained by +labor; 2dly, Never to profess to teach what we have not studied to +understand; 3dly, Never to engage our word to what we do not do our best to +execute. With these rules literature, provided a man does not mistake his +vocation for it, and will, under good advice, go through the preliminary +discipline of natural powers, which all vocations require, is as good a +calling as any other. Without them a shoeblack's is infinitely better."</p> + +<p>"Possible enough," muttered Harley; "but there have been great writers who +observed none of your maxims."</p> + +<p>"Great writers, probably, but very unenviable men. My Lord, my Lord, don't +corrupt the pupil you bring to me." Harley smiled and took his departure, +and left Genius at school with Common Sense and Experience.</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XX.</h4> + +<p>While Leonard Fairfield had been obscurely wrestling against poverty, +neglect, hunger, and dread temptations, bright had been the opening day, +and smooth the upward path, of Randal Leslie. Certainly no young man, able +and ambitious, could enter life under fairer auspices; the connection and +avowed favorite of a popular and energetic statesman, the brilliant writer +of a political work, that had lifted him at once into a station of his +own—received and courted in those highest circles, to which neither rank +nor fortune alone suffices for a familiar passport—the circles above +fashion itself—the circles of power—with every facility of augmenting +information, and learning the world betimes through the talk of its +acknowledged masters,—Randal had but to move straight onward, and success +was sure. But his tortuous spirit delighted in scheme and intrigue for +their own sake. In scheme and intrigue he saw shorter paths to fortune, if +not to fame. His besetting sin was also his besetting weakness. He did not +aspire—he <i>coveted</i>. Though in a far higher social position than Frank +Hazeldean, despite the worldly prospects of his old school-fellow, he +coveted the very things that kept Frank Hazeldean below him—coveted his +idle gaieties, his careless pleasures, his very waste of youth. Thus, also, +Randal less aspired to Audley Egerton's repute than he coveted Audley +Egerton's wealth and pomp, his princely expenditure, and his Castle +Rackrent in Grosvenor Square. It was the misfortune of his birth to be so +near to both these fortunes—near to that of Leslie, as the future head of +that fallen house,—near even to that of Hazeldean, since as we have seen +before, if the Squire had had no son, Randal's descent from the Hazeldeans +suggested himself as the one on whom these broad lands should devolve. Most +young men, brought into intimate contact with Audley Egerton, would have +felt for that personage a certain loyal and admiring, if not very +affectionate, respect. For there was something grand in Egerton—something +that commands and fascinates the young. His determined courage, his +energetic will, his almost regal liberality, contrasting a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_543" id="Page_543">[Pg 543]</a></span> simplicity in +personal tastes and habits that was almost austere—his rare and seemingly +unconscious power of charming even the women most wearied of homage, and +persuading even the men most obdurate to counsel—all served to invest the +practical man with those spells which are usually confined to the ideal +one. But indeed, Audley Egerton was an Ideal—the ideal of the Practical. +Not the mere vulgar, plodding, red-tape machine of petty business, but the +man of strong sense, inspired by inflexible energy, and guided to definite +earthly objects. In a dissolute and corrupt form of government, under a +decrepit monarchy, or a vitiated republic, Audley Egerton might have been a +most dangerous citizen; for his ambition was so resolute, and his sight to +its ends was so clear. But there is something in public life in England +which compels the really ambitious man to honor, unless his eyes are +jaundiced and oblique like Randal Leslie's. It is so necessary in England +to be a gentleman. And thus Egerton was emphatically considered a +<i>gentleman</i>. Without the least pride in other matters, with little apparent +sensitiveness, touch him on the point of gentleman, and no one so sensitive +and so proud. As Randal saw more of him, and watched his moods with the +lynx eyes of the household spy, he could perceive that this hard mechanical +man was subject to fits of melancholy, even of gloom, and though they did +not last long, there was even in his habitual coldness an evidence of +something comprest, latent, painful, lying deep within his memory. This +would have interested the kindly feelings of a grateful heart. But Randal +detected and watched it only as a clue to some secret it might profit him +to gain. For Randal Leslie hated Egerton; and hated him the more because +with all his book knowledge and his conceit in his own talents, he could +not despise his patron—because he had not yet succeeded in making his +patron the mere tool or stepping-stone—because he thought that Egerton's +keen eye saw through his wily heart, even while, as if in profound disdain, +the minister helped the protégé. But this last suspicion was unsound. +Egerton had not detected Leslie's corrupt and treacherous nature. He might +have other reasons for keeping him at a certain distance, but he inquired +too little into Randal's feelings towards himself to question the +attachment, or doubt the sincerity of one who owed to him so much. But that +which more than all embittered Randal's feelings towards Egerton, was the +careful and deliberate frankness with which the latter had, more than once +repeated, and enforced the odious announcement, that Randal had nothing to +expect from the ministers—<span class="smcap">will</span>, nothing to expect from that wealth which +glared in the hungry eyes of the pauper heir to the Leslies of Rood. To +whom, then, could Egerton mean to devise his fortune? To whom but Frank +Hazeldean. Yet Audley took so little notice of his nephew—seemed so +indifferent to him, that that supposition, however natural, seemed exposed +to doubt. The astuteness of Randal was perplexed. Meanwhile, however, the +less he himself could rely upon Egerton for fortune, the more he revolved +the possible chances of ousting Frank from the inheritance of Hazeldean—in +part, at least, if not wholly. To one less scheming, crafty, and +remorseless than Randal Leslie with every day became more and more, such a +project would have seemed the wildest delusion. But there was something +fearful in the manner in which this young man sought to turn knowledge into +power, and make the study of all weakness in others subservient to his own +ends. He wormed himself thoroughly into Frank's confidence. He learned +through Frank all the Squire's peculiarities of thought and temper, and +thoroughly pondered over each word in the father's letters, which the son +gradually got into the habit of showing to the perfidious eyes of his +friend. Randal saw that the Squire had two characteristics which are very +common amongst proprietors, and which might be invoked as antagonists to +his warm fatherly love. First, the Squire was as fond of his estate as if +it were a living thing, and part of his own flesh and blood; and in his +lectures to Frank upon the sin of extravagance, the Squire always let out +this foible:—"What was to become of the estate if it fell into the hands +of a spendthrift? No man should make ducks and drakes of Hazeldean; let +Frank beware of <i>that</i>," &c. Secondly, the Squire was not only fond of his +lands, but he was jealous of them—that jealousy which even the tenderest +father sometimes entertains towards their natural heirs. He could not bear +the notion that Frank should count on his death; and he seldom closed an +admonitory letter without repeating the information that Hazeldean was not +entailed; that it was his to do with as he pleased through life and in +death. Indirect menace of this nature rather wounded and galled than +intimidated Frank; for the young man was extremely generous and +high-spirited by nature, and was always more disposed to some indiscretion +after such warnings to his self-interest, as if to show that those were the +last kinds of appeal likely to influence him. By the help of such insights +into the character of father and son, Randal thought he saw gleams of +daylight illumining his own chance of the lands of Hazeldean. Meanwhile it +appeared to him obvious that, come what might of it, his own interests +could not lose, and might most probably gain, by whatever could alienate +the Squire from his natural heir. Accordingly, though with consummate tact, +he instigated Frank towards the very excesses most calculated to irritate +the Squire, all the while appealing rather to give the counter advice, and +never sharing in any of the follies to which he conducted his thoughtless +friend. In this he worked chiefly through others, introducing Frank to +every acquaintance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_544" id="Page_544">[Pg 544]</a></span> most dangerous to youth, either from the wit that +laughs at prudence, or the spurious magnificence that subsists so +handsomely upon bills endorsed by friends of "great expectations."</p> + +<p>The minister and his protégé were seated at breakfast, the first reading +the newspaper, the last glancing over his letters; for Randal had arrived +to the dignity of receiving many letters—ay, and notes too, +three-cornered, and fantastically embossed. Egerton uttered an exclamation, +and laid down the paper. Randal looked up from his correspondence. The +minister had sunk into one of his absent reveries.</p> + +<p>After a long silence, observing that Egerton did not return to the +newspaper, Randal said, "Ehem—sir, I have a note from Frank Hazeldean, who +wants much to see me; his father has arrived in town unexpectedly."</p> + +<p>"What brings him here?" asked Egerton, still abstractedly.</p> + +<p>"Why, it seems that he has heard some vague reports of poor Frank's +extravagance, and Frank is either afraid or ashamed to meet him."</p> + +<p>"Ay—a very great fault extravagance in the young!—destroys independence; +ruins or enslaves the future. Great fault—very! And what does youth want +that it should be extravagant? Has it not every thing in itself merely +because it <i>is</i>? Youth is youth—what needs it more?"</p> + +<p>Egerton rose as he said this, and retired to his writing-table, and in his +turn opened his correspondence. Randal took up the newspaper, and +endeavored, but in vain, to conjecture what had excited the minister's +exclamation, and the reverie that succeeded it.</p> + +<p>Egerton suddenly and sharply turned round in his chair—"If you have done +with the <i>Times</i>, have the goodness to place it here."</p> + +<p>Randal had just obeyed, when a knock at the street-door was heard, and +presently Lord L'Estrange came into the room, with somewhat a quicker step, +and somewhat a gayer mien than usual.</p> + +<p>Audley's hand, as if mechanically, fell upon the newspaper—fell upon that +part of the columns devoted to births, deaths, and marriages. Randal stood +by, and noted; then, bowing to L'Estrange, left the room.</p> + +<p>"Audley," said L'Estrange, "I have had an adventure since I saw you—an +adventure that reopened the Past, and may influence my future."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"In the first place, I have met with a relation of—of—the Avenels."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Whom—Richard Avenel?"</p> + +<p>"Richard—Richard—who is he? Oh, I remember; the wild lad who went off to +America; but that was when I was a mere child."</p> + +<p>"That Richard Avenel is now a rich thriving trader, and his marriage is in +this newspaper—married to an honorable Mrs. M'Catchley. Well—in this +country—who should plume himself on birth?"</p> + +<p>"You did not say so always, Egerton," replied Harley, with a tone of +mournful reproach.</p> + +<p>"And I say so now, pertinently to a Mrs. M'Catchley, not to the heir of the +L'Estranges. But no more of these—these Avenels."</p> + +<p>"Yes, more of them. I tell you I have met a relation of theirs—a nephew +of—of—</p> + +<p>"Of Richard Avenel's?" interrupted Egerton; and then added in the slow, +deliberate, argumentative tone in which he was wont to speak in public: +"Richard Avenel the trader! I saw him once—a presuming and intolerable +man!"</p> + +<p>"The nephew has not those sins. He is full of promise, of modesty, yet of +pride. And his countenance—oh, Egerton, he has <i>her</i> eyes."</p> + +<p>Egerton made no answer. And Harley resumed—</p> + +<p>"I had thought of placing him under your care. I knew you would provide for +him."</p> + +<p>"I will. Bring him hither," cried Egerton eagerly. "All that I can do to +prove my—regard for a wish of yours."</p> + +<p>Harley pressed his friend's hand warmly.</p> + +<p>"I thank you from my heart; the Audley of my boyhood speaks now. But the +young man has decided otherwise; and I do not blame him. Nay, I rejoice +that he chooses a career in which, if he find hardship, he may escape +dependence."</p> + +<p>"And that career is—"</p> + +<p>"Letters."</p> + +<p>"Letters—Literature!" exclaimed the statesman. "Beggary! No, no, Harley, +this is your absurd romance."</p> + +<p>"It will not be beggary, and it is not my romance: it is the boy's. Leave +him alone, he is in my care and my charge henceforth. He is of <i>her</i> blood, +and I said that he had <i>her</i> eyes."</p> + +<p>"But you are going abroad; let me know where he is; I will watch over him."</p> + +<p>"And unsettle a right ambition for a wrong one? No—you shall know nothing +of him till he can proclaim himself. I think that day will come."</p> + +<p>Audley mused a moment, and then said, "Well, perhaps you are right. After +all, as you say, independence is a great blessing, and my ambition has not +rendered myself the better or the happier."</p> + +<p>"Yet, my poor Audley, you ask me to be ambitious."</p> + +<p>"I only wish you to be consoled," cried Egerton with passion.</p> + +<p>"I will try to be so; and by the help of a milder remedy than yours. I said +that my adventure might influence my future; it brought me acquainted not +only with the young man I speak of, but the most winning, affectionate +child—a girl."</p> + +<p>"Is this child an Avenel too?"</p> + +<p>"No, she is of gentle blood—a soldier's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_545" id="Page_545">[Pg 545]</a></span> daughter; the daughter of that +Captain Digby, on whose behalf I was a petitioner to your patronage. He is +dead, and in dying, my name was on his lips. He meant me, doubtless, to be +the guardian to his orphan. I shall be so. I have at last an object in +life."</p> + +<p>"But can you seriously mean to take this child with you abroad?"</p> + +<p>"Seriously, I do."</p> + +<p>"And lodge her in your own house?"</p> + +<p>"For a year or so while she is yet a child. Then, as she approaches youth, +I shall place her elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"You may grow to love her. Is it clear that she will love you?—not mistake +gratitude for love? It is a very hazardous experiment."</p> + +<p>"So was William the Norman's—still he was William the Conqueror. Thou +biddest me move on from the past, and be consoled, yet thou wouldst make me +as inapt to progress as the mule in Slawkenbergius's tale, with thy cursed +interlocutions, 'Stumbling, by St. Nicholas, every step. Why, at this rate, +we shall be all night getting into—' <i>Happiness!</i> Listen," continued +Harley, setting off, full pelt, into one of his wild whimsical humors. "One +of the sons of the prophets in Israel, felling wood near the River Jordan, +his hatchet forsook the helve, and fell to the bottom of the river; so he +prayed to have it again, (it was but a small request, mark you;) and having +a strong faith, he did not throw the hatchet after the helve, but the helve +after the hatchet. Presently two great miracles were seen. Up springs the +hatchet from the bottom of the water, and fixes itself to its old +acquaintance, the helve. Now, had he wished to coach it to Heaven in a +fiery chariot like Elias, be as rich as Job, strong as Samson, and +beautiful as Absalom, would he have obtained it, do you think? In truth, my +friend, I question it very much."</p> + +<p>"I cannot comprehend what you mean. Sad stuff you are talking."</p> + +<p>"I can't help that; Rabelais is to be blamed for it. I am quoting him, and +it is to be found in his prologue to the chapters on the Moderation of +Wishes. And apropos of 'moderate wishes in point of hatchet,' I want you to +understand that I ask but little from Heaven. I fling but the helve after +the hatchet that has sunk into the silent stream. I want the other half of +the weapon that is buried fathom deep, and for want of which the thick +woods darken round me by the Sacred River, and I can catch not a glimpse of +the stars."</p> + +<p>"In plain English," said Audley Egerton, "you want"—he stopped short, +puzzled.</p> + +<p>"I want my purpose and my will, and my old character, and the nature God +gave me. I want the half of my soul which has fallen from me. I want such +love as may replace to me the vanished affections. Reason not—I throw the +helve after the hatchet."</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XXI.</h4> + +<p>Randal Leslie, on leaving Audley, repaired to Frank's lodgings, and after +being closeted with the young guardsman an hour or so, took his way to +Limmer's hotel, and asked for Mr. Hazeldean. He was shown into the +coffee-room, while the waiter went up stairs with his card, to see if the +Squire was within, and disengaged. The <i>Times</i> newspaper lay sprawling on +one of the tables, and Randal, leaning over it, looked with attention into +the column containing births, deaths, and marriages. But in that long and +miscellaneous list, he could not conjecture the name which had so excited +Mr. Egerton's interest.</p> + +<p>"Vexatious!" he muttered; "there is no knowledge which has power more +useful than that of the secrets of men."</p> + +<p>He turned as the waiter entered, and said that Mr. Hazeldean would be glad +to see him.</p> + +<p>As Randal entered the drawing-room, the Squire shaking hands with him, +looked towards the door as if expecting some one else, and his honest face +assumed a blank expression of disappointment when the door closed, and he +found that Randal was unaccompanied.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he bluntly, "I thought your old school-fellow, Frank, might +have been with you."</p> + +<p>"Have not you seen him yet, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No, I came to town this morning; travelled outside the mail; sent to his +barracks, but the young gentleman does not sleep there—has an apartment of +his own; he never told me that. We are a plain family, the +Hazeldeans—young sir; and I hate being kept in the dark, by my own son +too."</p> + +<p>Randal made no answer, but looked sorrowful. The Squire, who had never +before seen his kinsman, had a vague idea that it was not quite polite to +entertain a stranger, though a connection to himself, with his family +troubles, and so resumed good-naturedly:</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to make your acquaintance at last, Mr. Leslie. You know, I +hope, that you have good Hazeldean blood in your veins?"</p> + +<p><i>Randal</i>, (smilingly).—"I am not likely to forget that; it is the boast of +our pedigree."</p> + +<p><i>Squire</i>, (heartily.)—"Shake hands again on it, my boy. You don't want a +friend, since my grandee of a half-brother has taken you up; but if ever +you should, Hazeldean is not very far from Rood. Can't get on with your +father at all, my lad—more's the pity, for I think I could have given him +a hint or two as to the improvement of his property. If he would plant +those ugly commons—larch and fir soon come into profit, sir; and there are +some low lands about Rood that would take mighty kindly to draining."</p> + +<p><i>Randal.</i>—"My poor father lives a life so retired, and you cannot wonder +at it. Fallen trees lie still, and so do fallen families."</p> + +<p><i>Squire.</i>—"Fallen families can get up again, which fallen trees can't."</p> + +<p><i>Randal.</i>—"Ah, sir, it often takes the energy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_546" id="Page_546">[Pg 546]</a></span> of generations to repair +the thriftlessness and extravagance of a single owner."</p> + +<p><i>Squire</i>, (his brow lowering.)—"That's very true. Frank <i>is</i> d——d +extravagant; treats me very coolly, too—not coming; near three o'clock. By +the by, I suppose he told you where I was, otherwise how did you find me +out!"</p> + +<p><i>Randal</i>, (reluctantly.)—"Sir, he did; and, to speak frankly, I am not +surprised that he has not yet appeared."</p> + +<p><i>Squire.</i>—"Eh?"</p> + +<p><i>Randal.</i>—"We have grown very intimate."</p> + +<p><i>Squire.</i>—"So he writes me word—and I am glad of it. Our member, Sir +John, tells me you are a very clever fellow, and a very steady one. And +Frank says that he wishes he had your prudence, if he can't have your +talents. He has a good heart, Frank," added the father, relentingly. "But, +zounds, sir, you say you are not surprised he has not come to welcome his +own father?"</p> + +<p>"My dear sir," said Randal, "you wrote word to Frank that you had heard +from Sir John and others, of his goings-on, and that you were not satisfied +with his replies to your letters."</p> + +<p>"Well."</p> + +<p>"And then you suddenly come up to town."</p> + +<p>"Well."</p> + +<p>"Well. And Frank is ashamed to meet you. For, as you say, he has been +extravagant, and he has exceeded his allowance; and, knowing my respect for +you, and my great affection for himself, he has asked me to prepare you to +receive his confession and forgive him. I know I am taking a great liberty. +I have no right to interfere between father and son; but pray—pray think I +mean for the best."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said the Squire, recovering himself very slowly, and showing +evident pain. "I knew already that Frank had spent more than he ought; but +I think he should not have employed a third person to prepare me to forgive +him. (Excuse me—no offence.) And if he wanted a third person, was not +there his own mother? What the devil!—(firing up)—am I a tyrant—a +bashaw—that my own son is afraid to speak to me? Gad, I'll give it him?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, sir," said Randal, assuming at once that air of authority which +superior intellect so well carries off and excuses. "But I strongly advise +you not to express any anger at Frank's confidence in me. At present I have +influence over him. Whatever you may think of his extravagance, I have +saved him from many an indiscretion, and many a debt—a young man will +listen to one of his own age so much more readily than even to the kindest +friend of graver years. Indeed, sir, I speak for your sake as well as for +Frank's. Let me keep this influence over him; and don't reproach him for +the confidence he placed in me. Nay, let him rather think that I have +softened any displeasure you might otherwise have felt."</p> + +<p>There seemed so much good sense in what Randal said, and the kindness of it +seemed so disinterested, that the Squire's native shrewdness was deceived.</p> + +<p>"You are a fine young fellow," said he, "and I am very much obliged to you. +Well, I suppose there is no putting old heads upon young shoulders; and I +promise you I'll not say an angry word to Frank. I dare say, poor boy, he +is very much afflicted, and I long to shake hands with him. So, set his +mind at ease."</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir," said Randal, with much apparent emotion, "your son may well love +you; and it seems to be a hard matter for so kind a heart as yours to +preserve the proper firmness with him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can be firm enough," quoth the squire—"especially when I don't see +him—handsome dog that he is—very like his mother—don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw his mother, sir."</p> + +<p>"Gad! Not seen my Harry! No more you have; you must come and pay us a +visit. We have your grandmother's picture, when she was a girl, with a +crook in one hand and a bunch of lilies in the other. I suppose my +half-brother will let you come?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure, sir. Will you not call on him while you are in town?</p> + +<p>"Not I. He would think I expected to get something from the Government. +Tell him the ministers must go on a little better, if they want my vote for +their member. But go. I see you are impatient to tell Frank that all's +forgot and forgiven. Come and dine with him here at six, and let him bring +his bills in his pocket. Oh, I shan't scold him."</p> + +<p>"Why, as to that," said Randal, smiling, "I think (forgive me still) that +you should not take it too easily; just as I think that you had better not +blame him for his very natural and praiseworthy shame in approaching you, +so I think, also, that you should do nothing that would tend to diminish +that shame—it is such a check on him. And therefore, if you can contrive +to affect to be angry with him for his extravagance, it will do good."</p> + +<p>"You speak like a book, and I'll try my best."</p> + +<p>"If you threaten, for instance, to take him out of the army, and settle him +in the country, it would have a very good effect."</p> + +<p>"What! would he think it so great a punishment to come home and live with +his parents?"</p> + +<p>"I don't say that; but he is naturally so fond of London. At his age, and +with his large inheritance, <i>that</i> is natural."</p> + +<p>"Inheritance!" said the Squire, moodily—"inheritance! he is not thinking +of that, I trust? Zounds, sir, I have as good a life as his own. +Inheritance!—to be sure the Casino property is entailed on him; but, as +for the rest, sir, I am no tenant for life. I could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_547" id="Page_547">[Pg 547]</a></span> leave the Hazeldean +lands to my ploughman, if I chose it. Inheritance, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"My dear sir, I did not mean to imply that Frank would entertain the +unnatural and monstrous idea of calculating on your death; and all we have +to do is to get him to sow his wild oats as soon as possible—marry, and +settle down into the country. For it would be a thousand pities if his town +habits and tastes grew permanent—a bad thing for the Hazeldean property, +that. And," added Randal, laughing, "I feel an interest in the old place, +since my grandmother comes of the stock. So, just force yourself to seem +angry, and grumble a little when you pay the bills."</p> + +<p>"Ah, ah, trust me," said the Squire, doggedly and with a very altered air, +"I am much obliged to you for these hints, my young kinsman." And his stout +hand trembled a little as he extended it to Randal.</p> + +<p>Leaving Limmer's, Randal hastened to Frank's rooms in St. James's Street. +"My dear fellow," said he, when he entered, "it is very fortunate that I +persuaded you to let me break matters to your father. You might well say he +was rather passionate; but I have contrived to soothe him. You need not +fear that he will not pay your debts."</p> + +<p>"I never feared that," said Frank changing color; "I only fear his anger. +But, indeed, I feared his kindness still more. What a reckless hound I have +been! However, it shall be a lesson to me. And my debts once paid, I will +turn as economical as yourself."</p> + +<p>"Quite right, Frank. And, indeed, I am a little afraid that when your +father knows the total, he may execute a threat that would be very +unpleasant to you."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Make you sell out, and give up London."</p> + +<p>"The devil!" exclaimed Frank, with fervent emphasis; "that would be +treating me like a child."</p> + +<p>"Why, it <i>would</i> make you seem rather ridiculous to your set, which is not +a very rural one. And you, who like London so much, and are so much the +fashion."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk of it," cried Frank, walking to and fro the room in great +disorder.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps on the whole, it might be well not to say all you owe, at once. If +you named half the sum, your father would let you off with a lecture; and +really I tremble at the effect of the total."</p> + +<p>"But how shall I pay the other half?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you must save from your allowance; it is a very liberal one; and the +tradesmen are not pressing."</p> + +<p>"No—but the cursed bill-brokers"—</p> + +<p>"Always renew to a young man of your expectations. And if I get into an +office, I can always help you, my dear Frank."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Randal, I am not so bad as to take advantage of your friendship," said +Frank warmly. "But it seems to me mean, after all, and a sort of a lie, +indeed, disguising the real state of my affairs. I should not have listened +to the idea from any one else. But you are such a sensible, kind, honorable +fellow."</p> + +<p>"After epithets so flattering, I shrink from the responsibility of advice. +But apart from your own interests, I should be glad to save your father the +pain he would feel at knowing the whole extent of the scrape you have got +into. And if it entailed on you the necessity to lay by—and give up +hazard, and not be security for other men—why it would be the best thing +that could happen. Really, too, it seems hard on Mr. Hazeldean, that he +should be the only sufferer, and quite just that you should bear half your +own burdens."</p> + +<p>"So it is, Randal; that did not strike me before. I will take your counsel; +and now I will go at once to Limmer's. My dear father! I hope he is looking +well?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, very. Such a contrast to the sallow Londoners! But I think you had +better not go till dinner. He has asked me to meet you at six. I will call +for you a little before, and we can go together. This will prevent a great +deal of <i>gêne</i> and constraint. Good-bye till then.—Ha!—by the way, I +think if I were you, I would not take the matter too seriously and +penitentially. You see the best of fathers like to keep their sons under +their thumb, as the saying is. And if you want at your age to preserve your +independence, and not be hurried off and buried in the country, like a +school-boy in disgrace, a little manliness of bearing would not be amiss. +You can think over it."</p> + +<p>The dinner at Limmer's went off very differently from what it ought to have +done. Randal's words had sunk deep, and rankled sorely in the Squire's +mind; and that impression imparted a certain coldness to his manner which +belied the hearty, forgiving, generous impulse with which he had come up to +London, and which even Randal had not yet altogether whispered away. On the +other hand, Frank, embarrassed both by the sense of disingenuousness, and a +desire "not to take the thing too seriously," seemed to the Squire +ungracious and thankless.</p> + +<p>After dinner, the Squire began to hum and haw, and Frank to color up and +shrink. Both felt discomposed by the presence of a third person; till, with +an art and address worthy of a better cause, Randal himself broke the ice, +and so contrived to remove the restraint he had before imposed, that at +length each was heartily glad to have matters made clear and brief by his +dexterity and tact.</p> + +<p>Frank's debts were not in reality, large; and when he named the half of +them—looking down in shame—the Squire, agreeably surprised, was about to +express himself with a liberal heartiness that would have opened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_548" id="Page_548">[Pg 548]</a></span> his son's +excellent heart at once to him. But a warning look from Randal checked the +impulse; and the Squire thought it right, as he had promised, to affect an +anger he did not feel, and let fall the unlucky threat, "that it was all +very well once in a way to exceed his allowance; but if Frank did not, in +future, show more sense than to be led away by a set of London sharks and +coxcombs, he must cut the army, come home, and take to farming."</p> + +<p>Frank imprudently exclaimed, "Oh, sir, I have no taste for farming. And +after London, at my age, the country would be so horribly dull."</p> + +<p>"Aha!" said the Squire, very grimly—and he thrust back into his +pocket-book some extra bank-notes which his fingers had itched to add to +those he had already counted out. "The country is terribly dull, is it? +Money goes there not upon follies and vices, but upon employing honest +laborers, and increasing the wealth of the nation. It does not please you +to spend money in that way: it is a pity you should ever be plagued with +such duties."</p> + +<p>"My dear father—"</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue, you puppy. Oh, I dare say, if you were in my shoes, you +would cut down the oaks, and mortgage the property—sell it, for what I +know—all go on a cast of the dice! Aha, sir—very well, very well—the +country is horribly dull, is it? Pray, stay in town."</p> + +<p>"My dear Mr. Hazeldean," said Randal, blandly, and as if with the wish to +turn off into a joke what threatened to be serious, "you must not interpret +a hasty expression so literally. Why, you would make Frank as bad as Lord +A——, who wrote word to his steward to cut down more timber; and when the +steward replied, 'There are only three signposts left on the whole estate,' +wrote back, '<i>They've</i> done growing, at all events—'down with them.' You +ought to know Lord A——, sir; so witty; and Frank's particular friend."</p> + +<p>"Your particular friend, Master Frank? Pretty friends!"—and the Squire +buttoned up the pocket, to which he had transferred his note-book, with a +determined air.</p> + +<p>"But I'm his friend, too," said Randal, kindly; "and I preach to him +properly, I can tell you." Then, as if delicately anxious to change the +subject, he began to ask questions upon crops, and the experiment of bone +manure. He spoke earnestly, and with <i>gusto</i>, yet with the deference of one +listening to a great practical authority. Randal had spent the afternoon in +cramming the subject from agricultural journals and Parliamentary reports; +and, like all practised readers, had really learned in a few hours more +than many a man, unaccustomed to study, could gain from books in a year. +The Squire was surprised and pleased at the young scholar's information and +taste for such subjects.</p> + +<p>"But, to be sure," quoth he, with an angry look at poor Frank, "you have +good Hazeldean blood in you, and know a bean from a turnip."</p> + +<p>"Why, sir," said Randal, ingenuously, "I am training myself for public +life; and what is a public man worth if he do not study the agriculture of +his country?"</p> + +<p>"Right—what is he worth? Put that question, with my compliments, to my +half-brother. What stuff he did talk, the other night, on the malt tax, to +be sure!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Egerton has had so many other things to think of, that we must excuse +his want of information upon one topic, however important. With his strong +sense, he must acquire that information, sooner or later; for he is fond of +power; and, sir,—knowledge is power!"</p> + +<p>"Very true;—very fine saying," quoth the poor Squire, unsuspiciously, as +Randal's eye rested upon Mr. Hazeldean's open face, and then glanced +towards Frank, who looked sad and bored.</p> + +<p>"Yes," repeated Randal, "knowledge is power;" and he shook his head wisely, +as he passed the bottle to his host.</p> + +<p>Still, when the Squire, who meant to return to the Hall next morning, took +leave of Frank, his heart warmed to his son; and still more for Frank's +dejected looks. It was not Randal's policy to push estrangement too far at +first, and in his own presence.</p> + +<p>"Speak to poor Frank—kindly now, sir—do;" whispered he, observing the +Squire's watery eyes, as he moved to the window.</p> + +<p>The Squire rejoiced to obey—thrust out his hand to his son—"My dear boy," +said he, "there, don't fret—pshaw!—it was but a trifle after all. Think +no more of it."</p> + +<p>Frank took the hand, and suddenly threw his arm round his father's broad +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, you are too good—too good." His voice trembled so, that Randal +took alarm, passed by him, and touched him meaningly.</p> + +<p>The Squire pressed his son to his heart—heart so large, that it seemed to +fill the whole width under his broadcloth.</p> + +<p>"My dear Frank," said he, half blubbering, "it is not the money; but, you +see, it so vexes your poor mother; you must be careful in future; and, +zounds, boy, it will be all yours one day; only don't calculate on it; I +could not bear <i>that</i>—I could not, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Calculate!" cried Frank. "Oh, sir, can you think it!"</p> + +<p>"I am so delighted that I had some slight hand in your complete +reconciliation with Mr. Hazeldean," said Randal, as the young men walked +from the hotel. "I saw that you were disheartened, and I told him to speak +to you kindly."</p> + +<p>"Did you? Ah, I am sorry he needed telling."</p> + +<p>"I know his character so well already," said Randal, "that I flatter myself +I can always keep things between you as they ought to be. What an excellent +man!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_549" id="Page_549">[Pg 549]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The best man in the world!" cried Frank, heartily; and then as his accent +drooped, "yet I have deceived him. I have a great mind to go back—"</p> + +<p>"And tell him to give you twice as much money as you had asked for. He +would think you had only seemed so affectionate in order to take him in. +No, no, Frank; save—lay by—economize; and then tell him that you have +paid half your own debts. Something high-minded in that."</p> + +<p>"So there is. Your heart is as good as your head. Good night."</p> + +<p>"Are you going home so early? Have you no engagements?"</p> + +<p>"None that I shall keep."</p> + +<p>"Good night, then."</p> + +<p>They parted, and Randal walked into one of the fashionable clubs. He neared +a table, where three or four young men (younger sons, who lived in the most +splendid style, heaven knew how) were still over their wine.</p> + +<p>Leslie had little in common with these gentlemen; but he forced his nature +to be agreeable to them, in consequence of a very excellent piece of +worldly advice given to him by Audley Egerton. "Never let the dandies call +you a prig," said the statesman. "Many a clever fellow fails through life, +because the silly fellows, whom half a word well spoken could make his +<i>claqueurs</i>, turn him into ridicule. Whatever you are, avoid the fault of +most reading men: in a word, don't be a prig!"</p> + +<p>"I have just left Hazeldean," said Randal—"what a good fellow he is!"</p> + +<p>"Capital," said the honorable George Borrowwell. "Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he is gone to his rooms. He has had a little scene with his father, a +thorough, rough country squire. It would be an act of charity if you would +go and keep him company, or take him with you to some place a little more +lively than his own lodgings."</p> + +<p>"What! the old gentleman has been teasing him?—a horrid shame! Why, Frank +is not expensive, and he will be very rich—eh?"</p> + +<p>"An immense property," said Randal, "and not a mortgage on it; an only +son," he added, turning away.</p> + +<p>Among these young gentlemen there was a kindly and most benevolent whisper, +and presently they all rose, and walked away towards Frank's lodgings.</p> + +<p>"The wedge is in the tree," said Randal to himself, "and there is a gap +already between the bark and the wood."</p> + + +<h4>CHAPTER XXII.</h4> + +<p>Harley L'Estrange is seated beside Helen at the lattice-window in the +cottage at Norwood. The bloom of reviving health is on the child's face, +and she is listening with a smile, for Harley is speaking of Leonard with +praise, and of Leonard's future with hope. "And thus," he continued, +"secure from his former trials, happy in his occupation, and pursuing the +career he has chosen, we must be content, my dear child, to leave him."</p> + +<p>"Leave him!" exclaimed Helen, and the rose on her cheek faded.</p> + +<p>Harley was not displeased to see her emotion. He would have been +disappointed in her heart if it had been less susceptible to affection.</p> + +<p>"It is hard on you, Helen," said he, "to separate you from one who has been +to you as a brother. Do not hate me for doing so. But I consider myself +your guardian, and your home as yet must be mine. We are going from this +land of cloud and mist, going as into the world of summer. Well, that does +not content you. You weep, my child; you mourn your own friend, but do not +forget your father's. I am alone, and often sad, Helen; will you not +comfort me? You press my hand, but you must learn to smile on me also. You +are born to be the Comforter. Comforters are not egotists; they are always +cheerful when they console."</p> + +<p>The voice of Harley was so sweet, and his words went so home to the child's +heart, that she looked up and smiled in his face as he kissed her ingenuous +brow. But then she thought of Leonard, and felt so solitary—so +bereft—that tears burst forth again. Before these were dried, Leonard +himself entered, and obeying an irresistible impulse, she sprang to his +arms, and, leaning her head on his shoulder, sobbed out, "I am going from +you, brother—do not grieve—do not miss me."</p> + +<p>Harley was much moved: he folded his arms, and contemplated them both +silently—and his own eyes were moist, "This heart," thought he, "will be +worth the winning!"</p> + +<p>He drew aside Leonard, and whispered, "Soothe but encourage and support +her. I leave you together; come to me in the garden later."</p> + +<p>It was nearly an hour before Leonard joined Harley.</p> + +<p>"She was not weeping when you left her?" asked L'Estrange.</p> + +<p>"No; she has more fortitude than we might suppose. Heaven knows how that +fortitude has supported mine. I have promised to write to her often."</p> + +<p>Harley took two strides across the lawn, and then, coming back to Leonard, +said, "Keep your promise, and write often for the first year. I would then +ask you to let the correspondence drop gradually."</p> + +<p>"Drop!—Ah, my lord!"</p> + +<p>"Look you, my young friend, I wish to lead this fair mind wholly from the +sorrows of the Past. I wish Helen to enter, not abruptly, but step by step, +into a new life. You love each other now as do two children—as brother and +sister. But later, if encouraged, would the love be the same? And is it not +better for both of you, that youth should open upon the world with youth's +natural affections free and unforestalled?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_550" id="Page_550">[Pg 550]</a></span></p> + +<p>"True! and she is so above me," said Leonard, mournfully.</p> + +<p>"No one is above him who succeeds in your ambition, Leonard. It is not +<i>that</i>, believe me!"</p> + +<p>Leonard shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Harley, with a smile, "I rather feel that you are above me. +For what vantage-ground is so high as youth? Perhaps I may become jealous +of you. It is well that she should learn to like one who is to be +henceforth her guardian and protector. Yet, how can she like me as she +ought, if her heart is to be full of you?"</p> + +<p>The boy bowed his head; and Harley hastened to change the subject, and +speak of letters and of glory. His words were eloquent, and his voice +kindling; for he had been an enthusiast for fame in his boyhood; and in +Leonard's his own seemed to him to revive. But the poet's heart gave back +no echo—suddenly it seemed void and desolate. Yet when Leonard walked back +by the moonlight, he muttered to himself, "Strange—strange—so mere a +child, this cannot be love! Still what else to love is there left to me?"</p> + +<p>And so he paused upon the bridge where he had so often stood with Helen, +and on which he had found the protector that had given to her a home—to +himself a career. And life seemed very long, and fame but a dreary phantom. +Courage, still, Leonard! These are the sorrows of the heart that teach thee +more than all the precepts of sage and critic.</p> + +<p>Another day, and Helen had left the shores of England, with her fanciful +and dreaming guardian. Years will pass before our tale reopens. Life in all +the forms we have seen it travels on. And the Squire farms and hunts; and +the Parson preaches and chides and soothes. And Riccabocca reads his +Machiavelli, and sighs and smiles as he moralizes on Men and States. And +Violante's dark eyes grow deeper and more spiritual in their lustre; and +her beauty takes thought from solitary dreams. And Mr. Richard Avenel has +his house in London, and the honorable Mrs. Avenel her opera box; and hard +and dire is their struggle into fashion, and hotly does the new man, +scorning the aristocracy, to pant become aristocrat. And Audley Egerton +goes from the office to the Parliament, and drudges, and debates, and helps +to govern the empire in which the sun never sets. Poor Sun, how tired he +must be—but none more tired than the Government! And Randal Leslie has an +excellent place in the bureau of a minister, and is looking to the time +when he shall resign it to come into Parliament, and on that large arena +turn knowledge into power. And meanwhile, he is much where he was with +Audley Egerton; but he has established intimacy with the Squire, and +visited Hazeldean twice, and examined the house and the map of the +property—and very nearly fallen a second time into the Ha-ha, and the +Squire believes that Randal Leslie alone can keep Frank out of mischief, +and has spoken rough words to his Harry about Frank's continued +extravagance. And Frank does continue to pursue pleasure, and is very +miserable, and horribly in debt. And Madame di Negra has gone from London +to Paris, and taken a tour into Switzerland, and come back to London again, +and has grown very intimate with Randal Leslie; and Randal has introduced +Frank to her; and Frank thinks her the loveliest woman in the world, and +grossly slandered by certain evil tongues. And the brother of Madame di +Negra is expected in England at least; and what with his repute for beauty +and for wealth, people anticipate a sensation; and Leonard, and Harley, and +Helen? Patience—they will all reappear.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<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> Continued from page 386.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FRAGMENTS_FROM_A_VOLUME_OF_POEMS" id="FRAGMENTS_FROM_A_VOLUME_OF_POEMS"></a>FRAGMENTS FROM A VOLUME OF POEMS</h2> + +<h3>BY THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES.</h3> + +<h4>[Just Published in London.]</h4> + + +<h4>NOTHING ALONE.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All round and through the spaces of creation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No hiding-place of the least air, or earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sea, invisible, untrod, unrained on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contains a thing alone. Not e'en the bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That can go up the labyrinthine winds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between its pinions, and pursues the summer,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not even the great serpent of the billows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who winds him thrice around this planet's waist,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is by itself in joy or suffering.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>LOVE.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O that sweet influence of thoughts and looks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That change of being, which, to one who lives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is nothing less divine than divine life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the unmade! Love? Do I love? I walk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the brilliance of another's thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in a glory.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>INNOCENT WELCOME TO EVIL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How thou art like the daisy in Noah's meadow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which the foremost drop of rain fell warm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soft at evening; so the little flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrapped up its leaves, and shut the treacherous water<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close to the golden welcome of its breast,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delighting in the touch of that which led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shower of oceans, in whose billowy drops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tritons and lions of the sea were warring.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>THE IMPARTIAL BANQUET.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">The unfashionable worm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Respectless of crown-illumined brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cheek's bewitchment, or the sceptred clench,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With no more eyes than Love, creeps courtier-like,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his thin belly, to his food,—no matter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How clad or nicknamed it might strut above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What age or sex,—it is his dinner-time.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>ARGUMENT FOR MERCY.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">I have a plea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As dewy piteous as the gentle ghost's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sits alone upon a forest-grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking of no revenge: I have a mandate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As magical and potent as e'er ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silently through a battle's myriad veins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Undid their fingers from the hanging steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drew them up in prayer: <span class="smcap">I am a woman</span>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O motherly-remembered be the name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, with the thought of loves and sisters, sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And comforting!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>INTERCESSION BETWEEN A FATHER AND A SON.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i18">There stands before you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The youth and golden top of your existence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another life of yours: for, think your morning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not lost, but given, passed from your hand to his<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same except in place. Be then to him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As was the former tenant of your age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you were in the prologue of your time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he lay hid in you unconsciously<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under his life. And thou, my younger master,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember there's a kind of God in him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, after heaven, the next of thy religion.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy second fears of God, thy first of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are his, who was creation's delegate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made this world for thee in making thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_551" id="Page_551">[Pg 551]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Authors_and_Books" id="Authors_and_Books"></a><i>Authors and Books.</i></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Carl Immerman's</span> <i>Theater-Briefe</i> (Letters on the Theatre), says a German +critic, "is interesting not only as a history of a German theatre, but as +an excellent addition to the literature of æsthetic criticism. This work +refers more especially to the years 1833-37, during which time, as is well +known, Immerman attempted to establish in Düsseldorf an <i>ideal</i> theatre, +somewhat in the style of that at Weimar." We have frequently, in +conversation with a gentleman who held an appointment in this Düsseldorf +<i>Ideal Theatre</i>, received amusing and interesting accounts of Immerman's +style of management. That his plan did not succeed is undoubtedly for the +sake of Art to be regretted; yet we can by no means unconditionally approve +of the ideas upon which Immerman based his theories. He was certainly right +in endeavoring to form a unity of style in dramatic representations; but +how he could have deemed such an unity possible, when grounded upon such +diametrically opposed æsthetic bases as those of Shakespeare and Calderon, +is to us unintelligible. The remarks on the most convenient and practical +style of executing certain pieces—for example, Hamlet—are worthy of +attention, as also a few explanations relative to Immerman's own dramatic +conceptions.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Kohl</span>, whose innumerable and well-known books of travel have caused him to +be cited even in book-making Germany as an instance of <i>Ausserordentlichen +Fruchtbarkeit</i>, or extraordinary fertility, has published, through Kuntze +of Dresden, yet another work, entitled <i>Sketches of Nature and Popular +Life</i>, which is however said to be inferior to the average of his +works—principally, we imagine, from his falling into the besetting sin of +German writers since the late revolutions, namely, of talking politics when +he should have quoted poetry. We should not be surprised to find some day a +treatise on qualitative chemistry, commencing with an analysis of the +Prussian constitution, or an anatomical work, concluding with a dissection +of Germany in general. Kohl possesses, however, great faculties of +observation, is an accurate describer, and has, perhaps, done as much as +any man of the age towards making different countries acquainted with each +other.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The friends of the Italian language and literature, will do well to cast an +occasional kindly glance on <i>L'Eco d'Italia</i> (The Echo of Italy), an +excellent weekly paper published by Signor <span class="smcap">Secchi de Casali</span>, in this city, +at number 289 Broadway. Many admirable poems find their way from time to +time into this periodical, while its foreign correspondence is of a high +order of merit.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Polish authoress <span class="smcap">Narcisa Zwichowska</span>, well known to all who are +acquainted with the literature of that country, has received from the +Russian authorities an order to enter a convent, and no longer to occupy +herself with literature, but with labors of a manual kind, which are more +becoming to women. She is to receive from the treasury a silver ruble, or +about sixty-two and a half cents a day for her support.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Cooking is no doubt a great science, and its chief prophet is undeniably +<span class="smcap">Eugene Baron Baerst</span>. This gentleman, who is well known in Germany and +elsewhere for his gallant services in Spain, in the army of Don Carlos, has +just brought out a work in two volumes, of some six hundred and fifty pages +each, entitled <i>Gastrosophie, oder die Lehre von den Freuden der Tafel</i> +(Gastrosophy, or the Doctrine of the Delights of the Table). In this he +evinces a thoroughness of knowledge and a fire of enthusiasm well +calculated to astonish the reader, who has probably not before been aware +of the grandeur of the subjects discussed. He begins with the very elements +of his theme. "The man," he exclaims in his preface, "who undertakes to +write a cook-book, must begin by teaching the mason how to build a +fire-place, so as not merely to produce heat from above or below, but from +both at once; he must teach the butcher how to cut his meat, and above all +the baker how to make bread, and especially the <i>semmel</i> (a sort of small +loaves with caraway or anise seed, much liked in Germany), which are often +very like leather and perfectly indigestible. It is true that in Psalm CIV. +verse 15, we are told that bread strengthens the heart of man, but the +semmel sort does no such thing; and when Linguet affirms,—and it is one of +the greatest paradoxes I know of,—that bread is a noxious article of food, +he must be thinking of just that kind. Further, it is necessary to instruct +the gardener, the vegetable woman, the cattle dealer and feeder, and a +hundred other people down to the scullion, who must learn to chop the +spinage very fine and rub and tie it well, and also not to wash the salad, +&c. And this is all the more necessary, because bad workmen,—and their +name is legion,—love no sort of instruction, but fancy that they already +know every thing better than anybody else." To this extensive and thankless +work of instruction, the Baron declares that he has devoted himself, and +that the iron will necessary to its accomplishment is his. The iron health +is however wanting, and accordingly he can do nothing better for "the +fatherland's artists in eating" than the present work. At the last advices, +the valiant Baron was dangerously ill.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_552" id="Page_552">[Pg 552]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Works on natural history and philosophy seldom possess much interest for +the uninitiated in "the physically practical." An exception to this may +however be found in the beautiful <i>Schmetterlingsbuch</i>, or <i>Butterfly +book</i>, recently published by Hoffman of Stuttgart, containing eleven +hundred colored illustrations of these "winged flowers," as the Chinese +poetically term them. Equally attractive to every lover of exquisite works +of scientific art, is the recent American <i>Pomology</i>, edited by Dr. +<span class="smcap">Brinckle</span> of Philadelphia, and published by Hoffy of that city. This, we +state on the authority of the Philadelphia Art-Union Reporter, is the most +splendid work of the kind ever published in this country or Europe, with a +single exception, which was issued under royal patronage.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A valuable and useful book in these times is <span class="smcap">Stein's</span> <i>Geschichte der +socialen Bewegung in Frankreich von 1789 bis auf unsere Tage</i> (History of +the Social Movement in France from 1789 to our day). It is in three +volumes, published at Leipzig. The <i>Socialismus und Communismus</i> of the +same author has given him a wide reputation for impartiality and +thoroughness, which the present work must confirm and extend. We do not +coincide in all his views, historical or critical, but cordially recommend +him to the study of all who desire to inform themselves as to one of the +most important phases of modern history.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>An interesting work entitled <i>Die Macht des Kleinen</i>, or <i>The power of the +Little, as shown in the formation of the crust of our earth-ball</i>, has +recently been translated from the Dutch of <i>Schwartzkopt</i>, by Dr. <span class="smcap">Schleiden</span> +of Leipzig. This book treats entirely of the works and wonders effected by +that "invisible brotherhood" of architects, the <i>animalculæ</i>, and shows how +greatly the organic world is indebted to coral insects, <i>foraminiferæ</i>, +polypi, and other cryptic beings, for its existence and progress. The +illustrations are truly admirable.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Among the recent publications at Halle, is a heavy octavo by Dr. <span class="smcap">J. H. +Krause</span>, on the <i>History of Education, Instruction and Culture among the +Greeks, Etruscans and Romans</i>. It is drawn from the original sources, and +is the result of a most studious and thorough investigation of the subject.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A very intelligent young priest, by name <span class="smcap">Joseph Lutz</span>, has recently +published by Laupp of Tübingen, a <i>Handbook of Catholic Pulpit Eloquence</i>. +This work will be found highly interesting to those desirous of +investigating the history and theories of modern eloquence. We were already +aware that in New-England smoking and whistling are regarded as vices, but +first learned from the prospectus of this work that, according to Theremin, +eloquence is a <i>virtue</i>!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A collection of the popular songs of Southern Russia is now being published +at Moscow by Mr. <span class="smcap">Maksimowitsch</span>, who for twenty years has been in the +Ukraine, engaged in taking down and preserving these interesting products +of the early life of his people in that region. This is not the first +contribution of the kind that he has made to Russian literature; in 1827 he +published the <i>Songs of Little Russia</i>, consisting of one hundred and +thirty pieces for male and female voices; in 1834 the <i>Popular Songs of the +Ukraine</i>, consisting of one hundred and thirteen songs for men; and in the +same year the <i>Voices of Ukraine Song</i>, twenty-five pieces with music. The +present work is called by way of distinction <i>Collectaneum of Ukraine +Popular Songs</i>; it is to be in six parts, containing about two thousand +national poems. Each part is to be accompanied with explanatory notes, and +the last volume will contain an essay on Russian popular poetry in general, +as well as on that of the Ukraine in particular. One volume has already +appeared; it is in two divisions: the first of Ukraine <i>Dumy</i>, the second +of cradle songs and lullabys. The <i>Dumy</i> are a particular sort of poems +peculiar to the Ukraine. They are in a most irregular measure, varying from +four to twelve syllables, with the cadence varying in each line. The only +requirement is that they should rhyme, and frequently several successive +lines are made to do so. These poems are the production of the +<i>Vandurists</i>, or bards of the country, who are even yet found on the +southern shore of the Dnieper. These singers, usually blind old men, chant +their <i>Dumy</i> and their songs to the people, accompanying themselves with +both hands on the many-stringed <i>vandura</i>. The <i>Dumy</i> flourished most in +the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. There are some existing composed +by Mazeppa after the battle of Pultowa, and one or two other poets have +left a <i>Dumy</i> of the eighteenth, but they are not equal to those of more +primitive times. Since then there have been no new compositions in the way +of popular songs and ballads, but the older works have been repeated with +variations and to new melodies. The most frequent subjects of these ballads +were, of course, historic personages and warlike deeds; but often they sung +of domestic matters and feelings, winding up with a moral for the benefit +of the young. In this volume of Mr. Maksimowitsch, are twenty <i>Dumy</i>; their +subjects are such as these: Fight of the Cossack with the Tartar, the Three +Brothers, On the Victory of Gorgsun (1648). He reckons the number in +existence at thirty. Of these he publishes, four have not before been +known.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A new edition of Hogarth's Works is in process of republication at +Göttingen in a diminished size. There are to be twelve parts at fifty cents +each; the third part has been published.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_553" id="Page_553">[Pg 553]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Of <span class="smcap">Dr. Andree's</span> great work on <i>America</i>, whose commencement we noticed some +months since, the fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth parts have just reached +us. The German savan continues to justify the high encomiums we passed upon +the earlier portions of his work. He has used with the utmost industry and +conscientiousness all the best sources of information on every subject he +treats. Gallatin, Morton and Squier he frequently quotes as authorities. +These four parts are devoted to the conclusion of the essay on the origin +and history of the American race. In this he calls attention to the fact +that all the developments of American civilization took place on high plain +lands and not in the rich vallies of the great rivers—a fact by the way +which confirms Mr. Carey's theory of the first settlement and culture of +land, though to this Dr. Andree does not refer. He then treats of Canada, +New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, the Bermudas and the United States. The leading +facts in the geography, history, the sources of population, the political +constitution, the geological structure, soil, climate, industry, resources, +and prospects of these countries are given with admirable succinctness, +thoroughness and justice. As a book of ordinary reference, none could be +more convenient or reliable. The most difficult questions are considered +with a genuine German cosmopolitan impartiality of judgment. The +predominant influence in the formation of the American democratic +institutions Dr. Andree considers to be English, or more strictly speaking +Teutonic. Other races and nations have contributed to the mass of the +people, but only the Teutonic has laid the foundation and built the +structure of the state. It is a great blessing in the history of the +continent that the French did not succeed in their plans of colonization, +for they would everywhere have founded not democratic but feudal +institutions. The slavery question he treats more in the interest of the +south than in the spirit of the abolitionists, whose course he condemns +with considerable plainness of expression. On the mode of finally solving +this question, he offers no speculations, but contents himself with showing +the great difficulties attending colonization and emancipation upon the +soil. The former he thinks impossible, the latter can only produce war +between the two races, in which the latter must be exterminated. This mode +of viewing this subject we can testify is frequent among well-educated +Germans. The statistics relating to the United States, Dr. Andree has +collected in a most lucid manner; we do not know where they are better or +more conveniently arranged. Products, imports, exports, debt of federal and +state governments, taxation, shipping, railroads, canals, schools, are all +given; nothing escapes the vigilance of this most exemplary ethnographer. +His style is no less clear and vivid in these four parts than in those +preceding. The remainder will follow regularly. The work may be found at +Westermann's, corner of Broadway and Reade street, by whose house in +Brunswick, Germany, it is published.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">M. Alexander Duval</span> has a long article in the <i>Journal des Débats</i> entitled, +<i>Studies upon German Love</i>, taking his text from Bettina von Arnim's famous +correspondence with Goethe, and from the <i>Book of Love</i>, in which the same +sentimentalist has recorded her relations with the unfortunate Günderode. +M. Duval finds that in his intercourse with Bettina, Goethe played a part +which was honorable neither to his mind nor his heart. In the <i>Book of +Love</i>, says M. Duval, there is a little of every thing—of physics, of +metaphysics, of poetry, of natural history, of biographical anecdotes, the +history of the first kiss, of the second kiss, and of the third kiss +received by Mlle. Bettina, mixed up with apostrophes to the stars, to the +ocean, to the mountains, and above all, to the moon, which she loves so +much that she never leaves it in peace. In fact, she has such a passion for +whatever is lunatic, that the moon above is not sufficient, and she invents +another, an interior and metaphysical moon, which enlightens the world of +our thoughts. About this she writes to Goethe: "When thou art about to go +to sleep, confide thyself to the inward moon, sleep in the light of the +moon of thy own nature." French literature was never disgraced by a girl's +making a god of its most illustrious representative, and his allowing the +silly incense to be burned for years upon his altars; but the evil is +getting into France as well. Rousseau did not dare to publish his +confessions, but Lamartine has had the courage, and has served up to the +public his own letters and the portraits of his mistresses. Madame Sand's +<i>Memoirs</i> are also advertised; another step that way and Germany need no +longer envy the country of Montesquieu and Voltaire, of good sense and +action.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Readable and instructive is <span class="smcap">Hase's</span> <i>Neue Propheten</i> (New Prophets), just +published in Germany. The new prophets are Joan d'Arc, Savonarola, and the +Anabaptists of Münster. They are treated historically and philosophically, +in a style whose simplicity, animation, and clearness, differ most +gratefully from the crabbed and long-winded sentences of the earlier German +writers, in the study of whom we dug our way into some imperfect +acquaintance with that rich and flexible tongue. The book is worthy of +translation.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A new book on a subject which has latterly become prominent among the +themes of European observation and thought is called <i>Südslavische +Wanderwagen im Sommer 1850</i> (Wandering in Southern Slavonia in the Summer +of 1850). It is a series of vivid and interesting pictures of one of the +most remarkable races and regions of Europe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_554" id="Page_554">[Pg 554]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A singular work has recently been published by Decker of Berlin, entitled +<i>Monasticus Irenæus, von Jerusalem, nach Bethlehem</i> (or Irenæus Monasticus: +a public message to the noble Lady Ida, Countess of Hahn-Hahn: for the +profit and piety of all newly converted Catholics.) In this work we find +much talent, deep learning, and abundance of Schleiermachian philosophy; +but remark on the other hand the following weak points: Firstly, that the +author cuts down a gnat with a scimitar, or in other words overrates the +talent and abilities of his adversary; and, secondly, that he affects to +assume the tone and style in which her work was written, even in the title. +(The reader will remember that the work of the Countess was entitled "<i>From +Jerusalem</i>," and bore the motto, "<span class="smcap">Soli deo Gloria</span>.") In other respects also +is this work, if not decidedly wrong, at least quite indifferent.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Lamartine's</span> History of the Restoration is reviewed at length in the +<i>Journal des Débats</i>, by M. Cuvillier-Fleury. It is a very severe piece of +criticism. Lamartine is charged with injustice, confusion, and even a +systematic perversion of the truth, especially toward Napoleon. The account +of the Emperor's last days at Fontainebleau, is pronounced a tragi-comedy, +full of grimaces, of explosions, of puerile hesitations, of impossible +exaggerations. Men and facts are judged without reflection, by prejudice, +by blind passion, by a sort of fated and involuntary partiality. The method +of the book runs into declamation, turgidity, and redundancy; he does not +narrate, he discourses or expounds; he falls into mere gossip or is lost in +analysis; instead of portraits he paints miniatures, and does not conceive +an historical picture without a fancy vignette. His descriptive lyricism, +instead of imparting a grandeur to his subject, diminishes it; instead of +refining it, renders it petty. Besides, in his overstrained and exaggerated +style, he is guilty of writing bad French; M. Cuvillier-Fleury quotes +several striking examples of this. The article concludes by saying that the +historian writes without ballast, and goes at the impulse of every breeze +which swells his sails, and with no other care than the inspiration of the +moment. His subject carries him off by all the perspectives it opens to his +imagination or his memory. He is like a ship moving out of port with +streamers floating from every mast, its poop crowned with flowers, and +every sail set, but without a rudder. In spite of all criticism, however, +this history has a large sale in France: the first edition is already +exhausted. The practice of pirating, usual at Brussels and Leipzic, with +reference to French works of importance, has been prevented, in this case, +by the preparation of cheap editions for Belgium and Germany, which were +issued there cotemporaneously with the publication at Paris.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The second part of the third volume of <span class="smcap">Humboldt's</span> <i>Kosmos</i> is nearly +completed, and will soon appear. A fourth volume is to be added, in which +the geological studies of the venerable author will be set forth. He is now +nearly eighty-one years old, and is as vigorous and youthful in feeling as +ever. The first part of the third volume of <i>Kosmos</i> appeared in German and +English several months ago.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A History of Polish Literature, from the remotest antiquity to 1830, is now +being published at Warsaw, by Mr. <span class="smcap">Maciejowki</span>, a writer thoroughly +acquainted with the subject. Three parts of the first volume have appeared, +bringing the history down to the first half of the seventeenth century. One +more part will complete the volume, and three volumes will complete the +work.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The study of Russian archæology and history is prosecuted in that country +with a degree of activity and thoroughness that other nations are not aware +of, and publications of importance are made constantly. Within the present +year the fifth part of the complete collection of <i>Russian Chronicles</i> has +appeared, the fourth of the collection of public documents relating to the +history of Western Russia, and the beginning of a new collection of foreign +historians of Russia.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A curious contrast of light and shade is exhibited in the titles of two +works recently published in Vienna. <span class="smcap">Siegfried Weiss</span> (or <i>white</i>) puts forth +a book, <i>On the present state and trade policy of Germany</i>, while in the +next paragraph of the same list <span class="smcap">N. Schwartz</span> (or <i>black</i>) appears as the +author of <i>The situation of Austria as regards her trade policy</i>. This +latter we should judge to be an excellent illustration of the old phrase, +"<i>nomen et omen!</i>"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Periodical literature is making its way into Asia. A literary monthly has +made its appearance at Tiflis, in the Georgian language. It will discuss +Georgian literature, furnish translations from foreign tongues, and treat +of the arts and sciences, and of agriculture. What oriental students will +find most interesting in this magazine, will be its specimens of the +popular literature of the country. A new Armenian periodical has also been +commenced in the Trans-Caucasian country.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A German version of <span class="smcap">Hawthorne's</span> <i>Scarlet Letter</i> has been executed by one +<span class="smcap">Du Bois</span>, and published by Velliagen & Klasing of Nielefeld.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Otto Hubner</span>, the industrious German economist, is about to publish at +Leipsic a collection of the tariffs of all nations.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A work on Freemasonic medals has been published by Dr. <span class="smcap">Merzdorf</span>, +superintendent of the Grand Ducal Library of Oldenburg: with plates.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_555" id="Page_555">[Pg 555]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The German Universities are well off for teachers. In the twenty-seven +institutions of the kind at the last summer term, there were engaged 1586 +teachers, viz.: 816 ordinary, 330 extraordinary, and 37 honorary +professors, with 403 private tutors, exclusive of 134 masters of languages, +gymnastics, fencing and dancing. Münster has the fewest teachers, numbering +only 18, Olmütz 22, Innsbruck, 26, Gratz 22, Berne and Basle each 33, +Rostock, 38; on the other hand Berlin has 167, Munich 102, Leipzic and +Göttingen each 100, Prague 92, Bonn 90, Breslau 84, Heidelberg 81, Tübingen +77, Halle 75, Jena 74. The whole number of students in the last term was +16,074; Berlin counting 2199, Munich 1817, Prague 1204, Bonn 1026, Leipzic +846, Breslau 831, Tübingen 768, Göttingen 691, Würzburg 684, Halle 646, +Heidelberg 624, Gratz 611, Jena 434, Giessen 409, Freiburg 403, Erlangen +402, Olmütz 396, Königsberg 332, Münster 323, Marburg 272, Innsbruck 257, +Greifswald 208, Zürich 201, Berne 184, Rostock 122, Kiel 119, Basel 65.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Among the last poetical issues of the German press we notice <i>Poetis che +Schriften</i>, by <span class="smcap">A. Hensel</span> (Vienna, 2 vols.), are exaggerated, almost insane +expression of Austrian loyalty running through sonnets, lyrics, ballads and +romances; <i>Friedrichsehre</i> (Honor to Frederick), by an anonymous author +(Posen), a new wreath for the weather-beaten old brows of Frederick the +Great; <i>Erwachen</i> (Waking), seven poems by Hugo le Juge (Berlin), a book +with talent in it; <i>Lebensfrühling</i>, by Paul Eslin (Liepsic), the second +edition of a collection of neat and pleasing poems for children.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Russian government has published some book-making statistics of Poland +in 1850. In the course of the year, 359 manuscript works were submitted to +the censorship, being 19 more than in 1849. Almost all were scientific, the +greater part treating of theology, jurisprudence, and medicine; 327 were +licensed to be printed, 4 rejected, and 15 returned to their authors for +modification; upon 13 no decision has been given. In 1850, there were +imported into the kingdom 15,986 works, in 58,141 volumes; this was 749 +works less, and 1,027 volumes more than in 1849.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A new work on Russia is appearing at Paris with the title of <i>Etudes sur +les Forces Productives de la Russie</i>. Its author is Mr. <span class="smcap">L. de Tegoborski</span>, a +Russian privy councillor. The first volume, a stout octavo, has been +issued. It treats of the geographical situation and extent of Russia, the +climate, fertility and configuration of the soil; population; productions +of the earth and their gross value; vegetable, animal and mineral +productions; agriculture; raising of domestic animals. The whole work will +consist of three volumes; the second is in press.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Notices in the later numbers of the <i>Europa</i>, of <span class="smcap">Karl Quentin</span> in America, +and <i>The Art Journal</i>, are not without interest. The Grenzboten also +contains interesting articles on <span class="smcap">Thomas Moore</span>, and <span class="smcap">Oersted</span>.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Of Ritter's great work, the <i>History of Philosophy</i>, of which only earlier +volumes have appeared in English, a tenth volume is shortly to be +published.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A new and compendious history of philosophy has been published at Leipzic +in two octavo volumes, called <i>Das Buch der Weltweisheit</i>. It gives in the +most succinct form a statement of the doctrines of the leading +philosophical thinkers of all times, and is designed for the cultivated +among the German people. Men of other nations are however not forbidden to +derive from it what advantage they can.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">De Flotte</span>, whose election to the French Assembly made such a stir a year +since, has lately published a thick volume entitled <i>De la Souveraineté du +Peuple</i>. It is a series of essays in which he discusses with great +penetration and remarkable power of abstract thought, the spirit, ends, and +present results of the great general revolution, of which all the special +revolutions that have hitherto occurred, are merely incidents and phases. +De Flotte considers that humanity is advancing toward liberty absolute and +universal, in politics, religion, industry, and every department of life. +"One thing," he says, "has ever astonished me; this is that some men +presume to accuse the revolution of denying tradition, because they think +only of one age, or of one dynasty, while we think of all sovereigns and of +all ages; they oppose, with a curious good faith, the history of a single +epoch or a single party, to the history of all epochs and of all men. +Strange ignorance and singular forgetfulness! Why do they fail to do in +space, what they do in time, in geography what they do in history? Why do +they not deny the existence of negroes and of the Chinese because none of +them come to France? The reason is that life in space strikes the bodily +eye, while life in time strikes the eye of the mind, and theirs is +blinded!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In France, 78,000 francs have been voted by the National Assembly for +excavations at Nineveh. Mr. <span class="smcap">Layard</span>, without further means for the +prosecution of his researches there, is in England, and we are sorry to +learn, in ill health. His new book, <i>Fresh Discoveries in Nineveh</i>, will +soon be published by Mr. Putnam. Dr. <span class="smcap">H. Weissenborn</span> has printed in +Stuttgart, <i>Nineveh and its Territory, in respect to the latest excavations +in the valley of the Tigris</i>. Some specimens of the exhumed sculptures of +Nineveh have been sent to New-York by Rev. D. W. Marsh, of the American +mission at Mosul.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_556" id="Page_556">[Pg 556]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A second series of <span class="smcap">Eugene Sue</span>'s <i>Mystères du Peuple</i> is announced as about +to commence at Paris. This is an attempt to set forth the history of the +French people, or working classes, the form of a modern story being merely +a frame in which to set the author's pictures of former times. The first +series completes the history of the early Gauls and of Roman domination; +the second will treat of feudalism and of the introduction of modern social +castes and distinctions. Sue has published a preamble in the form of an +address to his readers, in which he draws the outline of the subject he is +about to treat, and establishes his main historical positions by reference +to a great variety of learned authorities.</p> + +<p>The same author is now publishing in <i>La Presse</i> a new novel called +<i>Fernand Duplessis, or Memoirs of a Husband</i>. We have seen some eight or +ten numbers of it; so far it is comparatively free from the clap-trap +romance machinery in which French writers in general, and Sue in +particular, are apt to indulge, while it is otherwise less unobjectionable +than the mass of his stories.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The historian <span class="smcap">Michelet</span> has published a new part of his <i>Revolution +Française</i>. It is devoted to the Girondists. The conclusions of the author +are that these unfortunate politicians of a terrible epoch were personally +innocent, that they never thought of dismembering France, and had no +understanding with the enemy, but that the policy they pursued in the early +part of '93, was blind and impotent, and if followed out could only have +resulted in the destruction of the republic, and the triumph of the +royalists. The whole is treated in the Micheletian manner, in distinct +chapters, each elucidating some mind.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A work <i>On the Fabrication of Porcelain in China, with its History from +Antiquity to the present Day</i>, that is to say, from 583 to 1821, has just +been translated from Chinese into French by <span class="smcap">Stanislas Julien</span>, and published +at Paris. It puts the European manufacturer perfectly in possession of the +secrets of Chinese workmen, their methods, and the substances they employ. +M. Julien has previously translated a Chinese essay on education of +silkworms, and the culture of the mulberry. He is one of the most learned +sinologues in Europe.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A French archæeologist, <span class="smcap">M. Felix de Verneilh</span>, has published an elaborate +essay on the Cologne Cathedral, in which he denies to Germany the credit of +inventing the purest model of the pointed arch, and demonstrates that this +Cathedral was not planned at the beginning of the most brilliant period of +Christian art, but was the climax thereof, and that instead of having +served as the archetype in construction of other edifices, it shows the +influence of them, and especially of the Cathedral of Amiens.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>An interesting and instructive little work has been published at Paris on +the Workingmen's Associations of that city and country. It is by <span class="smcap">M. André +Cochut</span>, one of the editors of <i>Le National</i>. It gives the history of each +of the more important of these establishments, with their mode of +organization, number of members, and pecuniary and social results. The +title is <i>Les Associations Ouvrières; Histoire et Théorie des Centatives de +Reorganisation Industrielle depuis la Révolution de 1848</i>.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A complete edition of the works of <span class="smcap">George Sand</span> is now publishing at Paris, +in parts, with illustrations by Tony Johannot. It is to be elegant, yet +cheap, the whole only costing about $5. There will be some six hundred +illustrations. The first part contains <i>La Mare au Diable</i> and <i>André</i>, +with a new preface to the former, in which the author contradicts the +notion that it was intended by her as the beginning of a new order of +literature, or was attempted as a new style of writing. Other authors are +to follow in the same manner.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The new volume of <span class="smcap">Thier</span>'s <i>History of the Consulate and the Empire</i> is +regarded as the most able and most interesting of the series. There is to +be one other volume.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Alexander Dumas</span> has written the following letter to the <i>Presse</i>:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Sir,—I understand that a publisher who at second hand +is the owner of a book of mine called "The History of +Louis Philippe," intends to issue the work under the +title of "Mysteries of a Royal Family." I have written +the history of Louis Philippe, just as I have written +the histories of Louis XIV., and Louis XV., and Louis +XVI., the history of the revolution, and the history of +the empire. I have sold this series of historical works +to a single publisher, M. Dufour. I never had the +intention to provoke the scandal indicated by the title +with which I am threatened in substitution for the one +that I had given to the work. In the life of Louis +Philippe and the royal family there is nothing +mysterious. A fatal obstinacy in a course leading to an +abyss: there's for the king. For the queen there is +goodness, self-sacrifice, charity, religion, virtue. +For the deceased royal prince and his living brothers, +there is courage, loyalty, gallantry, intelligence, +patriotism. You see in all this there is nothing +mysterious. If he persists in giving to my book a title +which I regard as infamous, the courts of justice shall +decide between me and the publisher. May God keep me +from invoking aught but historical truth with regard to +a man who touched my hand when a king, and my heart, +when an exile.</p> + +<p class="right"> +"<span class="smcap">Alex. Dumas.</span>"</p></div> + +<p>Conduct of this sort—the changing of titles, in violation of the wishes of +authors, or any change in a book, by a publisher—is atrocious crime, for +the punishment of which a revival of the whipping-post would not be +inappropriate. There have been many such cases in this country, and to some +of them we may hereafter call particular attention.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_557" id="Page_557">[Pg 557]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>One of the most truly successful of the younger living French writers is +<span class="smcap">Alfred de Musset</span>. His works are principally poetic and dramatic. He +originated a style of pieces called <i>Caprices</i>, which have become +exceedingly popular not only from their own point and spirit, but from the +incomparable manner in which they are rendered on the stage of the <i>Théâtre +Français</i>. M. de Musset's reputation has been achieved since the revolution +of July. The last number of the <i>Grenzboten</i> devotes a long leading article +to the discussion of his works and his position in the world of letters. We +translate the following paragraph: "We find in him an elegance of language, +a truth of views, even though they be true only for him individually, a +sensibility to all the problems of the soul and heart, and a freedom from +the usual French prejudices, which lay a strong claim to our attention. He +never falls into that shallow pathos with which Victor Hugo in his +'greatest moments' sometimes covers an intolerable triviality; phrases +never run away with him as they do so often with the king of the +romanticists, whose profoundest monologues not seldom turn out to be empty +jingle. In clearness, delicacy and grace, he can be compared, among the +modern romanticists, with only Prosper Merimée and Charles de Bernard. They +also resemble him in the fear of being led away by general modes of +expression and reflection. They strive only for <i>individual</i> truth; but he +differs from them in the breadth and multiformity of his perspectives, and +in a singular power of assimilation which is based on extensive reading. In +fact, the combinations of his wit and fancy often go so into the distant +and boundless, that we think we are reading a German author." The critic +then compares De Musset with Byron; the latter is more original and +spontaneous, the former richer and more comprehensive. The questions Byron +discusses have forced themselves upon him; those of De Musset are of his +own invention. For the rest he has been greatly influenced by Heine and +Hoffmann, as well as by the Faust of Goethe. The more important of his +works are: <i>Contes d'Espagne et d'Italie</i> (1830); <i>Un Spectacle dans un +Fauteuil</i> (1833); <i>Poésies Nouvelles</i> (1835-40); the same (1840-49); <i>Les +Comédies Injouables</i>, a collection of small dramatic pieces (1838); <i>Louis, +ou il faut qu'une porte soit ouverte ou fermée</i>, <i>Les deux Martiesses</i>, +<i>Emmeline</i>, <i>Le Seuet de Javatte</i>, <i>Le Fils de Titien</i>, <i>Les Adventures de +Laagon</i>, <i>La Confession d'un Enfant du Siècle</i>; romances published between +1830-40. De Musset is still a young man. A good deal has been said at +sundry times about his admission to the French Academy, but the vacancies +have been filled without him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The London <i>Leader</i> announces an abridged translation of <span class="smcap">Auguste Comte's</span> +six volumes of <i>Positive Philosophy</i>, to appear as soon as is compatible +with the exigencies of so important an undertaking. The <i>Leader</i> says: "a +very competent mind has long been engaged upon the task; and the growing +desire in the public to hear more about this <i>Bacon</i> of the nineteenth +century, renders such a publication necessary." But we do not believe in +the competence of any one who proposes an <i>abridgment</i> of Comte: the idea +is absurd. In this country, we believe, two full translations of the great +Frenchman are in progress—one by Professor Gillespie, of which the Harpers +have published the first volume, and another by one of the wisest and +profoundest scholars of the time—a personal friend of Comte, thoroughly +familiar with his system, and master of a style admirably suited for +philosophical discussion.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Jules Janin</span> has published a new romance called <i>Gaîté Champêtre</i>. The +preface has reached us in the feuilleton of the <i>Journal des Débats</i>. It is +in the usual elaborate, learned, and fanciful, but most readable style of +the author. He defends his calling as a mere man of letters, a student of +form and style, in short an artist.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We mentioned not long ago (<i>International</i>, vol. iii. p. 214,) the pleasant +letters of <span class="smcap">Ferdinand Hiller</span> to a German Gazette, respecting his experiences +among authors and artists in Paris. We see that Herr Hiller has been +engaged by Mr. Lumley as musical director to Her Majesty's Theatre in +London and the Italian Opera in Paris. He has filled the appointments of +director to the Conservatoire and Maître de Chapelle, at Cologne, for some +considerable time. His post at the Conservatoire is to be occupied by M. +Liszt. He will be an important accession to society as well as to the +theatres in those cities.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dr. R. G. Latham</span>, whose important works on <i>The Varieties of Man</i>, <i>The +English Language</i>, <i>the Ethnology of the British Empire</i>, &c., are familiar +to scholars, and have proved their author the most profound and sagacious +writer, in a wide and difficult field of science, now living, has in press +an edition of the <i>Germania</i> of Tacitus, in which his philological +acquisitions and his skill in conjectural history will have ample room for +display.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. James T. Fields</span> was a passenger in the steamer Pacific, which left +New-York on the 11th ult. for Liverpool. Mr. Fields will pass the coming +winter in France and Italy.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We hear of four new histories of the war with Mexico, one of which will be +in three large volumes, by an accomplished officer who served under General +Scott.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Horace Mann</span> is engaged on a work illustrating his ideas of the +character, condition, and proper sphere of woman. He does not quite agree +with Abby Kelly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_558" id="Page_558">[Pg 558]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The old charge that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Garth did not write his own Dispensary,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>has been revived with exquisite absurdity in the case of General Morris and +the song of "Woodman, Spare that Tree!" We have not seen the original +accusation which appeared in an obscure sheet in Boston, but we give place +with pleasure to the letter of the poet. We can imagine nothing less "apt +and of great credit," as Iago defines the requisites of a judicious +calumny, than this figment. The characteristics of Morris's style are +exceedingly marked, and are altogether different from those of Woodworth, +who was an excellent songwriter and a most worthy man, but was as little +like Morris in his literary manner as two men can be who write in the same +age and country. There are among our living poets few fairer and purer +literary reputations than that of General Morris; few that, in a covetous +mood, one would be more disposed to envy. It lives not in the tumult of +reckless criticism and the noisy dogmatism of friendly reviews, but in the +sympathy and enjoyment of thousands of refined and feeling hearts. His +calm, delicate, and simple genius has won its way quietly to an apprecient +admiration that no assaults can disturb, and it may now look down upon most +of its contemporaries without jealousy and without fear. It will shine in +its clear brightness when many clamorous notorieties of the day are +quenched in night and silence. The charge of the Boston editor is a mere +buffoonery. He could not expect that so ridiculous a fabrication would be +believed by any body. It is a device of common-place, stupid malice, +designed only to annoy a very amiable man. Had we been of counsel with the +poet we should have advised him to take no notice of the foolish slander; +but as he has seen fit to write a very interesting note on the subject, we +are happy to preserve it here. The gentleman to whom the note is addressed +gives the following account of the circumstances:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Some two or three months ago, the editor of the Boston +Sunday News, took General Morris's literary character +to task, and charged him with having obtained the +famous song of 'Woodman Spare that Tree,' from the late +Samuel Woodworth. In a word, he charged that the +General was not the author of a celebrated poem, which +has long been before the world in his name.</p> + +<p>"As the editor in question was a friend of mine, and as +I knew that he had done General Morris great injustice, +I wrote him a long letter, in which I attempted to set +him right, and thus induce him if possible to render +unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's. In other words, +I hoped he would correct his misstatements. Instead of +complying with my expressed hope, he thanked me for my +letter—very kindly published it; but, in the very same +paper, repeated his original charge. In common justice +to General Morris, I beg leave to remark, in closing +this note, that I have known him intimately and well +the last thirty years, and that I never knew a poet or +author in any department of literature who was more +strictly original. He is incapable of the petty conduct +attributed to him, and would scorn to wear honors that +belong to another. A more honorable, high-minded +gentleman never lived."</p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Home Journal Office, New-York</span>, <i>September 22, 1851</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">To John Smith, Jr., of Arkansas</span>: <i>My Dear Sir</i>:—I +thank you sincerely for your kind defence of me against +the unfounded aspersions of an editor of a Boston +paper. Your course was precisely what was to be +expected from a just man, and a contemporary who has +known me from my boyhood. The editor alluded to, +charges me with a crime that I abhor. It is +substantially as follows: "<i>That the ballad of +'Woodman, spare that tree,' was not written by me, but +by the late Samuel Woodworth, who, while in a state +intoxication, sold it to me, in a public bar-room, for +a paltry sum</i>." A more infamous charge was never made, +and the whole story, from beginning to end, without any +qualification whatever, is an unmitigated <i>falsehood</i>. +The history of the song in question is simply this: In +the autumn of 1837, Russell, the vocalist, applied to +me for an original ballad, and I wrote him "<i>Woodman, +spare that tree</i>," and handed it to him with a letter +which he afterwards read at his concerts, and published +in the newspapers of the day. It also accompanied the +first edition of the music. Mr. Woodworth never saw or +heard of the song until after it appeared in print. I +am not indebted to any human being, dead or alive, for +a single word, thought, or suggestion, embodied in that +song. It is entirely original and entirely my +composition, and this is also true of <i>all</i> the +productions I have ever claimed to be the author of, +with the exception of the play of "Brier Cliff," which +is founded upon a novel by Mrs. Thayer, and the opera +of the "Maid of Saxony," dramatized from a story by +Miss Edgeworth. In both instances I duly acknowledged +my indebtedness to the authors from whom I derived my +materials for those pieces. The attack upon Mr. +Woodworth is also shameful in the extreme, and is in +keeping with the whole affair. A more pure and +honorable man never drew the breath of life, and it is +due to his memory to say that he was not less +remarkable for his habits of <i>temperance</i>, than for his +many excellent qualities of head and heart. I do not +think that he was ever intoxicated in the whole course +of his life, and he was too upright a man to lend +himself to such a bare-faced imposition as I am charged +with practising through his agency. If he were alive to +answer for himself, he would spurn, as I do, these +malicious fabrications. The whole of the charges made +against me are <i>untrue in every particular</i>, and what +motive any one can have for circulating such vile +slanders in private life, or for proclaiming them from +the house-tops of the press, baffles my ingenuity to +determine. Those who know me will doubtless consider +this vindication of myself entirely unnecessary. If I +were to follow my own inclinations I should not notice +the scandalous libel; but, as you justly remarked, "a +slander well hoed grows like the devil," and as my +silence might possibly be misunderstood, I deem it a +duty I owe myself to contradict the infamous and +malicious aspersions of the Boston editor, and to +declare, in the language of Sheridan, that "there is +not one word of truth in all <i>that gentleman</i> has +uttered." In conclusion, I would say, that my defamer +has either been imposed upon, or that he is one of +those lawless bravos of our profession who really +imagine, because they are "permitted to print they are +privileged to insult." Again, thanking you for your +courtesy and kind interposition in my behalf, I remain, +my dear sir, yours very cordially.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">George P. Morris.</span></p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Professor Torrey</span>, of Vermont University, has published the fourth volume of +his translation of Neander's <i>History of the Christian Religion</i>—a work +which must have rank with the great historical compositions of Niebuhr and +Grote, which have or will have superseded all modern histories of the two +chief empires of antiquity. The volumes of Professor Torrey's very able +translation of Neander's History are regularly republished in rival +editions in England, and so he loses half the reward to which his service +is entitled. Puthes, of Hamburg, advertises the eleventh part (making half +of another volume), which Neander left in MS. This will, of course, be +reproduced by Professor Torrey.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559">[Pg 559]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Another translation of the <i>Divine Comedy</i> has been made in England. It is +by a Mr. <span class="smcap">C. B. Cayley</span>, and is in the original ternary rhyme. From a hasty +examination of it we incline to prefer it to Wright's or Carey's; but we +have seen no version of <span class="smcap">Dante</span> that in all respects satisfies us so well as +that of Dr. <span class="smcap">Thomas W. Parsons</span>, of Boston, of which some ten cantos were +published a few years ago, and of which the remainder is understood to be +completed for the press. Speaking of Dante, reminds us of the fact that Mr. +Richard Henry Wilde's elaborate memoir of the great Italian has not yet +been printed. Mr. Wilde wrote to us not long before his death that he had +been occupying himself in leisure hours with the revision of some of its +chapters, and we have no doubt that the work is completed. If so, for the +honor of the lamented author, and for the honor of American criticism, it +should be given to the public.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>From a forthcoming volume by <span class="smcap">Alice Carey</span>, <i>Recollections of Our +Neighborhood in the West,</i> (to be published early in December by J. S. +Redfield,) we copy a specimen chapter, under the title of "The Old Man's +Death," into another part of this magazine. It has no particular excellence +to distinguish it from the rest of the work; indeed it is rather below than +above the average of Miss Carey's recent compositions; but we may safely +challenge to it the scrutiny of critics capable of appreciating the finest +capacities for the illustration of pastoral life. If we look at the entire +catalogue of female writers of prose fiction in this country we shall find +no one who approaches Alice Carey in the best characteristics of genius. +Like all genuine authors she has peculiarities; her hand is detected as +unerringly as that of Poe or Hawthorne; as much as they she is apart from +others and above others; and her sketches of country life must, we think, +be admitted to be superior even to those delightful tales of Miss Mitford, +which, in a similar line, are generally acknowledged to be equal to any +thing done in England. It is the fault of our literary women that they are +commonly careless and superficial, and that in stories, when they attempt +this sort of writing, they are for the most part but feeble copyists, +without individuality, and without naturalness. We can point to very few +exceptions to this rule, but among such exceptions Alice Carey is eminent. +The book which is announced by Mr. Redfield is without the tinsel, or +sickly sentiment, or impudent smartness, which distinguish some +contemporary publications by women, but it will establish for her an +enviable reputation as an original and most graphic delineator of at least +one class in American society—the middle class, in the rural +neighborhoods, with whom rest, in our own as in other countries, the real +distinctions of national character, and the best elements of national +greatness.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Henry Ingalls</span>, a writer of considerable abilities, displayed chiefly in +anonymous compositions on questions in law, writes to a friend in New-York +from Paris, that he has devoted two years to the investigation of pretended +miracles in modern Europe; that the number of alleged miracles in the Roman +Catholic church of which he has exact historical materials, is over one +thousand; that the analyses of these will be amply suggestive of the +character of the rest; and that his work on the subject, to make three or +four large and closely printed volumes, will conclusively show complicity +on the part of the highest authorities of the church, in "the frauds that +are now most notorious and most generally acknowledged."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ingalls is of opinion that his work will be eminently curious in +literary, philosophical, and religious points of view, and that it cannot +fail of usefulness, especially in illustrating the silly credulity which +has obtained in such poor juggleries as have lately been practiced by the +Smiths, Davises, Fishes, Harrises, and other imposters and mountebanks of +this country.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Among the new works in press by the Appletons is a new novel entitled +<i>Adrian, or the Clouds of the Mind</i>—the joint production of Mr. <span class="smcap">G. P. R. +James</span> and Mr. <span class="smcap">Maunsell B. Field</span>. Such partnerships in literature were +common in the days of Elizabeth, and in our own country we have instances +in the production of <i>Yamoyden</i>, by Sands and Eastburn, &c. Mr. Field is +not yet a veteran, but he is a writer of fine talents and much cultivation. +Among the original papers in the present number of the <i>International</i> is a +poem from his hand, under the title of <i>Greenwood</i>.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The first volume of a <i>History of the German Reformed Church</i>, by the late +Rev. Dr. <span class="smcap">Lewis Mayer</span>, has been published in Philadelphia; and Professor +<span class="smcap">Schaff</span>, of Mercersburg, has printed in German the first volume of a +<i>History of the Christian Church, from its Establishment to the Present +Time</i>. Dr. <span class="smcap">Murdock</span>, the well-known translator of Mosheim's History, has +published a translation of the celebrated Syriac version of the New +Testament, called the <i>Peshito</i>.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Professor Hackett</span>, of the Newton Theological Institution, has added to his +claims of distinction in sacred learning by a very able <i>Commentary on the +Acts of the Apostles</i>, (published by John P. Jewett & Co., of Boston). It +is much praised by the best critics. The last <i>Bibliotheca Sacra</i> complains +that there is a decline of activity in this department, and that in +theology and biblical criticism no important works are now in progress.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Melville</span>'s new novel, <i>The Whale</i>, will be published in a few days, +simultaneously, by the Harpers and by Bentley of London.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_560" id="Page_560">[Pg 560]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Henry William Herbert</span>, with the general character of whose works our +readers must be familiar, will publish immediately (through Charles +Scribner), <i>The Captains of the Old World, from the Persian to the Punic +Wars</i>. The volume embraces critical sketches of Miltiades, Themistocles, +Pausanias, Xenophon, Epaminondas, Alexander, and Hannibal, as compared with +modern generals—not <i>lives</i> but strategetical accounts of their campaigns, +reviewed and described according to the rules and views of modern military +science—the armature and mode of fighting in all the various nations—the +fields of battle, from personal observation or the best modern +travels—with the modern names of ancient places, so that the routes of the +armies can be followed on any ordinary map. The causes of the success or +failure of this or that action are shown in a military point of view, and +the characters of the men are epigrammatically contrasted with those of the +men of the late French and English wars, involving incidental notices and +critiques of modern fields. The work is of course spirited and well +proportioned, and as Mr. Herbert is confessedly one of the best critics of +ancient manners and history, it will scarcely need any reviewer's +endorsement to insure for it an immediate and very great popularity.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A new edition of <i>St. Leger, or the Threads of Life</i>, by Mr. <span class="smcap">Kimball</span>, has +just been published by Putnam, who, we understand, has now in press a +sequel to that remarkable and eminently successful novel. Mr. Kimball's +abilities as a writer of tales are not as well illustrated in this +performance as in several shorter stories, which will soon be collected and +reissued with fit designs by Darley. In these we think he has exhibited a +very unusual degree of pathos and dramatic skill, so that scarcely any +compositions of their class in American literature have such a power upon +the feelings or are likely to have a more permanent fame. Mr. Kimball is +one of the small number among our young writers who do not disdain +elaborately to <i>finish</i> what they choose to submit for public criticism.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A new edition of Mr. <span class="smcap">Judd</span>'s remarkable novel of <i>Margaret</i> has just been +published, in two volumes, by Phillips & Sampson, of Boston, and the same +house has nearly ready <i>Memoirs of Sarah Margaret Fuller</i>, in two volumes, +edited by William H. Channing and Ralph Waldo Emerson. It will probably +embrace a large selection of her inedited writings.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Rev. Dr. <span class="smcap">Tefft</span>, of Cincinnati, has published (John Ball, Philadelphia +and New-Orleans,) a very interesting and judicious work under the title of +<i>Hungary and Kossuth, or an American Exposition of the Hungarian +Revolution</i>. Dr. Tefft appears to have studied the subject well and to have +made as much of it as was warranted by his materials.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Greeley</span> has just published in a handsome volume (De Witt & Davenport) +his <i>Glances at Europe</i>, consisting of the letters written for the +<i>Tribune</i> during his half year abroad. We frequently entirely disagree with +the author in matters of social philosophy, but we have the most perfect +confidence in the honesty of his searching after truth, and in these +letters, which were written under very apparent disadvantages, and are here +put forward modestly, we are inclined to believe there is for the mass of +readers more that is new in fact and sensible in observation than is +contained in any other volume by an American on Europe. Even when writing +of art, Mr. Greeley never fails at least to entertain.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">John L. Wheeler</span>, late the treasurer of the state of North Carolina, has +in the press of Lippencott, Grambo, & Co., of Philadelphia, <i>Historical +Sketches</i> of that State, from 1584 to 1851, from original records, official +documents, and traditional statements. It will be in two large octavo +volumes. Dr. Hawks has for some time had in preparation a work on the same +subject.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>One of those wrongs for which there is no sufficient remedy in law, has +been perpetrated by Derby, Miller & Co., of Auburn, in getting up a life of +Dr. Judson, to anticipate that by the widow of the great missionary and +deprive her of the best part of the profits to which she is entitled. Their +excuse is, "A public character is public property, and we will do with one +as we please."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. H. C. Conant</span>, (wife of the learned Professor Conant of the university +of Rochester), has published (through Lewis Colby) <i>The Epistle of St. Paul +to the Philippians, practically Explained by</i> Dr. <span class="smcap">Augustus Neander</span>. Mrs. +Conant, as we have before had occasion to observe, is one of the most able +and accomplished women of this country, and this version of Neander is +worthy of her.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A small volume entitled <i>Musings and Mutterings by an Invalid</i>, has been +published by John S. Taylor. The style is rather careless, sometimes, but +the work appears to be informed with a genuine earnestness, and to be +underlaid with a vein of good sense that contrasts strongly with much of +the desultory literature brought out in similar forms.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dr. <span class="smcap">Lardner</span>'s <i>Handbooks of Natural Philosophy and Astronomy</i> have been +republished by Blanchard & Lea, of Philadelphia (12mo., pp. 749); carefully +revised; various errors which had escaped the attention of the author +corrected; occasional omissions supplied; and a series of questions and +practical examples appended to each subject. The volume contains treatises +on mechanics; hydrostatics, hydraulics, pneumatics, and sound, and optics.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_561" id="Page_561">[Pg 561]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="The_Fine_Arts" id="The_Fine_Arts"></a>The Fine Arts.</h2> + + +<p>The London <i>Art Journal</i> for October praises Mr. <span class="smcap">Burt</span>'s engraving of Anne +Page, issued this year by the <i>American Art-Union</i>, and thus refers to the +principal engravings announced for 1852:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The prospectus of this society for the present year +announces a large engraving by Jones, from Woodville's +picture of "American News;" a small etching of this +work accompanies the "Bulletin," to which reference has +just been made. The composition is clever, but we must +warn our friends on the other side of the Atlantic, +that it is not by the circulation of such works as +this, a feeling for true Art will be generated among +their countrymen. The subject is common-place, without +a shadow of refinement to elevate its character; it is, +we dare say, national, and may, therefore, be popular; +but they to whom is intrusted the direction of a vast +machine like the American Art-Union, should take +especial care that all its operations should tend to +refine the taste and advance the intelligence of the +community. Our own Mulready, Wilkie, and Webster, have, +we know, immortalized their names by a somewhat +analogous class of works, in which, nevertheless, we +see humor without vulgarity, and truth without +affectation.</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Philadelphia Art-Union issues this year two very beautiful engravings +from the well-known masterpieces of Huntington, <i>Mercy's Dream</i> and +<i>Christiana and her Children</i>, from the celebrated collection of the late +Edward C. Carey,—an appreciating patron by whose well-directed liberality +the arts, especially painting and engraving, had more advantage than has +been conferred by any other individual in this country. <i>Mercy's Dream</i> has +been engraved by A. H. Ritchie of this city, and <i>Christiana and her +Children</i> by Andrews & Wagstaff of Boston, each on surfaces of sixteen by +twenty-two inches; and we know of no more perfect examples of combined +mezzotint, stipple, and line engraving. The management may well be praised +for such an exercise of judgment as secures to the subscribers of the +Art-Union two such beautiful works.</p> + +<p>A recent visit to Philadelphia afforded us an opportunity to visit its +public galleries. Among the additions lately made to that of the Art-Union +is one of the finest compositions of Mr. Cropsey, in which the +characteristics of the scenery of Italy are combined with remarkable +effect. From a bold and vigorously executed foreground, marked by chesnut +and cypress tress, the eye is attracted by groves and streams, and convents +and palaces, and ruined temples and aqueducts, reposing under such a sky as +bends over that land alone, away to shining and sleeping waters that seem +to reach close to the gates of paradise. <i>The Coast of Greece</i>, by Paul +Weber of Philadelphia, is in the grand and imposing style of Achenbach. +There is a breadth and massiveness and solemn grandeur in this picture +which clearly indicate that the artist, who has hitherto given his +attention altogether to landscapes, has in such efforts his true vocation. +<i>Hagar and Ishmael in the Desert</i>, by A. Woodside, is a cabinet picture +which would be regarded as good beside any of the many great productions +which illustrate the same subject. In color and composition it is +excellent. Mr. Woodside is the painter of a large and attractive picture, +<i>The Introduction of Christianity into Britain</i>, which was among the prizes +of the last distribution of the American Art-Union. <i>Lager Beer</i>, by C. +Schnessele, is a genre picture, illustrative of German character in +Philadelphia at the present day. The scene is an interior of a large beer +saloon, by gaslight, in which a dozen or fifteen persons with brimming cups +are gathered round a table where a trio are singing songs of the +fatherland. The drawing, grouping, light and shade, are highly effective. +Mr. Schnessele is a Frenchman, a pupil of Delaroche, and has been in the +United States about three years. His works exhibit that skill in detail and +general execution which is a result of a cultivation very rare among +American painters. <i>Waiting the Ferry</i>, by W. T. Van Starkenburgh, is a +landscape with cattle and human figures, with some of the best qualities +conspicuous in Backhuysen's works of a similar character. <i>Cattskill +Creek</i>, by G. N. T. Van Starkenburgh,—a brother of the last mentioned +painter,—is full of the beauty of that condition of nature which soothes +the restless spirit of man, when</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">She glides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into his darker musings, with a mild<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And healing sympathy, that steals away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sharpness, ere he is aware.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mr. Winner has some vigorous heads of old men, and other artists whom our +limits will not suffer us to mention particularly are represented by +various creditable works.</p> + +<p>As the plan of the Philadelphia Art-Union is essentially different from +that of any other in this country, we quote from a circular in its last +"Reporter" an explanatory paragraph:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The distinguishing and most important feature in our +plan, is that which gives the annual prize-holders the +right of selecting their prizes from among the +productions of American Art in any part of the United +States. This plan was adopted as the one which would +best secure the object for which we have been +incorporated, viz., "The Promotion of the Arts of +Design in the United States." It is evident that the +distribution of fifty prize certificates among our +members, as was the case at our last annual +distribution, with which the prize-holders themselves +could purchase their own pictures any where in the +United States, is preferable to any plan which empowers +a committee, composed of a limited number of managers, +with the entire right to control the funds involved in +the purchase, and make the selection of such a number +of pictures. In the one case, individual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_562" id="Page_562">[Pg 562]</a></span> taste, and +local predilection for some particular style of art, or +certain class of artists, may influence the decision of +a mere picture-buying committee in the selection and +purchase of the whole number of the prizes; but in the +other case, the various taste of a large number of +prize-holders, residing in different sections of our +vast country, is made to bear upon Art, and, +consequently, there must ensue a diffusion of knowledge +upon a subject wherein those persons themselves are the +interested parties. Should a subscriber to the +Art-Union of Philadelphia, residing in St. Louis, be +allotted a prize certificate of one hundred dollars, he +has the option to order or select his picture in that +city, and thereby encourage the Fine Arts at home, just +the same as if that Art-Union were located where he +lived, and with just as much advantage to the artist as +though it were the result of that progress in art, in +his vicinity, which should cause the production of such +a picture. And there can be no doubt of the judicious +selection on the part of such a subscriber. No man with +a hundred dollars to spend for a picture, would be +likely to make such a purchase without having some +knowledge on the subject himself, or without consulting +persons of acknowledged taste in the matter; thereby +insuring more general satisfaction to all concerned, +than would a picture of the same value awarded by +chance from the selection of a committee located in +another part of the country. No committee, no matter +how great its judgment, or how well performed its +duties, could effect a more satisfactory arrangement; +for in our case the prize-holder and the artist are the +contracting parties, without the intervention of the +Art-Union, or the payment of any commission on either +side. Another argument in favor of the Art-Union of +Philadelphia is the fact, that by this plan the +Managers are merely the agents who collect the means +which are necessary to promote and foster the Arts of +Design in our rapidly progressing country, while the +prize-holders themselves actually become the persons +who make the disbursements. Thus giving to the people +at large the means to exercise a public and universal +taste in the expenditure of a large sum—the aggregate +of small contributions—large as the liberality of our +countrymen, by their generous subscription, may assist +us in accumulating."</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The <i>Western-Art Union</i> of Cincinnati has lately published a large and +excellent engraving by Booth, of <i>the Trapper's Last Shot</i>, and for the +coming year, it will give in the same style, <i>The Committee of Congress +Drafting the Declaration of Independence</i>, from a painting by +Rothermel—Mr. Jefferson represented reading the Declaration to the other +members of the committee before it was reported to the Congress. For prizes +of the next distribution the Union will have a bust of Washington, and one +of Franklin, in marble, by Powers, and a beautiful medallion in relief by +Palmer, and two pictures are engaged or purchased from Whittridge, two from +Rothermel, two from McConkey, one from Read, one from Mrs. Spencer, one +from Ranney, and one from Terry, besides others from Sontag, Duncanson, +Eaton, and Griswold, and other western painters.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Healy</span> has finished his large picture of <i>Daniel Webster replying to +Robert Y. Hayne, in the Senate of the United States</i>, and it has been some +time on exhibition at the rooms of the National Academy of Design. The +canvas is twenty-six feet in length by fifteen in breadth, and embraces one +hundred and thirty figures. Many persons not senators are introduced, and +it is difficult to conceive a reason for this, in the cases of several of +them, who were not then, if they were ever, at Washington. The picture has +good points, but on the whole we believe it is admitted to be a failure—so +far as the fit presentation of the illustrious orator is concerned, a most +complete and melancholy failure. Engravings of it however, if well +executed, may perhaps compete with Messrs. Anthony's immense piece of +mezzotint, studded with copies of Daguerreotypes, which has been published +under the title of Mr. Clay's last Appearance in the Senate.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The illustrations of the life of <span class="smcap">Martin Luther</span> published at Hamburg, from +the pencil of <span class="smcap">Gustav König</span>, of which the fourth series has just appeared, +continue to receive the praise which has been bestowed on the previous +series. The first, which came out in 1847, consisted of fifteen engravings, +the second in 1848 of ten engravings, the third in 1849 of ten, and the +fourth, which concludes the work, has thirteen. The accompanying +letter-press is furnished by Professor Gelzer, and though very elaborate, +is spoken of as only partially successful. The illustrations on the other +hand are said by competent judges to leave nothing to be desired, and as +far as the earlier series are concerned, we can almost agree with even so +unbalanced commendation. Mr. König has every where taken care to give +faithful portraits of the personages represented, which adds to the value +of his work, for foreign readers especially. At the same time his +compositions are undeniably most spirited and effective.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The long expected work of <span class="smcap">Leutze</span>, <i>Washington Crossing the Delaware</i>, is +now at the Stuyvesant Institute, and it appears generally to have given the +most perfect satisfaction to the critics; to be regarded indeed as the best +picture yet given to the world in illustration of American history. Our +readers will remember that we have already given in the <i>International</i> a +particular description of it, from a German writer who saw it at +Düsseldorf: so that it is unnecessary here to enter further into details on +the subject. We are pleased to learn that Messrs. Goupil, who own it, +intend to have this work engraved in line by Girardet in the highest style, +and upon a plate of the largest size ever used. The print will indeed cover +a surface equal to that of the famous one of Cardinal Richelieu, which some +of our readers will not fail to remember.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_563" id="Page_563">[Pg 563]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Noctes_Amicae" id="Noctes_Amicae"></a>Noctes Amicæ.</h2> + + +<p>The "figure we cut" in the Crystal Palace was for a long time a subject of +sneers by amiable foreign critics, and a cause of ingenuous shame by too +sensitive young gentlemen in white gloves, who went over from New-York and +Boston to see society and the show. We remember that Mr. Greeley was said +to be making himself appear excessively ridiculous by writing home that we +should come out very well notwithstanding we had no Kohinoor, and but +little to boast of in the way of fancy articles in general. An excellent +neighbor of ours down Broadway, who left London before the tide turned, +sent a letter to the <i>Evening Post</i>, we believe, of the regret felt by the +"respectable Americans in Europe" that we had been so weak as to enter into +this competition at all. But see what the <i>Times</i> has said of the matter +since the first of October:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"One point that strikes us forcibly on a survey of the +last few months is, the extraordinary contrast which +the attractive and the useful features of the display +present. It will be remembered that the American +department was at first regarded as the poorest and +least interesting of all foreign countries. Of late it +has justly assumed a position of the first importance, +as having brought to the aid of our distressed +agriculturists a machine which, if it realizes the +anticipations of competent judges, <i>will amply +remunerate England for all her outlay connected with +the Great Exhibition</i>. The reaping machine from the +United States is the most valuable contribution from +abroad to the stock of our previous knowledge that we +have yet discovered."</p></div> + +<p>Again:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It seems to us that the great event of 1851 will +hereafter be found blemished by a <i>grand oversight</i>. +Attracted by the novelty and splendid success of the +occasion, we have certainly yielded more admiration to +the grand and the beautiful than to the unostentatious, +the practical, and the useful. The captivating luxuries +which are adapted to the few have entered more largely +into our imaginations and our hearts, than those +objects which are adapted to supply the homely comforts +and the unpretending wants of the many. We have thought +more of gold and silver work—of silks, satins, and +velvets—of rich brocades, splendid carpets, glowing +tapestry, and all that tends to embellish and adorn +life, than of the vast and still unexplored fields +which the necessities of the humbler classes all over +the world are constantly opening up to us. France has +thus been enabled to run quietly away with fifty-six +out of about one hundred and sixty of our great medals, +while to the department of American "notions" we owe +the most confessed and the most important contribution +to our industrial system."</p></div> + +<p>Again:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Well worthy of notice is the Maynard primer, a +substitution for the percussion-cap, which is simply a +coil of paper, at intervals in which spots of +detonating powder are placed. The action of the doghead +carries out from the chamber in which it is contained +this cheap and self-acting substitute for the ordinary +gun apparatus, which is a vast economy in expense as +well as in time. In its character the invention is one +which admits of being easily adapted to every +description of firearms at present commonly in use, and +that at a trifling cost."</p></div> + +<p>In the same pleasant way are noticed our Mr. Hobbs, his locks, and a score +or so of similarly ingenious productions; and as for Mr. Palmer's <i>leg</i>, it +is declared the chief astonisher contributed by all the world—so perfect, +indeed, that some of the journals recommend a general cutting off of +natural understandings in order to adopt the always comfortable and +well-conditioned substitute introduced by our countryman.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A considerable number of shameless women and feeble-minded men met in +convention—a sort of caldron of sickly sentimentalism, brazen atheism, and +whatever is most ridiculous and disgusting in the diseases of society,—at +Worcester in Massachusetts, on the 14th of October, and continued in +session three days. A Mrs. Rose (who, we understand, generally makes the +leading speeches of the Tom Paine birth-night festivals in New-York), and +Abby Kelley Foster, and William L. Garrison, were among the principal +actors. The main propositions before this convention, so far as they can be +ascertained from the newspaper reports, involve the setting aside of the +laws of God as they are revealed in the Bible; the laws of custom in all +savage and civilized, pagan and Christian communities, in every age; and +the laws of analogy—vindicating the existing order of society—in every +grade of animated nature. Complaints have been made that persons of +character, like the Rev. H. W. Beecher of Brooklyn, in some way sanctioned +the mummery by writing letters to its managers. Such eccentricities may be +pardonable, but the public will be sure to remember them.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A female, probably a cheap dress maker, named Dexter, has been lecturing in +London on the "Bloomer costume;" and it appears to have been assumed by +her, as well as in many English journals, that this ridiculous and indecent +dress is common in American cities, where, as of course our readers know, +if it is ever seen, it is on the persons of an abandoned class, or on those +of vulgar women whose inordinate love of notoriety is apt to display itself +in ways that induce their exclusion from respectable society. <i>Punch</i> has +some very clever caricatures of "Bloomerism," but it would surprise the +conductor of that sprightly paper to learn, that, except persons who walk +our St. Giles's at late hours, scarcely any New-Yorker has ever seen such a +dress.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_564" id="Page_564">[Pg 564]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There have never been remarked so many sudden deaths and suicides in Paris +and in the suburbs, as within the last few weeks. The following is one of +the most extraordinary cases of suicide:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The body of a young man was found floating in the +Seine, near St. Cloud. The corpse appeared to have +remained some days in the water. The deceased appeared +to have been about 25 years of age, and to have +belonged to the higher class of society. His features +were handsome, his hair brown, and his beard long and +black. His linen was of the finest quality, and his +other clothing made in the latest fashion. A small +glass bottle, corked and sealed, was suspended from his +neck, in which was a paper writing, containing the +following words:—"I am about to die! young, it is +true! and if my body be discovered a complaint may +perhaps be made. This I do not wish. An angel appeared +to me in a dream, who said to me, 'I am the Genius of +France. Royal blood circulates in your veins; but +before you occupy the sovereign power, which parties +are disputing in France, you must go to see the Eternal +Sovereign of all things.... God! ... die. Let the +waters of the Seine swallow your body. Fear not, you +shall revive when the hour of your triumph shall have +struck! I have spoken!' and the angel disappeared. I +have accomplished his desire. But I leave this writing +in case the celestial envoy may have deceived me. I +pray the Attorney-General to prosecute him,</p> + +<p class="right"> +"THE FUTURE KING OF FRANCE."</p></div> + +<p>The body has not been claimed, and the police authorities have instituted +an inquiry to discover his family.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The following clever and extraordinary story is told in the Paris <i>Droit</i>:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A commercial traveller, whose business frequently +called him from Orleans to Paris, M. Edmund D——, was +accustomed to go to an hotel, with the landlord of +which he was acquainted. Liking, like almost all +persons of his profession, to talk and joke, he was the +favorite of everybody in the hotel. A few days ago he +arrived, and was received with pleasure by all, but it +was observed that he was much less gay than usual. The +stories that he told, instead of being interesting as +formerly, were of a lugubrious character. On Thursday +evening, after supper, he invited the people of the +hotel to go to his chamber to take coffee, and he +promised to tell them a tale full of dramatic incident. +On entering the room, his guests saw on the bed, near +which he seated himself, a pair of pistols. 'My story,' +said he, 'has a sad <i>dénouement</i>, and I require the +pistols to make it clearly understood.' As he had +always been accustomed, in telling his tales, to +indulge expressive pantomime, and to take up anything +which lay handy, calculated to add to the effect, no +surprise was felt at his having prepared pistols. He +began by narrating the loves of a young girl and a +young man. They had both, he said, promised, under the +most solemn oaths, inviolable fidelity. The young man, +whose profession obliged him to travel, once made a +long absence. Whilst he was away, he received a legacy, +and on his return hastened to place it at her feet. But +on presenting himself before her he learned that, in +compliance with the wishes of her family, she had just +married a wealthy merchant. The young man thereupon +took a terrible resolution. 'He purchased a pair of +pistols, like these,' he continued, taking one in each +hand, 'then he assembled his friends in his chamber, +and, after some conversation, placed one under his +chin, in this way, as I do, saying in a joke that it +would be a real pleasure to blow out his brains. And at +the same moment he pulled the trigger.' Here the man +discharged the pistol, and his head was shattered to +pieces. Pieces of the bone and portions of the brain +fell on the horrified spectators. The unfortunate man +had told his own story."</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We find in the <i>Evening Post</i> the following notice of the citation of Mr. +<span class="smcap">G. P. R. James</span> in the courts, under the head of "Brown Linen against Law +Calf:"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Immediately previous to the sort of intermittent +equinoctial which has recently prevailed, the full +bench of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts, presided +over by Chief Justice Shaw, were at session at Lenox, +in the county of Berkshire. Among the cases that were +brought up for adjudication, was an action of <i>trespass +quare clausum fregit</i>, brought by a farmer against a +number of individuals, who in common with many others, +had, at a time last winter, when the public highway was +rendered impassible by ice and snow, made a temporary +road over the farmer's grounds without leave or license +first had and obtained. Mr. Sumner, of Barrington, the +leading counsel of the county, appeared for the +defence, and in enforceing his views, took occasion to +read from Macaulay's late History of England, several +passages to illustrate the state of land communication +in that county, at the time of which he writes. From +that author it appears that upon one occasion, worthy +Mr. Pepys, our friend of the 'naif' diary, while +travelling somewhere (we think in Lincolnshire, but +have not the book before us for reference), got his +'<i>belle voiture</i>', as Cardinal Richelieu used to call +his antediluvian vehicle, stuck in the mud so that it +could not be extricated, and Mr. Sumner went on to +argue, that by the common law, Mr. Pepys then was, and +anybody now is, justified, in cases of necessity, in +passing over private domains without becoming liable to +the owner in damages. Mr. Porter, recently District +Attorney, was for the plaintiff, and, in answering that +part of his adversary's argument, to which we have +above alluded, claimed the indulgence of the court to +state, that a certain author had been quoted upon the +other side, who had hardly as yet been recognized as +authority in a court of justice, upon a mere law +question, at least; that such being the case, he +claimed the liberty to read from another writer, the +late historiographer royal of Great Britain, a +gentleman whose statements were certainly entitled to +overrule the others in a question of that sort; and +thereupon Mr. Porter commenced reading the first +chapter of Mr. G. P. R. James's new novel of 'The +Fate,' in which he so indignantly denounces the falsity +of Macaulay's picture of the social condition of +England two centuries ago. This created no little +merriment, both on the bench and among the gentlemen of +the robe, all admitting that it was the first time +within their knowledge, that the black linen and the +brown paper had usurped the place of the consecrated +law calf, before an American tribunal at least."</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_565" id="Page_565">[Pg 565]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A French critic has just revealed a portrait of the favorite of Lamartine +and numerous other writers on the Revolution—St. Just, from which it +appears that he was the author of a long poem entitled <i>Orgaut</i>. The +opinion which the historians have caused the public to form of this man +was, that he was a fanatic—implacable, but sincere—a ruthless minister of +the guillotine, but deeming wholesale slaughter indispensable for securing, +what he conscientiously considered, the welfare of the people. He was, we +might imagine, something like the gloomy inquisitors of old, who thought it +was doing God service to burn heretics at the stake.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>A correspondent of the <i>Athenæum</i> observes, that "To +justify this opinion, one would have expected to have +found in a poem written by him when the warm and +generous sentiments of youth were in all their +freshness, burning aspirations for what it was the +fashion of his time to call <i>vertu</i>, and lavish +protestations of devotedness to his country and the +people. But instead of that, the work is, it appears, +from beginning to end, full of the grossest +obscenity—it is the delirium of a brain maddened with +voluptuousness—it is coarser and more abominable than +the 'Pucelle' of Voltaire, and is not relieved, as that +is, by sparkling wit and graces of style. In a moral +point of view, it is atrocious—in a literary point of +view, wretched. The discovery of such a production will +be a sad blow to the stern fanatics of these days, who +look on the blood-stained men of the Revolution with +admiration and awe—who make them the martyred saints +of their calendar—and whose hope by day and dream by +night is to have the opportunity of imitating them. Of +the whole band St. Just has hitherto been considered +the purest—he has always been accepted as the very +personification of 'virtue' in its most sublime form. +Even the immaculate Maximilien Robespierre himself has +never had the honor of having admitted that he +approached him in moral grandeur. And now, behold! this +'virtuous' angel is proved to have been a debauched and +loathsome-minded wretch! But, to be sure, that was +before he began cutting off heads, and wholesale +murders on the political scaffold redeem a multitude of +sins."</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A few days ago the French President received a gift of the most rich +bouquets from the market women of Paris, and at the same time an +application for permission to visit him at the palace. This was granted, +and full three hundred of the flower of the female merchants in fruit and +vegetables of the faubourgs, dressed in their utmost finery, were received +by the officers in attendance, and ushered through the saloons of the +Elysee.</p> + +<p>The London <i>Times</i> correspondent says:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"After admiring the furniture, paintings, &c., they +were conducted to the gardens, where they enjoyed +themselves for some time. Refreshments were then laid +out in the dining-room, and they were invited to +partake of the President's hospitality. The champagne +was passing round pretty freely when the President +entered. They received him with acclamations of '<i>Vive +Napoléon!</i>' The President, after the usual salutations, +took a glass of wine, and proposed the toast, '<i>A la +santé des dames de la Halle de Paris!</i>' which was +responded to in a becoming manner; and '<i>La santé de +Napoléon!</i>' was in turn proposed by an elderly matron, +and loudly cheered. The ladies were particularly +pleased at finding the bouquets presented yesterday +arranged in the dining-room. Louis Napoleon chatted for +some time with his visitors, and expressed, in warm +terms, the pleasure he felt at seeing them under his +roof. The ladies requested that one of their +companions—the most distinguished for personal +attractions, as for youth—should be allowed to embrace +him in the name of the others. <i>Such</i> a request no man +could hesitate to grant, and the fair one who was +deputed to bestow the general salute advanced, blushing +and trembling, to perform the duty. Louis Napoleon went +through the pleasing ceremony with much credit to +himself, and apparently to the great satisfaction of +those present. In a short time the visitors asked +permission to retire, after again thanking the +President for the honor he did them. Before separating +they united in one last and loud acclamation of '<i>Vive +Napoléon</i>.'"</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Johnson J. Hooper</span>, the author of <i>Captain Simon Suggs</i>, and several other +works similar to that famous performance in humor and in the +characteristics of southern life, is editor of <i>The Chambers Tribune</i>, +published somewhere in Alabama. Few papers have as much of the quality +which is commonly described by the word "spicy." In a late number we have +an election anecdote which will serve as a specimen. The hero is Colonel A. +Q. Nicks, of Talladega. We quote:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The Colonel had incurred, somehow, the enmity of a +certain preacher—one who had once been ejected from +his church and subsequently restored. The parson, +besides, was no favorite with his neighbors. Well, when +Nicks was nominated, parson Slashem 'norated' it +publicly that when Nicks should be elected, his (the +parson's) land would be for sale, and himself ready to +emigrate. Well, the Colonel went round the county a +time or two, and found he was 'bound to go;' and +shortly after arriving at that highly satisfactory +conclusion, espying the parson in a crowd he was +addressing, sung out to him: 'I say, brother Slashem, +begin to fix up your <i>muniments</i>—draw your deeds—I am +going to represent these people, <i>certain</i>! But before +you leave, let me give you thanks for declaring your +intention as soon as you did; for on that account I am +getting all of your church and the most part of your +neighbors!' The parson has not been heard of since."</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In a late number of Mr. <span class="smcap">Charles Dickens's</span> <i>Household Words</i>, there is an +amusing and suggestive paper on Nursery Rhymes, wherein the ferocious +morals embalmed in jog-trot verse are indicated, for the reflective +consideration of all parents. A terrible case is made out against these +lisping moralists: slaughter, cruelty, bigotry, injustice, wanton delight +in terrible accidents and awful punishments for trivial offences, ferocity +of every kind—such a mass of "shocking notions" as would people our +nurseries with demons, were it not for the happy indifference of children +to anything but the rhyme, rhythm, and quaint image.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_566" id="Page_566">[Pg 566]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In France, we have the <i>Univers</i> regretting that Luther was not burnt, and +that the church has not still the power to use the stake; and in England we +have the <i>Rambler</i>, a journal which is considered the organ of the moderate +party, as distinct from that of the <i>Tablet</i>, boldly expressing wishes and +hopes of an even more debatable character. The creed of the king of Naples +is authoritatively declared to be that of every Catholic. In a late number +it is said—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Believe us not, Protestants of England and Ireland, +for an instant, when you see us pouring forth our +liberalisms. When you hear a Catholic orator at some +Catholic assemblage declaring solemnly that 'this is +the most humiliating day in his life, when he is called +upon to defend once more the glorious principle of +religious freedom'—(especially if he says any thing +about the Emancipation Act and the 'toleration' it +<i>conceded</i> to Catholics)—be not too simple in your +credulity. These are brave words, but they mean +nothing; no, nothing more than the promises of a +parliamentary candidate to his constituents on the +hustings. <i>He is not talking Catholicism, but nonsense +and Protestantism</i>; and he will no more act on these +notions in different circumstances, than <i>you</i> now act +on them yourselves in your treatment of him. You ask, +if he were lord in the land, and you were in a +minority, if not in numbers yet in power, what would he +do to you? That, we say, would entirely depend upon +circumstances. If it would benefit the cause of +Catholicism, he would tolerate you: if expedient he +would imprison you, banish you, fine you; possibly, <i>he +might even hang you</i>. But be assured of one thing: he +would never tolerate you for the sake of the 'glorious +principles of civil and religious liberty.'"</p></div> + +<p>Again, it is said—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Why are we so anxious to make the church wear the garb +of the world? Why do we stoop, and bow, and cringe +before that enemy whom we are sent to conquer and +<i>annihilate</i>? Why are we ashamed of the deeds of our +more consistent forefathers, <i>who did only what they +were bound to do by the first principles of +Catholicism</i>?... Shall I foster that damnable doctrine, +that Socinianism, and Calvinism, and Anglicanism, and +Judaism, are not every one of them mortal sins, like +murder and adultery? Shall I lend my countenance to +this unhappy persuasion of my brother, that he is not +flying in the face of Almighty God every day that he +remains a Protestant? Shall I hold out hopes to him +that I will not meddle with his creed if he will not +meddle with mine? Shall I lead him to think that +religion is a matter for private opinion, and tempt him +to forget <i>that he has no more right to his religious +views than he has to my purse, or my house, or my +life-blood</i>? No! Catholicism is the most intolerant of +creeds. It is intolerance itself, for it is truth +itself. We might as rationally maintain that a sane man +has a right to believe that two and two do not make +four, as this theory of religious liberty. Its impiety +is only equalled by its absurdity."</p></div> + +<p>We refer above to the <i>Univers</i>, the organ of the Roman Catholic party in +France. The editor of that print, at a dinner recently given for Bishop +Hughes, at the Astor House, was complimented in a toast by our excellent +collector, Maxwell, who, of course, endorses the following choice +paragraph:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A heretic," observes the editor of the <i>Univers</i>, +"examined and convicted by the church, used to be +delivered over to the secular power, and punished with +death. Nothing has ever appeared to us more natural, or +more necessary. More than 100,000 persons perished in +consequence of the heresy of Wicliff; a still greater +number by that of John Huss; it would not be possible +to calculate the bloodshed caused by the heresy of +Luther, and <i>it is not yet over</i>. After three centuries +we are at the eve of a recommencement. The prompt +repression of the disciples of Luther, and a crusade +against Protestantism, would have spared Europe three +centuries of discord and of catastrophes in which +France and civilization may perish. It was under the +influence of such reflections that I wrote the phrase +which has so excited the virtuous indignation of the +Red journals. Here it is:—'For my part, I avow frankly +my regret is not only that they did not sooner burn +John Huss, but that they did not equally burn Luther; +and I regret, further, that there had not been at the +same time some prince sufficiently pious and politic to +have made a crusade against the Protestants.' Well, +this paragraph might have been better penned; but as I +have the happiness to belong to those who care little +about mere forms of expression, I will not revoke it. I +accept it as it is, and with a certain satisfaction at +finding myself faithful to my opinions. That which I +wrote in 1838 I still believe. Let the Red +philanthropists print their declaration in any sort of +type they please, and as often as they please. Let them +add their commentaries, and place all to my account. +The day that I cancel it, they will be justified in +holding the opinion of me which I hold of them."</p></div> + +<p>Far be it from us to meddle with the quarrels of the theologians—even by +reprinting any attack an adversary makes on the worst of them. We merely +copy these paragraphs from famous defenders of the Catholic Church, as an +act of justice to her, against those slandering Protestants who say she has +changed—she, the infallible and ever consistent!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The "leading journal of the world" occasionally indulges in a pleasantry, +as in this example:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A surgical operation under the influence of chloroform +has just terminated fatally, to the regret of the +public, to whom the patient was well known. One of the +brown bears in the Zoological Garden suffering from +cataract of the eye, an eminent surgeon and a party of +<i>gelehrter</i> assembled to undertake his cure. Bruin was +tempted to the bars of his den by the offer of some +bread, and then secured by ropes and a muzzle. After a +stout resistance, chloroform was administered. In a +state of insensibility the cataract was removed, and +the bonds untied, but the patient showed no signs of +life! Feathers to the nose, cold buckets of water, and +bleeding produced no effect. Poor Bruin had gone +whither the great tortoise, two ostriches, and the +African lion have preceded him, for the managers of the +Berlin gardens are decidedly unlucky. With the trifling +drawback of the death of the subject, the operation was +skilfully and successfully performed."</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_567" id="Page_567">[Pg 567]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We find the following anecdote as related by Baron <span class="smcap">Oldhausen</span>: it conveys an +admirable lesson:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Charles XII., of Sweden, condemned a soldier, and +stood at a distance from the place of execution. The +fellow, when he heard this, was in hopes of a pardon, +but being assured that he was mistaken, replied with a +loud voice, 'My tongue is still free, and I will use it +at my pleasure.' He did so, and charged the king, with +much insolence, and as loud as he could speak, with +injustice and barbarity, and appealed to God for +revenge. The king, not hearing him distinctly, inquired +what the soldier had been saying. A general officer, +unwilling to sharpen his resentment against the poor +man, told his majesty he had only repeated with great +earnestness, 'That God loves the merciful, and teaches +the mighty to moderate their anger.' The king was +touched by these words, and sent his pardon to the +criminal. A courtier, however, in an opposite interest, +availed himself of this occasion and repeated to the +king exactly the licentious expressions which the +fellow uttered, adding gravely, that 'men of quality +ought never to misrepresent facts to their sovereign.' +The king for some moments stood pausing, and then +turned to the courtier, saying, with reproving looks, +'This is the first time I have been betrayed to my +advantage; but the lie of your enemy gave me more +pleasure than your truth has done.'"</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A report is current in Europe that an expedition is to be sent from France +into the sea of Japan. It is said that it will consist of a frigate, a +corvette, and a steamer, under the orders of a Rear-Admiral who has long +navigated in the Pacific Ocean and the Chinese seas. "This expedition +will", it is added, "be at once military, commercial, and scientific, and +has for object to open to European commerce states which have been closed +against it since the sixteenth century." Notwithstanding the sanction which +the principle involved received a few years ago, from an illustrious +American, we cannot regard the proposed expedition otherwise than as an act +of the most shameless villainy by a nation. The Japanese are a peculiar +race, and our readers who have seen a series of articles on the subject of +their civilization and polity in late numbers of the <i>Tribune</i>, will not be +disposed to think the people of Japan inferior to those of France, just +now, in any of the best elements of a state. We, as well as the Japanese +themselves, understand perfectly well that the opening of their ports to +the Europeans and Americans, would be followed by the demoralization and +overthrow of their empire.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Carlyle</span>, in the following brief composition, of which the original was +shown us a few days ago, furnishes a model for autograph writers.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"George W. C——, of Philadelphia, wants my autograph, +and here gets it: much good may it do him.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">T. Carlyle.</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">London</span>, <i>November 2, 1850</i>."</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The following on the silence of wives under conjugal infelicity, is as +sententious and as true as any thing in La Bruyère:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"However much a woman may detest her husband, the +grievance is too irremediable for her to find any +comfort in talking about it; there is never any +consolation in complaining of great troubles—silence +and forgetfulness are the only anodynes. Women have +generally a Spartan fortitude in the matter of +husbands: if they have made an unblessed choice, it is +a secret they instinctively conceal from the world, +cloaking their sufferings under every imaginable color +and pretence. They apparently feel that to blame their +husbands is to blame themselves at second-hand."</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We published in the <i>International</i> some time ago a sketch, pleasantly +written, of the eccentric Lord Chancellor Thurlow, and his terrible +swearing. The following from the Manchester <i>Courier</i>, shows that the great +lawyer has a worthy follower in Baron Platt:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"At the recent assizes at Liverpool, a stabbing case +from Manchester was heard before Baron Platt, who, in +summing up to the jury, used these words: 'One of the +witnesses tells you that he said to the prisoner, 'If +you use your knife you are a d——d coward;' I say +also,' continued the learned judge, apparently in deep +thought, 'that he was a d——d coward, and any man is a +d——d coward who will use a knife.'"</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The printers of London are endeavoring to establish, in imitation of the +<i>Printers' Library</i> in New-York, a literary institution to be called "The +Printers' Athenæum," and have received considerable encouragement from +compositors, and the trades connected with printing, as typefounders, +bookbinders, engravers, letter-press and copper-plate printers, &c., the +members of which are eligible. The object is to combine the social +advantages of a club with the mental improvement of a literary and +scientific institution, and to adapt them for the position and +circumstances of the working classes. All persons engaged in the production +of a newspaper, or book, such as editors, authors, reporters, readers, &c., +although strictly not belonging to the profession, are competent to become +members, and persons not so connected will be permitted to join the society +on their being proposed by a member. It is expected that the Athenæum will +be opened before the commencement of the ensuing year.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A <span class="smcap">Madrid</span> correspondent writes to one of the London journals:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The infant princess to whom the Duchess of Montpensier +has just given birth has received the names of Maria +Amalia Luisa Enriqueta Felipa Antonia Fernanda Cristina +Isabel Adelaida Jesusa Josefa Joaquina Ana Francisca de +Asis Justa Rufina Francisca de Paula Ramona Elena +Carolina Bibiana Polonia Gaspara Melchora Baltasara +Augustina Sabina."</p></div> + +<p>Doubtless there was an extra charge for the christening.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_568" id="Page_568">[Pg 568]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Historical_Review_of_the_Month" id="Historical_Review_of_the_Month"></a>Historical Review of the Month.</h2> + + +<p>An increasing activity is observable in whatever points to the next +Presidential election, and several eminent persons have recently defined +their relations to the most exciting and important questions to be affected +in that contest. Among others, ex-Vice President Dallas, ex-Secretary of +the Navy Paulding, and Mr. Henry Clay, have written letters on the state of +the nation as respects the slavery question. Meantime, the people of South +Carolina have repudiated the doctrine and policy of secession by electing +only two members in the whole state favorable to their views in the +Convention called for the consideration of that subject; Georgia and +Mississippi have given overwhelming majorities on the same side; and +Pennsylvania appears to have asserted not less unquestionably her +attachment to the Union and the Compromise, in electing Mr. Bigler +governor.</p> + +<p>The affairs of the several states are without special significance except +in the matter of elections, of which we have indicated the general results +as altogether favorable to the Union and the enforcement of the laws of +Congress. Returns, however, are at the time when we go to press so +imperfect, that we attempt no particular details respecting candidates or +majorities. In Pennsylvania and Ohio, as in the Southern States, the +democrats have a perfect ascendency; in Maryland the whigs have been +successful; in California it appears to be doubtful as to the Governor, but +the democrats have a control in the Legislature.</p> + +<p>The most important news from California relates to the movement for +dividing the state, and making that part of it lying south of the +thirty-seventh degree of north latitude a separate commonwealth. If this +project should be carried into effect, slavery would, no doubt, be +introduced into Southern California; but there is not much prospect of its +being successful. A convention of delegates from the southern counties, to +be held at Los Angelos, Santa Barbara, or Monterey, is called for the +purpose of interchanging sentiments on the subject, so that the Legislature +may take the matter into consideration. The accounts from the mining +districts continue to be favorable; improvements are in successful progress +in various gold-bearing districts; and the yield of the precious metal is +such as to reward the enterprise and industry of the miner. San Francisco +and Sacramento have again been disgraced by the conduct of scoundrel bands +usurping the functions of government and putting to death such persons as +were obnoxious to their prejudices or guilty of offences which the law +officers might have punished.</p> + +<p>From the Mormon City at Salt Lake, intelligence is received of continued +prosperity. Mr. Bernheisel, last year agent for the territory in this city +to obtain a library for Utah, is chosen territorial delegate to Congress.</p> + +<p>After a protracted contest for Provisional Bishop of the diocese of +New-York, Dr. Creighton, of Tarrytown, has been elected to that office. He +is a native of this city, and graduated in Columbia College in 1812, +afterwards officiated in Grace Church, was next appointed Rector of St. +Mark's, Bowery, whence he was called to Tarrytown, where he now resides.</p> + +<p>Louis Kossuth, having been set at liberty by the Turkish government, will +very soon arrive in the United States, where extraordinary demonstrations +of respect will be offered to him in several of the principal cities. About +nine months ago Kossuth committed to the care of Mr. Frank Taylor, a young +American visiting Broussa, the MS. of an address to the people of this +country, which was published in a translation, at New-York, on the 18th of +October—having been withheld until that time lest its earlier appearance +should affect injuriously the interests of its author in Europe. The +friends of liberty will rejoice that Kossuth is free, and in a land of +liberty; but it is not improbable that future events will demonstrate, that +the Austrian government was not altogether unreasonable in protesting +against his enlargement. Kossuth and Mazzini are scarcely less terrible to +tyrants, as writers, than as the leaders of armies and the masters of +cabinets.</p> + +<p>Although extraordinary prosperity in a state may sometimes lead to +arrogance and injustice, the position of this country toward several +European powers who intimate an intention of compelling a certain policy on +our part in regard to Spain, must insure a triumphant consideration of the +<i>Union</i>, in which we have a strength that may laugh their leagues to scorn. +The details of an arrangement between Spain, France, and Great Britain, are +not yet perfectly understood in the United States, but it is generally +known that some plan has been adopted which will be likely to draw from the +Secretary of State a sequel to his letter to Mr. Hulseman, the Austrian +<i>chargé d'Affaires</i>, whose experiences were made known a year ago.</p> + +<p>The vessels of the American exploring expedition in search of Sir John +Franklin returned—the <i>Advance</i> on the 30th of September, and the +<i>Rescue</i>, which had separated from her on the banks of Newfoundland, a few +days after. It is probable that a full account of this heroic enterprise, +so honorable to its authors and to all engaged in it, will soon be given to +the public, by Dr. Kane, or one of the other officers; and as any such +brief statement as we could present of its history would be unsatisfactory, +we shall not now go further into details than to say no traces of Sir John +Franklin, except such as we have already noticed, were discovered, and that +the crews came home after a year's absence in excellent health. The nearly +simultaneous return of the British expedition has caused considerable +discussion in England. It appears to be felt very generally that it is not +justifiable to abandon the pursuit until the fate of Sir John Franklin has +been demonstrated by actual observation. Such satisfaction is due to +science and to humanity. Proposals are now, we believe, before the +Admiralty, for sending into the Arctic seas one or more steamers, with +which alone the search can be advantageously prosecuted further.</p> + +<p>A New-York ship, the Flying Cloud, made the passage round the Horn to San +Francisco in ninety days—shorter than any voyage on record. Her fastest +day's run was 374 miles, beating the fleetest of Collins's steamers by +fifty miles. In three successive days she made 992 miles. At this rate she +would cross the Atlantic in less than nine days.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_569" id="Page_569">[Pg 569]</a></span></p> + +<p>Discouraging accounts have been received respecting the whale fleet in the +North Pacific Ocean. After wintering in the gulf of Anadir, the fleet +attempted to pass into the Arctic Ocean, when it became surrounded with +fields of ice, by which not less than eight vessels are known to have been +destroyed, and it was supposed that upwards of sixty others had experienced +the same fate. Some of the crews of the lost ships reached the main land, +but afterwards got into difficulty with the natives and in consequence many +of them were killed. The whale fishing, during the season, is said to have +been an entire failure, and a number of vessels were on their return to the +northwest coast, in the hope of retrieving their ill fortune.</p> + +<p>Several disastrous "accidents" have recently happened in various parts of +the country. On the 21st September, the steamer James Jackson, exploded +near Shawneetown in Illinois, killing and wounding 35. On the 26th +September, the Brilliant exploded near Bayou Sara, killing a yet larger +number; and many such events of less importance, but probably involving +more or less criminality, have occurred on steamboats and railroads in +various parts of the country. The most destructive fire since the +completion of our last number was one at Buffalo, commencing on the 25th +September, and continuing until 200 buildings, on more than 30 acres, were +destroyed, and an immense number of poor families were made homeless. The +fire extended over the meanest part of the town, but the loss is estimated +at $300,000. For several days a destructive gale prevailed along the +eastern coast, producing an immense loss of life; a large number of dead +bodies were taken from the holds of vessels. Great excitement has prevailed +in Gloucester, Newburyport and other towns, a large portion of whose +populations were exposed to the fury of the storm. Further east, on the +coast of Nova-Scotia, the remains of sixty persons, lost during the storm, +are said to have been buried in one grave. No less than 160 vessels, of all +kinds, are reported to have been wrecked.</p> + +<p>The Grand Jury sitting at Philadelphia have found bills of indictment +against four white men and twenty-seven negroes, for treason, in +participating in the outrage at Christiana, in the state of Pennsylvania. +At Syracuse on the 1st of October an attempt was made to rescue a slave, +but he was captured and his abettors arrested and conveyed to Auburn for +examination.</p> + +<p>The jury in the case of Margaret Garrity, who was tried at Newark for the +murder of a man named Drum, who seduced her under a promise of marriage, +and afterwards deserted her for another, rendered a verdict of not guilty, +on the ground of insanity, on the 13th ult. This disgraceful proceeding had +precedents in New Jersey, and it appears to have excited but little of the +indignation which it deserved. Margaret Garrity murdered her paramour under +extraordinary circumstances, which, doubtless, would have had proper weight +with the pardoning power. It is evidently absurd to say, that she, more +than any murderess, was insane, and the jury were altogether unjustifiable +in rendering a verdict which is unsupported by evidence; and of an +assumption of the authority of the Governor of the State, in setting at +liberty a criminal for whose conduct there appeared to be merely some sort +of extenuation or excuse in the conduct of her victim. It would be as well +to have no juries as juries so ignorant or reckless of their obligations.</p> + +<p>A general council of the once grand confederacy of the Five Nations of +Indians, the Mohawks, Onondagas, Oneidas, Cayugas, Senecas, and +Tuscaroras—was held at Tonawanda on Friday, September 19th, to celebrate +the funeral rites of their last Grand Sachem, John Blacksmith, deceased, +and of electing a Grand Sachem in his place, electing Chiefs, &c. Ely S. +Parker (Do-ne-ha-ga-wa), was proclaimed Grand Sachem of the Six Nations. He +was invested with the silver medal presented by Washington to the +celebrated war-chief Red Jacket, and worn by him until his death.</p> + +<p>The new Canadian Ministry, so far as formed, is as follows: +Inspector-General, Mr. Hincks; President of the Council, Dr. Rolph; +Postmaster-General, Malcolm Cameron; Commissioner of Crown Lands, William +Morris; Attorney-General for Canada West, W. B. Richards; Attorney-General +for Canada East, Mr. Drummond; Provincial Secretary, Mr. Morin. Three +appointments are yet to be made. The government will be eminently liberal.</p> + +<p>A revolution set on foot in Northern Mexico promises to be successful. The +chief causes alleged by the conspirators are the enormous duties upon +imports, and too severe punishment for smuggling, the excessive authority +of the Central Government over the individual States, the quartering of +regular troops upon citizens, the mal-administration of the national +finances, the bad system of military government inherited from the Spanish +establishment, and the want of a system of public education. The insurgents +declare that they lay aside all idea of secession or annexation, yet it is +not impossible that the movement will soon have such an end. The revolution +commenced at Camargo, where the insurgents attacked the Mexicans, and came +off victorious, having taken the town by storm, with a loss on the side of +the Mexicans of 60. The Government troops were intrenched in a church with +artillery. The revolutionists are commanded by Carvajal, who has also with +him two companies of Texans. At our last dates, the 9th of September, they +had taken the town of Reynosa, meeting but little resistance. One +field-piece and a quantity of other arms fell into their hands. General +Canales, the Governor of Tamaulipas, was approaching Metamoras, and General +Avalajos was on the way to meet him, whether as friend or foe is uncertain. +It was supposed that Canales would assume the chief command of the +revolutionists.</p> + +<p>From New Grenada we learn that General Herrara has entirely subdued the +revolt lately undertaken, and that the country is quiet. A revolt has +broken out in Chili (a country remarkable in South America for the +stability of its affairs), and in several towns the troops had declared in +favor of a new man for the Presidency: the disorganizers were sweeping all +before them, and the country was in a most excited condition. From +Montevideo the latest intelligence is so confused that we can arrive at no +definite conclusion, except that the domestic war is prosecuted with +unusual savageness. An insurrection has broken out in the states of San +Salvador and Guatemala. General Carrera, with a force of 1,500 men, had +attacked the enemy in San Salvador, who mustered 4,000 strong, and defeated +them with a loss of four men killed. He then evacuated the country.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_570" id="Page_570">[Pg 570]</a></span></p> + +<p>From Great Britain we have no political news of importance. The royal +family were still in the north. The whig politicians appear to be agitating +new schemes of parliamentary reform, and several distinguished persons have +recently made addresses to their constituents. Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton is +before his county as a protectionist candidate for the House of Commons, +with fair prospects. The submarine telegraph to France has been completed. +The great cable which was intended to reach the whole distance proved too +short by half a mile, owing to the irregularity of the line in which it was +laid down. It was pieced out with a coil of wire coated with gutta percha. +This will, however, have to be taken up and supplied with cable. The +connection is complete with France, and messages are sent across with +perfect success. Mr. Lawrence, the American minister, having gone to +Ireland, for the purpose of seeing the scenery of the country, has been +embarrassed with honors; public addresses have been presented to him, +banquets given to him, railway directors and commissioners of harbors have +attended him in his journeys, a steamboat was specially fitted up to carry +him down the Shannon, and in every way such demonstrations of interest and +honor were offered as were suitable for a people's reception of a messenger +from the home of their children. The visit of Mr. Lawrence promises some +happy results in directing attention to projects for a steam communication +directly with the United States. The differences between the government of +Calcutta and the court of Hyderabad, have been arranged for the present +without any actual confiscation of the Nizam's territory. A considerable +sum has been lodged in the hands of the Resident, and security offered for +the partial liquidation of the remainder. Moolraj, the ex-Dewan of Mooltan, +expired on the 11th August, while on his journey to the fortress of +Allahabad, and the Vizier Yar Mohammed Khan, of Herat, died on the 4th of +June. The eldest son of the latter, Seyd Mahommed Khan, has succeeded to +the throne of Herat. Dost Mohammed is resolved to oppose him, and, for that +purpose, has placed his son, Hyder Khan, at the head of a large army, with +orders to invade Herat. The Admiralty have advertised for tenders for a +monthly mail line of screw-steamers to and from England and the west coast +of Africa. The ports to be touched at are Goree, Bathurst, Sierra Leone, +Monrovia (Liberia), Cape Coast Castle, Accra, Whydah Badagry, Lagos, Bonny, +Old Calabar, Cameroons, and Fernando Po. The whole range of the slave coast +will thus be included; and it is understood that the object of the line, +which, in the first instance, of course will carry scarcely any passengers +or letters, is to promote the extinction of that traffic, not only by +cultivating commerce with the natives, but by the rapid and regular +information it will convey from point to point. Of the Caffre war, we have +intelligence by an arrival at Boston direct from the Cape of Good Hope, +later than has been received by way of England. There appeared to be some +prospect of the war being brought to a close; reinforcements of troops had +arrived, and Sir Harry Smith, the Governor, was in excellent spirits. In +the mean time, however, the Caffres and Hottentots continued making sad +havoc on the settlements, and the people were suffering from a lack of +provisions, and cattle and stock were starving to death. Efficient measures +however had in England been taken for their relief.</p> + +<p>From France, in the recess of the Assembly, there is no news of general +importance. The persecution of the press, by which more than one ruler of +that country has heretofore lost his place, is persevered in, and a large +number of editors (including two sons of Victor Hugo) have been imprisoned +and fined. All foreigners intending to reside permanently in Paris, or +exercise any calling there, must henceforth present themselves personally +to the authorities, and obtain permission to remain. This new and stringent +police-regulation is, it is said, to be extended to every department of +France. Such fear of foreigners contrasts strangely with the unsuspicious +welcome which they receive in America and England. The President is +evidently not willing his "subjects" should know what the world says of his +administration.</p> + +<p>The Government of Naples has caused to be published a formal reply to Mr. +Gladstone's letters to Lord Palmerston in respect to its unjustifiable +severity to political prisoners, particularly the ex-minister Poerio. It +mainly consists of an exposure of some inaccuracies of detail on the part +of Mr. Gladstone, such as an exaggeration of the number of political +prisoners at present confined in Naples, the alleged innocence of Poerio, +the unhealthy state of the prisons, &c.; but it does not do away with the +charge of savage severity in the punishment of Poerio and his +fellow-prisoners, which formed the main accusation advanced by Mr. +Gladstone against the Neapolitan Government, and it is not likely in any +considerable degree to affect the opinion of the world on the subject. The +Papal Court has addressed a note to the French Government, complaining of +the toleration, by the latter, of incendiary writings against Italian +states. The note observes that if the French journals were not to publish +these writings, the demagogues would be at a loss for organs of +circulation, because the English newspapers are much less read in Italy. +The Emperor of Austria has been making a tour through his Italian +provinces, in which he has been received with "respectful silence" in +streets deserted by all except the military and ungoverned children.</p> + +<p>From a diplomatic correspondence between the representatives of Austria and +Turkey, in regard to the liberation of Kossuth and his companions, it is +very evident that Austria feels very keenly the discomfiture she has +sustained, and that she will be very likely to resent this disregard of her +wishes, by seeking cause of war with Turkey. She is stirring up rebellion +in the Bosnian provinces, and concentrating her troops upon that frontier, +to take advantage of any contingency that may arise. The authorities in +Hungary have been absurd enough to evince the spleen of the Austrians in +hanging effigies of Kossuth and his associates, condemned for treason <i>in +contumace</i>.</p> + +<p>In Portugal vigorous preparations were being made for elections, in which +it was expected that Saldanha's friends would generally be defeated. At the +Cape de Verde Islands a terrible disease, described as a black plague, was +very fatal.</p> + +<p>The differences between the governments of Turkey and Egypt are still +unsettled, and the fate of the Egyptian railroad therefore remains +doubtful.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_571" id="Page_571">[Pg 571]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Scientific_Discoveries_and_Proceedings_of_Learned_Societies" id="Scientific_Discoveries_and_Proceedings_of_Learned_Societies"></a>Scientific Discoveries and Proceedings of Learned Societies.</h2> + + +<p>Some recently received numbers of the <i>Nordische Biene</i> contain interesting +information concerning the organization and labors of the Russian +Geographical Society. This body, like the Geographical and Statistical +Society organized a few weeks since in New-York, is modelled upon the +general plan of the Royal Geographical Society in London. It is, however, +far from being so universal in its aims; in fact, its members confine their +investigations to the Russian empire, and to tribes and countries +contiguous therewith. The annual meeting is held on April 5th. At the last, +two prizes were given; one of these was a gold medal offered by Prince +Constantine, the other a money prize for the best statistical work. The +medal was awarded to Lieutenant-Colonel Buckhardt Lemm, for a series of +astronomical observations, determining the latitude and longitude of some +four hundred places in Russia and the neighboring regions in Asia, as far +as Mesched in Persia. These determinations are of particular value for the +geography of inner Asia. The statistical prize was awarded to a Mr. +Woronoff for a historical and statistical survey of the educational +establishments in the district of St. Petersburg from 1715 to 1828. It is +in fact a history of the development of mental culture in that most +important part of the empire. The annual report, giving a survey of the +Society's doings, was interesting. A special object of attention is the +publication of maps of the separate governments or provinces. The Society +had also caused an expedition to be sent to the Ural, under Colonel +Hoffmann. The triangulation of the country about Mount Ararat had been +completed. A map of Asia Minor had been prepared by Col. Bolotoff, and sent +to Paris to be engraved; a map of the Caspian sea, and the countries +surrounding it, was nearly completed by Mr. Chanykoff; the same savan was +still at work on a map of Asia between 35° and 40° north latitude, and 61° +and 81° east longitude; two astronomers were engaged in that region making +observations to assist in its completion. Another map of Kokand and Bokhara +was also forthcoming, and the Society had employed Messrs Butakoff and +Chanykoff to prepare a complete atlas of Asia between 33° and 56° north +latitude and 65° and 100° east longitude. A Russian nobleman had given +12,000 rubles to pay for making and publishing a Russian translation of +Ritter's geography, but the society had determined not to undertake so +immense a work (it is some 15,000 printed pages), and had determined only +to take up those countries which have an immediate interest for Russia, +using along with Ritter a great body of materials to which he had not +access. These countries are Southern Siberia, Northern China, Turan, +Korassan, Afghanistan and Persia. In Ritter's work these occupy 4,500 +pages. No doubt the labors of the Society will greatly enrich geographical +science.</p> + +<p>The Society have in hand an expedition to the peninsula of Kamschatka, in +which they have been greatly assisted by the contributions of private +persons. They also promise a classification of a vast collection of objects +they have received bearing upon the ethnography of Russia.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We learn from the last Number of the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i> that the +French government has lately made a literary acquisition of no ordinary +interest and value. A French gentleman of the name of Perret has been +engaged for six years in exploring <span class="smcap">the catacombs under Rome</span>, and copying, +with the most minute and scrupulous fidelity, the remains of ancient art +which are hidden in those extraordinary chambers. Under the authority of +the papal government, and assisted by M. Savinien Petit, an accomplished +French artist, M. Perret has explored the whole of the sixty catacombs +together with the connecting galleries. Burying himself for five years in +this subterranean city, he has thoroughly examined every part of it, in +spite of difficulties and perils of the gravest character: for example, the +refusal of his guides to accompany him; dangers resulting from the +intricacy of the passages, from the necessity for clearing a way through +galleries choked up with earth which fell in from above almost as fast as +it was removed; hazards arising from the difficulty of damming up streams +of water which ran in upon them from above, and from the foulness of the +air and consequent difficulty of breathing and preserving light in the +lower chambers;—all these, and many other perils, have been overcome by +the honorable perseverance of M. Perret, and he has returned to France with +a collection of drawings which extends to 360 sheets in large folio; of +which 154 sheets contain representations of frescoes, 65 of monuments, 23 +of paintings on glass (medallions inserted in the walls and at the bottoms +of vases) containing 86 subjects, 41 drawings of lamps, vases, rings, and +instruments of martyrdom to the number of more than 100 subjects, and +finally 90 contain copies of more than 500 sepulchral inscriptions. Of the +154 drawings of frescoes two-thirds are inedited, and a considerable number +have been only lately discovered. Amongst the latter are the paintings on +the celebrated wells of Platonia, said to have been the place of interment, +for a certain period, of St. Peter and St. Paul. This spot was ornamented +with frescoes by order of Pope Damasus, about <span class="smcap">A.D.</span> 365, and has ever since +remained closed up. Upon opening the empty tomb, by permission of the Roman +government, M. Perret discovered fresco paintings representing the Saviour +and the Apostles, and two coffins [tombeaux] of Parian marble. On the +return of M. Perret to France, the minister of the interior (M. Leon +Faucher) entered into treaty with him for the acquisition of his collection +for the nation. The purchase has been arranged, and the necessary amount, +upwards of 7,500<i>l.</i>, obtained by a special vote of the National Assembly. +The drawings will be published by the French government in a style +commensurate with their high importance, both as works of art and as +invaluable monuments of Christian antiquity.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A Dr. <span class="smcap">Jecker</span> has left the Paris <i>Academy of Sciences</i> $40,000 to found an +annual prize in organic chemistry.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_572" id="Page_572">[Pg 572]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Recent_Deaths" id="Recent_Deaths"></a>Recent Deaths.</h2> + + +<p>The celebrated Mrs. <span class="smcap">Sherwood</span>, the most popular and universally known female +writer of the last generation, died on the 22d of September, at Twickenham, +in England. She was a daughter of Dr. George Butt, chaplain to George III., +vicar of Kidderminster, and rector of Stanford, in the county of Worcester. +Dr. Butt was the representative of the family of Sir William De Butts, well +known as physician to Henry VIII., and mentioned as such by Shakspeare. +Mary Martha Butt, afterwards Mrs. Sherwood, was born at Stanford, +Worcestershire, on the 6th of May, 1775. In 1803 she married her cousin, +Henry Sherwood, of the 53d regiment of foot. In 1805 she accompanied her +husband to India, where, in consequence of her zealous labors in the cause +of religion amongst the soldiers and natives dwelling around her, Henry +Martyn and the Right Rev. Daniel Corrie, D.D., late Bishop of Madras, +became acquainted with her, and the intimacy which then commenced also +remained unbroken until death. Her principal works were that favorite tale +of <i>Little Henry and his Bearer</i>, <i>The Lady of the Manor</i>, <i>The Church +Catechism</i>, <i>The Nun</i>, <i>Henry Milner</i>, <i>The Fairchild Family</i>, and more +recently, <i>The Golden Garland of Inestimable Delights</i>. In some of her +later compositions, she evinced a tendency to the doctrine of the +Universalists, which lessened her popularity. The great number of her books +prevents an enumeration of even the most popular of them. Mrs. Sherwood's +husband, Captain Sherwood, expired, after a most trying illness, at +Twickenham, on the 6th of December, 1849; the fatigue she went through, in +devoted attention to him, and the bereavement she experienced at the +severance by fate of a union of nearly half a century, were the ultimate +causes of her own demise. Though she was of advanced age, her mental +faculties never failed her, and she preserved a religious cheerfulness of +mind to the last. She expired, surrounded by her family, leaving one son, +the Rev. Henry Martyn Sherwood, Rector of Broughton-Hacket, and Vicar of +White Ladies Aston, Worcestershire, and two daughters. The elder daughter +is the wife of a clergyman, and mother of a numerous family. The younger +has always resided with her parent; she has of late years ably assisted in +her mother's writings, and bids fair to sustain well her reputation. She +has been, we are informed, intrusted, by her mother's especial desire, with +the papers containing the records of Mrs. Sherwood's life, which is +intended soon for publication. The editions of Mrs. Sherwood's writings +have been numerous. The best is that of the Harpers, in ten or twelve +volumes.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Rev. <span class="smcap">James H. Hotchkiss</span>, died at Prattsburgh, Steuben county, New-York, on +September 2d, aged seventy years. He was the author of a <i>History of the +Churches in Western New-York</i>, published in a large octavo volume, about +two years ago, and had just preached his half-century sermon. He was the +son of Rev. Beriah Hotchkiss, the pioneer missionary of large sections of +the State of New-York. The son graduated at Williams College, 1800; studied +theology with Dr. Porter, of Catskill, was ordained by an Association, +installed at East Bloomfield in 1802, removed to Prattsburgh in 1809, and +there labored twenty-one years. The <i>Genesee Evangelist</i> gives the +following sketch of his character:</p> + +<p>"He had a mind of a strong, masculine order, well disciplined by various +reading, and remarkably stored with general knowledge. The doctrinal views +of the good old orthodox New England stamp, which he imbibed at first, he +maintained strenuously to the last; and left a distinct impression of them +wherever he had an opportunity to inculcate them. His labors, through the +half-century, were 'abundant,' and indefatigable; and to him, more than to +any other one man probably, is the Genesee country indebted for its present +literary, moral and religious character. Under his ministry there were many +religious revivals, and some signal ones, especially in Prattsburgh. The +years 1819 and 1825 were eminently signalized in this way. He had the +happiness of closing his life in the scenes of his greatest usefulness."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Brigadier-General Henry Whiting</span>, of the Quartermaster's Department, died at +St Louis, Mo., on the 16th of September. He arrived at St Louis, as we +learn from the <i>Republican</i> of the 17th, on Sunday, the 14th, from a tour +of official duty in Texas, being in his usual health. On Tuesday afternoon, +while in his room at the Planter's House, he was, without any premonition +whatever, stricken dead instantaneously. The cause of his death, in all +probability, was an affection of the heart. His remains were taken to +Jefferson Barracks on the 17th, for interment.</p> + +<p>Gen. Whiting, who was among the oldest officers of the army, was a native +of Lancaster, in Massachusetts, a son of Gen. John Whiting, also a native +of that place. He was not only an accomplished officer in the department in +which he has spent a large portion of his life, but he made extensive +scientific and literary attainments, and was a gentleman of great private +worth. In hours stolen from official duties, he was for many years a large +contributor to the literature of the country. His articles which from time +to time appeared in the <i>North-American Review</i>, were of an eminently +practical and useful character, and highly creditable to his scholarship +and sound judgment. The biographical sketch of the late President Taylor, +in a recent number, confined chiefly to his military life, and embracing a +graphic description of the extraordinary successes in Mexico, was from Gen. +Whiting's pen. He published a few years ago an important collection of the +<i>General Orders of Washington</i>. He was deserving of praise also as a poet +and as a dramatic author.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Commodore Lewis Warrington</span>, of the United States navy, died in Washington, +on the 12th October, after a painful illness. He was a native of Virginia, +and was born in November, 1782. From a sketch of his life in the <i>Herald</i>, +it appears that he entered the navy on the 6th of January, 1800, and soon +after joined the frigate Chesapeake, then lying at Norfolk. In this ship he +remained on the West India station until May, 1801, when he returned to the +United States and joined the frigate President, under Commodore Dale, and +soon blockaded Tripoli until 1802, when he again returned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_573" id="Page_573">[Pg 573]</a></span> to the United +States, and joined the frigate New-York, which sailed, and remained on the +Mediterranean station until 1803. On his return from the Mediterranean he +was ordered to the Vixen, and again joined the squadron which had lately +left, where he remained during the attack on the gun-boats and batteries of +Tripoli, in which the Vixen always took part. In November, 1804, he was +made acting lieutenant; and in July, 1805, he joined the brig Siren, a +junior lieutenant. In March, 1806, he joined the Enterprise, as first +lieutenant, and did not return to the United States until July, 1807—an +absence of four years. After his return in 1807 he was ordered to the +command of a gun-boat on the Norfolk station, then under the command of +Commodore Decatur. This was a position calculated to damp the ardor of the +young officer, as it was so far below several he had filled. He, however, +maintained his usual bearing for two years, when he was again ordered to +the Siren as first lieutenant. On the return of this vessel from Europe, +whither she went with dispatches, Lieut. Warrington was ordered to the +Essex, as her first lieutenant, in September of the same year. In the Essex +he cruised on the American coast, and again carried out dispatches for the +government, returning in 1812. He was then ordered to the frigate Congress +as her first lieutenant, and sailed, on the declaration of war, with the +squadron under Commodore Rodgers, to intercept the British West India +fleet, which was only avoided by the latter in consequence of a heavy fog, +which continued for fourteen days. He remained in the Congress until 1813, +when he became first lieutenant of the frigate United States, in which he +remained until his promotion to the rank of master commandant, soon after +which he took command of the sloop-of-war Peacock. While cruising in the +Peacock, in latitude 27 deg. 40 min., he encountered the British +brig-of-war Epervier. His own letter to the Secretary of the Navy, +descriptive of that encounter, is as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"> +At Sea, April 29, 1814.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>:—I have the honor to inform you that we have this +morning captured, after an action of forty-two minutes, +his Britannic Majesty's brig Epervier, rating and +mounting eighteen thirty-two pound cannonades, with one +hundred and twenty-eight men, of whom eleven were +killed and fifteen wounded, according to the best +information we could obtain. Among the latter is her +first lieutenant, who has lost an arm, and received a +severe splinter wound in the hip. Not a man in the +Peacock was killed, and only two wounded, neither +dangerously. The fate of the Epervier would have been +decided in much less time, but for the circumstance of +our foreyard having been totally disabled by two +round-shot in the starboard quarter, from her first +broadside, which entirely deprived us of the use of our +fore-topsails, and compelled us to keep the ship large +throughout the remainder of the action. This, with a +few topmast and topgallant backstays cut away, and a +few shot through our sails, is the only injury the +Peacock has sustained. Not a round-shot touched our +hull, and our masts and spars are as sound as ever. +When the enemy struck he had five feet of water in his +hold; his maintopmast was over the side; his mainboom +shot away; his foremast cut nearly away, and tottering; +his forerigging and stays shot away; his bowsprit badly +wounded, and forty-five shot-holes in his hull, twenty +of which were within a foot of his water-line, above +and below. By great exertions we got her in sailing +order just as night came on. In fifteen minutes after +the enemy struck, the Peacock was ready for another +action, in every respect, except the foreyard, which +was sent down, fished, and we had the foresail set +again in forty-five minutes—such was the spirit and +activity of our gallant crew. The Epervier had under +convoy an English hermaphrodite brig, a Russian, and a +Spanish ship, which all hauled their wind, and stood to +the E. N. E. I had determined upon pursuing the former, +but found that it would not be prudent to leave our +prize in her then crippled state, and the more +particularly so as we found she had on board one +hundred and twenty thousand dollars in specie. Every +officer, seaman, and marine did his duty, which is the +highest compliment I can pay them.</p> + +<p class="right"> +I am, &c.,<br /> +L. WARRINGTON.</p></div> + +<p>Capt. Warrington brought his prize safely home, and was received with great +honor, because of his success in the encounter. In the early part of the +year 1815, he sailed in the squadron under Commodore Decatur, for a cruise +in the Indian Ocean. The Peacock and Hornet were obliged to separate in +chasing, and did not again meet until they arrived at Tristan d'Acunha, the +place appointed for rendezvous. After leaving that place, the Peacock met +with a British line-of-battle ship, from which she escaped, and gained the +Straits of Sunda, where she captured four vessels, one of which was a brig +of fourteen guns, belonging to the East India Company's service. From this +vessel Captain Warrington first heard of the ratification of peace. He then +returned to the United States. While in command of the Peacock, Capt. +Warrington captured nineteen vessels, three of which were given up to +prisoners, and sixteen destroyed.</p> + +<p>Since the close of the war, Commodore Warrington has filled many +responsible stations in the service for a long time, having been on +shore-duty for twenty-eight years. He was appointed one of the Board of +Naval Commissioners, and subsequently held the post of chief of the Bureau +of Ordnance in the Navy Department, which post he held at the time of his +death. His whole career of service extended through a period of more than +fifty-one years, during all of which time he was respected, and held as one +of the most prominent officers of the United States navy. At the time of +his death there was but one older officer in service.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">John Kidd</span>, M.D., of the University of Oxford, died suddenly early in +September. He was formerly Professor of Chemistry, and since 1822 Regius +Professor of Medicine. Dr. Kidd did good service in his time, as his +publications testify, in various departments of mineralogical, chemical, +and geological research, and about ten years ago he put forth some +observations on medical reform. Dr. Kidd was one of the eminent men +selected under the Earl of Bridgewater's will to write one of the +well-known "Bridgewater Treatises." The subject was, <i>On the Adaptation of +External Nature to the Physical Condition of Man</i>. Together with the Regius +Professorship of Medicine, to which the mastership of Ewelme Hospital, in +the county of Oxford, is attached, Dr. Kidd held the office of librarian to +the Radcliffe Library.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Earl of Donoughmore</span> died on the 12th of September, at Palmerstown +House, county of Dublin, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. He was +lord-lieutenant of the county of Tipperary, and had a seat in the House of +Lords as a British peer with the title of Viscount Hutchinson, of +Knocklofty, but will be better remembered in history as the gallant Colonel +Hutchinson, who was one of the parties implicated in the celebrated escape +of Lavalette, in the year 1815, shortly after the restoration of the +Bourbons. He is succeeded in his extensive estates in the south of Ireland +by Viscount Suirdale, his lordship's son by his first wife, the daughter of +the Lord Mountjoy, who lost his life in the royal service during the Irish +rebellion of 1798.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_574" id="Page_574">[Pg 574]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">William Nicol</span>, F.R.S.E., died in Edinburgh on the 2nd of September, in his +eighty-third year. Mr. Nicol commenced his career as assistant to the late +Dr. Moyes, the eminent blind lecturer on natural philosophy. Dr. Moyes, at +his death, bequeathed his apparatus to Mr. Nicol, who then lectured on the +same subject. His contributions to the <i>Edinburgh Philosophical Journal</i> +were various and valuable; the more important being his description of his +successful repetition of Döbereiner's celebrated experiment of igniting +spongy platina by a stream of cold hydrogen gas; and his method of +preparing fossil woods for microscopic investigation, which led to his +discovery of the structural difference between the arucarian and coniferous +woods, by far the most important in fossil botany. But the most valuable +contribution to physical science, with which his name will ever be +associated, was his invention of the single image prism of calcareous spar, +known to the scientific world as Nicol's prism.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Rev. <span class="smcap">G. G. Freeman</span>, the well-known English missionary, died on the 8th +of September at the baths of Homburg, in Germany, of an attack of rheumatic +fever. Mr. Freeman had only a little while before returned home from a +visit to the mission stations in South Africa, and his latest important +labor was the writing of a volume, in which the social, spiritual, and +political condition of South Africa was depicted. Mr. Freeman was +fifty-seven years of age. He was born in London, educated at Hoxton +Academy, and after many years of successful devotion to his profession in +England, he proceeded in 1827 to Madagascar, under the direction of the +London Missionary Society, and for nine years labored there with eminent +energy and success. The share he had in translating the Scriptures, in +preparing school-books, and in superintending the mission schools, cannot +be recited in this brief sketch, but was such as greatly facilitated the +progress of the Christian religion, till, in 1835, the queen proscribed +Christianity, and virtually expelled the missionaries from the island. Mr. +Freeman then went to the Cape of Good Hope, where he became much interested +in South African missions, but the ill health of his wife compelled his +return to England, where he arrived about the end of 1836. New duties and +labors now awaited him; he had to confer with the directors, and to visit +the constituents of the London Missionary Society in all parts of the +kingdom. The want of an Institution for the education of the daughters of +missionaries having been strongly felt, he took a leading part in the +establishment of a school for that purpose in the village of Walthamstow, +where he had become connected with the congregational church. In 1841, the +loss of health having obliged the Rev. William Ellis to relinquish his +official connection with the London Missionary Society, he was appointed +foreign secretary, and appeared at the annual meeting of that year in that +capacity, and shared with Dr. Tidman the labor of reading the report. How +faithfully he fulfilled the duties of that office at home, and at what risk +of health and life he sought, in a late voyage to the Mauritius, and +journey throughout Southern Africa, to inform himself and the Society of +the true state of affairs, both in Madagascar and Caffraria, his +publications will show.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">James Richardson</span>, the enterprising African traveller, died on the 4th of +March last, at a small village called Ungurutua, six days distant from +Kouka, the capital of Bornou. Early in January, he and the companions of +his mission, Drs. Barth and Overweg, arrived at the immense plain of +Damergou, when, after remaining a few days, they separated, Dr. Barth +proceeding to Kanu, Dr. Overweg to Guber, and Mr. Richardson taking the +direct route to Kouka, by Zinde. There it would seem his strength began to +give way, and before he had arrived twelve days' distance from Kouka, he +became seriously ill, suffering much from the oppressive heat of the sun. +Having reached a large town called Kangarras, he halted three days, and +feeling himself refreshed he renewed his journey. After two days, during +which his weakness greatly increased, he arrived at the Waddy Mallaha. +Leaving this place on the 3d of March, he reached in two hours the village +of Ungurutua, when he became so weak that he was unable to proceed. In the +evening he took a little food and tried to sleep—but became very restless, +and left his tent supported by his servant. He then took some tea and threw +himself again on his bed, but did not sleep. His attendants having made +some coffee, he asked for a cup, but had no strength to hold it. He +repeated several times, "I have no strength;" and after having pronounced +the name of his wife, sighed deeply, and expired without a struggle about +two hours after midnight. Early in the morning, the body wrapped in linen, +and covered with a carpet, was borne to a grave four feet deep, under the +shade of a large tree, close to the village, followed by all the principal +Sheichs and people of the district.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Those who have read—and very few persons of middle age in this country +have not read—the interesting and somewhat apocryphal narrative of Captain +Riley's shipwreck on the coast of Africa and long experience of suffering +as a slave among the Arabs, will remember the amiable British Consul of +Mogadore, in Barbary, Mr. <span class="smcap">William Willshire</span>. While Capt. Riley, Mr. +Robbins, and others of the crew of the "Commerce" (which was the name of +the American ship that was wrecked), were in the midst of the great desert, +in utter helplessness, Mr. Willshire heard of some of them, and came to +their relief with money and provisions, and paid, himself, the price of +their ransom, redeeming them from an otherwise perpetual captivity. He took +the afflicted and worn-out Americans to his own house at Mogadore, made +them, after long suffering and privation, enjoy the luxuries of a bed and +the comforts of a home, his wife and daughters uniting with him to +alleviate their sufferings, and he afterwards supplied them with the +necessary money and provided them the means of a return to their own +country. Riley, in the latter part of his life, settled in Ohio, where the +name of <i>Willshire</i> has been given to the town in which he lived, and we +believe our government made some demonstration of the general feeling of +gratefulness with which the American people regarded Mr. Willshire's noble +conduct in this case. Mr. Willshire was a model for consuls, and was kept +constantly in service by his government. Several years ago he was appointed +to Adrianople, where he died suddenly, at an advanced age, on the 4th of +August.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_575" id="Page_575">[Pg 575]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Paris papers announce the death at the age of seventy-six, of <span class="smcap">M. J. R. +Dubois</span>,—director successively of the <i>Gaîté</i>, the <i>Porte-Saint-Martin</i>, +and the <i>Opéra</i>, under the Restoration,—and author of a great variety of +pieces played in the different theatres of Paris thirty or forty years ago.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gustav Carlin</span>, the author of several historical essays, and a novel founded +on Mexican legends, died in Berlin on the 15th of September, aged +sixty-nine. He resided several years in New-York, we believe as a political +correspondent of some German newspaper.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Ladies_Autumn_Fashions" id="Ladies_Autumn_Fashions"></a>Ladies' Autumn Fashions.</h2> + + +<p>The light dresses of the summer, with unimportant apparent changes, were +retained this year later than usual, but at length the more sober colors +and heavier material of the autumn have taken their places. There are +indications that furs will be much worn this season, and there are a +variety of new patterns. We select—</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 192px;"> +<img src="images/i587a.jpg" width="192" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 187px;"> +<img src="images/i587b.jpg" width="187" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p>I. <i>The Palatine Royale in Ermine</i>, for illustration and description. The +palatine royale is a fur victorine of novel form, and it may fairly claim +precedence as being the first article of winter costume prepared in +anticipation of the approaching change of season. The addition of a hood, +which is lined with quilted silk, and bound with a band of ermine, not only +adds to its warmth, but renders it exceedingly convenient for the opera and +theatres. This hood, we may mention, can be fixed on and removed at +pleasure; an obvious advantage, which no lady will fail to appreciate. To +the lower part of the hood is attached a large white silk tassel. We must +direct particular attention to the new fastening attached to the palatine +royale. This fastening is formed of an India-rubber band and steel clasp, +by means of which the palatine will fit comfortably to the throat of any +lady. The band and clasp being in the inside are not visible, and on the +outside there is an elegant fancy ornament of white silk, of the +description which the French call a brandebourg.</p> + +<p>II. <i>A Palatine in Sable</i>, has the same form and make as that just +described, except that our engraving shows the back of one made of sable +instead of ermine. The hood is lined with brown sable-colored silk, and the +tassel and brandebourg are of silk of the same color. We need scarcely +mention that the color employed for lining the hood, and for the silk +ornaments, is wholly optional, and may be determined by the taste of the +wearer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_576" id="Page_576">[Pg 576]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 458px;"> +<img src="images/i588.jpg" width="458" height="500" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The first figure in the above engraving, displays a very handsome <i>Walking +Dress</i>. It is of steel-color <i>poult de soie</i>, trimmed in a very novel and +elegant style with bouillonnées of ribbon. The ribbon employed for these +bouillonnées is steel color, figured and edged with lilac. The +bouillonnées, which are disposed as side-trimmings on the skirt of the +dress, are set on in rows obliquely, and graduated in length, the lowest +now being about a quarter of a yard long. The corsage is a pardessus of the +same material as the dress; the basque slit up at each side, and the +pardessus edged all round with ribbon bouillonnée. The sleeves are +demi-long, and loose at the ends, and slit up on the outside of the arm. +Loose under-sleeves of muslin, edged with a double frill of needlework. The +pardessus has under-fronts of white cambric or coutil, thus presenting +precisely the effect of a gentleman's waistcoat. This gilet corsage, as it +is termed by the French dressmakers, has recently been gaining rapid favor +among the Parisian belles. That which our illustration represents has a row +of buttons up the front, and a pocket at each side. It is open at the upper +part, showing a chemisette of lace. Bonnet of fancy straw and crinoline in +alternate rows, lined with drawn white silk, and trimmed with white ribbon. +On one side, a white knotted feather. Undertrimming, bouquets of white and +lilac flowers, mixed with white tulle. Over this dress may be worn a rich +India cashmere shawl.</p> + +<p>In the second figure we have an example of the heavy and large plaided +silks, and generally our latest Parisian plates, like this, exhibit the use +of deep fringes. Flounces of ribbon are in vogue to a degree, but are not +likely to be much worn.</p> + +<p>It will be seen by the first figure on this page that the European ladies +are approximating to the styles of gentlemen in the upper parts of their +costume, as American women seem disposed to imitation in the matter of +inexpressibles. Attempts to introduce the style of dress worn by the lower +orders of women in Northern Europe have failed as decidedly in England as +in this country.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The International Monthly, Volume 4, +No. 4, November 1, 1851, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, NOV 1, 1851 *** + +***** This file should be named 37904-h.htm or 37904-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/9/0/37904/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci 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, Volume 4, No. 4, November 1, 1851 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: November 2, 2011 [EBook #37904] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, NOV 1, 1851 *** + + + + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci 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 MAGAZINE + +Of Literature, Art, and Science. + +Vol. IV. NEW-YORK, NOVEMBER 1, 1851. No. IV. + + + + +THE GREAT EXHIBITION OF THE NEW-YORK STATE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY AT +ROCHESTER. + +[Illustration: EXTERIOR OF THE FAIR.] + + +This is an age of Exhibitions. From the humble collection of cattle and +counter-panes, swine and "garden sauce," at the central village of some +secluded County, up to the stupendous "World's Fair" at London, wherein all +nations and all arts are represented, "Industrial Expositions," as the +French more accurately term them, are the order of the day. And this is +well--nay, it is inspiring. It proves the growth and diffusion of a wider +and deeper consciousness of the importance and dignity of Labor as an +element of national strength and social progress. That corn and cloth are +essential to the comfortable subsistence of the human family, and of every +portion of it, was always plain enough; but the truth is much broader than +that. Not food alone, but knowledge, virtue, power, depend upon the subtle +skill of the artificer's fingers, the sturdy might of the husbandman's arm. +Let these fail, through the blighting influence of despotism, +licentiousness, superstition, or slavery, and the national greatness is +cankered at the root, and its preservation overtasks the ability of +Phocion, of Hannibal, of Cato. A nation flourishes or withers with the +development and vigor of its Industry. It may prosper and be strong without +statesmen, warriors, or jurists; it fades and falls with the decline of its +arts and its agriculture. Wisely, therefore, do rulers, nobles, field +marshals and archbishops, unite in rendering the highest honors to eminence +in the domain of Industry, dimly perceiving that it is mightier and more +enduring than their petty and fragile potencies. The empire of Napoleon, +though so lately at its zenith, has utterly passed away, while that of +Fulton is still in its youth. + +A State Agricultural Society, numbering among its members some thousands of +her foremost citizens, mainly but not wholly farmers, is one of the most +commendable institutions of this great and growing commonwealth. Aided +liberally by the State government, it holds an Annual Fair at some one of +the chief towns of the interior, generally on the line of the Erie Canal, +whereby the collection of stock and other articles for exhibition is +facilitated, and the cost thereof materially lessened. Poughkeepsie, +Albany, Saratoga Springs, Utica, Syracuse (twice), Auburn, Rochester +(twice), and Buffalo, are the points at which these Fairs have been held +within the last ten years. Recently, the railroads have transported cattle, +&c., for exhibition, either at half-price, or entirely without charge, +while the State's bounty and the liberal receipts for admission to the +grounds have enabled the managers to stimulate competition by a very +extensive award of premiums, so that almost every recurrence of the State +Fair witnesses a larger and still more extensive display of choice animals. +Whether the improvement in quality keeps pace with the increase in number +is a point to be maturely considered. + +The Fair of this year was held at ROCHESTER, in a large open field about a +mile south of the city, and of course near the Genesee river. Gigantic +stumps scattered through it, attested how recently this whole region was +covered with the primeval forest. Probably fifty thousand persons now live +within sight of the Rochester steeples, though not a human being inhabited +this then dense and swampy wilderness forty years ago. And here, almost +wholly from a region which had less than five thousand white inhabitants in +1810, not fewer than one hundred thousand persons, two-thirds of them adult +males, were drawn together expressly to witness this exhibition. The number +who entered the gates on Thursday alone exceeded seventy-five thousand, +while the attendance on the two preceding days and on Friday, of persons +who were not present on Thursday, must have exceeded twenty-five thousand. +Of course, many came with no definite purpose, no previous preparation to +observe and learn, and so carried home nothing more than they brought +there, save the head-ache, generated by their irregularities and excesses +while absent; but thousands came qualified and resolved to profit by the +practical lessons spread before them, and doubtless went away richly +recompensed for the time and money expended in visiting the Fair. This +Annual Exhibition is as yet the Farmers' University; they will in time have +a better, but until then they do well to make the most of that which +already welcomes them to its cheap, ready and practical inculcations. + +[Illustration: ROCHESTER.] + +The President of the State Society for this year is Mr. JOHN DELAFIELD, +long a master spirit among our Wall-street financiers, and for some years +President of the Phenix bank. He was finally swamped by the rascality of +the State of Illinois in virtually repudiating her public debt, whereby Mr. +Delafield, who had long acted as her financial agent in New-York, and had +staked his fortune on her integrity, was reduced from affluence to need. +Nothing daunted by this reverse, he promptly transferred his energies from +finance to agriculture, taking hold of a large farm in Seneca County, near +the beautiful village of Geneva; and on this farm he soon proved himself +one of the best practical agriculturists in our State. Before he had been +five years on the soil, he was already teaching hundreds of life-long +cultivators, by the quiet force of his successful example, how to double +the product of their lands and more than double their annual profits. His +enlightened and admirable husbandry has finally called him to the post he +now occupies--one not inferior in true dignity and opportunity for +usefulness to that of Governor of the State. And this is a fair specimen of +the elasticity of the American character and its capacity for adapting +itself to any and every change of circumstances. + +[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE FAIR.] + +The Annual Address at this Fair was delivered by the Hon. STEPHEN A. +DOUGLAS, now U. S. Senator from Illinois, and a very probable "Democratic" +candidate for next President of the United States. It was an able and well +enunciated discourse, devoted mainly to political economy as affecting +agriculture, taking the "free trade" view of this important and difficult +subject, and evidently addressed quite as much to southern politicians as +to New-York farmers; but it embodied many practical suggestions of decided +force and value. This address has already received a very wide circulation. + +A public entertainment was proffered on Thursday evening to the officers of +the State Society, on behalf of the city of Rochester, which was attended +by ex-President TYLER, GOV. WASHINGTON HUNT, ex-Governor and ex-Secretary +MARCY, GEN. WOOL, Governor WRIGHT of Indiana, &c. &c. Senator DOUGLAS +arrived in the train just before the gathering broke up. The presence of +ladies, and the absence of liquors, were the most commendable features of +this festivity, which was convened at an absurdly late hour, and +characterized by an afflictive amount of dull speaking. Such an +entertainment is very well on an occasion like this, merely as a means of +enabling the congregated thousands to see and hear the celebrities convened +with them; but it should be given in the afternoon or beginning of the +evening, should cost very little (the speaking being dog-cheap and the +eatables no object), and should in nearly all respects be just what the +Rochester festival was not. As an exercise in false hospitality, however, +and a beacon for future adventurers in the same line, this entertainment +had considerable merit. + +[Illustration: AZALIA. + +_The best Short-Horned Durham Cow over Three Years Old: Owned by Lewis G. +Morris._] + +[Illustration: LORD ERYHOLM. + +_The best Two Year Old Short-Horned Durham Bull: Owned by Lewis G. +Morris._] + +NEAT CATTLE stood first in intrinsic value among the classes of articles +exhibited at the Fair. Probably not less than One Thousand of these were +shown on this occasion, including imported bulls and cows, working-oxen, +fat steers, blood-heifers, calves, &c. &c. Of these we could not now say +whether the Durham or Devonshire breed predominated, but the former had +certainly no such marked ascendency as at former Fairs. Our impression from +the statements of disinterested breeders was and is, that where cattle are +bred mainly for the market, a larger weight of flesh may be obtained at an +early age from the Durham than from any rival breed, though not of the +finest quality; while for milk or butter the Devon is, and perhaps one or +two other breeds are, preferable. But this is merely the inference of one, +who has no experience in the premises, from a comparison of the statements +of intelligent breeders of widely differing preferences. Probably each of +the half-dozen best breeds is better adapted to certain localities and +purposes than any other; and intelligent farmers assert, that we still need +some breeds not yet introduced in this country, especially the small Black +Cattle of the Scottish Highlands, which, from their hardiness, excellence +of flesh, small cost for wintering, &c., are specially adapted to our own +rugged upland districts, particularly that which half covers the +north-eastern quarter of our State. The subject is one of the deepest +interest to agriculturists, and is destined to receive a thorough +investigation at their hands. + +[Illustration: EARL SEAHAM. + +_The best Short-Horned Durham Bull over Three Years Old: Owned by J. M. +Sherwood and A. Stevens._] + +[Illustration: DEVON. + +_The best Devon Bull over Three Years Old: Owned by W. P. and C. S. +Wainwright._] + +[Illustration: TROMP. + +_The best Hereford Bull, over Three Years Old: Owned by Allen Ayrault._] + +[Illustration: KOSSUTH AND BRISKA. + +_Best Foreign (Hungarian) Cattle, over Two Years Old: Owned by Roswell L. +Colt._] + +Of Horses, the number exhibited was of course much smaller--perhaps two +hundred in all--embracing many animals of rare spirit, symmetry, and +beauty. Some Canadian horses, and a few specimens of a famous Vermont breed +(the Morgan) were among them. Our attention was not specially drawn in this +direction, and we will leave the merits of the rival competitors to the +awards of the judges. + +[Illustration: DEVON HEIFER. + +_Best three-fourth bred Devon Heifer: owned by George Shaeffer._] + +[Illustration: OLD CLYDE. + +_Best Foreign Horse: owned by Jane Ward, Markham, Canada West._] + +[Illustration: CONSTERNATION. + +_Best thorough-bred horse over four years old: owned by John B. Burnet._] + +[Illustration: SOUTH DOWN SHEEP. + +_Best Middle-Wooled Ewe, over Two Years Old: Owned by Lewis G. Morris._] + +Of Sheep, there were a large number present--at a rough guess, Two +Thousand--embracing specimens of widely contrasted varieties. The +fine-wooled Saxonies and Merioes were largely represented; so were +coarse-wooled but fine-fleshed Bakewells and Southdowns. For three or four +years past, the annual product of wool, especially of the finer qualities, +has been unequal to the demand, causing a gradual appreciation of prices, +until a standard has this year been reached above the value of the staple. +Speculators, who had observed the gradual rise through two or three +seasons, rushed in to purchase this year's clip, at prices which cannot be +maintained, and the farmers have received some hundreds of thousands of +dollars more for their wool than the buyers can ever sell it for. This has +naturally reacted on the price of sheep, whereof choice specimens for +breeding have been sold for sums scarcely exceeded during the celebrated +Merino fever of 1816-18. _Bona fide_ sales for $100 each and over have +certainly been made; and it is confidently asserted that picked animals +from the flocks of a famous Vermont breeder were sold, to improve Ohio +flocks, at the late Fair of that State--a buck for $1,000, and six ewes for +$300 each. These reports, whether veritable or somewhat inflated, indicate +a tendency of the times. Where sheep are grown mainly for the wool, it is +as absurd to keep those of inferior grades, as to plant apple-trees without +grafting and grow two or three bushels of walnut-sized, vinegar-flavored +fruit on a tree which might as well have borne ten bushels of Spitzenbergs +or Greenings. But there is room also for improvement and profit in the +breeding of sheep other than the fine-wooled species. The famous +roast-mutton of England ought to be more than rivaled among us; for we have +a better climate and far better sheep-walks than the English in the rugged +mountain districts of New-England, of Pennsylvania, and of our own State. +The breeding of large, fine-fleshed sheep of the choicest varieties, on the +lines of all the railroads communicating with the great cities, is one of +the undertakings which promise largest and surest returns to our farmers, +and it is yet in its infancy. A hundred thousand of such sheep would be +taken annually by New-York and Philadelphia at largely remunerating prices. +Thousands of acres of sterile, scantily timbered land on the Delaware and +its branches might be profitably transformed into extensive sheep-walks, +while they must otherwise remain useless and unimproved for ages. These +lands may now be bought for a song, and are morally certain to be far +higher within the next dozen years. + +[Illustration: LONG-WOOLED SHEEP. + +_Best long-wooled buck and ewe over two years old: owned by J. McDonald and +Wm. Rathbone._] + +Of Swine there were a good many exhibited at the Fair, but we did not waste +much time upon them. The Hog Crop once stood high among the products of the +older States, but it has gradually fallen off since the settlement of the +great West, and the cheapening of intercommunication between that section +and the East, and is destined to sink still lower. Pork can be made on the +prairies and among the nutwood forests and corn-bearing intervales of the +West for half the cost of making it in New-England; no Yankee can afford to +feed his hogs with corn, much less potatoes, as his grandfather freely did. +Only on a dairy farm can any considerable quantity of pork be profitably +made east of the Ohio; and he who keeps but a pig or two to eat up the +refuse of the kitchen cares little (perhaps too little) for the breed of +his porkers. So let them pass. + +"Fancy" Fowls are among the hobbies of our day, as was abundantly evinced +at the State Fair. Coops piled on coops, and in rows twenty rods long, of +Chinese, Dorking, and other breeds of the most popular domestic bird, +monopolized a large share of attention; while geese, ducks, turkies, &c., +were liberally and creditably represented. The "Hen Convention," which was +a pet topic of Boston waggery a year or two since, might have been easily +and properly held at Rochester. Many of these choice barn-yard fowls were +scarcely inferior in size while doubtless superior in flavor to the +ordinary turky, while the farmer who opens the spring with a hundred of +them may half feed his family and at the same time quite keep down his +store-bill with their daily products. Small economies steadily pursued are +the source of thrift and competence to many a cultivator of flinty and +ungenial acres; few farmers can afford to disregard them. If thrice the +present number of fowls were kept among us, their care and food would +scarcely be missed, while their product would greatly increase the +aggregate not only of thrift but of comfort. + +[Illustration: J. DELAFIELD'S CHINESE HOGS.] + +"Floral Hall" was the name of a temporary though spacious structure of +scantling and rough boards, in which were exhibited, in addition to a +profusion of the flowers of the season, a display of Fruits and Vegetables +whereof Rochester might well be proud. This city seems the natural centre +of the finest fruit-growing district on the American continent--yes, in the +whole world. Its high latitude secures the richest flavors, while the harsh +northern winds, which elsewhere prove so baneful, are here softened by +passing over lake Erie or Ontario, and a climate thus produced, which, for +fruit, has no rival. Large delicious grapes of innumerable varieties; +excellent peaches; delicate, juicy, luscious pears; quinces that really +tempt the eye, though not the palate; and a profusion of fair, fragrant, +golden, mammoth apples,--these were among the products of the immediate +vicinity of Rochester exhibited in bounteous profusion. In the department +of Vegetables also there were beets and turnips of gigantic size; several +squashes weighing about one hundred and thirty pounds each; with +egg-plants, potatoes, tomatoes, and other edibles, which were all that +palate could desire. The fertility of western New-York is proverbial; but +it was never more triumphantly set forth than in the fruit and vegetables +exhibited at the State Fair. + +Of butter, cheese, honey, (obtained without destroying the bees,) +maple-sugar &c., the display was much better than we have remarked on any +former occasion. And in this connection the rock salt from our own State +works around Syracuse deserves honorable mention. New-York salt has been +treated with systematic injustice by western consumers. In order to save a +shilling or two on the barrel, they buy the inferior article produced by +boiling instead of the far better obtained by solar evaporation; then they +endeavor to make a New-York standard bushel of fifty six pounds do the work +of a measured bushel of Turks Island weighing eighty pounds; and because +the laws regulating the preservation and decomposition of animal substances +will not thus be swindled, they pronounce the New-York salt impure and +worthless. Now there is no purer, no better salt than the New-York solar; +but, even of this, fifty-six pounds will not do the work of eighty. Buy the +best quality, (and even this is dog cheap,) use the proper quantity, and no +salt in the world will preserve meats better than this. The New-York solar +salt exhibited at Rochester could not be surpassed, and that which had been +_ground_ has no superior in its adaptation to the table. + +There were many tasteful Counterpanes and other products of female skill +and industry exhibited, but the perpetual crowd in the 'halls' devoted to +manufactures allowed no opportunity for their critical examination. Of +stoves and ranges, heating and (let us be thankful for it, even at this +late day) ventilating apparatus and arrangements, there was a supply; and +so of daguerreotypes, trunks, harness, &c. &c. Nothing, however, arrested +our attention in this hall but the specimens of FLAX-COTTON and its various +proportions exhibited by E. G. Roberts, assignee of Claussen's patents for +the United States. We saw one intelligent influential citizen converted +from skepticism to enthusiasm for flax-cotton by his first earnest +examination. It _will_ go inevitably. A cotton fibre scarcely +distinguishable from Sea Island may be produced from flax by Claussen's +process for six cents per pound; and a machine for breaking out the fibre +from the unrotted stalk was exhibited by Mr. Clemmons of Springfield, +Massachusetts, which is calculated materially to expedite the flax-cotton +revolution. This machine renders the entire fibre, with hardly a loss of +two per cent. as 'swingle-tow,' straight and wholly separated from the +woody substance or 'shives,' at a cost which can hardly equal one cent per +pound of dressed flax. Its operation is very simple, and any man who has +seen it work a day may manage it. Its entire cost is from $125 to $200, +according to size. It will be a shame to American agricultural enterprise +if flax-cotton and linen are not both among our country's extensive and +important products within the next three years. + +The department of Agricultural Machinery and Implements was decidedly the +most interesting of any. No other can at all equal it in the rapidity and +universality of progress from year to year. Of Plows, there cannot have +been less than two hundred on the ground, exhibiting a great variety of +novel excellence. One with two shares, contrived to cut two furrows at +once, seemed the most useful of any recently invented. The upper share cuts +and turns the sward to the depth of five inches, which is immediately +buried seven inches deep by the earth turned up by the deeper share. Since +it is impossible to induce one farmer in twenty to subsoil, this, as the +next best thing, ought to be universally adopted. + +Seed-Sowers, Corn-Planters, Reapers, Fanning-Mills, Straw-Cutters, &c., +&c., were abundant, and evinced many improvements on the best of former +years. A Mower with which a man, boy, and span of horses, will cut and +spread ten acres per day of grass, however heavy, on tolerably level +land--both cutting and spreading better than the hand-impelled scythe and +stick will do--was among the new inventions; also two threshers and +cleaners, each of them warranted to thresh and nearly clean, by the labor +of four men, a boy, and two horses, over one hundred bushels of wheat or +two hundred bushels of oats per day. The testimony of candid citizens who +had used them, and the evidence of our own senses, left no doubt on our +mind of the correctness of these assertions. But we do not write to commend +any article, but to call attention to the great and cheering truth which +underlies them all. Agriculture is a noble art, involving the knowledge of +almost all the practical sciences--chemistry, geology, climatology, +mechanics, &c. It is not merely progressive, but rapidly progressing, so +that fifty days' labor on the same soil produce far more grain or hay now +than they did half a century ago. And every year is increasing and +rendering more palpable the pressing need of a PRACTICAL COLLEGE, wherein +Agriculture, Mechanics, and the sciences auxiliary thereto shall be ably +and thoroughly taught to thousands and tens of thousands of our countrymen, +who shall in turn become the disseminators of the truths thus inculcated to +the youth of every county and township in the country. + +And thus shall Agriculture be rendered what it should be--not only the most +essential but the most intellectual and attractive among the industrial +avocations of mankind. + + HORACE GREELEY + +[Illustration: THE VIRGINIA REAPER. + +_Exhibited at the Crystal Palace, and the New-York State Agricultural Fair, +by Cyrus H. McCormick_.] + + + + +WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE. + +[Illustration] + + +Of the large number of young men in this country who write verses, we +scarcely know of one who has a more unquestionable right to the title of +poet than WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE, who has just published, in a very handsome +volume, a collection of his writings, under the title of _Meditations in +America_. Mr. WALLACE has written other things which in their day have been +sufficiently familiar to the public; in what we have to say of his +capacities we shall confine ourselves to the pieces which he has himself +here selected as the truest exponents of his genius, and without giving +them indiscriminate praise shall hope to find in them evidences of peculiar +and remarkable powers, combined with a spirit eminently susceptible to the +influences of nature and of ideal and moral beauty. + +Mr. Wallace is a western man, and was born in Lexington, Kentucky, in the +year 1819. His father was a Presbyterian minister, of good family, and +marked abilities, who died soon after, leaving the future poet to the care +of a mother whose chief ambition in regard to him was that he should be so +trained as to be capable of the most elevated positions in society. After +the usual preparatory studies, he went first to the Bloomington College, +and afterwards to the South Hanover College, in Indiana, and upon +graduating at the latter institution studied the law in his native city. +When about twenty-two years of age, having already acquired considerable +reputation in literature, by various contributions to western and southern +periodicals, he came to the Atlantic states, and with the exception of a +few months passed in Philadelphia, and a year and a half in Europe, he has +since resided in New-York, occupied in the practice of his profession and +in the pursuits of literature. Of his numerous poetical compositions, this +is the first collection, and the only volume, except _Alban, a Romance_, +intended to illustrate the influence of certain prejudices of society and +principles of law on individual character and destiny, which was published +in 1848. + +His works generally are distinguished for a sensuous richness of style, +earnestness of temper, and much freedom of speculation. Throughout the +_Meditations in America_ we perceive that he is most at home in the serious +and stately rhythms and solemn fancies of such pieces as the hymn "To a +Wind Going Seaward," "The Mounds of America," "The Chant of a Soul," &c.; +but he occasionally writes in livelier and less peculiar measures. + +The late Mr. Poe in his _Marginalia_ refers to the following as one of the +finest things in American literature; it is certainly very characteristic. + + +THE CHANT OF A SOUL. + + My youth has gone--the glory, the delight + That gave new moons unto the night, + And put in every wind a tone + And presence that was not its own. + I can no more create, + What time the Autumn blows her solemn tromp, + And goes with golden pomp + Through our unmeasurable woods: + I can no more create, sitting in youthful state + Above the mighty floods, + And peopling glen, and wave, and air, + With shapes that are immortal. Then + The earth and heaven were fair, + While only less than gods seem'd all my fellow-men. + Oh! the delight, the gladness, + The sense yet love of madness, + The glorious choral exultations, + The far-off sounding of the banded nations, + The wings of angels at melodious sweeps + Upon the mountain's hazy steeps,-- + The very dead astir within their coffin'd deeps; + The dreamy veil that wrapp'd the star and sod-- + A swathe of purple, gold, and amethyst; + And, luminous behind the billowy mist, + Something that look'd to my young eyes like GOD. + Too late I learn I have not lived aright, + And hence the loss of that delight + Which put a moon into the moonless night + I mingled in the human maze; + I sought their horrid shrine; + I knelt before the impure blaze; + I made their idols mine. + I lost mine early love--that love of balms + Most musical with solemn psalms + Sounding beneath the tall and graceful palms. + Who lives aright? + Answer me, all ye pyramids and piles + That look like calmest power in your still might. + Ye also do I ask, O continents and isles! + Blind though with blood ye be, + Your tongues, though torn with pain, I know are free. + Then speak, all ancient masses! speak + From patient obelisk to idle peak! + There is a heaving of the plains, + A trailing of a shroud, + A clash of bolts and chains-- + A low, sad voice, that comes upon me like a cloud, + "Oh, misery, oh, misery!"-- + Thou poor old Earth! no more, no more + Shall I draw speech from thee, + Nor dare thy crypts of legendary lore: + Let silence learn no tongue; let night fold every shore. + Yet I have something left--the will, + That Mont Blanc of the soul, is towering still. + And I can bear the pain, + The storm, the old heroic chain; + And with a smile + Pluck wisdom from my torture, and give back + A love to Fate from this my mountain-rack. + I do believe the sad alone are wise; + I do believe the wrong'd alone can know + Why lives the world, why spread the burden'd skies, + And so from torture into godship grow. + Plainer and plainer beams this truth, the more + I hear the slow, dull dripping of my gore; + And now, arising from yon deep, + 'Tis plain as a white statue on a tall, dark steep. + Oh, suffering bards! oh spirits black + With storm on many a mountain-rack + Our early splendor's gone. + Like stars into a cloud withdrawn-- + Like music laid asleep + In dried-up fountains--like a stricken dawn + Where sudden tempests sweep. + I hear the bolts around us falling, + And cloud to cloud forever calling: + Yet WE must nor despair nor weep. + Did WE this evil bring? + Or from our fellows did the torture spring? + Titans! forgive, forgive! + Oh, know ye not 'tis victory but to live? + Therefore I say, rejoice with harp and voice! + I know not what our fate may be: + I only know that he who hath a time + Must also have eternity: + One billow proves and gives a whole wide sea. + On this I build my trust, + And not on mountain-dust, + Or murmuring woods, or starlit clime, + Or ocean with melodious chime, + Or sunset glories in the western sky: + Enough, I _am_, and shall not choose to die. + No matter what my future fate may be: + To live is in itself a majesty! + Oh! there I may again create + Fair worlds as in my youthful state; + Or Wo may build for me a fiery tomb + Like Farinata's in the nether gloom: + Even then I will not lose the name of man + By idle moan or coward groan, + But say, "It was so written in the mighty plan!" + +The next poem is in a vein of lofty contemplation, and the rhetoric is +eminently appropriate and well sustained. It is one of the most striking +pieces in the book. + + +THE MOUNDS OF AMERICA. + + Come to the mounds of death with me. They stretch + From deep to deep, sad, venerable, vast, + Graves of gone empires--gone without a sighn, + Like clouds from heaven. They stretch'd from deep to deep + Before the Roman smote his mailed hand + On the gold portals of the dreaming East; + Before the Pleiad, in white trance of song, + Beyond her choir of stars went wandering. + The great old Trees, rank'd on these hills of death, + Have melancholy hymns about all this; + And when the moon walks her inheritance + With slow, imperial pace, the Trees look up + And chant in solemn cadence. Come and hear. + "Oh patient Moon! go not behind a cloud, + But listen to our words. We, too, are old, + Though not so old as thou. The ancient towns, + The cities throned far apart like queens, + The shadowy domes, the realms majestical, + Slept in thy younger beams. In every leaf + We hold their dust, a king in every trunk. + We, too, are very old: the wind that wails + In our broad branches, from swart Ethiop come + But now, wail'd in our branches long ago, + Then come from darken'd Calvary. The Hills + Lean'd ghastly at the tale that wan Wind told; + The Streams crept shuddering through the tremulous dark; + The Torrent of the North, from morn till eve, + On his steep ledge hung pausing; and o'er all + Such silence fell, we heard the conscious Rills + Drip slowly in the caves of central Earth. + So were the continents by His crowned grief + Together bound, before that Genoese + Flamed on the dim Atlantic: so have we, + Whose aspect faced the scene, unchallenged right + Of language unto all, while memory holds. + "O patient Moon! go not behind a cloud, + But hear our words. We know that thou didst see + The whole that we could utter--thou that wert + A worship unto realms beyond the flood-- + But we are very lonesome on these mounds, + And speech doth make the burden of sad thought + Endurable; while these, the people new, + That take our land, may haply learn from us + What wonder went before them; for no word + E'er came from thee, so beautiful, so lone. + Throned in thy still domain, superbly calm + And silent as a god. + Here empires rose and died; + Their very dust, beyond the Atlantic borne + In the pale navies of the charter'd wind, + Stains the white Alp. Here the proud city ranged + Spire after spire, like star ranged after star + Along the dim empyrean, till the air + Went mad with splendor, and the dwellers cried, + "Our walls have married Time!"--Gone are the marts, + The insolent citadels, the fearful gates, + The pictured domes that curved like starry skies; + Gone are their very names! The royal Ghost + Cannot discern the old imperial haunts, + But goes about perplexed like a mist + Between a ruin and the awful stars. + Nations are laid beneath our feet. The bard + Who stood in Song's prevailing light, as stands + The apocalyptic angel in the sun, + And rained melodious fire on all the realms; + The prophet pale, who shuddered in his gloom, + As the white cataract shudders in its mist; + The hero shattering an old kingdom down + With one clear trumpet's will: the Boy, the Sage, + Subject and Lord, the Beautiful, the Wise-- + Gone, gone to nothingness. + The years glide on, + The pitiless years! and all alike shall fail, + State after State rear'd by the solemn sea, + Or where the Hudson goes unchallenged past + The ancient warder of the Palisades, + Or where, rejoicing o'er the enormous cloud, + Beam the blue Alleghanies--all shall fail: + The Ages chant their dirges on the peaks; + The palls are ready in the peopled vales; + And nations fill one common sepulchre. + Nor goes the Earth on her dark way alone. + Each star in yonder vault doth hold the dead + In its funereal deeps: Arcturus broods + Over vast sepulchres that had grown old + Before the earth was made: the universe + Itself is but one mighty cemetery + Rolling around its central, solemn sun. + + "O patient Moon! go not behind a cloud, + But listen to our words. We, too, must die-- + And thou!--the vassal stars shall fail to hear + Thy queenly voice over the azure fields + Calling at sunset. They shall fade. The Earth + Shall look and miss their sweet, familiar eyes, + And, crouching, die beneath the feet of GOD. + Then come the glories, then the nobler times, + For which the Orbs travail'd in sorrow; then + The mystery shall be clear, the burden gone; + And surely men shall know why nations came + Transfigured for the pangs; why not a spot + Of this wide world but hath a tale of wo; + Why all this glorious universe is Death's. + "Go, Moon! and tell the stars, and tell the suns, + Impatient of the wo, the strength of him + Who doth consent to death; and tell the climes + That meet thy mournful eyes, one after one, + Through all the lapses of the lonesome night, + The pathos of repose, the might of Death!" + The voice is hush'd; the great old wood is still: + The Moon, like one in meditation, walks + Behind a cloud. We, too, have them for thought, + While, as a sun, GOD takes the West of Time + And smites the pyramid of Eternity. + The shadow lengthens over many worlds + Doom'd to the dark mausoleum and mound. + +We do not remember any poem on Mahomet finer than the following: + + +EL AMIN. + + Who is this that comes from Hara? not in kingly pomp and pride, + But a great, free son of Nature, lion-souled and eagle-eyed! + + Who is this before whose presence idols tumble to the sod? + While he cries out--"Allah Akbar! and there is no god but God!" + Wandering in the solemn desert, he has wondered like a child + Not as yet too proud to wonder, at the sun, and star, and wild. + + "Oh, thou moon! who made thy brightness? Stars! who hung you there on high? + Answer! so my soul may worship: I must worship or die!" + + Then there fell the brooding silence that precedes the thunder's roll; + And the old Arabian Whirlwind called another Arab soul. + + Who is this that comes from Hara? not in kingly pomp and pride, + But a great, free son of Nature, lion-souled and eagle-eyed! + + He has stood and seen Mount Hara to the Awful Presence nod; + He has heard from cloud and lightning--"Know there is no god but God!" + + Call ye this man an imposter? He was called "The Faithful," when, + A boy, he wandered o'er the deserts, by the wild-eyed Arab men. + + He was always called "The Faithful." Truth he knew was Allah's breath; + But the Lie went darkly gnashing through the corridors of Death. + + "He was fierce!" Yes! fierce at falsehood--fierce at hideous bits of wood, + That the Koreish taught the people made the sun and solitude. + + But his heart was also gentle, and Affection's graceful palm, + Waving in his tropic spirit, to the weary brought a balm. + + "Precepts?" "Have on each compassion:" "Lead the stranger to your door:" + "In your dealings keep up justice:" "Give a tenth unto the poor." + + "Yet ambitious!" Yes! ambitious--while he heard the calm and sweet + Aiden-voices sing--to trample troubled Hell beneath his feet. + + "Islam?" Yes! "Submit to Heaven!" "Prophet?" To the East thou art! + What are prophets but the trumpets blown by God to stir the heart? + + And the great heart of the desert stirred unto that solemn strain, + Rolling from the trump at Hara over Error's troubled main. + + And a hundred dusky millions honor still El Amin's rod-- + Daily chanting--"Allah Akbar! know there is no god but God!" + + Call him then no more "Impostor." Mecca is the Choral Gate + Where, till Zion's noon shall take them, nations in her morning wait. + +Mr. Wallace has published a few songs. They have not the stately movement +of his other pieces, and the one which follows needs the application of the +file; but it is, like the others, very spirited: + + +AVELINE. + + ----The sunny eyes of the maiden fair + Give answer better than voice or pen + That as he loves he is loved again.--C. C. LEEDS. + + Love me dearly, love me dearly with your heart and with your eyes; + Whisper all your sweet emotions, as they gushing, blushing rise; + Throw your soft white arms about me; + Say you cannot live without me: + Say, you are my Aveline; say, that you are only mine, + That you cannot live without me, young and rosy Aveline! + + Love me dearly, dearly, dearly: speak you love-words silver-clearly, + So I may not doubt thus early of your fondness, of your truth. + Press, oh! press your throbbing bosom closely, warmly to my own: + Fix your kindled eyes on mine--say you live for me alone, + While I fix my eyes on thine, + Lovely, trusting, artless, plighted; plighted, rosy Aveline! + + Love me dearly; love me dearly: radiant dawn upon my gloom: + Ravish me with Beauty's bloom:-- + Tell me "Life has yet a glory: 'tis not all an idle story!" + As a gladdened vale in noonlight; as a weary lake in moonlight, + Let me in thy love recline: + Show me life has yet a splendor in my tender Aveline. + + Love me dearly, dearly, dearly with your heart and with your eyes: + Whisper all your sweet emotions as they gushing, blushing rise. + Throw your soft white arms around me; say you _lived not_ till you found me-- + Say it, say it, Aveline! whisper you are only mine; + That you cannot live without me, as you throw your arms about me, + That you _cannot_ live without me, artless, rosy Aveline! + +Our limits will not permit us to quote any of the remaining poems of this +volume in full, and we conclude our extracts with a few passages penciled +while in a hasty reading. In the piece entitled The Kings of Sorrow, the +poet sings: + + Was HE not sad amid the grief and strife, the Lord of light and life, + Whose torture made humanity divine, upon that woful hill of Palestine? + Then is it not far better thus to be, thoughtful, and brave, and melancholy, + Than given up to idle revelry, amid the unreligious brood of folly? + For our sorrow is a worship, worship true, and pure, and calm, + Sounding from the choir of duty like a high, heroic psalm, + In its very darkness bearing to the bleeding heart a balm. + Brothers, we must have no wailing: do we agonize alone? + Look at all the pallid millions; hear a universal moan, + From the mumbling, low-browed Bushman to a Lytton on his throne. + Nor shall we have coward faltering: Brothers! we must be sublime + By due labor at the forges blazing in the cave of Time; + Knowing life was made for duty, and that only cowards prate + Of a search for Happy Valley and the hard decrees of fate: + Seeing through this night of mourning all the future as a star, + And a joy at last appearing on the centuries afar, + When the meaning of the sorrow, when the mystery shall be plain, + When the Earth shall see her rivers roll through Paradise again. + O! the vision gives to sorrow something white and purple-plumed: + Even the hurricane of Evil comes a hurricane perfumed. + +In the same: + + ... The Storm is silent while we speak; + The awe-struck Cloud hath paused above the peak; + The far Volcano statlier waves on high + His smoking censer to the solemn sky; + And see, the troubled Ocean folds his hands + With a great patience on the yellow sands. + +In Rest: + + So rest! and Rest shall slay your many woes; + Motion is god-like--god-like is repose, + A mountain-stillness, of majestic might, + Whose peaks are glorious with the quiet light + Of suns when Day is at his solemn close. + Nor deem that slumber must ignoble be. + Jove labored lustily once in airy fields; + And over the cloudy lea + He planted many a budding shoot + Whose liberal nature daily, nightly yields + A store of starry fruit. + His labor done, the weary god went back + Up the long mountain track + To his great house; there he did wile away + With lightest thought a well-won holiday; + For all the Powers crooned softly an old tune + Wishing their Sire might sleep + Through all the sultry noon + And cold blue night; + And very soon + They heard the awful Thunderer breathing low and deep. + And in the hush that dropped adown the spheres, + And in the quiet of the awe-struck space, + The worlds learned worship at the birth of years: + They looked upon their Lord's calm, kingly face. + And bade Religion come and kiss each starry place. + +In the same: + + See what a languid glory binds + The long dim chambers of the darkling West, + While far below yon azure river winds + Like a blue vein on sleeping Beauty's breast. + +In The Gods of Old: + + Not realmless sit the ancient gods + Upon their mountain-thrones + In that old glorious Grecian Heaven + Of regal zones. + A languor o'er their stately forms + May lie, + And a sorrow on their wide white brows, + King-dwellers of the sky! + But theirs is still that large imperial throng + Of starry thoughts and firm but quiet wills, + That murmured past the blind old King of Song, + When staring round him on the Thunderer's hills. + +In the same: + + ... Still Love, sublime, shall wrap + His awful eyebrows in Olympian shrouds. + Or take along the Heaven's dark wilderness + His thunder-chase behind the hunted clouds. + And mortal eyes upturned shall behold + Apollo's robe of gold + Sweep through the long blue corridor of the sky + That, kindling, speaks its Deity: + And He, the Ruler of the Sunless Land + Of restless ghosts, shall fitfully illume + With smouldering fires, that stir in caverned eyes, + Hell's mournful House of Gloom. + +In the Hymn to a Wind, Going Seaward: + + Move on! Move on, + Wind of the wide wild West! Tell thou to all + The Isles, tell thou to all the Continents + The grandeur of my land! Speak of its vales + Where Independence wears a pastoral wreath + Amid the holy quiet of his flock; + And of its mountains with their cloudy beards + Tossed by the breath of centuries; and speak + Of its tall cataracts that roll their bass + Amid the choral of the midnight storms; + And of its rivers lingering through the plains + So long, that they seem made to measure time; + And of its lakes that mock the haughty sea; + And of its caves where banished gods might find + Night large enough to hide their crownless heads; + And of its sunsets broad and glorious there + O'er Prairies spread like endless oceans on-- + And on--and on--over the far dim leagues + Till vision shudders o'er immensity. + +In the same: + + ----Troubled France + Shall listen to thy calm deep voice, and learn + That Freedom must be calm if she would fix + Her mountain moveless in a heaving world. + +In a Chant to the East: + + Still! Oh still! + Despite of passion, sin, and ill, + Despite of all this weary world hath brought, + An angel band from Zion's holy hill + Walks gently through the open gate of Thought. + Oh, still! Oh, still! + Despite of passion, sin, and ill, + ONE in red vesture comes in sorrow's time-- + ONE crowned with thorns from that far Orient clime, + Who pitying looks on me + And gently asks, "Poor man, what aileth thee?" + +In the same: + + The nations must forever turn to thee, + Feeling thy lustrous presence from afar; + And feed upon thy splendor as a sea + Feeds on the shining shadow of a star. + +In Wordsworth: + + And many a brook shall murmur in my verse; + And many an ocean join his cloudy bass; + And many a mountain tower aloft, whereon + The black storm crouches, with his deep-red eyes + Glaring upon the valleys stretch'd below; + And many a green wood rock the small, bright birds + To musical sleep beneath the large, full moon; + And many a star shall lift on high her cup + Of luminous cold chrysolite, set in gold + Chased subtilely over by angelic art; + To catch the odorous dews which poets drink + In their wide wanderings; and many a sun + Shall press the pale lips of the timorous morn + Couch'd in the bridal east: and over all + Will brood the visible presence of the ONE + To whom my life has been a solemn chant. + +In the Last Words of Washington: + + There is an awful stillness in the sky, + When after wondrous deeds and light supreme, + A star goes out in golden prophecy. + There is an awful stillness in the world, + When after wondrous deeds and light supreme, + Sceptres refused and forehead crowned with truth, + A Hero dies, with all the future clear + Before him, and his voice made jubilant + By coming glories, and his nation hushed, + As though they heard the farewell of a god. + A great man is to earth as God to Heaven. + +In Greenwood Cemetery: + + O, ye whose mouldering frames were brought and placed + By pious hands within these flowery slopes + And gentle hills, where are ye dwelling now? + For man is more than element! The soul + Lives in the body as the sunbeam lives + In trees or flowers that were but clay without. + Then where are ye, lost sunbeams of the mind? + Are ye where great Orion towers and holds + Eternity on his stupendous front? + Or where pale Neptune in the distant space + Shows us how far, in his creative mood, + With pomp of silence and concentred brows, + The Almighty walked? Or haply ye have gone + Where other matter roundeth into shapes + Of bright beatitude: Or do ye know + Aught of dull space or time, and its dark load + Of aching weariness? + +Mr. Wallace is somewhat too much of a rhetorician, and he has a few defects +of manner which, from this frequent repetition, he seems to regard as +beauties. Peculiar phrases, of doubtful propriety, but which have a musical +roll, occur in many of his poems, so that they become very prominent; this +fault, however, belongs chiefly to his earlier pieces; the extracts we have +given, we think will amply vindicate to the most critical judgments, the +praise here awarded to him as a poet of singular and unusual powers, +original, earnest, and in a remarkable degree _national_. It can scarcely +be said of any of our bards that they have caught their inspiration more +directly from observation and experience, or that their effusions, whatever +the distinction they have in art, are more genuine in feeling. + + + + +AMERICA AS ABUSED BY A GERMAN. + + +Having made it a point to faithfully report all that is said of our country +by foreign travellers or journalists, we deem it a duty to lay before our +readers not only the more agreeable accounts given by those who have +impartially examined our institutions and manners, but also the more +prejudiced relations of those who, urged by interest or ill-nature, have +sketched simply the darker and more irregular outlines. And we are the more +induced to follow this course since we are fully convinced that it is +productive of equal good with the former. We have--particularly to English +eyes--appeared as a people who eagerly devour all that is said to our +discredit, and at the same time fiercely repudiate the slightest +insinuation that we in any thing fall short of perfection. As regards the +latter, we shall content ourselves with remarking, that even the +disposition to deny the existence of imperfection among us, redounds far +more to our credit, than the complacent exaltation of our weaker points to +virtues; while as to the former, we are certain that a higher feeling than +mere nervous, sensitive vanity, induces in us the desire + + "To see ourselves as others see us," + +since there is no nation which more readily avails itself of the remarks of +others, even when by far too bitter or unjust to improve. True to our +national character of youthfulness, we are ever ready to act on every hint. +We are, _par excellence_, a _learning_ nation. Send even the _young_ +Englishman on his continental tour, and the chances are ten to one that he +returns with every prejudice strengthened, and his vanity increased. But +the American--ductile as wax, evinces himself even at an advanced period of +life, susceptible of improvement, yet firm in its retention. That we +earnestly strive in every respect to improve is evident from many "little +things" which foreigners ridicule. For instance, the habitual use of "fine +language," and the attempt to clothe even our ordinary trains of thought in +an elegant garb, which has been time and again cruelly ridiculed by Yankee +goaders, is to a reflecting mind suggestive of commendation, from the very +fact, that an attempt at least is made _to improve_. Better a thousand +times the impulse to progress, even through the whirlwinds of hyperbole and +inflated expression, than the heavy miasma of a patois, the lightest breath +of which at once proclaims the cockney or provincial. + +For the entertainment of those who are willing to live, laugh, and learn, +we are induced to give our readers a few extracts from a recently published +work, by a German, entitled, _Skizzen aus den Vereinigten Staaten von Nord +Amerika: Von_ DR. A. KIRSTEN, (or, _Sketches of the United States of North +America_, by Dr. A. KIRSTEN,) a work in which the author, after exhausting +all the three-penny thunder of ignorant abuse, coolly informs his readers, +that he has by no means represented things in their worst light. The +American public at large are not aware that among the rulers of Germany, +emigration to America is sternly yet anxiously discouraged. Rejoiced as +they are to behold our country a receptacle for the sweepings of their +prisons and _Fuchthaueser_, or houses of correction, they still gaze with an +alarmed glance at the almost incredible "forth-wandering" which has at +times depopulated entire villages, and borne with it an amount of wealth, +which, trifling as it may appear to us, is in a land of economy and poverty +of immense importance. The reader who judges of Germany by Great Britain +and Ireland, is mistaken. That emigration which is to the government of the +latter countries health and safety, brings to the former death and +destruction. As a proof of this, we need only point to the tone of all the +German papers which are in any manner connected with the interests of their +respective courts. In all we find the old song: Depreciation of America, as +far as applicable to the prevention of emigration. To accomplish this end, +writers are hired and poets feed; remedies against emigration are proposed +by political economists, and where possible, even clergymen are induced to +persuade their flocks to nibble still in the ancient stubble, or among the +same old barren rocks. + +Dr. Kirsten, it would appear, is either a natural and habitual grumbler, or +a paid hireling. If the former, we can only pity--if the latter, despise +him. Could our voice be heard by his patrons, we would, however, advise +them to employ a better grumbler--one who can wield lance and sword against +his foes, instead of mops and muddy water. A weaker lancer, or more +impotent and impudent abuser, has rarely appeared, even among our earlier +English decriers. + +Like many other weak-minded individuals, the Herr Doctor appears to have +started under the fullest conviction that our country was, if not a true +"_Schlaraffen Land_," or _Pays de Cocagne_, or Mahomet's Paradise, in which +pigeons ready roasted fly to the mouth, at least a realized _Icarie_, or +perfected Fourier-dom. All the books which he had read, relative to +America, described it in glowing colors, and inclined his mind favorably +toward it. Such was his faith in these books, or also so great his fear, +that these glorious dreams might be dissipated, that he did not even +ascertain or confirm their truth by the personal experience of those who +had been there, and we are informed naively enough in the preface, that +previous to his departure he had but once had an opportunity of conversing +with an educated German, who had resided for a long time in America. Such +weak heedlessness as this does not, to our ears at least, savor of the +characteristic prudence and deliberation of the German, and strongly +confirms us in the belief, that the doctor wandered forth well knowing what +he was about--in other words, that he went his way with his opinions +already cut and dried. + +"After an eight weeks' voyage I arrived in New-York. It was at the end of +August. Even in the vicinity of the Gulf Stream a terrible heat oppressed +us, which increased as we approached land; but it was in that city that I +became aware of what the heat in America really was. Many visits which I +was obliged to make, caused during the day a cruel exhaustion, while at +night I found no refreshment in slumber, partly because the heat was hardly +diminished, and partly from the musquitoes, and to me unaccustomed alarms +of fire, which were nightly repeated, from which I found that life in +America was by no means so agreeable as I had been led to infer from books +and popular report." + +From the single, mysterious, educated German with whom the doctor had +conferred previous to his departure, he had learned that, in the United +States, any thing like marked distinction of class, rank, or caste, did not +exist; and that this was particularly the case among Germans living there. +"The educated and refined knew how to draw into their society the less +gifted, and it was really singular to observe in how short a time the +latter rose to a higher degree of culture. People actually destitute of +knowledge and manners, in fact could not be found. Moreover, I there +anticipated a southern climate, for which I had some years longed." + +How miserably the poor doctor was disappointed in these moderate and +reasonable anticipations, appears from the following lamentable account: + +"Ere long I, indeed, became acquainted with many Germans, who received me +in the kindest manner, and of whom recollections will ever be dear to me. +But this was not the case with the Americans, as I had been led to +anticipate, nor indeed with the Germans, generally. Among these I found +neither connection nor unity, and they mostly led a life such as I had in +Germany never met with, while nothing like social cultivation, in a higher +sense, was to be found. Led into the society of those who by day were +devoted to business, but in the evening scattered themselves, here and +there, without a point of union, I found myself in the noisy, but +pleasure-wanting city, forlorn and unwell. Many, to whom I complained of +what I missed in New-York, thought that it might be found in Philadelphia." + +But even in Philadelphia our pilgrim found not the promised Paradise, where +there was no distinction of rank or family, and where the more educated and +refined would eagerly adopt him, the lowly brother, into their Icarian +circle. Neither did he discover the golden tropical region--the southern +heaven--for which his soul had longed for years. Alas! no. "After a +residence of four weeks in New-York, I repaired to Philadelphia, and there +found that among the Germans, things were the same as in New-York--_in +fact, there was even less unity among them_." But although the doctor did +not discover any Germans inspired with the sublime spirit of harmony, he +certainly appears to have met with several who had acquired the American +virtue of common sense. + +"A German who had been for a long time resident in the United States +asserted that he had, as yet, met with no fellow-countryman, who had been +in the beginning satisfied with America. Others were of the opinion, that I +would first be pleased with the country when I had found a profitable +employment. _And some others, that I would never be satisfied._" + +And so the doctor, ever dependent on others for happiness, looked here and +there, like the pilgrim after Aden, or the hero of the Morning Watch, for +the ideal of his dreams. The so-called entirely German towns in +Pennsylvania were German only in name. The heat disgusted him with the +south--the cold with the north. After residing nine months in Poughkeepsie, +he returned to New-York, and there remained for some time, occupied, as it +would appear, solely with acquiring information. This residence at an end, +he returned to Germany. + +We pass over the first chapters of his work, devoted to an ordinary account +of the climate, animals, and plants of the country, to a more interesting +picture, namely--its inhabitants. From this we learn that the American is +cold, dry, and monosyllabic, in his demeanor and conversation. During his +return to Germany he was delayed for a period of something less than nine +days at Falmouth, England, where, during his daily walks, he experienced +that in comparison with us the English are amiable, communicative, and +agreeable. Indeed, he found that when, during a promenade in America, +strangers returned his greetings, these polite individuals were invariably +Britons, "which proves that while in more recent times, the English have +assumed or approached the customs of other nations, the Americans have +remained true to the character and being of the earlier emigrants, and are +at present totally distinct from the English of to-day. + +"This is especially shown by the demeanor of Americans towards foreigners, +and nearly as much so by their conduct to one another. Regard them where we +will, they are ever the same. In the larger or the smaller towns, in the +streets or in the country, every one goes his own way without troubling +himself about others, and without saluting those with whom he is +unacquainted. Never do we see neighbors associating with each other; and +neighborly friendship is here unknown. If acquaintances meet, they nod to +each other, or the one murmurs, '_How do you do?_' while the other +replies, '_Very well_,' without delaying an instant, unless business +affairs require a conversation. This concluded, they depart without a word, +unless, indeed, as an exception, they wish each other good morning, or +evening. Nor are they less distant in hotels, or during journeys in +railroad cars and steamboats."--"Continued conversations, in which several +take part, are extremely rare. Any one speaking frequently to a stranger, +at table or during a journey, runs the risk not merely of being regarded as +impertinent, but as entertaining dishonest views; and, indeed, one should +invariably be on his guard against Americans who manifest much +friendliness, since, in this manner, pickpockets are accustomed to make +their advances. + +"In a corresponding degree this coldness of disposition is manifested +towards more intimate acquaintances. Never do we observe among friends a +deep and heart-inspired, or even a confiding relationship. Nay, this is not +even to be found among members of the same family. The son or the daughter, +who has not for several days seen his or her parents, returns and enters +the room without a greeting, or without any signs of joy being manifested +by either. Or else the salutation is given and returned in such a manner +that scarcely a glance passes between the parties. The direst calamities +are imparted and listened to with an apathy evincing no signs of emotion, +and a great disaster, occurring on a railroad or steamboat, in the United +States, excites in Germany more attention and sympathy than in the former +country, even when friends and perhaps relatives have thereby suffered. +Even the loss of a member of the family is hardly manifested by the +survivors." + +In a recent English work we were indeed complimented for our _patience_, +but it was reserved for Doctor Kirsten to discover in us, this degree of +iron-hearted, immovable, _nil admirarism_. But when he goes on to assert +that "in the most deadly peril--in such moments as those which precede the +anticipated explosion of a steamboat boiler, even their ladies preserve the +same repose and equanimity," so that any expression from a stranger is +coldly listened to, without producing evident impression, _our_ surprise is +changed to wonder, and we are tempted to inquire, Can it be possible, that +we are such Spartans--endowed with such superior human stoicism? + +"This coldness of the American is legibly impressed on his features. In +both sexes we frequently meet with pretty, and occasionally beautiful, +faces; but seldom, however, do we perceive in either, aught cheerful or +attractive. In place thereof we observe, even in the fairest, a certain +earnestness, verging towards coldness. From the great majority of faces we +should judge that no emotion could be made to express itself upon them, and +such is truly the case. + +"That the nearest acquaintances address each other with _Sir_ and _Master_, +or _Miss_ and _Mistress_, and that husband and wife, parents and children, +yes, even the children themselves employ these titles to each other, has +undoubtedly much to do with their marked and cold demeanor. But this must +have a deeper ground than that merely caused by the use of distant forms of +salutation. + +"And yet, the Americans are by no means of a bad disposition, since they +are neither crafty and treacherous, nor revengeful, nor even prone to +distrust; on the contrary, quite peaceable, and by the better classes, +there is much charity for apparent misery; seldom does one suffering with +bodily ailments leave the house of a wealthy man without being munificently +aided; the which charity is silently extended to him, without a sign of +emotion. Those who are capable of work--no matter what the cause of their +sufferings may be, seldom receive alms, for the Americans go upon the +principle that work is not disgraceful, and without reflecting that the +applicant may not have been accustomed to work, refuse in any manner to aid +him. If any man want work, he can apply to the overseers of the poor, who +are obliged to receive him in a poor-house, and maintain him until he find +such. Much is done at the state's expense for the aged, sick, and insane." + +After this our doctor lets fall a few flattering drops of commendation by +way of admitting that this iron immobility of the American is not without +its good points, but fearing that he has spoken too favorably, he brings up +the chapter by remarking that-- + +"The here-mentioned good traits in the American character can, however, by +no means overbalance or destroy the evil impression which their coldness +produces, but merely soften it." + +From our appearance and deportment he proceeds to a bold, hasty, and +remarkably superficial criticism of education in America. The father of a +family in America, we are informed, is occupied with business from morning +to night, and leaves all care for the education and training of his +children to the mother, who is, however, generally quite incapable to +fulfil such duty. No teacher dare correct a child, for fear of incurring +legal punishment, in consequence of which they grow up destitute of +decency, order, or obedience. Some few, indeed, find their way eventually +into academies and colleges, which are not so badly managed; but, as for +school-boys, since there is no one to insure their regular attendance at +school, they play truant _a discretion_. As for the children of the lower +and middle classes, they pass their boyhood in idleness, and grow up in +ignorance, until at a later period they enter into business, when they are +compelled to perfect themselves in the arts of reading and writing, yet +they quickly acquire the business spirit of their fathers. + +"The education of the girls is, however, of an entirely different nature. +On them the mothers expend much care and trouble, which is, however, of the +most perverted kind, since it is in its nature entirely external. Before +all, do they seek to give them an air of decency and culture, which is, +nevertheless, more apparent than real. In accordance with the republican +spirit of striving after equality, every mother--no matter how poor, or how +low her rank may be--desires to bring her daughter up in such a manner that +she may be inferior in respectability and external culture to no one." "In +fact, the daughters of the poorest workman bear themselves like those of +the richest merchant. In their mien we see a pride flashing forth, which +can hardly be surpassed by that of the haughtiest daughters of the highest +German nobility. And that their daughters may in every respect equal those +of others, we see poor men lavishing upon them their last penny; and while +the boys run in the streets, covered with ragged and dirty fragments of +clothing, the sisters wear bonnets with veils, bearing parasols, and while +at school, short dresses and drawers." + +After this fearful announcement, we are informed, that the poor girls +profit as little in school as their unhappy brothers, and that no regard is +paid to their future destiny. + +"Even after the maiden has left school, her mother instructs her in no +feminine employment, not even in domestic affairs, and least of all, in +cookery. While the former lives, and the daughter remains unmarried, she +(the mother,) attends to housekeeping, as far as the word can be taken in +the German sense, while her daughter passes the time in reading, more +frequently with bedecking herself, but generally in idleness. When the +daughter, however, marries, we may well imagine how a house is managed in +such hands. The principal business henceforth is self-adornment and +housekeeping. All imaginable care is bestowed upon these branches, but none +whatever on any other. Cookery is of the lowest grade; nearly every day +sees the same dishes, and those, also, which are prepared with the least +trouble. Very frequently, indeed, the husbands are obliged to prepare their +meals before and after their business hours. Knitting and spinning, either +in town or country, is unknown; only manufactured or woven stockings are +worn, and shirts are generally purchased ready-made in the shops." "Washing +is the only work which they undertake, and this is done by young ladies of +wealthy family. This takes place every Monday, for there are very few +families who own linen sufficient for more than a single week's wear. + +"So long as the father lives, his daughters stick to him, useless as they +are, and heavy as the burden may be to him. It is _his_ business to see +where the money comes from wherewith to nourish and decently clothe them: +on this account the servant girls in America generally consist of Irish, +Germans, and blacks. Even these, taking pattern from their mistresses, +refuse to perform duties which are expected from every housemaid in +Germany--for examples, boot-brushing, clothes-cleaning, and the bringing of +water across the way, as well as street and step-cleaning; for which reason +we often see respectable men performing these duties." + +From this terrible plague of daughters, and daughterly extravagance, the +doctor finds that poorer men in America are by no means as well off as +would be imagined from their high wages. "The father with many daughters, +so far from advancing in wealth, generally falls behind. Fearing the cost +of a family, many men remain unmarried, and in no country in the world are +there so many old maids as in the United States." From which the author +finds that dreadful instances of immorality and infanticide result. + +Filial duty, he asserts, is unknown. When the son proposes emigration to +another place, or the undertaking of a new business, he announces it to his +father "perhaps the evening before; while the daughters act in like manner +as regards marriage, or, it may be, mention it to him for the first time +after it has really taken place--from which the custom results that parents +give their children no part of their property before death. Nothing is +known of a true family life, in which parents are intimately allied to +children, or brothers and sisters to each other." We spare our readers the +sneer at those writers who have praised the Americans in their domestic +relations, with which this veracious, high-minded, and unprejudiced chapter +concludes. + +In science and art, we are sunk, it seems, almost beneath contempt; the +former being cultivated only so far as it is conducive to money-making. The +professions of Divinity, Law, and Medicine, are badly and superficially +taught and acquired. "There are, indeed," says the doctor, "in New-York and +Philadelphia, institutions where the student has opportunities of becoming, +if he will, an excellent physician; but these are far from being well +patronized." + +As regards general education, he asserts that, though a few professors in +our colleges are highly educated men, this cannot be said of their pupils, +since the latter set no value on knowledge not directly profitable, "and +the backward condition of ancient languages, natural science, even +geography, history and statistics, save as applicable to their own country, +is really a matter of wonder." + +But in the fine arts, it appears, we are sunk so far beneath contempt that +we really wonder that the doctor should have found it, in this particular, +worth while to abuse us. "There are but two monuments in all America worthy +of mention, and both are in Baltimore. Philadelphia and New-York have +nothing of the kind to show, though each city possesses two public squares +or parks planted with trees, which are well adapted to receive such works +of art, and where the eye sadly misses them." "Public and private +collections of statues and pictures are altogether wanting, and the walls +of the rich are generally devoid of paintings and copper-plate engravings. +What they have generally consists of family portraits, or those of +Washington and other presidents. But to dazzle the eye, we find in the +possession of the wealthy, the most worthless pictures in expensive gold +frames. Of late years a public gallery has been established in New-York for +the sale of such productions. As far however as the works of native artists +are concerned, we find among them none inspired by high art; on the +contrary, they are generally, to the last degree, mediocre affairs, or mere +daubs (_wahre Klecksereien_) not worth hanging up; the better however are +exaggerated and unnatural both in subject and color. This is also the case +with most of the copper-plate engravings exposed for sale in the French +shop-windows, and which appear almost as if manufactured in Paris expressly +for the American taste. The inferior appreciation of art in the Americans +and their delight in extravagance is particularly shown in the political +caricatures, which are entirely deficient in all refined wit, consisting +either of stupid allusions to eminent men or party leaders, or direct and +clumsy exaggerations." + +By way of amends for all this abuse, our author admits that we excel in all +practical arts and labor-saving inventions. "But in proportion to the +backward state of the fine arts, is the advance which the Americans have +made in all pertaining to mechanics, and technical art. Particular +attention is paid to the supplanting of hand labor by machinery. Even the +most trifling apparatus or tool is constructed with regard to practical +use, and it only needs a more careful observation of this to convince us +that in all such matters they have the advantage of Germany. + +"It is often truly startling to see how simply and usefully those articles +used in business are constructed--for example, the one-horse cars (_drays +or trucks?_) and hand-carts, employed in conveying merchandise to and from +stores. As a proof how far the Americans have advanced in mechanic arts, we +may mention that high houses, of wood or brick, several stories high and +entire, are transported on rollers to places several feet distant. +Occasionally, to add a story, the house is raised by screws into the air +and the building substructed. In either case the family remains quietly +dwelling therein." + +But alas, even these few rays of commendatory comfort vanish in the dark, +after reflection, that it is precisely this ingenuity and enterprise in +business and practical matters which unfits us for all the kinder and more +social duties, and renders us insensible to every soothing and refining +influence. No allowance for past events, unavoidable circumstances, or our +possible future destiny, appears to cross the doctor's mind. All is dark +and desolate. True, every man of high and low degree--the laborer and +shop-man--the lawyer and clergyman, pause in the street to study any +mechanical novelty which meets their eye--but ere they do this the doctor +is mindful to suggest _that they pass picture shop-windows without deigning +to glance therein_. The professions are studied like trades, and in matters +of criminal law our condition is truly deplorable. It happened not many +months since, he informs us, that the publisher of a slanderous New-York +paper, was castigated by a lady, with a hunting whip, in Broadway, at noon. +The said lady had been (according to custom) unjustly and cruelly abused in +the journal referred to. So great was her irritation that she actually +followed the editor along the streets, lashing him continually. But the +_finale_ of this startling incident consists of the fact that the lady, on +pleading guilty, was fined six cents. + +There is an obscurity attached to his manner of narrating this anecdote, +which leaves the opinion of the author a little uncertain. Six cents would +in some parts of Germany be a serious fine, worthy of appeal, mercy, and +abatement. In different parts of Suabia and even Baden, notices may be seen +posted up, in which the commission of certain local offences is prohibited +by fines ranging from four to twelve cents. On the whole, as a zealous +defender of the purity and dignity of woman, when unjustly assailed, we are +inclined to think that the author sides with _the_ LADY. + +But we need not follow the doctor further in his career of discontent and +prejudice. Before concluding, we would however caution the reader against +supposing that he expresses views in any degree accordant with the feelings +and opinions of his countrymen. The best, the most numerous, the most +impartial, and we may add, by far the most favorable works on America, are +from German pens. In confirmation of our assertion that his work is +unfavorably regarded at home we may adduce the fact that it has been +severely handled by excellent reviewers among them; take for example the +following, from the Leipzig _Central Blatt_. After favorably noticing the +late excellent work of QUENTIN on the United States, he proceeds to say of +the doctor's _Sketches_, that + +"HERR KIRSTEN seems to desire to be that for North America, which _Nicolai_ +of noted memory was in his own time for Italy. Already, on arrival, we find +him in ill temper, caused by the excessive heat, which ill-humor is +aggravated by his being obliged to make many calls by day, and _the +musquitoes and alarms of fire which disturbed his slumbers during the +night_. In other places he was no better pleased. + +"The Germans were disagreeable on account of their want of unity, the +Americans from their coldness--in short, he missed home life--could not +accustom himself to the new country, and returned after a sojourn of less +than two years to Germany. In 'sketches,' resulting from such +circumstances, we naturally encounter only the darker side of American +life. Much may indeed be true of what he asserts regarding the natural +capabilities, climate, soil, and inhabitants of the land, the manners and +customs of the latter, their common and party spirit, education of +children, and the condition of science and art; but particulars are either +too hastily generalized, or else the better points, as for example, the +characteristic traits of the people, their extraordinary progress in +physical and mental culture, and the excellent management of the country, +are either entirely omitted or receive by far too slight notice. His +narrow-minded and ill-natured disposition to find fault is also shown by +his reproaching the Americans with faults which they share in common with +every nation in America, _ourselves included_, as, for example, excesses +committed by political partisans. Still, the book may not be entirely +without value, at least to those who see every thing on the other side of +the water only in a rosy light, and believe that the German emigrant as +soon as his foot touches shore, enters a state of undisturbed happiness." + +So much for the critical doctor's popularity at home. In conclusion, we may +remark that our main object in this notice, in addition to amusing our +readers, has been to prove by this exception, and the displeasure which it +excites in Germany, the rule, that by the writers of that country our own +has been almost invariably well spoken of. And we have deemed these remarks +the more requisite, lest some reader might casually infer that Dr. Kirsten +expressed the views and sentiments of any considerable number of his +countrymen. + + + + +REMINISCENCES OF THE LATE MR. COOPER.--HIS LAST DAYS. + +A LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF THE INTERNATIONAL. + +BY JOHN W. FRANCIS, M. D., LL. D. + + + NEW-YORK, _October 1st, 1851_. + +MY DEAR SIR,--I readily comply with your wish that I should furnish you +with such reminiscences of the late Mr. Cooper as occur to me, although the +pressure of professional engagements absolutely forbids such details as I +would gladly record. For nearly thirty years I have been the occasional +medical adviser, and always the ardent personal friend of the illustrious +deceased; but our intercourse has been so fragmentary, owing to the +distance we have lived apart, and the busy lives we have both led, that the +impressions which now throng upon and impress me are desultory and varied, +though endearing. I first knew Mr. Cooper in 1823. He at that time was +recognized as the author of "Precaution," of "the Spy," and of "the +Pioneers." The two last-named works had attracted especial notice by their +widely extended circulation, and the novelty of their character in American +literature. He was often to be seen at that period in conversation at the +City Hotel in Broadway, near Old Trinity, where many of our most renowned +naval and military men convened. He was the original projector of a +literary and social association called the "Bread and Cheese Club," whose +place of rendezvous was at Washington Hall. They met weekly, in the +evening, and furnished the occasion of much intellectual gratification and +genial pleasure. That most adhesive friend, the poet Halleck, Chancellor +Kent, G. C. Verplanck, Wiley, the publisher of Mr. Cooper's works, Dekay, +the naturalist, C. A. Davis (Jack Downing), Charles King, now President of +Columbia College, J. Depeyster Ogden, J. W. Jarvis, the painter, John and +William Duer, and many others, were of the confederacy. Washington Irving, +at the period of the formation of this circle of friends, was in England, +occupied with his inimitable "Sketch Book." I had the honor of an early +admittance to the Club. In balloting for membership the bread declared an +affirmative; and two ballots of cheese against an individual proclaimed +non-admittance. + +From the meetings of this society Mr. Cooper was rarely absent. When +presiding officer of the evening, he attracted especial consideration from +the richness of his anecdotes, his wide American knowledge, and his +courteous behavior. These meetings were often signally characterized by the +number of invited guests of high reputation who gathered thither for +recreative purposes, both of mind and body; jurists of acknowledged +eminence, governors of different States, senators, members of the House of +Representatives, literary men of foreign distinction, and authors of repute +in our own land. It was gratifying to observe the dexterity with which Mr. +Cooper would cope with some eastern friend who contributed to our delight +with a "Boston notion," or with Trelawny, the associate of Byron, +descanting on Greece and the "Younger Son," or with any guests of the Club, +however dissimilar their habits or character; accommodating his +conversation and manners with the most marvellous facility. The New-York +attachments of Mr. Cooper were ever dominant. I witnessed a demonstration +of the early enthusiasm and patriotic activity of our late friend in his +efforts, with many of our leading citizens, in getting up the Grand Castle +Garden Ball, given in honor of Lafayette. The arrival of the "Nation's +Guest" at New-York, in 1824, was the occasion of the most joyful +demonstrations, and the celebration was a splendid spectacle; it brought +together celebrities from many remote parts of the Union. Mr. Cooper must +have undergone extraordinary fatigue during the day and following night; +but nearly as he was exhausted, he exhibited, when the public festivals +were brought to a close, that astonishing readiness and skill in literary +execution for which he was always so remarkable. Adjourning near daybreak +to the office of his friend Mr. Charles King, he wrote out more quickly +than any other hand could copy, the very long and masterly report which +next day appeared in Mr. King's paper--a report which conveyed to tens of +thousands who had not been present, no inconsiderable portion of the +enjoyment they had felt who were the immediate participants in this famous +festival. The manly bearing, keen intelligence, and thoroughly honorable +instincts of Mr. Cooper, united as they were with this gift of +writing--soon most effectively exhibited in his literary labors, now +constantly increasing--excited my highest expectations of his career as an +author, and my sincere esteem for the man. There was a fresh promise, a +vigorous impulse, and especially an American enthusiasm about him, that +seemed to indicate not only individual fame, but national honor. Since that +period I have followed his brilliant course with no less admiration than +delight. + +It was to me a cause of deep regret that soon after his return from Europe, +crowned with a distinct and noble reputation, he became involved in a +series of law-suits, growing out of libels, and originating partly in his +own imprudence, and partly in the reckless severity of the press. But these +are but temporary considerations in the retrospect of his achievements; and +if I mistake not, in these difficulties he in every instance succeeded in +gaining the verdict of the jury. It was a task insurmountable to overcome a +_fact_ as stated by Mr. Cooper. Associated as he was in my own mind with +the earliest triumphs of American letters, I think of him as the creator of +the genuine nautical and forest romances of "Long Tom Coffin" and +"Leatherstocking;" as the illustrator of our country's scenes and +characters to the Europeans; and not as the critic of our republican +inconsistencies, or as a litigant with caustic editors. + +It is well known that for a long period Mr. Cooper, at occasional times +only, visited New-York city. His residence for many years was an elegant +and quiet mansion on the southern borders of Otsego Lake. Here--in his +beautiful retreat, embellished by the substantial fruits of his labors, and +displaying everywhere his exquisite taste, his mind, ever intent on +congenial tasks, which, alas! are left unfinished, surrounded by a devoted +and highly cultivated family, and maintaining the same clearness of +perception, serene firmness, and integrity of tone, which distinguished him +in the meridian of his life--were his mental employments prosecuted. He +lived chiefly in rural seclusion, and with habits of methodical industry. +When visiting the city he mingled cordially with his old friends; and it +was on the last occasion of this kind, at the beginning of April, that he +consulted me with some earnestness in regard to his health. He complained +of the impaired tone of the digestive organs, great torpor of the liver, +weakness of muscular activity, and feebleness in walking. Such suggestions +were offered for his relief as the indications of disease warranted. He +left the city for his country residence, and I was gratified shortly after +to learn from him of his better condition. + +During July and August I maintained a correspondence with him on the +subject of his increasing physical infirmities, and frankly expressed to +him the necessity of such remedial measures as seemed clearly necessary. +Though occasionally relieved of my anxieties by the kind communications of +his excellent friend and attending physician, Dr. Johnson, I was not +without solicitude, both from his own statements as well as those of Dr. +Johnson himself, that his disorder was on the increase; certain symptoms +were indeed mitigated, but the radical features of his illness had not been +removed. A letter which I soon received induced me forthwith to repair to +Cooperstown, and on the 27th of August I saw Mr. Cooper at his own +dwelling. My reception was cordial. With his family about him he related +with great clearness the particulars of his sufferings, and the means of +relief to which he was subjected. Dr. Johnson was in consultation. I at +once was struck with the heroic firmness of the sufferer, under an +accumulation of depressing symptoms. His physical aspect was much altered +from that noble freshness he was wont to bear; his complexion was pallid; +his interior extremities greatly enlarged by serous effusion; his debility +so extreme as to require an assistant for change of position in bed; his +pulse sixty-four. There could be no doubt that the long continued hepatic +obstruction had led to confirmed dropsy, which, indeed, betrayed itself in +several other parts of the body. Yet was he patient and collected. That +powerful intellect still held empire with commanding force, clearness, and +vigor. I explained to him the nature of his malady; its natural termination +when uncontrolled; dwelt upon the favorable condition and yet regular +action of the heart, and other vital functions, and the urgent necessity of +endeavoring still more to fulfil certain indications, in order to overcome +the force of particular tendencies in the disorder. I frankly assured him +that within the limits of a week a change in the complaint was +indispensable to lessen our forebodings of its ungovernable nature. + +He listened with fixed attention; and now and then threw out suggestions of +cure such as are not unfrequent with cultivated minds. + +The great characteristics of his intellect were now even more conspicuous +than before. Not a murmur escaped his lips; conviction of his extreme +illness wrought no alteration of features; he gave no expression of +despondency; his tone and his manner were equally dignified, cordial, and +natural. It was his happiness to be blessed with a family around him whose +greatest gratification was to supply his every want, and a daughter for a +companion in his pursuits, who was his intelligent amanuensis and +correspondent as well as indefatigable nurse.[1] + +I forbear enlarging on matters too professional for present detail. During +the night after my arrival he sustained an attack of severe fainting, which +convinced me still further of his great personal weakness. An ennobling +philosophy, however, gave him support, and in the morning he had again been +refreshed by a sleep of some few hours' duration. I renewed to him and to +his family the hopes and the discouragements in his case. Never was +information of so grave a cast received by any individual in a calmer +spirit. He said little as to his prospects of recovery. Upon my taking +leave of him, however, shortly after, in the morning, I am convinced from +his manner that he shared my apprehensions of a fatal termination of his +disorder. Nature, however strong in her gifted child, had now her healthful +rights largely invaded. His constitutional buoyancy and determination, by +leading him to slight that distant and thorough attention demanded by +primary symptoms, doubtless contributed to their subsequent aggravation. + +I shall say but a few words more on this agonizing topic. The letters which +I received, after my return home, communicated at times some cheering facts +of renovation, but on the whole, discouraging demonstrations of augmenting +illness, and lessened hope, were their prominent characteristics. A letter +to me from his son-in-law, of the 14th of September, announced: "Mr. Cooper +died, apparently without much pain, to-day at half-past one, P.M., leaving +his family, although prepared by his gradual failure, in deep affliction. +He would have been sixty-two years old to-morrow." + +A life of such uniform and unparalleled excellence and service, a career so +brilliant and honorable, closed in a befitting manner, and was crowned by a +death of quiet resignation. Conscious of his approaching dissolution, his +intelligence seemed to glow with increased fulness as his prostrated frame +yielded by degrees to the last summons. It is familiarly known to his most +intimate friends, that for some considerable period prior to his fatal +illness, he appropriated liberal portions of his time to the investigation +of scriptural truths, and that his convictions were ripe in Christian +doctrines. With assurances of happiness in the future, he graciously +yielded up his spirit to the disposal of its Creator. His death, which must +thus have been the beginning of a serene and more blessed life to him, is +universally regarded as a national loss. + +Will you allow me to add a few words to this letter, already perhaps of +undue extent. It has been my gratification during a life of some duration +to have become personally acquainted with many eminent characters in the +different walks of professional and literary avocation. I never knew an +individual more thoroughly imbued with higher principles of action than Mr. +Cooper: he acted upon principles, and fully comprehended the principles +upon which he acted. Casual observers could scarcely, at times, understand +and appreciate his motives or conduct. An independence of character worthy +of the highest respect, and a natural boldness of temper which led him to a +frank, emphatic, and intrepid utterance of his thoughts and sentiments, +were uncongenial to that large class of people, who, from the want of moral +courage, or a feeble physical temperament, habitually conform to public +opinion, and endeavor to conciliate the world. Mr. Cooper was one of the +most genuine Americans in his tone of mind, in manly self-reliance, in +sympathy with the scenery, the history, and the constitution of his +country, which it has ever been my lot to know. His genius was American, +fresh, vigorous, independent, and devoted to native subjects. The +opposition he met with on his return from Europe, in consequence of his +patriotic, though, perhaps, injudicious attempts to point out the faults +and duties of his countrymen, threw him reluctantly on the defensive, and +sometimes gave an antagonistic manner to his intercourse; but, whoever, +recognizing his intellectual superiority, and respecting his integrity of +purpose, met him candidly, in an open, cordial and generous spirit, soon +found in Mr. Cooper an honest man, and a thorough patriot. + +How strongly is impressed upon my memory his personal appearance, so often +witnessed during his rambles in Broadway and amidst the haunts of this busy +population. His phrenological development might challenge comparison with +that of the most favored of mortals. His manly figure, high, prominent +brow, clear and fine gray eye, and royal bearing, revealed the man of will +and intelligence. His intellectual hardihood was remarkable. He worked upon +a novel with the patient industry of a man of business, and set down every +fact of costume, action, expression, local feature, and detail of maritime +operations or woodland experience, with a kind of consciousness and +precision that produced a Flemish exactitude of detail, while in portraying +action, he seemed to catch by virtue of an eagle glance and an heroic +temperament, the very spirit of his occasion and convey it to the reader's +nerves and heart, as well as to his understanding. Herein Mr. Cooper was a +man of unquestionable originality. As to his literary services, some idea +may be formed of the consideration in which they are held by the almost +countless editions of many of his works in his own country, and their +circulation abroad by translations into almost every living tongue. + +I may add a word or two on the extent of his sympathies with humanity. What +a love he cherished for superior talents in every ennobling pursuit in +life--how deep an interest he felt in the fortunes of his scientific and +literary friends--what gratification he enjoyed in the physical inquiries +of Dekay and Le Conte, the muse of Halleck and of Bryant, the painting of +Cole, the sculpture of Greenough! Dunlap, were he speaking, might tell you +of his gratuities to the unfortunate playwright and the dramatic performer. +With the mere accumulators of money--those golden calves whose hearts are +as devoid of emotion as their brains of the faculty of cogitation--he held +no congenial communion at any time: they could not participate in the +fruition of his pastime; and he felt in himself an innate superiority in +the gifts with which nature had endowed him. He was ever vigilant, a keen +observer of men and things; and in conversation frank and emphatic. It was +a gratifying spectacle to encounter him with old Col. Trumbull, the +historical painter, descanting on the many excellencies of Cole's pencil, +in the delineation of American forest-scenery--a theme the richest in the +world for Mr. Cooper's contemplation. A Shylock with his money-bags never +glutted over his possessions with a happier feeling than did these two +eminent individuals--the venerable Colonel with his patrician dignity, and +Cooper with his somewhat aristocratic bearing, yet democratic sentiment; +the one fruitful with the glories of the past, the other big with the +stirring events of his country's progress, in the refinement of arts, and +national power. Trumbull was one of the many old men I knew who delighted +in Cooper's writings, and who in conversation dwelt upon his captivating +genius. + +To his future biographer Mr. Cooper has left the pleasing duty rightly to +estimate the breadth and depth of his powerful intellect--psychologically +to investigate the development and functions of that cerebral organ, which +for so many years, with such rapid succession and variety, poured out the +creations of poetic thought and descriptive illustration--to determine the +value of his capacious mind by the influence which, in the dawn of American +literature, it has exercised, in rearing the intellectual fabric of his +country's greatness--and to unfold the secret springs of those +disinterested acts of charity to the poor and needy, which signalized his +conduct as a professor of religious truth, and a true exampler of the +Christian graces. He has unquestionably done more to make known to the +transatlantic world his country, her scenery, her characteristics, her +aboriginal inhabitants, her history, than all preceding writers. His death +may well be pronounced a national calamity. By common consent he long +occupied an enviable place--the highest rank in American literature. To +adopt the quaint phraseology of old Thomas Fuller, the felling of so mighty +an oak must needs cause the increase of much underwood. Who will fill the +void occasioned by his too early departure from among us, time alone must +determine. With much consideration, I remain, + + Dear sir, yours most truly, + JOHN W. FRANCIS. + + +PUBLIC HONORS TO THE MEMORY OF MR. COOPER. + +In the last number of the _International_ we were able merely to announce +the death of our great countryman Mr. Cooper. The following account of +proceedings in reference to the event is compiled mainly from the _Evening +Post_. + +A meeting of literary men, and others, was held at the City Hall in +New-York, on the 25th of September, for the purpose of taking the necessary +measures for rendering fit honors to the memory of the deceased author. +Rufus W. Griswold, calling the meeting to order, said it had been convened +to do justice to the memory of the most illustrious American who had died +in the present century. Since the design of such a meeting had first been +formed, a consultation among Mr. Cooper's friends had been held, and it had +been determined that the present should be only a preparatory meeting, for +the making of such arrangements as should be thought necessary for a more +suitable demonstration of respect for that eminent person, whose name, more +completely than that of any of his cotemporaries and countrymen, had filled +the world. + +On motion of Judge Duer, Washington Irving was elected President of the +meeting. On motion of Joseph Blunt, Fitz Greene Halleck and Rufus W. +Griswold were appointed Secretaries. + +Mr. Blunt said, that as it had been thought proper to consider this +occasion as merely preliminary, and for the purpose of making arrangements +to do honor to the distinguished author who has left us, he would move that +a committee of five be appointed by the chair, to report what measures +should be adopted, by the literary gentlemen of this city and of the +country, so far as they may see fit to join them, for the purpose of +rendering appropriate honors to the memory of the late J. Fenimore Cooper. + +The motion was adopted, and the chair appointed the following gentlemen +members of the committee: Judge Duer, Richard B. Kimball, Dr. Francis, Fitz +Greene Halleck, and George Bancroft; to whom Washington Irving and Rufus W. +Griswold were subsequently added. The meeting then adjourned. + +This committee afterwards met and appointed as a General Committee to carry +out the designs of the meeting: Washington Irving, James K. Paulding, John +W. Francis, Gulian C. Verplanck, Charles King, Richard B. Kimball, Rufus +W. Griswold, Lewis Gaylord Clarke, Francis L. Hawks, John A. Dix, George +Bancroft, Fitz Greene Halleck, John Duer, William C. Bryant, George P. +Morris, Charles Anthon, Samuel Osgood, J. M. Wainright, and William W. +Campbell. + +R. W. Griswold, Donald G. Mitchell, Parke Godwin, C. F. Briggs, and +Starbuck Mayo were appointed a Committee of Correspondence. + +Besides letters from many of the gentlemen present, others had been +received from some twenty of the most eminent literary men of the United +States, all expressing the warmest sympathy in the proposal to do every +possible honor to the memory of Mr. Cooper. We copy from these the +following: + +_From Washington Irving._ + + SUNNYSIDE, Thursday, Sept. 18, 1851. + + MY DEAR SIR:--The death of Fenimore Cooper, though + anticipated, is an event of deep and public concern, + and calls for the highest expression of public + sensibility. To me it comes with something of a shock; + for it seems but the other day that I saw him at our + common literary resort at Putnam's, in full vigor of + mind and body, a very "castle of a man," and apparently + destined to outlive me, who am several years his + senior. He has left a space in our literature which + will not easily be supplied.... + + I shall not fail to attend the proposed meeting on + Wednesday next. Very respectfully, your friend and + servant, + + WASHINGTON IRVING. + + Rev. RUFUS W. GRISWOLD. + +_From William C. Bryant._ + + ROCHESTER, Friday, Sept. 19, 1851. + + MY DEAR SIR:--I am sorry that the arrangements for my + journey to the West are such that I cannot be present + at the meeting which is about to be held to do honor to + the memory of Mr. Cooper, on losing whom not only the + country, but the civilized world and the age in which + we live, have lost one of their most illustrious + ornaments. It is melancholy to think that it is only + until such men are in their graves that full justice is + done to their merit. I shall be most happy to concur in + any step which may be taken to express, in a public + manner, our respect for the character of one to whom we + were too sparing of public distinctions in his + lifetime, and beg that I may be included in the + proceedings of the occasion as if I were present. I am, + very respectfully yours, + + WM. C. BRYANT. + + Rev. R. W. GRISWOLD. + +_From Bishop Doane._ + + RIVERSIDE, Tuesday, Sept. 22, 1851. + + MY DEAR SIR:--...I beg you to say, generally, in your + discretion, that I yield to no one who will be present, + in my estimate of the distinguished talents and + admirable services of Mr. Cooper, or in my readiness to + do the highest honor to his illustrious memory. His + name must ever find a place among the "household words" + of all our hearts; a name as beautiful for its + blamelessness of life, as it is eminent for its + attainments in letters, which has subordinated to the + higher interests of patriotism and piety, the fervors + of fancy and the fascinations of romance. Very + faithfully, your friend and servant, + + G. W. DOANE. + + Rev. RUFUS W. GRISWOLD. + +_From Mr. Bancroft._ + + NEWPORT, R. I., Thursday, Sept. 18, 1851. + + MY DEAR SIR:--I heartily sympathize with the design of + a public tribute to the genius, manly character, and + great career of the illustrious man whose loss we + deplore. Others have combined very high merit as + authors, with professional pursuits. Mr. Cooper was, of + those who have gone from among us, the first to devote + himself exclusively to letters. We must admire the + noble courage with which he entered on a course which + none before him had tried; the glory which he justly + won was reflected on his country, of whose literary + independence he was the pioneer, and deserves the + grateful recognition of all who survive him. + + By the time proposed for the meeting, I fear I shall + not be able to return to New-York; but you may use my + name in any manner that shall strongly express my + delight in the writings of our departed friend, my + thorough respect for his many virtues, and my sense of + that surpassing ability which has made his own name and + the names of the creations of his fancy, household + words throughout the civilized world. I remain, dear + sir, very truly yours, + + GEORGE BANCROFT. + + Rev. R. W. GRISWOLD. + +_From John P. Kennedy._ + + BALTIMORE, October, 1851. + + DEAR SIR:--Your invitation reached me too late to + enable me to participate in the meeting which has just + been held at the City Hall in your city, to render + appropriate honors to the memory of Mr. Cooper. + + I rejoice to see what has been done and what you + propose to do. It is due to the eminent merits of + Fenimore Cooper, that there should be an impressive + public recognition of the loss which our country has + sustained in his death. He stood confessedly at the + head of a most attractive and popular department of our + literature, in which his extraordinary success had + raised him up a fame that became national. The country + claimed it as its own. This fame was acknowledged and + appreciated not only wherever the English tongue is the + medium of thought, but every where amongst the most + civilized nations of Europe. + + Our literature, in the lifetime of the present + generation, has grown to a maturity which has given it + a distinction and honorable place in that aggregate + which forms national character. No man has done more in + his sphere to elevate and dignify that character than + Fenimore Cooper: no man is more worthy than he, for + such services, of the highest honors appropriate to a + literary benefactor. His genius has contributed a rich + fund to the instruction and delight of his countrymen, + which will long be preserved amongst the choicest + treasures of American letters, and will equally induce + to render our national literature attractive to other + nations. We owe a memorial and a monument to the man + who has achieved this. This work is the peculiar + privilege of the distinguished scholars of New-York, + and I have no doubt will be warmly applauded, and if + need be, assisted, by every scholar and friend of + letters in the Union. + + With the best wishes for the success of this + enterprise, I am, my dear sir, very truly yours, + + JOHN P. KENNEDY. + + Rev. RUFUS W. GRISWOLD. + +_From C. J. Ingersoll._ + + FONTHILL, PHILADELPHIA, September, 30th, 1851. + + DEAR SIR:--Your favor, inviting me to a meeting of the + friends of Fenimore Cooper, did not reach me till this + morning, owing probably to irregularity of the + post-office. Otherwise I should have tried to attend + the proposed meeting, not only as a friend of Mr. + Cooper, but as one among those of his countrymen who + consider his memory a national trust for honored + preservation. + + In my opinion of Fenimore Cooper as a novelist he is + entitled to one merit to which few if any one of his + cotemporary European romance writers can lay claim, to + wit, originality. Leatherstocking is an original + character, and entirely American, which is probably one + of the reasons why Cooper was more appreciated in + Continental Europe than even Scott, whose magnificent + fancy embellished every thing, but whose genius, I + think, originated nothing. And then, in my estimate of + Mr. Cooper's superior merits, was manly independence--a + rare American virtue. For the less free Englishman or + Frenchman, politically, there was a freeness in the + expression as well as adoption of his own views of men + and things. And a third kindred merit of Cooper was + high-minded and gentlemanly abstinence from + self-applause. No distinguished or applauded man ever + was less apt to talk of himself and his performances. + Unlike too many modern poets, novelists, and other + writers, apt to become debauchees, drunkards, + blackguards and the like (as if, as some think, genius + and vice go together), Mr. Cooper was a gentleman + remarkable for good plain sense, correct deportment, + striking probity and propriety, and withal + unostentatiously devout. Not meaning to disparage any + one in order by odious comparisons to extol him, I deem + his Naval History a more valuable and enduring + historical work than many others, both English and + American, of contemporaneous publication and much wider + dissemination. In short, if the gentlemen whose names I + have seen in the public journals with yours, proposing + some concentrated eulogium, should determine to appoint + a suitable person, with time to prepare it, I believe + that Fenimore Cooper may be made the subject of + illustration in very many and most striking lights, + justly reflecting him, and with excellent influence on + his country. + + I do not recollect, from what I read lately in the + newspapers, precisely what you and the other gentlemen + associated with you in this proceeding propose to do, + or whether any thing is to take place. But if so, + whatever and wherever it may be, I beg you to use this + answer to your invitation, and any services I can + render, as cordial contributions, which I shall be + proud and happy to make. I am very respectfully your + humble servant, + + C. J. INGERSOLL. + + Rev. RUFUS W. GRISWOLD. + +_From G. P. R. James._ + + STOCKBRIDGE, Mass., 23d September, 1851. + + DEAR DOCTOR GRISWOLD:--I regret extremely that it will + not be in my power to be present at the meeting to + testify respect for the memory of Mr. Cooper. I grieve + sincerely that so eminent a man is lost to the country + and the world; and though unacquainted with him + personally, I need hardly tell you how highly his + abilities as an author, and his character, were + appreciated by yours faithfully, + + G. P. R. JAMES. + +_From Mr. Everett._ + + CAMBRIDGE, 23d September, 1851. + + DEAR SIR:--I received this afternoon your favor of the + 17th, inviting me to attend and participate in the + meeting to be held in your City Hall, for the purpose + of doing honor to the memory of the late Mr. Fenimore + Cooper. + + I sincerely regret that I cannot be with you. The state + of the weather puts it out of my power to make the + journey. The object of the meeting has my entire + sympathy. The works of Mr. Cooper have adorned and + elevated our literature. There is nothing more purely + American, in the highest sense of the word, than + several of them. In his department he is _facile + princeps_. He wrote too much to write every thing + equally well; but his abundance flowed out of a full, + original mind, and his rapidity and variety bespoke a + resolute and manly consciousness of power. If among his + works there were some which, had he been longer spared + to us, he would himself, on reconsideration, have + desired to recal, there are many more which the latest + posterity "will not willingly let die." + + With much about him that was intensely national, we + have but one other writer (Mr. Irving), as widely known + abroad. Many of Cooper's novels were not only read at + every fireside in England, but were translated into + every language of the European continent. + + He owed a part of his inspiration to the magnificent + nature which surrounded him; to the lakes, and forests, + and Indian traditions, and border-life of your great + state. It would have been as difficult to create + Leatherstocking anywhere out of New-York, or some state + closely resembling it, as to create Don Quixotte out of + Spain. To have trained and possessed Fenimore Cooper + will be--is already--with justice, one of your greatest + boasts. But we cannot let you monopolize the care of + his memory. We have all rejoiced in his genius; we have + all felt the fascination of his pen; we all deplore his + loss. You must allow us all to join you in doing honor + to the name of our great American novelist. I remain, + dear sir, with great respect, very truly yours, + + EDWARD EVERETT. + + Rev. RUFUS W. GRISWOLD. + +Letters of similar import were received from Richard H. Dana, George +Ticknor, William H. Prescott, John Neal, and many other eminent men, all +approving the design to render the highest honors to the illustrious +deceased. + +At the meeting of the New-York Historical Society, on the evening of +Tuesday, the 7th of October, after the transaction of the regular business, +the following resolutions were moved by Rev. Rufus W. Griswold, and +seconded by Mr. George Bancroft:-- + + _Whereas_, It has pleased Almighty God to remove from + this life our illustrious associate and countryman, + JAMES FENIMORE COOPER, while his fame was in its + fulness, and his intelligence was still unclouded by + age or any infirmity, therefore: + + Resolved, That this society has heard of the death of + James Fenimore Cooper with profound regret: + + That it recognizes in him an eminent subject and a + masterly illustrator of our history: + + That, in his contributions to our literature he + displayed eminent genius and a truly national spirit: + + That, in his personal character, he was honorable, + brave, sincere, and generous, as respectable for + unaffected virtue as he was distinguished for great + capacities: + + That this society, appreciating the loss which, + however heavily it has fallen upon this country and + the literary world, has fallen most heavily upon his + family, instructs its officers to convey to his family, + assurances of respectful sympathy and condolence. + +Dr. JOHN W. FRANCIS addressed the society in a very interesting speech, in +support of these resolutions. Among the great men of letters, he said, whom +our country has produced, there were none greater than Mr. Cooper. I knew +him for a period of thirty years, and during all that time I never knew any +thing of his character that was not in the highest degree praiseworthy. He +was a man of great decision of character, and a fair expositor of his own +thoughts on every occasion--a thorough American, for I never knew a man who +was more entirely so in heart and principle. He was able, with his vast +knowledge, and a powerful physical structure, to complete whatever he +attempted. He had studied the history of this country with a large +philosophy, and understood our people and their character better than any +other writer of the age. He was not only perfectly acquainted with our +general history, but was thoroughly conversant with that of every state, +county, village, lake, and river. And with his vast knowledge he was no +less remarkable for ability as a historian than for his intrepidity of +personal character. I could not, said Dr. Francis, allow this opportunity +to pass without paying my tribute to the merits of this truly great man. + +Mr. GEORGE BANCROFT next addressed the society. My friend, he said, has +spoken of the illustrious deceased as an American--I say that he was an +embodiment of the American feeling, and truly illustrated American +greatness. We were endeavoring to hold up our heads before the world, and +to claim a character and an intellect of our own, when Cooper appeared with +his powerful genius to support our pretensions. He came forth imbued with +American life, and feeling, and sentiment. Another like Cooper cannot +appear, for he was peculiarly suited to his time, which was that of an +invading civilization. The fame and honor which he gained, were not +obtained by obsequious deference to public opinion, but simply by his great +ability and manly character. Great as he was in the department of romantic +fiction, he was not less deserving of praise in that of history. In Lionel +Lincoln he has described the battle of Bunker Hill better than it is +described in any other work. + +In his naval history of the United States he has left us the most masterly +composition of which any nation could boast on a similar subject. Mr. +Bancroft proceeded in a masterly analysis of some of Mr. Cooper's +characters, and ended with an impressive assertion of the purity of his +contributions to our literature, the eminence of his genius, and the +dignity of his personal character. + +Dr. HAWKS spoke with his customary eloquence of the personal character of +Mr. Cooper, his indefectible integrity, his devotion to the best interests +of his country, and his religious spirit. He approved the resolutions which +had been offered to the society. + +The Rev. SAMUEL OSGOOD said: + + It must seem presumptuous in me, Mr. President, to try + to add any thing to the tribute which has been paid to + the memory of Cooper, by gentlemen so peculiarly + qualified from their experience and position to speak + of the man and his services. But all professions have + their own point of view, and I may be allowed to say a + few words upon the relation of our great novelist to + the historical associations and moral standards of our + nation. I cannot claim more than a passing acquaintance + with the deceased, and it belongs to friends more + favored to interpret the asperities and illustrate the + amenities which are likely to mark the character of a + man so decided in his make and habit. With his position + as an interpreter of American history and a delineator + of American character, we are in this society most + closely concerned. None in this presence, I am sure, + will rebuke me for speaking of the novelist as among + the most important agents of popular education, + powerful either for good or ill. + + Is it not true, Sir, that the romance is the prose epic + of modern society, and that we now look to its pages + for the most graphic portraitures of men, manners, and + events? Social and political life is too complex now + for the stately march of the heroic poem, and this age + of print needs not the carefully measured verse to make + sentences musical to the ear, or to save them from + being mutilated by circulation. The romance is now the + chosen form of imaginative literature, and its gifted + masters are educators of the popular ideal. What epic + poem of our times begins to compare in influence over + the common mind with the stories of Scott and Cooper? + Our novelist loved most to treat of scenes and + characters distinctively national, and his name stands + indelibly written on our fairest lakes and rivers, our + grandest seas and mountains, our annals of early + sacrifice and daring. With some of his criticisms on + society, and some of his views of political and + historical questions, I have personally little + sympathy. But, when it is asked, in the impartial + standard of critical justice, what influence has he + exerted over the moral tone of American literature, or + to what aim has he wielded the fascinating pen of + romance, there can be but one reply. With him, fancy + has always walked hand in hand with purity, and the + ideal of true manhood, which is everywhere most + prominent in his works, is one of which we may well be + proud as a nation and as men. + + The element of will, perhaps more strongly than + intellectual analysis, or exquisite sensibility, or + high imagination, is the distinguished characteristic + of his heroes, and in this his portraitures are good + types of what is strongest in the practical American + mind. His model man, whether forester, sailor, servant, + or gentleman, is always bent on bringing some especial + thing to pass, and the progress from the plan to the + achievement is described with military or naval + exactness. Yet he never overlooks any of the essential + traits of a noble manhood, and loves to show how much + of enterprise, courage, compassion, and reverence, it + combines with practical judgment and religious + principle. + + It has seemed to me that his stories of the seas and + the forests are fitted to act more than ever upon the + strong hearts in training for the new spheres of + triumph which are now so wonderfully opening upon our + people. Who does not wish that his noted hero of the + backwoods might be known in every loghouse along our + extending frontier, and teach the rough pioneer always + to temper daring by humanity? Who can ever forget that + favorite character, as dear to the reader as to the + author--that paladin of the forest, that lion-heart of + the wilderness, Leatherstocking, fearless towards + man--gentle towards woman--a rough-cast gentleman of + as true a heart as ever beat under the red cross of the + crusader. The very qualities needed in those old times + of frontier strife are now needed for new emergencies + in our more peaceful border life, and our future + depends vastly upon the characters that give edge to + the advancing mass of our population now crowding + towards the rocky mountains and the Pacific coast. It + is well that this story-teller of the forest has been + so true to the best traits of our nature, and in so + many points is a moralist too. As a romancer of the + sea, Cooper's genius may perhaps be but beginning to + show its influence, as a new age of commercial + greatness is opening upon our nation. + + Mr. Cooper did not shrink from battle scenes and had no + particular dread of gunpowder, yet his best laurels + upon the ocean have been won in describing feats of + seamanship and traits of manhood that need no bloody + conflict for their display, and may be exemplified in + fleets as peaceful and beneficent as ever spread their + sails to the breezes to bear kindly products to + friendly nations. As we sit here this evening under the + influence of the hour, the images of many a famous + exploit on the water seems to come out from his + well-remembered pages and mingle themselves with recent + scenes of marine achievement. Has not the "Water Witch" + herself reappeared of late in our own bay, and laden + not with contraband goods, but a freight of + stout-hearted gentlemen, borne the palm as "Skimmer of + the Seas," from all competitors in presence of the + royalty and nobility of England? And the Old Ironsides, + has not she come back again, more iron-ribbed than + ever--not to fight over the old battles which our naval + chronicler was so fond of rehearsing, but under the + name of the Baltic or (better omen) the Pacific, to win + a victory more honorable and encouraging than ever was + carried by the thundering broadsides of the noble old + Constitution! The commanders and pilots so celebrated + by the novelist, have they not successors indomitable + as they? and just now our ship-news brings good tidings + of their achievements, as they tell us of the Flying + Cloud that has made light of the storms of the fearful + southern cape, and of the return of the adventurous + fleet that has stood so well the hug of the Polar + icebergs, and shown how nobly a crew may hunt for men + on the seas with a Red Rover's daring and a Christian's + mercy. + + It is well that the most gifted romancer of the sea is + an American, and that he is helping us to enact the + romance of history so soon to be fact. The empire of + the waters, which in turn has belonged to Tyre, Venice, + and England, seems waiting to come to America, and no + part of the world now so justly claims its possession + as that state in which Cooper had his home. Who does + not welcome the promise of the new age of powerful + commerce and mental blessing? Who does not feel + grateful to any man who gives any good word or work to + the emancipation of the sailor from his worst enemies, + and to the freedom of the seas from all the violence + that stains its benignant waters? While proud of our + fleet ships, let us not forget elements in their + equipment more important than oak and iron. In this age + of merchandise, let us adorn peace with something of + the old manhood that took from warfare some of its + horrors. Did time allow, I might try to illustrate the + power of an attractive literature in keeping alive + national associations and moulding national character, + but I am content to leave these few fragmentary words + with the society as my poor tribute to a writer who + charmed many hours of my boyhood, and who has won + regard anew as the entertaining and instructive + beguiler of some recent days of rural recreation. May + we not sincerely say that he has so used the treasures + of our national scenery and history as to elevate the + true ideal of true manhood, and quicken the nation's + memory in many respects auspiciously for the nation's + hopes? + +It is understood that a public discourse on the life and genius of Mr. +Cooper will be delivered by one of the most eminent of his contemporaries, +at Tripler Hall, early in December, and that measures will be adopted to +secure the erection of a suitable monument to his memory in one of the +public squares or parks of the city. On this subject Mr. Washington Irving +has written the following letter: + + SUNNYSIDE, October, 1851. + + MY DEAR SIR:--My occupations in the country prevent my + attendance in town at the meeting of the committee, but + I am anxious to know what is doing. I signified at our + first meeting what I thought the best monument to the + memory of Mr. Cooper--a statue. It is the simplest, + purest, and most satisfactory--perpetuating the + likeness of the person. I understand there is an + excellent bust of Mr. Cooper extant, made when he was + in Italy. He was there in his prime; and it might + furnish the model for a noble statue. Judge Duer + suggested that his monument should be placed at + Washington, perhaps in the Smithsonian Institute. I was + rather for New-York, as he belonged to this State, and + the scenes of several of his best works were laid in + it. Besides, the seat of government may be changed, and + then Washington would lose its importance; whereas + New-York must always be a great and growing + metropolis--the place of arrival and departure for this + part of the world--the great resort of strangers from + abroad, and of our own people from all parts of the + Union. One of our beautiful squares would be a fine + situation for a statue. However, I am perhaps a little + too local in my notions on this matter. Cooper + emphatically belongs to the nation, and his monument + should be placed where it would be most in public view. + Judge Duer's idea therefore may be the best. There will + be a question of what material the statue (if a statue + is determined on) should be made. White marble is the + most beautiful, but how would it stand our climate in + the open air? Bronze stands all weathers and all + climates, but does not give so clearly the expression + of the countenance, when regarded from a little + distance. + + These are all suggestions scrawled in haste, which I + should have made if able to attend the meeting of the + committee. I wish you would drop me a line to let me + know what is done or doing. + + Yours very truly, + + WASHINGTON IRVING. + + The Rev. RUFUS GRISWOLD. + +The plan thus recommended by Mr. Irving will undoubtedly be approved by the +committee and the public, and there is little doubt that it will soon be +carried into execution. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] The accomplished authoress of "Rural Hours."--_Ed. International._ + + + + +THE LONDON TIMES ON AMERICAN INTERCOMMUNICATION. + + +We are by no means confident that the Mexican War, with all its victories, +was more serviceable to our reputation in Europe, than the single victory +of Mr. Stevens, in his yacht America, off the Isle of Wight. This triumph +has been celebrated in a dinner at the Astor House, but the city might have +well afforded to welcome the returning owner of the America with an +illumination, or the fathers, in council assembled, might have voted him a +statue. Mr. Collins and Mr. Stevens have together managed to deprive +England of the "trident of the seas," and as soon as it was transferred +there began a shower of honors, which continues still, from the _Times_ +down to the very meanest of its imitators. From that time the Americans +have had all the "solid triumphs" in the Great Exhibition. We have been +regarded as a wonderful people, and our institutions as the most +interesting study that is offered for contemporary statesmen and +philosophers. We copy below a specimen of the leaders with which the +_Times_ has honored us, and commend it to our readers, not more for its +tone than for the valuable information contained in it:-- + + LOCOMOTION BY RIVER AND RAILWAY IN THE UNITED STATES. + + England has been so dazzled by the splendor of her own + achievements in the creation of a new art of transport + by land and water within the last thirty years, as to + become in a measure insensible to all that has been + accomplished in the same interval and in the same + department of the arts elsewhere, improvements less + brilliant, indeed, intrinsically, than the stupendous + system of inland transport, which we lately noticed in + these columns, and having a lustre mitigated to our + view by distance, yet presenting in many respects + circumstances and conditions which may well excite + profound and general interest, and even challenge a + respectful comparison with the greatest of those + advances in the art of locomotion of which we are most + justly proud. + + It will not, therefore, be without utility and + interest, after the detailed notice which we have + lately given of our own advances in the adaptation of + steam to locomotion, to direct attention to the + progress in the same department which has been + simultaneously made in other and distant countries, and + first, and above all, by our friends and countrymen in + the other hemisphere. + + The inland transport of the United States is + distributed mainly between the rivers, the canals, and + the railways, a comparatively small fraction of it + being executed on common roads. Provided with a system + of natural water communication on a scale of magnitude + without any parallel in the world, it might have been + expected that the "sparse" population of this recently + settled country might have continued for a long period + of time satisfied with such an apparatus of transport. + It is, however, the character of man, but above all of + the Anglo-Saxon man, never to rest satisfied with the + gifts of nature, however munificent they be, until he + has rendered them ten times more fruitful by the + application of his skill and industry, and we find + accordingly that the population of America has not only + made the prodigious natural streams which intersect its + vast territory over so many thousands of miles, + literally swarm with steamboats, but they have, + besides, constructed a system of canal navigation, + which may boldly challenge comparison with any thing of + the same kind existing in the oldest, wealthiest, and + most civilized States of Europe. + + It appears from the official statistics that, on the + 1st of January, 1843, the extent of canals in actual + operation amounted to 4,333 miles and that there were + then in progress 2,359 miles, a considerable portion of + which has since been completed, so that it is probable + that the actual extent of artificial water + communication now in use in the United States + considerably exceeds 5,000 miles. The average cost of + executing this prodigious system of artificial water + communication was at the rate of 6,432_l._ per mile, so + that 5,000 miles would have absorbed a capital of above + 32,000,000_l._ + + This extent of canal transport, compared with the + population, exhibits in a striking point of view the + activity and enterprise which characterize the American + people. In the United States there is a mile of canal + navigation for every 5,000 inhabitants, while in + England the proportion is 1 to every 9,000 inhabitants, + and France 1 to every 13,000. The ratio, therefore, of + this instrument of intercommunication in the United + States is greater than in the United Kingdom, in + proportion to the population, as 9 to 5, and greater + than in France in the ratio of 13 to 5. + + The extent to which the American people have + fertilized, so to speak, the natural powers of those + vast collections of water which surround and intersect + their territory, is not less remarkable than their + enterprise in constructing artificial lines of water + communication. Besides the internal communication + supplied by the rivers, properly so called, a vast + apparatus of liquid transport is derived from the + geographical character of their extensive coast, + stretching over a space of more than 4,000 miles, from + the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the delta of the + Mississippi, indented and serrated with natural harbors + and sheltered bays, fringed with islands forming + sounds, throwing out capes and promontories which + inclose arms of the sea in which the waters are free + from the roll of the ocean, and which, for all the + purposes of navigation, have the character of rivers + and lakes. The lines of communication formed by the + vast and numerous rivers are, moreover, completed in + the interior by chains of lakes presenting the most + extensive bodies of fresh water in the known world. + + Whatever question may be raised on the conflicting + claims for the invention of steam navigation, it is an + incontestable fact that the first steamboat practically + applied for any useful purpose was placed on the + Hudson, to ply between New-York and Albany, in 1808; + and, from that time to the present that river has been + the theatre of the most remarkable series of + experiments of locomotion on water ever recorded in the + history of man. The Hudson is navigable by steamers of + the largest class as high as Albany, a distance of + nearly 150 miles from New-York. The steam navigation + upon this river is entitled to attention, not only + because of the immense traffic of which it is the + vehicle, but because it forms a sort of model for all + the rivers of the Atlantic States. Two classes of + steamers work upon it--one appropriated to the swift + transport of passengers, and the other to the towing of + the vast traffic which is maintained between the city + of New-York and the interior of the State of that name, + into the heart of which the Hudson penetrates. + + The passenger steamers present a curious contrast to + the sea-going steamers with which we are familiar. Not + having to encounter the agitated surface of the ocean, + they are supplied with neither rigging nor sails, are + built exclusively with a view to speed, are slender and + weak in their structure, with great length in + proportion to their beam, and have but small draught of + water. The position and form of the machinery are + peculiar. The engines are placed on deck in a + comparatively elevated situation. It is but rarely that + two engines are used. A single engine placed in the + centre of the deck drives a crank constructed on the + axle of the enormous paddle-wheels, the magnitude of + which, and the velocity imparted to them, enable them + to perform the office of fly-wheels. These vessels, + which are of great magnitude, are splendidly fitted up + for the accommodation of passengers, and have been + within the last ten or twelve years undergoing a + gradual augmentation of magnitude, to which it would + seem to be difficult to set a limit. + + In the following table, which we borrow from the work + on _Railway Economy_, from which we have already + derived so large a portion of our information, are + given the dimensions and the details of fourteen of the + principal steamers plying on the Hudson in the year 1838:-- + + |Length of deck. + | |Breadth of beam. + | | |Draught. + | | | |Diameter of wheels. + | | | | |Length of paddles. + | | | | | |Depth of paddles. + | | | | | | |Number of engines. + | | | | | | | |Diameter of cylinder. + | | | | | | | | |Length of stroke. + | | | | | | | | | |Number of + | | | | | | | | | |revolutions. + | | | | | | | | | | |Part of stroke + | | | | | | | | | | |at which steam +Names. | | | | | | | | | | |is cut off. +-------------+----+----+----+----+----+---+--+----+----+----+-----+ + | ft.| ft.| ft.| ft.| ft.|ft.| | in.| ft.| | | +Dewit Clinton| 230|28 |5.5 |21 |13.7|36 |1 |65 | 10 |29 |.75 | +Champlain | 180|27 |5.5 |22 |15 |34 |2 |44 | 10 |27.5|.50 | +Erie | 180|27 |5.5 |22 |15 |34 |2 |44 | 10 |27.5|.50 | +North America| 200|30 |5 |21 |13 |30 |2 |44.5| 8 |24 |.50 | +Independence | 148|26 | -- | -- | -- |-- |1 |44 | 10 | -- | -- | +Albany | 212|26 | -- |24.5|14 |30 |1 |65 | -- |19 | -- | +Swallow | 233|22.5|3.75|24 |11 |30 |1 |46 | -- |27 | -- | +Rochester | 200|25 |3.75|23.5|10 |24 |1 |43 | 10 |28 | -- | +Utica | 200|21 |3.5 |22 | 9.5|24 |1 |39 | 10 | -- | -- | +Providence | 180|27 |9 | -- | -- |-- |1 |65 | 10 | -- | -- | +Lexington | 207|21 | -- |23 | 9 |30 |1 |48 | 11 |24 | -- | +Narraganset | 210|26 |5 |25 |11 |30 |1 |60 | 12 |20 |.50 | +Massachusetts| 200|29.5|8.5 |22 |10 |28 |2 |44 | 8 |26 | -- | +Rhode Island | 210|26 |6.5 |24 |11 |30 |1 |60 | 11 |21 | -- | + +----+----+----+----+----+---+--+----+----+----+-----+ +Averages | 200|26 |5.6 |24.8|11 |30 |--|50.8| 10 |24.8| -- | +-------------+----+----+----+----+----+---+--+----+----+----+-----+ + + The changes more recently made all have a tendency to + increase the magnitude and power of those vessels--to + diminish their draught of water--and to increase the + play of the expansive principle. Vessels of the largest + class now draw only as much water as the smallest drew + a few years ago, four feet five inches being regarded + as the _maximum_. + + It appears from the following table that the average + length of these prodigious floating hotels is above 300 + feet; some of them approaching 400. In the passenger + accommodation afforded by them no water communication + in any country can compete. Nothing can exceed the + splendor and luxury with which they are fitted up, + furnished, and decorated. Silk, velvet, the most costly + carpetings and upholstery, vast mirrors, gilding, and + carving, are profusely displayed in their decoration. + Even the engine-room in some of them is lined with + mirrors. In the Alida, for example, the end of the + engine-room is one vast mirror, in which the movements + of the brilliant and highly-finished machinery are + reflected. All the largest class are capable of running + from twenty to twenty-two miles an hour, and average + nearly twenty miles without difficulty. + + In the annexed table are exhibited the details of ten + of the most recently constructed passenger vessels:-- + +---------------+------------------------+----------------+------------------ + | DIMENSIONS OF | ENGINE. | PADDLE- + | VESSEL. | | WHEEL. + +------------------------+----------------+------------------ + | |Diameter of | + | |cylinder. | + |Length. | |Length of |Diameter. + | |Breadth. | |stroke. | |Length of + | | |Depth of | | |Number | |bucket. +Names. | | |Hold. | | |of | | |Depth of + | | | |Tonnage.| | |strokes.| | |bucket. +---------------+----+-----+----+--------+---+---+--------+----+----+-------- + | ft.| ft. | ft.| |in.|ft.| | ft.|ft. | in. +Isaac Newton |333 |40.4 |10.0| |81 |12 | 18-1/2 |39.0|12.4| 32 +Bay State |300 |39.0 |13.2| |76 |12 | 21-1/2 |38.0|10.3| 32 +Empire State |304 |39.0 |13.6| |76 |12 | 21-1/2 |38.0|10.3| 32 +Oregon |308 |35.0 | -- | |72 |11 | 18 |34.0|11.0| 28 +Hendrick Hudson|320 |35.0 | 9.6| 1,050 |72 |11 | 22 |33.0|11.0| 33 +C. Vanderbilt |300 |35.0 |11.0| 1,075 |72 |12 | 21 |35.0| 9.0| 33 +Connecticut |300 |37.0 |11.0| |72 |13 | 21 |35.0|11.6| 36 +Commodore |280 |33.0 |10.6| |65 |11 | 22 |31.6| 9.0| 33 +New-York |276 |35.0 |10.6| |76 |15 | 18 |44.6|12.0| 36 +Alida |286 |28.0 | 9.6| |56 |12 | 24-1/2 |32.0|10.0| 32 +---------------+----+-----+----+-------+----+----+-------+----+----+-------- +Averages |310 |35.8 |11.0| |71.8|12.1|20.8 |35.0|10.8| 37 +---------------+----+-----+----+-------+----+----+-------+----+----+-------- + + It may be observed, in relation to the navigation of + those eastern rivers (for we do not here speak of the + Mississippi and its tributaries), that the occurrence + of explosions is almost unheard of. During the last ten + years not a single catastrophe of this kind has been + recorded, although cylindrical boilers ten feet in + diameter, composed of plating 5-16ths of an inch thick, + are commonly used with steam of 50lb. pressure. + + Previously to 1844 the lowest fare from New-York to + Albany, a distance of 145 miles, was 4s. 4d.; at + present the fare is 2s. 2d.--and for an additional sum + of the same amount the passenger can command the luxury + of a separate cabin. When the splendor and magnitude of + the accommodation is considered, the magnificence of + the furniture and accessories, and the luxuriousness of + the table, it will be admitted that no similar example + of cheap locomotion can be found in any part of the + globe. Passengers may there be transported in a + floating palace, surrounded with all the conveniences + and luxuries of the most splendid hotel, at the average + rate of twenty miles an hour, for less than _one-sixth + of a penny per mile_! It is not an uncommon occurrence + during the warm season to meet persons on board these + boats who have lodged themselves there permanently, in + preference to hotels on the banks of the river. Their + daily expenses in the boat are as follows: + + Fare 2_s._ 2_d._ + Separate bedroom 2 2 + Breakfast, dinner, and supper 6 6 + ------ + Total daily expense for board, lodging, 10 10 + attendance, and travelling 150 miles, + at 20 miles an hour + + Such accommodation is, on the whole, more economical + than a hotel. The bedroom is as luxuriously furnished + as the handsomest chamber in an hotel or private house, + and is much more spacious than the room similarly + designated in the largest packet ships. + + The other class of steamers, used for towing the + commerce of the river, corresponds to the goods trains + on railways. No spectacle can be more remarkable than + this class of locomotive machines, dragging their + enormous load up the Hudson. They may be seen in the + midst of this vast stream, surrounded by a cluster of + twenty or thirty loaded craft of various magnitudes. + Three or four tiers are lashed to them at each side, + and as many more at their bow and at their stern. The + steamer is almost lost to the eye in the midst of this + crowd of vessels which cling around it, and the moving + mass is seen to proceed up the river, no apparent agent + of propulsion being visible, for the steamer and its + propellers are literally buried in the midst of the + cluster which clings to it and floats round and near + it. + + As this _water-goods train_, for so it may be called, + ascends the river, it drops off its load, vessel by + vessel, at the towns which it passes. One or two are + left at Newburgh, another at Poughkeepsie, two or three + more at Hudson, one or two at Fishkill, and, finally, + the tug arrives with a residuum of some half-dozen + vessels at Albany. + + The steam navigation of the Mississippi and the other + western rivers is conducted in a manner entirely + different from that of the Hudson. Every one must be + familiar with the lamentable accidents which happen + from time to time, and the loss of life from explosion + which continually takes place on those rivers. Such + catastrophes, instead of diminishing with the + improvement of art, seem rather to have increased. + Engineers have done literally nothing to check the + evil. + + In a Mississippi steamboat the cabins and saloons are + erected on a flooring six or eight feet above the deck, + upon which and under them the engines are placed, which + are of the coarsest and most inartificial structure. + They are invariably worked with high-pressure steam, + and in order to obtain that effect which in the Hudson + steamers is due to a vacuum, the steam is worked at an + extraordinary pressure. We have ourselves actually + witnessed boilers of this kind, on the western rivers, + working under a full pressure of 120lb. per square inch + above the atmosphere, and we have been assured that + this pressure has been recently considerably increased, + so that it is not unfrequent now to find them working + with a bursting pressure of 200lb. per square inch! + + As might naturally be expected, the chief theatre of + railway enterprise in America is the Atlantic States. + The Mississippi and its tributaries have served the + purposes of commerce and intercommunication to the + comparatively thinly scattered population of the + Western States so efficiently that many years will + probably elapse, notwithstanding the extraordinary + enterprise of the people, before any considerable + extent of railway communication will be established in + this part of the States. Nevertheless, the traveller in + these distant regions encounters occasionally detached + examples of railways even in the valley of the + Mississippi. In the State of Mississippi there are five + short lines, ten or twelve in Louisiana, and a limited + number scattered over Florida, Alabama, Illinois, + Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio. These, however, are + generally detached and single lines, unconnected with + the vast network which we shall presently notice. To + the traveller in these wild regions the aspect of such + artificial agents of transport in the midst of a + country, a great portion of which is still in the state + of native forest, is most remarkable, and strongly + characteristic of the irrepressible spirit of + enterprise of its people. Travelling in the back woods + of Mississippi, through native forests, where till + within a few years human foot never trod, through + solitudes, the silence of which was never broken, even + by the red man, we have been sometimes filled with + wonder to find ourselves transported by an engine + constructed at Newcastle-on-Tyne, and driven by an + artisan from Liverpool, at the rate of twenty miles an + hour. It is not easy to describe the impression + produced by the juxtaposition of these refinements of + art and science with the wildness of the country, where + one sees the frightened deer start from its lair at the + snorting of the ponderous machine and the appearance of + the snakelike train which follows it. + + The first American railway was opened for passengers on + the last day of 1829. According to the reports + collected and given in detail in the work already + quoted, it appears that in 1849, after an interval of + just twenty years, there were in actual operation 6,565 + miles of railway in the States. The cost of + construction and plant of this system of railways + appears by the same authority to have been + 53,386,885_l._, being at the average rate of 8,129_l._ + per mile. + + The reports collected in Dr. Lardner's work come up to + the middle of 1849. We have, however, before us + documents which supply data to a more recent period, + and have computed from them the following table, + exhibiting the number of miles of railway in actual + operation in the United States, the capital expended in + their construction and plant, and the length of the + lines which are in process of construction, but not yet completed:-- + +---------------------------------------------------------------------------- + | Railways | Cost of | Projected |Cost per + | in | Building and | and in | Mile. + | operation. | Plant. | progress. | +------------------------+-------------+--------------+-------------+-------- + | Miles. | L | Miles. | L +Eastern States, | | | | +including Maine, New | | | | +Hampshire, Vermont, | | | | +Massachusetts, Rhode | | | | +Island, and Connecticut| 2,845 | 23,100,987 | 567 | 8,123 + | | | | +Atlantic States, | | | | +including New-York, the | | | | +Jerseys, Pennsylvania, | | | | +Delaware, and Maryland | 3,503 | 27,952,500 | 2,020 | 7,979 + | | | | +Southern States, | | | | +including Virginia, the | | | | +Carolinas, Georgia, | | | | +Florida, and Alabama | 2,103 | 8,253,130 | 1,283 | 3,919 + | | | | +Western States, | | | | +including Mississippi, | | | | +Louisiana, Texas, | | | | +Tennessee, Kentucky, | | | | +Ohio, Michigan, Indiana,| | | | +Illinois, Missouri, | | | | +Iowa, and Wisconsin | 1,835 | 7,338,290 | 5,762 | 3,999 + |-------------+--------------+-------------+-------- +Totals and averages | 10,289 | 66,653,907 | 9,632 | 6,478 +------------------------+-------------+--------------+-------------+-------- + + It must be admitted that the results here exhibited + present a somewhat astonishing spectacle. It appears + from this statement that there are in actual operation + in the United States 10,289 miles of railway, and that + there are 9,632 projected and in process of execution. + So that when a few years more shall have rolled away, + this extraordinary people will actually have 20,000 + miles of iron road in operation. + + It appears from the above report, compared with the + previous report quoted from Dr. Lardner, that the + average cost of construction has been diminished as the + operations progressed. According to Dr. Lardner, the + average cost of construction of the 6,500 miles of + railway in operation in 1849 was 8,129_l._ per mile + whereas, it appears from the preceding table that the + actual cost of 10,289 miles now in operation has been + at the average rate of 6,478_l._ per mile. On + examining the analysis of the distribution of these + railways among the States, it appears that this + discordance of the two statements is apparent rather + than real, and proceeds from the fact that the railways + opened since Dr. Lardner's report, being chiefly in the + southern and western States, are cheaply constructed + lines, in which the landed proprietors have given to a + great extent their gratuitous co-operation, and in + which the plant and working stock is of very small + amount, so that their average cost per mile is a little + under 4,000_l._--the average cost per mile in the + eastern and northern States corresponding almost to a + fraction with Dr. Lardner's estimate. It is also worthy + of observation that the distribution of this network of + railways is extremely unequal, not only in quantity, + but in its capability, as indicated by its expense of + construction. Thus, in the populous and wealthy States + of Massachusetts, New-Jersey, and New-York, the + proportion of railways to surface is considerable, + while in the southern and western States it is + trifling. In the following table is given the number of + miles of surface for each mile of railway in some of + the principal States:-- + + Square miles of surface for each mile of railway. + + Massachusetts 7 + New-Jersey 22 + New-York 28 + Maryland 31 + Ohio 58 + Georgia 76 + + When it is considered that the railways in this country + have cost upon an average about 40,000_l._ per mile, + the comparatively low cost of the American railways + will doubtless appear extraordinary. + + This circumstance, however, is explained partly by the + general character of the country, partly by the mode of + constructing the railways, and partly by the manner of + working them. With certain exceptions, few in number, + the tracts of country over which these lines are + carried, is nearly a dead level. Of earthwork there is + but little; of works of art, such as viaducts and + tunnels, commonly none. Where the railways are carried + over streams or rivers, bridges are constructed in a + rude but substantial manner of timber supplied from the + roadside forest, at no greater cost than that of hewing + it. The station houses, booking offices, and other + buildings, are likewise slight and cheaply constructed + of timber. On some of the best lines in the more + populous States the timber bridges are constructed with + stone pillars and abutments, supporting arches of + trusswork, the cost of such bridges varying from 46s. + per foot, for 60 feet span, to 6_l._ 10s. per foot for + 200 feet span, for a single line, the cost on a double + line being 50 per cent. more. + + When the railways strike the course of rivers such as + the Hudson, Delaware, or Susquehanna--too wide to be + crossed by bridges--the traffic is carried by steam + ferries. The management of these ferries is deserving + of notice. It is generally so arranged that the time of + crossing them corresponds with a meal of the + passengers. A platform is constructed level with the + line of railway and carried to the water's edge. Upon + this platform rails are laid by which the wagons which + bear the passengers' luggage and other matters of light + and rapid transport are rolled directly upon the upper + deck of the ferry boat, the passengers meanwhile going + under a covered way to the lower deck. The whole + operation is accomplished in five minutes. While the + boat is crossing the spacious river the passengers are + supplied with their breakfasts, dinner, or supper, as + the case may be. On arriving at the opposite bank the + upper deck comes in contact with a like platform, + bearing a railway upon which the luggage wagons are + rolled; the passengers ascend, as they descended, under + a covered way, and, resuming their places in the + railway carriages, the train proceeds. + + But the prudent Americans have availed themselves of + other sources of economy by adopting a mode of + construction adapted to the expected traffic. Formed to + carry a limited commerce the railways are generally + single lines, sidings being provided at convenient + situations. Collision is impossible, for the first + train that arrives at a siding must enter it and remain + there until the following train arrives. This + arrangement would be attended with inconvenience with a + crowded traffic like that of many lines on the English + railways, but even on the principal American lines the + trains seldom pass in each direction more than twice a + day, and their time and place of meeting is perfectly + regulated. In the structure of the roads, also, + principles have been adopted which have been attended + with great economy compared with the English lines. The + engineers, for example, do not impose on themselves the + difficult and expensive condition of excluding all + curves but those of large radius, and all gradients + exceeding a certain small limit of steepness. Curves of + 500 feet radius, and even less, are frequent, and + acclivities rising at the rate of 1 foot in 100 are + considered a moderate ascent, while there are not less + than 50 lines laid down with gradients varying from 1 + in 100 to 1 in 75, nevertheless these lines are worked + with facility by locomotives, without the expedient, + even, of assistant or stationary engines. The + consequences of this have been to reduce in an immense + proportion the cost of earthwork, bridges, and + viaducts, even in parts of the country where the + character of the surface is least favorable. But the + chief source of economy has arisen from the structure + of the line itself. In many cases where the traffic is + lightest the rails consist of flat bars of iron, 2-1/2 + inches broad and 6-10ths of an inch thick, nailed and + spiked to planks of timber laid longitudinally on the + road in parallel lines, so as to form what are called + continuous bearings. Some of the most profitable + American railways, and those of which the maintenance + has proved least expensive, have been constructed in + this manner. The road structure, however, varies + according to the traffic. Rails are sometimes laid + weighing only from 25lb. to 30lb. per yard. In some + cases of great traffic they are supported on transverse + sleepers of wood like the European railways, but in + consequence of the comparative cheapness of wood and + the high price of iron, the strength necessary for the + road is mostly obtained by reducing the distance + between the sleepers so as to supersede the necessity + of giving greater weight to the rails. + + The same observance of the principles of economy is + maintained with regard to their locomotive stock. The + engines are strongly built, safe and powerful, but are + destitute of much of that elegance of exterior and + beauty of workmanship which has excited so much + admiration, in the machines exhibited in the Crystal + Palace. The fuel is generally wood, but on certain + lines near the coal districts coal is used. The use of + coke is nowhere resorted to. Its expense would make it + inadmissible, and in a country so thinly inhabited the + smoke proceeding from coal is not objected to. The + ordinary speed, stoppages included, is from 14 to 16 + miles an hour. Independently of other considerations, + the light structure of many of the roads would not + allow a greater velocity without danger; nevertheless + we have frequently travelled on some of the better + constructed lines at the ordinary speed of the English + railways, say 30 miles an hour and upwards. + + Notwithstanding the apparently feeble and unsubstantial + structure of many of the lines, accidents to passenger + trains are scarcely ever heard of. It appears by + returns now before us that of 9,355,474 passengers + booked in 1850 on the crowded railways of + Massachusetts, each passenger making an average trip of + 18 miles, there were only 15 who sustained accidents + fatal to life or limb. It follows from this, by the + common principles explained by us in a former article, + that when a passenger travels one mile on these + railways the chances against an accident producing + personal injury, even of the slightest kind, are + 11,226,568 to 1, and of course in a journey of 100 + miles the chances against such accident are 112,266 to + 1. We have shown in a former article that the chances + against accident on an English railway, under like + circumstances, are 85,125 to 1. The American railways + are, therefore, safer than the English in the ratio of + 112 to 85. + + The great line of communication is established, 400 + miles in length, between Philadelphia and Pittsburg, on + the left bank of the Ohio, composed partly of railway + and partly of canal. The section from Philadelphia to + Columbia (82 miles) is railway; the line is then + continued by canal for 172 miles to Holidaysburg; it is + then carried by railway 37 miles to Johnstown, whence + it is continued 104 miles further to Pittsburg by + canal. The traffic on this mixed line of transport is + conducted so as to avoid the expense and inconvenience + of transhipment of goods and passengers at the + successive points where the railway and canals unite. + The merchandise is loaded and the passengers + accommodated in the boats adapted to the canals at the + depot in Market-street, Philadelphia. These boats, + which are of considerable magnitude and length, are + divided into segments by partitions made transversely + and at right angles to their length, so that such boat + can be, as it were, broken into three or more pieces. + These several pieces are placed each on two railway + trucks, which support it at the ends, a proper body + being provided for the trucks adapted to the form of + the bottom and keel of the boat. In this manner the + boat is carried in pieces, with its load, along the + railway. On arriving at the canal the pieces are united + so as to form a continuous boat, which being launched, + the transport is continued on the water. On arriving + again at the railway the boat is once more resolved + into its segments, which, as before, are transferred to + the railway trucks and transported to the next canal + station by locomotive engines. Between the depot in + Market-street and the locomotive station which is + situated in the suburbs of Philadelphia the segments of + the boat are drawn by horses on railways conducted + through the streets. At the locomotive station the + trucks are formed into a continuous train and delivered + over to the locomotive engine. As the body of the truck + rests upon a pivot, under which it is supported by + wheels, it is capable of revolving, and no difficulty + is found in turning the shortest curves, and these + enormous vehicles, with their contents of merchandise + and passengers, are seen daily issuing from the gates + of the depot in Market-street, and turning with + facility the corners at the entrance of each successive + street. + + By a comparison of the returns published by Dr. + Lardner, in his work already quoted, with the more + recent results which we have already given, it will + appear that within the last two years not less than + 3,700 miles of railway have been opened for traffic in + the United States. Among these are included several of + the most important lines, among which are more + especially to be noticed the great artery of railway + communication extending across the State of New York to + the shores of Lake Erie, the longest line which any + single company has yet constructed in the United + States, its length being 467 miles. The total cost of + this line, including the working stock, has been + 4,500,000_l._ sterling, being at the average rate of + 9,642_l._ per mile--a rate of expense about 50 per + cent. above the average cost of American railways taken + collectively. This is explained by the fact that the + line itself is one constructed for a large traffic + between New York and the interior, and therefore built + to meet a heavy traffic. Although it is but just + opened, its average receipts have amounted to + 11,000_l._ per week, which have given a net profit of + 6-1/2 per cent. on the capital, the working expenses + being taken at 50 per cent. of the gross receipts. One + of the great lines in a forward state, and likely to be + opened by the close of the present year, connects New + York with Albany, following the valley of the Hudson. + It will no doubt create surprise, considering the + immense facility of water transport afforded by this + river, that a railway should be constructed on its + bank, but it must be remembered that for a considerable + interval during the winter the navigation of the Hudson + is suspended from the frost. + + A great line of railway, which will intersect the + States from south to north, connecting the port of + Mobile on the Gulf of Mexico with Lake Michigan and the + lead mines of Galena on the Upper Mississippi, is also + in progress of construction, large grants of land being + conceded to the company by the Federal Government. This + line will probably be opened in 1854. + + It is difficult to obtain authentic reports from which + the movement of the traffic on the American railways + can be ascertained with precision. Dr. Lardner, + however, obtained the necessary statistical data + relating to nearly 1,200 miles of railway in the States + of New England and New York, from which he was enabled + to collect all the circumstances attending the working + of these lines, the principal of which are collected in + the following table:-- + +Tabular analysis of the average daily movement of the traffic on 28 of the +principal railways in the States of New England and New York. + +PASSENGER TRAFFIC.--Number booked 23,981 + Mileage 437,350 + Receipts L2,723 + Mileage of trains 8,091 + + GOODS TRAFFIC.--Tons booked 6,547 + Mileage 248,351 + Receipts L1,860 + Mileage of trains 4,560 + +Total length of the above railways in the State of New York 490 miles +Ditto, in the States of New England 670 " + ----- + Total 1,160 miles. + +Average cost of construction and stock in the State of New + York L7,010 +Ditto, in the States of New England L10,800 +General average L9,200 + + | Receipts | Expenses. | Profits. +--------------------------------------+----------+------------+---------- +Total average receipts, expenses, | | | + and profits per day in the State of | L | L | L + New York | 1,654 | 684 | 970 + | | | +Ditto, States of New England | 3,040 | 1,505 | 1,535 + +----------+------------+---------- + Totals | 4,694 | 2,189 | 2,505 + | | | Per cent. + | Per mile | Per mile | per annum + |of railway| run by | on + | per day. | trains. | capital. +--------------------------------------+----------+------------+---------- + | L | | +Receipts | 4,05 | 7s. 5d. | 16,1 +Expenses | 1,89 |3s. 5-1/2d. | 7,5 + +----------+------------+---------- + Profits | 2,16 |2s.11-1/2d. | 8,6 + +Expense per cent. of receipts 46,8 +Average receipts for passengers booked 27,0d. +Average distance travelled per passenger 18,2 miles +Average receipts per passenger per mile 1,47d. +Average number of passengers per train 54,0 +Total average receipts per passenger train per mile 7s. +Average receipts per ton of goods booked 6s. 8-1/2d. +Average distance carried per ton 38,0 miles +Average receipts per ton per mile 1s. 8d. +Average number of tons per train 54,5 +Total average receipts per goods per mile 8,2s. + + The railways, of whose traffic we have here given a + synopsis, are those of the most active and profitable + description in the United States. It would, therefore, + be a great error to infer from the results here + exhibited general conclusions as to the financial + condition of the American railways. It appears, on the + other hand, from a more complete analysis, that the + dividends on the American lines, exclusive of those + contained in the preceding analysis, are in general + small, and in many instances nothing. It is, therefore, + probable that in the aggregate the average profits on + the total amount of capital invested in the American + railways does not exceed, if it indeed equal, the + average profits obtained on the capital invested in + English railways, which we have in a former article + shown to produce little more than 3 per cent. + + The extraordinary extent of railway constructed at so + early a period in the United States has been by some + ascribed to the absence of a sufficient extent of + communication by common roads. Although this cause has + operated to some extent in certain districts it is by + no means so general as has been supposed. In the year + 1838 the United States' mails circulated over a length + of way amounting on the whole to 136,218 miles, of + which two-thirds were land transport, including + railways as well as common roads. Of the latter there + must have been about 80,000 miles in operation, of + which, however, a considerable portion was + bridle-roads. The price of transport in the stage + coaches was, upon an average, 3.25d. per passenger per + mile, the average price by railway being about 1.47d. + per mile. + + Of the entire extent of railway constructed in the + United States, by far the greater portion, as has been + already explained, consists of single lines, + constructed in a light and cheap manner, which in + England would be regarded as merely serving temporary + purposes; while, on the contrary, the entire extent of + the English system consists, not only of double lines, + but of railways constructed in the most solid, + permanent, and expensive manner, adapted to the + purposes of an immense traffic. If a comparison were to + be instituted at all between the two systems, its basis + ought to be the capital expended, and the traffic + served by them, in which case the result would be + somewhat different from that obtained by the mere + consideration of the length of the lines. It is not, + however, the same in reference to the canals, in which + it must be admitted America far exceeds all other + countries in proportion to her population. + + The American railways have been generally constructed + by joint stock companies, which, however, the State + controls much more stringently than in England. In some + cases a major limit to the dividends is imposed by the + statute of incorporation, in some the dividends are + allowed to augment, but when they exceed a certain + limit the surplus is divided with the State; in some + the privilege granted to the companies is only for a + limited period, in some a sort of periodical revision + and restriction of the tariff is reserved to the State. + Nothing can be more simple, expeditious, and cheap than + the means of obtaining an act for the establishment of + a railway company in America. A public meeting is held + at which the project is discussed and adopted, a + deputation is appointed to apply to the Legislature, + which grants the act without expense, delay, or + official difficulty. The principle of competition is + not brought into play as in France, nor is there any + investigation as to the expediency of the project with + reference to future profit or loss as in England. No + other guarantee or security is required from the + company than the payment by the shareholders of a + certain amount, constituting the first call. In some + States the non-payment of a call is followed by the + confiscation of the previous payments, in others a fine + is imposed on the shareholders, in others the share is + sold, and if the produce be less than the price at + which it was delivered the surplus can be recovered + from the shareholder by process of law. In all cases + the act creating the companies fix a time within which + the works must be completed, under pain of forfeiture. + The traffic in shares before the definite constitution + of the company is prohibited. + + Although the State itself has rarely undertaken the + execution of railways, it holds out in most cases + inducements in different forms to the enterprise of + companies. In some cases the State takes a great number + of shares, which is generally accompanied by a loan + made to the company, consisting in State Stock + delivered at par, which the company negotiate at its + own risk. This loan is often converted into a + subvention. + + The great extent of railway communication in America in + proportion to its population must necessarily excite + much admiration. If we take the present population of + the United States at 24,000,000, and the railways in + operation at 10,000 miles, it will follow that in round + numbers there is one mile of railway for every 2,400 + inhabitants. Now, in the United Kingdom there are at + present in operation 6,500 miles of railway, and if we + take the population at 30,000,000, it will appear that + there is a mile of railway for every 4,615 inhabitants. + It appears, therefore, that in proportion to the + population the length of railways in the United States + is greater than in the United Kingdom in the ratio of + 46 to 24. + + On the American railways passengers are not differently + classed or received at different rates of fare as on + those of Europe. There is but one class and one fare. + The only distinction observable arises from color. The + colored population, whether emancipated or not, are + generally excluded from the vehicles provided for the + whites. Such travellers are but few, and are usually + accommodated either in the luggage van or in the + carriage with the guard or conductor. But little + merchandise is transported, the cost of transport being + greater than goods in general are capable of paying; + nevertheless, a tariff regulated by weight alone, + without distinction of classes, is fixed for + merchandise. + + Although Cuba is not yet _annexed_ to the United + States, its local proximity here suggests some notice + of a line of railway which traverses that island, + forming a communication between the city of Havana and + the centre of the island. This is an excellently + constructed road, and capitally worked by British + engines, British engineers, and British coals. The + impressions produced in passing along this line of + railway, though different from those already noticed in + the forests of the far west, is not less remarkable. We + are here transported at 30 miles an hour by an engine + from Newcastle, driven by an engineer from Manchester, + and propelled by fuel from Liverpool, through fields + yellow with pineapples, through groves of plantain and + cocoa-nut, and along roads inclosed by hedge-rows of + ripe oranges. + + To what extent this extraordinary rapidity of + advancement made by the United States in its inland + communications is observable in other departments will + be seen by the following table, exhibiting a + comparative statement of those _data_, derived from + official sources, which indicate the social and + commercial condition of a people through a period which + forms but a small stage in the life of a nation: + + 1793. 1851. +Population 3,939,325 24,267,488 +Imports L6,739,130 L38,723,545 +Exports L5,675,869 L32,367,000 +Tonnage 520,704 3,535,451 +Lighthouses, beacons, and lightships 7 373 +Cost of their maintenance L2,600 L115,000 +Revenue L1,230,000 L9,516,000 +National expenditure L1,637,000 L8,555,000 +Post offices 209 21,551 +Post roads (miles) 5,642 178,670 +Revenue of Post-office L22,800 L1,207,000 +Expenses of Post-office L15,650 L1,130,000 +Mileage of mails ---- 46,541,423 +Canals (miles) 0 5,000 +Railways (miles) 0 10,287 +Electric telegraph (miles) 0 15,000 +Public libraries (volumes) 75,000 2,201,623 +School libraries (volumes) 0 2,000,000 + + If they were not founded on the most incontestable + statistical data, the results assigned to the above + table would appear to belong to fable rather than + history. In an interval of little more than half a + century it appears that this extraordinary people have + increased above 500 per cent. in numbers; their + national revenue has augmented nearly 700 per cent., + while their public expenditure has increased little + more than 400 per cent. The prodigious extension of + their commerce is indicated by an increase of nearly + 500 per cent. in their imports and exports and 600 per + cent. in their shipping. The increased activity of + their internal communications is expounded by the + number of their post offices, which has been increased + more than a hundred-fold, the extent of their post + roads, which has been increased thirty-six-fold, and + the cost of their post-office, which has been augmented + in a seventy-two-fold ratio. The augmentation of their + machinery of public instruction is indicated by the + extent of their public libraries, which have increased + in a thirty-two-fold ratio, and by the creation of + school libraries, amounting to 2,000,000 volumes. They + have completed a system of canal navigation, which, + placed in a continuous line, would extend from London + to Calcutta, and a system of railways which, + continuously extended, would stretch from London to Van + Diemen's Land, and have provided locomotive machinery + by which that distance would be travelled over in three + weeks, at the cost of 1-1/2d. per mile. They have + created a system of inland navigation, the aggregate + tonnage of which is probably not inferior in amount to + the collective inland tonnage of all the other + countries in the world, and they possess many hundreds + of river steamers, which impart to the roads of water + the marvellous celerity of roads of iron. They have, in + fine, constructed lines of electric telegraph which, + laid continuously, would extend over a space longer by + 3,000 miles than the distance from the north to the + south pole, and have provided apparatus of transmission + by which a message of 300 words despatched under such + circumstances from the north pole might be delivered + _in writing_ at the south pole in one minute, and by + which, consequently, an answer of equal length might be + sent back to the north pole in an equal interval. + + These are social and commercial phenomena for which it + would be vain to seek a parallel in the past history of + the human race. + + + + +THE LAST EARTHQUAKE IN EUROPE. + + +A correspondent of the _Athenaeum_ gives the following account--the best we +have yet seen--of the recent earthquake at Amalfi, in the kingdom of +Naples:-- + + "I have, however, seen several persons from Malfi; and + from their narratives will endeavor to give you some + idea of this awful visitation. The morning of the 14th + of August was very sultry, and a leaden atmosphere + prevailed. It was remarked that an unusual silence + appeared to extend over the animal world. The hum of + insects ceased--the feathered tribes were mute--not a + breath of wind moved the arid vegetation. About + half-past two o'clock the town of Malfi rocked for + about six seconds, and nearly every building fell in. + The number of edifices actually levelled with the earth + is 163--of those partially destroyed 98, and slightly + damaged 180. Five monastic establishments were + destroyed, and seven churches including the cathedral. + The awful event occurred at a time when most of the + inhabitants of a better condition were at dinner; and + the result is, that out of the whole population only a + few peasants laboring in the fields escaped. More than + 700 dead bodies have already been dug out of the ruins, + and it is supposed that not less than 800 are yet + entombed. A college accommodating 65 boys and their + teachers is no longer traceable. But the melancholy + event does not end here. The adjoining village of + Ascoli has also suffered:--32 houses laving fallen in, + and the church being levelled with the ground. More + than 200 persons perished there. Another small town, + Barile, has actually disappeared; and a lake has arisen + from the bowels of the earth, the waters being warm and + brackish. + + "I proceed to give a few anecdotes, as narrated by + persons who have arrived in Naples from the scene of + horror:--'I was travelling,' says one, 'within a mile + of Malfi when I observed three cars drawn by oxen. In a + moment the two most distant fell into the earth; from + the third I observed a man and a boy descend and run + into a vineyard which skirted the road. Shortly after, + I think about three seconds, the third car was + swallowed up. We stopped our carriage, and proceeded to + the spot where the man and boy stood. The former I + found stupified--he was both deaf and dumb; the boy + appeared to be out of his mind, and spoke wildly, but + eventually recovered. The poor man still remains + speechless.' Another informant says:--'Malfi, and all + around present a singular and melancholy appearance: + houses levelled or partially fallen in--here and there + the ground broken up--large gaps displaying volcanic + action--people wandering about stupified--men searching + in the ruins--women weeping--children here and there + crying for their parents, and some wretched examples of + humanity carrying off articles of furniture. The + authorities are nowhere to be found.' A third person + states:--'I am from Malfi, and was near a monastery + when the earthquake occurred. A peasant told me that + the water in a neighboring well was quite hot,--a few + moments after I saw the building fall. I fell on the + ground, and saw nothing more. I thought that I had had + a fit.' + + "The town of Malfi--or, Amalfi--is 150 miles from + Naples, and about the centre of the boot. It is + difficult, therefore, to gain information. The + government, I should add, sent a company of sappers and + miners to assist the afflicted _nine days after the + earthquake_!--and a medical commission is to set off + to-morrow. In conclusion, I may observe, that Vesuvius + has for a long time been singularly quiet. The shock of + the earthquake was felt slightly, though sensibly, from + Naples round to Sorrento. I have just heard that the + shocks have not ceased in the district of Malfi; and it + is supposed that volcanic agency is still active. + Indeed, my informant anticipates that an eruption will + take place; and probably some extraordinary phenomena + may appear in this neighborhood. The volcanic action + appears to have taken the direction of Sicily, as + reports have arrived stating that the shocks were felt + in that direction far more strongly than in that of + Naples. I shall send you further particulars as soon as + I can do so with certainty." + + + + +MR. JEFFERSON ON THE STUDY OF THE ANGLO-SAXON LANGUAGE. + + +The trustees of the University of Virginia have had printed a few copies of +_An Essay towards facilitating Instruction in the Anglo-Saxon and Modern +Dialects of the English Language_: _By_ THOMAS JEFFERSON. The MS. has been +preserved in the library of their University ever since Mr. Jefferson's +death. It is a very characteristic production, and is printed in a thin +quarto volume, prefaced by the following letter from Mr. Jefferson to +Herbert Croft, LL.B., of London: + + MONTICELLO, _Oct. 30th, 1798_. + + Sir; The copy of your printed letter on the English and + German languages, which you have been so kind as to + send me, has come to hand; and I pray you to accept of + my thanks for this mark of your attention. I have + perused it with singular pleasure, and, having long + been sensible of the importance of a knowledge of the + Northern languages to the understanding of English, I + see it, in this letter, proved and specifically + exemplified by your collations of the English and + German. I shall look with impatience for the + publication of your "English and German Dictionary." + Johnson, besides the want of precision in his + definitions, and of accurate distinction in passing + from one shade of meaning to another of the same word, + is most objectionable in his derivations. From a want + probably of intimacy with our own language while in the + Anglo-Saxon form and type, and of its kindred languages + of the North, he has a constant leaning towards Greek + and Latin for English etymon. Even Skinner has a little + of this, who, when he has given the true Northern + parentage of a word, often tells you from what Greek + and Latin source it might be derived by those who have + that kind of partiality. He is, however, on the whole, + our best etymologist, unless we ascend a step higher to + the Anglo-Saxon vocabulary; and he has set the good + example of collating the English word with its kindred + word in the several Northern dialects, which often + assist in ascertaining its true meaning. + + Your idea is an excellent one, in producing authorities + for the meanings of words, "to select the prominent + passages in our best writers, to make your dictionary a + general index to English literature, and thus to + intersperse with verdure and flowers the barren deserts + of Philology." And I believe with you that "wisdom, + morality, religion, thus thrown down, as if without + intention, before the reader, in quotations, may often + produce more effect than the very passages in the books + themselves;"--"that the cowardly suicide, in search of + a strong word for his dying letter, might light on a + passage which would excite him to blush at his want of + fortitude, and to forego his purpose;"--"and that a + dictionary with examples at the words may, in regard to + every branch of knowledge, produce more real effect + than the whole collection of books which it quotes." I + have sometimes myself used Johnson as a Repertory, to + find favorite passages which I wished to recollect, but + too rarely with success. + + I was led to set a due value on the study of the + Northern languages, and especially of our Anglo-Saxon, + while I was a student of the law, by being obliged to + recur to that source for explanation of a multitude of + law-terms. A preface to Fortescue on Monarchies, + written by Fortescue Aland, and afterwards premised to + his volume of Reports, developes the advantages to be + derived to the English student generally, and + particularly the student of law, from an acquaintance + with the Anglo-Saxon; and mentions the books to which + the learner may have recourse for acquiring the + language. I accordingly devoted some time to its study, + but my busy life has not permitted me to indulge in a + pursuit to which I felt great attraction. While engaged + in it, however, some ideas occurred for facilitating + the study by simplifying its grammar, by reducing the + infinite diversities of its unfixed orthography to + single and settled forms, indicating at the same time + the pronunciation of the word by its correspondence + with the characters and powers of the English alphabet. + Some of these ideas I noted at the time on the blank + leaves of my Elstob's Anglo-Saxon Grammar: but there I + have left them, and must leave them, unpursued, + although I still think them sound and useful. Among the + works which I proposed for the Anglo-Saxon student, you + will find such literal and verbal translations of the + Anglo-Saxon writers recommended, as you have given us + of the German in your printed letter. Thinking that I + cannot submit those ideas to a better judge than + yourself, and that if you find them of any value you + may put them to some use, either as hints in your + dictionary, or in some other way, I will copy them as a + sequel to this letter, and commit them without reserve + to your better knowledge of the subject. Adding my + sincere wishes for the speedy publication of your + valuable dictionary, I tender you the assurance of my + high respect and consideration. + + THOMAS JEFFERSON." + +Of the Essay itself we have room for only the initial paragraph, which is +as follows: + + "The importance of the Anglo-Saxon dialect towards a + perfect understanding of the English language seems not + to have been duly estimated by those charged with the + education of youth; and yet it is unquestionably the + basis of our present tongue. It was a full-formed + language; its frame and construction, its declension of + nouns and verbs, and its syntax were peculiar to the + Northern languages, and fundamentally different from + those of the South. It was the language of all England, + properly so called, from the Saxon possession of that + country in the sixth century to the time of Henry III. + in the thirteenth, and was spoken pure and unmixed with + any other. Although the Romans had been in possession + of that country for nearly five centuries from the time + of Julius Caesar, yet it was a military possession + chiefly, by their soldiery alone, and with dispositions + intermutually jealous and unamicable. They seemed to + have aimed at no lasting settlements there, and to have + had little familiar mixture with the native Britons. In + this state of connection there would probably be little + incorporation of the Roman into the native language, + and on their subsequent evacuation of the island its + traces would soon be lost altogether. And had it been + otherwise, these innovations would have been carried + with the natives themselves when driven into Wales by + the invasion and entire occupation of the rest of the + Southern portion of the island by the Anglo-Saxons. The + language of these last became that of the country from + that time forth, for nearly seven centuries; and so + little attention was paid among them to the Latin, that + it was known to a few individuals only as a matter of + science, and without any chance of transfusion into the + vulgar language. We may safely repeat the affirmation, + therefore, that the pure Anglo-Saxon constitutes at + this day the basis of our language. That it was + sufficiently copious for the purposes of society in the + existing condition of arts and manners, reason alone + would satisfy us from the necessity of the case. Its + copiousness, too, was much favored by the latitude it + allowed of combining primitive words so as to produce + any modification of idea desired. In this + characteristic it was equal to the Greek, but it is + more specially proved by the actual fact of the books + they have left us in the various branches of history, + geography, religion, law, and poetry. And although + since the Norman conquest it has received vast + additions and embellishments from the Latin, Greek, + French, and Italian languages, yet these are but + engraftments on its idiomatic stem; its original + structure and syntax remain the same, and can be but + imperfectly understood by the mere Latin scholar. Hence + the necessity of making the Anglo-Saxon a regular + branch of academic education. In the sixteenth and + seventeenth centuries it was assiduously cultivated by + a host of learned men. The names of Lambard, Parker, + Spelman, Wheeloc, Wilkins, Gibson, Hickes, Thwaites, + Somner, Benson, Mareschal, Elstob, deserve to be ever + remembered with gratitude for the Anglo-Saxon works + which they have given us through the press, the only + certain means of preserving and promulgating them." + + + + +THE OBELISKS OF EGYPT. + + +In the last number of the _International_ we gave an interesting article +from the London _Times_ respecting "Cleopatra's Needle." The subject of its +removal has since been largely discussed in England, and Mr. Tucker, a +civil engineer, has been sent out to Alexandria to "report on the condition +and site of the obelisk," and Lord Edward Russell has been appointed to the +Vengeance to proceed to Egypt for the purpose of bringing it to England. On +the publication of these facts Mr. Nathaniel Gould writes to the _Times_ as +follows: + + How far a "man-of-war" is a proper vessel for this + purpose may be seen hereafter. The Premier is, however, + ready enough to appropriate some little _eclat_ to a + member of his own family. I stated that, so far as I + could make out, the bringing the obelisk of Luxor to + Paris had cost the French Government 40,000_l._; but it + is stated by Mr. Gliddon, late United States Consul at + Cairo, that it actually cost France 2,000,000f., or + 80,000_l._! Private offers have been made to bring the + Needle to England for from 7,000_l._ to 12,500_l._ + within a twelvemonth; it remains to be seen what it + will cost when brought on Government account. + + Notwithstanding that so much has of late appeared upon + the subject of Egyptian obelisks, but little has been + given of value to the public touching the nature, + origin, inscriptions, numbers, and localities of these + curious and interesting objects. Perhaps, Sir, you may + not think it out of the way to give room for such + information as I have got together in my researches, + while contemplating the removal of the obelisk from + Alexandria. Obelisks are of Egyptian invention, and are + purely historical records, placed in pairs before + public buildings, stating when, by whom, and for what + purpose the building was erected, and the divinity or + divinities to whom it was dedicated. + + We read that the ancient Hebrews set up stones to + record signal events, and such stones are called by + Strabo "books of history;" but, as they were + uninscribed, the Egyptian monoliths are much more so. + The Celts, too, have left similar stones in every + country in which they settled, as our own islands + sufficiently prove, whether in those of the Channel or + of Ireland and Scotland. The Scandinavian nations have + in more recent periods left similar records, some of + them inscribed with Runic characters, which, like the + hieroglyphics of Egypt, are now translated. + + Egyptian obelisks are all of very nearly similar + proportions, however they may differ in height; the + width of the base is usually about one-tenth of the + length of the shaft, up to the finish or pyramidion, + which, again, is one-tenth of the length of the shaft. + The image of gold set up by king Nebuchadnezzar agrees + with these proportions--viz., sixty cubits high and six + cubits wide. They are generally cut out of granite, + though there are two small ones in the British Museum + of basalt, and one at Philoe of sandstone. The + pyramidions of several appear to be rough and + unfinished, leading some persons to suppose that they + were surmounted with a cap of bronze, or of rays. Bonom + writes, that Abd El Latief saw bronze coverings on + those of Luxor and that of Materiah in the 13th + century; with such a belief it is not improbable that + the obelisk of Arles, in France, found and re-erected + to the glory of the Great Louis, was surmounted with a + gilt sun. The temples of Egypt may be considered not + only as monuments of the intelligence and ancient + civilization of mankind, as vignettes in the great book + of history, but also as possessing a peculiar interest, + as belonging to a people intimately connected with + sacred records. + + As regards the original sites of the obelisks, none are + found on the west bank of the Nile, neither are any + pyramids found on the eastern bank of Egypt Proper; + this caused Bonomi to think that obelisks were intended + as decorations to the temples of the living, symbolized + by the rising sun, and pyramids decorations of the + temples of the dead, symbolized by its setting. The + greater number of obelisks are engraven on the four + faces; some are engraven on one face only, and some + have never been inscribed. Some of the faces are + engraven in one column, some in two, and some in three + columns. In some instances the side or lateral columns + have been additions in after times, in different and + inferior styles of engraving; and in some instances the + name of the king, within the oval or cartouche, has + been erased and another substituted. The inscriptions + are hieroglyphic or sacred writing, which have been + unintelligible till within the last few years. The + French occupation of Egypt commenced that discovery, + which has been perfected by the key of Young and the + alphabet of Champollion--though mainly perhaps indebted + to the Rosetta Stone, found in 1799, engraven in three + characters, hieroglyphic, Demotic and Greek. The more + ancient inscriptions are beautifully cut, and as fresh + as if just from the tool, and are curiously caved + inwardly, and exquisitely polished. + + It would take too much of your space and of my time to + give a history of the progress of this wonderful + discovery, by which we now know more of the Egyptian + history before the time of Abraham than of England + before Alfred the Great, or of France before + Charlemagne. Some of these monuments are considered to + date as far back as 2,000 years before the Christian + era. It is sufficiently evident, from the small number + that are known to exist, that they were a most costly + production, requiring a long time for their completion, + and the most elaborate skill of the most perfect + sculptors to execute. Bonomi, to whose indefatigable + research, and clear and positive style of writing, and + condensation of his knowledge I am indebted, out of his + papers read before the Royal Society of Literature (of + which I am a member), gives us an account of all the + known obelisks. + + The number of Egyptian obelisks now standing is 30; of + which there are remaining in Egypt, 8; in Italy, 14; in + Constantinople, 2; in France, 2; in England, 4. The + loftiest is that of the "Lateran," at Rome, which is + 105 feet, though 4 feet were cut from its broken base, + to enable it to stand when re-erected. The shortest is + the minor "Florentine," which is 5 feet 10 inches. The + number of prostrate obelisks known is 12, viz.: at + Alexandria, 1; in the ruins of Saan, or Tanais, 9; at + Carnack, 2; all in Egypt, and all colossal, and of the + 18th and 20th dynasties. Thus it seems that, like the + cedars of Lebanon, there are more in other parts of the + world than in the country of their original location. + + The 12 obelisks at Rome were conveyed thither by the + Caesars to adorn the eternal city; that of the Lateran + was brought by Constantine from Heliopolis to + Alexandria, and from Alexandria by Constantius, and + placed in the "Circus Maximus." It was brought from + Alexandria in an immense galley. When the barbarians + sacked Rome they overthrew all the obelisks, which were + broken in their fall; this was in three pieces, and the + base so destroyed that when raised by Fontana in 1588, + by order of Sixtus V., above 4 feet were cut from its + base; it is now 105 feet 7 inches in shaft. It is + sculptured on all four sides, and the same subject on + each. There are three columns--the inner the most + ancient and best cut. The obelisk of the Piazza del + Popolo was brought from Heliopolis by Augustus, and, + like the preceding, was broken in three pieces, and + required above three feet to be cut off its damaged + base. This, too, was re-erected by order of Sixtus V., + in 1589. Its height, as now shortened, is 87 feet 5 + inches. It is sculptured on all four sides in three + columns of different age and excellence. The obelisk of + "Piazza Rotunda" was re-erected by Clement XI., A. D., + 1711. It is 19 feet 9 inches shaft. It has only one + column of hieroglyphics, with the name of Rameses on + each. Those of Materiah and the Hippodrome at + Constantinople also have but one centre column + engraved. So much for some of those at Rome. Of the + four in England, two small ones, of basalt, are in the + British Museum; they are only 8 feet 1 inch in height. + That at Alnwick Castle was found in the Thebaid, and + presented to Lord Prudhoe by the Pacha in 1838, and got + to England by Bonomi. It is of red granite, 7 feet 3 + inches in height, and 9-3/4 inches at the base. It is + inscribed on one face only. That at Corfe Castle was + brought over for Mr. Bankes by the celebrated Belzoni. + It is of granite, and 22 feet in height. + +Mr. Gould proceeds to repeat the particulars respecting Cleopatra's Needle, +which were contained in the October number of this magazine. Signor +Tisvanni D'Athanasi also writes to the _Times_, proposing to undertake the +removal of this obelisk, and says: + + "Every body knows that from the time of the Romans up + to the present century the only colossal objects which + have been transported from Egypt, with the exception of + the obelisk of Luxor, are the two sphynxes which are + now at St Petersburgh, and which were found and sent to + Alexandria through my means." + + + + +DR. LATHAM ON THE MOSKITO KINGDOM. + + +The last portion of Dr. ROBERT G. LATHAM'S learned work on the Ethnology of +the British Colonies and Dependencies, treats of American ethnology, a +branch of the subject which, though extensively investigated, is greatly in +want of systematic arrangement. Some of Dr. Latham's views are novel. The +following sketch of the Nicaraguan Indians is interesting at the present +moment for political reasons:-- + + "The Moskito Indians are no subjects of England, any + more than the Tahitians are of France, or the Sandwich + Islanders of America, France, and England conjointly. + The Moskito coast is a Protectorate, and the Moskito + Indians are the subjects of a native king. The present + reigning monarch was educated under English auspices at + Jamaica, and, upon attaining his majority, crowned at + Grey Town. I believe that his name is that of the + grandfather of our late gracious majesty. King George, + then, King of the Moskitos, has a territory extending + from the neighborhood of Truxillo to the lower part of + the River San Juan; a territory whereof, inconveniently + for Great Britain, the United States, and the commerce + of the world at large, the limits and definition are + far from being universally recognized. Nicaragua has + claims, and the Isthmus canal suffers accordingly. The + King of the Moskito coast, and the Emperor of the + Brazil, are the only resident sovereigns of the New + World. The subjects of the former are, really, the + aborigines of the whole line of coast between Nicaragua + and Honduras--there being no Indians remaining in the + former republic, and but few in the latter. Of these, + too--the Nicaraguans--we have no definite ethnological + information. Mr. Squier speaks of them as occupants of + the islands of the lakes of the interior. Colonel + Galindo also mentions them; but I infer, from his + account, that their original language is lost, and that + Spanish is their present tongue; just as it is said to + be that of the aborigines of St. Salvador and Costa + Rica. This makes it difficult to fix them. And the + difficulty is increased when we resort to history, + tradition, and archaeology. History makes them + Mexicans--Asteks from the kingdom of Montezuma, and + colonists of the Peninsula, just as the Phoenicians + were of Carthage. Archaeology goes the same way. A + detailed description of Mr. Squier's discoveries is an + accession to ethnology which is anxiously expected. At + any rate, stone ruins and carved decorations have been + found; so that what Mr. Stephenson has written about + Yucatan and Guatemala, may be repeated in the case of + Nicaragua. Be it so. The difficulty will be but + increased, since whatever facts make Nicaragua Mexican, + isolate the Moskitos. They are now in contact with + Spaniards and Englishmen--populations whose + civilization differs from their own; and populations + who are evidently intrusive and of recent origin. + Precisely the same would be the case if the Nicaraguans + were made Mexican. The civilization would be of another + sort; the population which introduced it would be + equally intrusive; and the only difference would be a + difference of stage and degree--a little earlier in the + way of time, and a little less contrast in the way of + skill and industry. But the evidence in favor of the + Mexican origin of the Nicaraguans is doubtful; and so + is the fact of their having wholly lost their native + tongue; and until one of these two opinions be proved, + it will be well to suspend our judgment as to the + isolation of the Moskitos. If, indeed, either of them + be true, their ethnological position will be a + difficult question. With nothing in Honduras to compare + them with--with nothing tangible, or with an apparently + incompatible affinity in Nicaragua--with only very + general miscellaneous affinities in Guatemala--their + ethnological affinities are as peculiar as their + political constitution. Nevertheless, isolated as their + language is, it has undoubtedly general affinities with + those of America at large; and this is all that it is + safe to say at present. But it is safe to say this. We + have plenty of data for their tongue, in a grammar of + Mr. Henderson's, published at New-York, 1846. The chief + fact in the history of the Moskitos is that they were + never subject to the Spaniards. Each continent affords + a specimen of this isolated freedom--the independence + of some exceptional and impracticable tribes, as + compared with the universal empire of some encroaching + European power. The Circassians in Caucasus, the + Tshuktshi Koriaks in North-Eastern Asia, and the + Kaffres in Africa, show this. Their relations with the + buccaneers were, probably, of an amicable description. + So they were with the negroes--maroon and imported. And + this, perhaps, has determined their _differentiae_. They + are intertropical American aborigines, who have become + partially European, without becoming Spanish. Their + physical conformation is that of the South rather than + the North American; and, here it must be remembered, + that we are passing from one moiety of the new + hemisphere to the other. With a skin which is + olive-colored rather than red, they have small limbs + and undersized frames; whilst their habits are, + _mutatis mutandis_, those of the intertropical African. + This means, that the exuberance of soil, and the heat + of the climate, make them agriculturists rather than + shepherds, and idlers rather than agriculturists, since + the least possible amount of exertion gives them roots + and fruits, whilst it is only those wants which are + compatible with indolence that they care to satisfy. + They presume rather than improve upon the warmth of + their suns, and the fertility of the soil. When they + get liquor, they get drunk; when they work hardest, + they cut mahogany. Canoes and harpoons represent the + native industry. Wulasha is the name of their evil + spirit, and Liwaia that of a water-dog. I cannot but + think that there is much intermixture amongst them. At + the same time, the data for ascertaining the amount are + wanting. Their greatest intercourse has, probably, been + with the negro; their next greatest with the + Englishman. Of the population of the interior we know + next to nothing. Here their neighbors are Spaniards. + They are frontagers to the river San Juan. This gives + them their value in politics. They are the only well + known extant Indians between Guatemala and Veragua. + This gives them their value in ethnology. The + populations to which they were most immediately allied + have disappeared from history. This isolates them; so + that there is no class to which they can be + subordinated. At the same time, they are quite as like + the nearest known tribes as the American ethnologist + is prepared to expect. What they were in their truly + natural state, when, unmodified by either Englishman or + Spaniard, Black or Indian, they represented the + indigenous civilization (such as it was) of their + coast, is uncertain." + + + + +GOLD-QUARTZ AND SOCIETY. + + +The Burns Ranch Union Mining Company in California have published a +prospectus--we suppose to facilitate the sale of their stock--and the +writer indulges in some speculations respecting the influence of the +discovery that the chief mineral riches of the new state are in mines, +instead of the sands of rivers, thus: + + It appears to be the destiny of America to carry on the + greatness of the future, and that Providence--which + shapes the ends of nations as well as of persons, at a + time when it was most needful for the prosecution of + her mission, when war and the expedients of political + strategy are out of vogue, and the people is most + powerful of which the individual civilization, energy, + ambition, and resources are greatest--that Providence, + at this crisis, has opened the veins of the Continent, + slumbering so many thousand years, in order that we + might derive from them all that remained necessary for + investing the United States with the leadership of the + world. + + The first intelligence of the discovery of gold in + California fell upon the general mind like news of a + great and peculiar revolution. It was at once--even + before the statements on the subject assumed a definite + or certain form--it was at once felt that a new hour + was signally on the dial-plate of history. Immediately, + those immense fortunes which were acquired by the + Portuguese and Spaniards nearly four centuries + ago--fortunes which, in the decline of nations, have + still remained in families as the sign and substance of + the only nobility and power which mankind at large + acknowledge--those astonishing fortunes which raised + the enterprising poor man to the dignity and happiness + of the most elevated classes in society, were recalled, + and made suggestive of like successes to new and more + hardy adventurers. The reports came with increased + volume; every ship confirmed the rumors brought by its + predecessor, and new intelligence, that, in its turn, + tasked the popular credulity; and it came soon to be + understood that we had found a land literally flowing + with gold and silver, as that promised to the earlier + favorites of Heaven did with milk and honey. As many as + were free from controlling engagements, and had means + with which to do so, started for our El Dorado, making + haste, in fear that the wealth of the country would + quickly be exhausted--not dreaming, even yet, that + there was any thing to be acquired but flakes and + scales and scattered masses of ore, which would be + exhausted by the first hunters who should scour the + rivers and turn the surface soil. + + But at length the geologists began to apprehend, what + experience soon confirmed, that, extraordinary as were + the amounts of gold found in drifts of gravel, and + deposits that had been left in the beds of streams, + these were merely the signs of far greater + riches--merely indexes of the presence of rocks and + hills, and underlayers of plains, impregnated with + gold, in quantities that the processes of nature could + never disclose, and that would reward only the + scientific efforts of miners having all the mechanical + appliances which the laborious experiments of other + nations had invented. The fact of the existence of + veins of gold in vast quartz formations, and ribs of + gold in hills, was as startling almost as the first + news of the presence of the precious metal in the + country. This at once changed the prospect, and from a + game of chance, elevated the pursuit of gold in + California to a grand industrial purpose, requiring an + energy and sagacity that invest it with the highest + dignity, and to such energy and sagacity promising, + with absolute certainty, rewards that make it worthy of + the greatest ambition. + + Now, men of character and capital--the class of men + whose speculating spirit is held in subjection by the + most exact reason--began to turn to the subject their + investigations, and to connect with it their plans. + This will account for the fact that has so much + astonished the world, which had supposed our Pacific + colony to be composed of the reckless, profligate and + desperate only--the fact, that when California made her + constitution of government, it shot at once in + unquestionable wisdom directly and far in advance of + all the states on the Atlantic, presenting to mankind + the very highest type of a free government that had + ever been conceived. The demonstration that California + was a _mine_, like other mines in all but its + surpassing richness, elevated it from a scene of + gambling to one for the orderly pursuit of riches, and + by the splendor of its promises, drew to it the most + sagacious and most heroical intelligences of the time. + + Astonishing as are the present and prospective results + of the discovery in California, however, we are not to + suppose that there is any possibility of a decline in + the value of the precious metals. In absolute material + civilization, the world in the last three-quarters of a + century has advanced more than it had in any previous + three full centuries; and the supply of gold, for + currency and the thousand other objects for which it + was demanded, was becoming alarmingly insufficient, so + that the addition of more than thirty per cent. to the + total annual product of the world, which we are led by + the officially-stated results thus far to expect from + California, will merely preserve the historical and + necessary proportion and standard value. + + + + +INEDITED LETTER OF DR. FRANKLIN. + + +The following characteristic and interesting letter by Dr. Franklin is +first printed in the _International_. Captain Falconer, to whom it is +addressed, took Dr. Franklin to France when he was appointed commissioner, +and proceeded thence with his ship to London. The letter is directed _To +Captain Nathaniel Falconer, at the Pennsylvania Coffee-house, Birchin Lane, +London_, and the autograph is in the collection of Mr. George W. Childs, of +Philadelphia: + + PASSY, July 28, 1783. + + DEAR FRIEND:--I received your favor of the 18th. + Captain Barney brought us the dispatches we so long + expected. Mr. Deane as you observe is lost. Dr. + Bancroft is I believe steady to the interest of his + country, and will make an agreeable passenger if you + can take him. You desire to know something of the + state of affairs here. Every thing goes well with + respect to this court and the other friendly powers; + what England is doing or means to do, or why the + definitive treaty is so long delayed, I know perhaps + less than you do; as, being in that country, you may + have opportunities of hearing more than I can. For + myself, I am at present as hearty and well as I have + been these many years; and as happy as a man can be + where every body strives to make him so. The French are + an amiable people to live with; they love me, and I + love them. Yet I do not feel myself at home, and I wish + to die in my own country. Barney will sail this week + with our dispatches. A good voyage to you, my friend, + and may God ever bless you. + + B. FRANKLIN. + CAPTAIN FALCONER. + + + + +A BALLAD OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. + +FROM A FORTHCOMING VOLUME OF POEMS BY GEORGE H. BOKER. + + "The ice was here, the ice was there, + The ice was all around."--COLERIDGE. + + + O, whither sail you, Sir John Franklin? + Cried a whaler in Baffin's Bay. + To know if between the land and the pole + I may find a broad sea-way. + + I charge you back, Sir John Franklin, + As you would live and thrive; + For between the land and the frozen pole + No man may sail alive. + + But lightly laughed the stout Sir John, + And spoke unto his men:-- + Half England is wrong, if he is right; + Bear off to westward then. + + O, whither sail you, brave Englishman? + Cried the little Esquimaux. + Between the land and the polar star + My goodly vessels go. + + Come down, if you would journey there, + The little Indian said; + And change your cloth for fur clothing, + Your vessel for a sled. + + But lightly laughed the stout Sir John, + And the crew laughed with him too:-- + A sailor to change from ship to sled, + I ween, were something new! + + All through the long, long polar day, + The vessels westward sped; + And wherever the sail of Sir John was blown, + The ice gave way and fled. + + Gave way with many a hollow groan, + And with many a surly roar; + But it murmured and threatened on every side, + And closed where he sailed before. + + Ho! see ye not, my merry men, + The broad and open sea? + Bethink ye what the whaler said, + Think of the little Indian's sled! + The crew laughed out in glee. + + Sir John, Sir John, 'tis bitter cold, + The scud drives on the breeze, + The ice comes looming from the north, + The very sunbeams freeze. + + Bright summer goes, dark winter comes-- + We cannot rule the year; + But long ere summer's sun goes down, + On yonder sea we'll steer. + + The dripping icebergs dipped and rose, + And floundered down the gale; + The ships were staid, the yards were manned, + And furled the useless sail. + + The summer's gone, the winter's come, + We sail not on yonder sea: + Why sail we not, Sir John Franklin? + A silent man was he. + + The summer goes, the winter comes-- + We cannot rule the year: + I ween, we cannot rule the ways, + Sir John, wherein we'd steer. + + The cruel ice came floating on, + And closed beneath the lee, + Till the thickening waters dashed no more; + 'Twas ice around, behind, before-- + My God! there is no sea! + + What think you of the whaler now? + What of the Esquimaux? + A sled were better than a ship, + To cruise through ice and snow. + + Down sank the baleful crimson sun, + The northern light came out, + And glared upon the ice-bound ships, + And shook its spears about. + + The snow came down, storm breeding storm, + And on the decks was laid; + Till the weary sailor, sick at heart, + Sank down beside his spade. + + Sir John, the night is black and long, + The hissing wind is bleak, + The hard, green ice is strong as death:-- + I prithee, Captain, speak! + + The night is neither bright nor short, + The singing breeze is cold, + The ice is not so strong as hope-- + The heart of man is bold! + + What hope can scale this icy wall, + High over the main flag-staff? + Above the ridges the wolf and bear + Look down with a patient, settled stare, + Look down on us and laugh. + + The summer went, the winter came-- + We could not rule the year; + But summer will melt the ice again, + And open a path to the sunny main, + Whereon our ships shall steer. + + The winter went, the summer went, + The winter came around; + But the hard, green ice was strong as death, + And the voice of hope sank to a breath, + Yet caught at every sound. + + Hark! heard you not the noise of guns? + And there, and there again? + 'Tis some uneasy iceberg's roar, + As he turns in the frozen main. + + Hurra! hurra! the Esquimaux + Across the ice-fields steal: + God give them grace for their charity! + Ye pray for the silly seal. + + Sir John, where are the English fields, + And where are the English trees, + And where are the little English flowers + That open in the breeze? + + Be still, be still, my brave sailors! + You shall see the fields again, + And smell the scent of the opening flowers, + The grass, and the waving grain. + + Oh! when shall I see my orphan child? + My Mary waits for me. + Oh! when shall I see my old mother + And pray at her trembling knee? + + Be still, be still, my brave sailors! + Think not such thoughts again. + But a tear froze slowly on his cheek; + He thought of Lady Jane. + + Ah! bitter, bitter grows the cold, + The ice grows more and more; + More settled stare the wolf and bear, + More patient than before. + + Oh! think you, good Sir John Franklin, + We'll ever see the land? + 'Twas cruel to send us here to starve, + Without a helping hand. + + 'Twas cruel, Sir John, to send us here, + So far from help or home, + To starve and freeze on this lonely sea: + I ween, the Lords of the Admiralty + Had rather send than come. + + Oh! whether we starve to death alone, + Or sail to our own country, + We have done what man has never done-- + The open ocean danced in the sun-- + We passed the Northern Sea! + + + + +REMARKABLE PROPHECY. + +TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF M. LAHARPE FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE. + +BY H. J. BEYERLE, M.D. + + +It seems to me as if it had been but yesterday, and yet it happened in the +beginning of the year 1788. We were at table with one of our colleagues of +the Academy, a respectable and lively gentleman. The company was numerous, +and selected from all ranks: nobles, judges, professional men, +academicians, &c. We had enjoyed ourselves as is customary at a well-loaded +table. At the desert, the _malvasier_ and Cape wine exalted the pleasure +and increased in a good company that kind of liberty which does not remain +within precise limits. + +People in the world had then arrived at the point where it was allowed to +say every thing, if it was the object to excite laughter. Chamfort had read +to us some of his blasphemous and unchaste tales, and the noble ladies +heard them without even taking for refuge to the fan. Then followed a whole +volley of mockery on religion. One mentioned a tirade from the Pucelle; the +other reminded us of those philosophical stanzas of Diderot, wherein he +says: "With the intestines of the last priest tie up the throat of the last +king;" and all clapped approbation. Another rises, holds up the full +tumbler, and cries: "Yes, gentlemen, I am just as certain that there is no +God, as I am certain that Homer was a fool!" and really, he was of the one +as certain as he was of the other: we had just spoken of Homer and of God, +and there were guests present, too, who had said something good of the one +and of the other. + +The conversation now became more serious. We spoke with astonishment of the +revolution Voltaire had effected, and we agreed that it is the most +distinguished foundation of his fame. He had given the term to his +half-century; he had written in such a manner, that he is read in the +anteroom as well as in the hall. + +One of the guests told us with great laughter, that his hairdresser, as he +powdered him, said, "You see, sir, though I am only a miserable fellow, I +yet have not more religion than others." We concluded that the revolution +would soon be completed, and that superstition and fanaticism must +absolutely yield to philosophy; we calculated the probability of the time, +and who of this company may have the happiness to live to see the reign of +reason. The older ones were sorry that they could not flatter themselves to +see this; those younger rejoiced with the hope that they shall live to the +time, and we particularly congratulated the Academy for having introduced +the great work, and that they have been the chief source, the centre, the +mainspring of freedom of thought. + +One of the guests had taken no part in this gay conversation, and had even +scattered a few jokes in regard to our beautiful enthusiasm. It was M. +Cazotte, an agreeable and original gentleman; but who, unfortunately, was +prepossessed by the idle imaginations of those who believe in a higher +inspiration. He took the word, and said, in the most serious manner: "Sirs, +rejoice; you all will be witnesses of that great and sublime revolution for +which you wish so much. You are aware that I make some pretensions to +prophecy. I repeat it to you, you will all see it!" + +"For this a man needs no prophetic gifts," was answered him. + +"This is true," he replied, "but probably a little more for what I have to +tell you yet. Do you know what will arise from this revolution (where, +namely, reason will triumph in opposition to religion)? what her immediate +consequence, her undeniable and acknowledged effects will be?" + +"Let us see," said Condorcet, with his affected look of simplicity, "a +philosopher is not sorry to meet a prophet." + +"You, M. Condorcet," continued M. Cazotte, "you will be stretched out upon +the floor of a dungeon, there to yield up your ghost. You will die of +poison, which you will swallow to save yourself from the hangman--of the +poison which the good luck of the times, which then will be, will have +compelled you always to have carried with you." + +This at first excited great astonishment, but we soon remembered that the +good Cazotte occasionally dreamed waking, and we all laughed heartily. + +"M. Cazotte," said one of the guests, "the tale you relate to us here is +not as merry as your 'Devil in Love' (a romance which Cazotte had written). +What kind of a devil has given you the dungeon, the poison, and the +hangman?--what has this in common with philosophy, and with the reign of +Reason?" + +"This is just what I told you," replied Cazotte. "In the name of +philosophy, in the name of humanity, of liberty, of reason, it shall be +that you shall take such an end; and then reason will still reign, for she +will have temples; yes, at the same time there will be no temples in all +France, but temples of Reason." + +"Truly," said Chamfort, with a scornful smile, "you will not be one of the +priests in these temples?" + +"This I hope," replied Cazotte, "but you, M. de Chamfort, who will be one +of them--and very worthy you are to be one--you will open your veins with +twenty-two incisions of the razor--and yet you will only die a few months +afterwards." + +They look at each other, and continue to laugh. Cazotte continues: + +"You, M. Vicq d'Azyr, you will not open your veins yourself; but afterwards +you will get them opened six times in one day, and during the night you +will die." + +"You, M. Nicolli, you will die on the scaffold." + +"You, M. Bailly, on the scaffold!" + +"You, M. Malesherbes--you, on the scaffold!" + +"God be thanked," exclaimed M. Roucher, "it appears M. Cazotte has it to do +only with the Academy; he has just started a terrible butchery among them; +I--thanks to heaven--" + +Cazotte interrupted him: "you?--you, too, will die on the scaffold." + +"Ha! this is a bet," they exclaimed from all sides; "he has sworn to +extirpate everything!" + +_Cazotte._--"No, it is not I that has sworn it." + +"Then we must be put under the yokes of the Turks and Tartars?--and yet--" + +_Cazotte._--"Nothing less: I have told you already; you will then be only +under the reign of philosophy and reason; those who shall treat you in this +manner, will all be philosophers, will always carry on the same kind of +conversation which you have peddled out for the last hour, will repeat all +your maxims; they will, like you, cite verses from Diderot and the +Pucelle." + +It was whispered into one another's ear: "You all see that he has lost his +reason--(for he remains very serious while he is talking)--Do you not see +that he is joking?--and you know that he mixes something mysterious into +all his jokes." "Yes," said Chamfort, "but I must confess his mysteries are +not agreeable, they are too scaffoldish! And when shall all this occur?" + +_Cazotte._--"Six years will not expire, before all I told you will be +fulfilled." + +"There are many wonders." This time it was I (namely Laharpe) who took the +word, "and of me you say nothing?" + +"With you," replied Cazotte, "a wonder will take place, which will at least +be as extraordinary; you will then be a Christian!" + +Here was a universal exclamation. "Now I am easy," cried Chamfort, "if we +don't perish until Laharpe is a Christian, we shall be immortal!" + +"We, of the female sex," then said the Duchess de Grammont, "we are lucky +that we shall be counted as nothing with the revolutions. When I say +nothing, I do not mean to say as if we would not mingle ourselves a little +into them; but it is assumed that nobody will, on that account, loath at us +or at our sex." + +_Cazotte._--"Your sex will this time not protect you, and you may ever so +much desire not to mingle into anything; you will be treated just like men, +and no distinction will be made!" + +_Duchess._--"But what do you tell us here, M. Cazotte? You preach to us the +end of the world!" + +_Cazotte._--"That I do not know; but what I do know, is, that you, Madame +Duchess, will be led to the scaffold, you, and many other ladies, and on +the public cart, with your hands tied on your back!" + +_Duchess._--"In this case, I hope I shall have a black trimmed coach?" + +_Cazotte._--"No, madam! Nobler ladies than you, shall, like you, be drawn +on that same cart, with the hands tied on the back!" + +_Duchess._--"Nobler ladies? How? the princesses by birth?" + +_Cazotte._-"Nobler yet!" + +Now was observed a visible excitement in the whole company, and the master +of the table took on a dark appearance; they began to see that the joke had +been carried too far. + +Madame de Grammont, to scatter the clouds which the last answer had +occasioned, contented herself by saying in a facetious tone: "You shall see +that he will not even allow me the comfort of a father confessor!" + +_Cazotte._--"No, madam! you will not get one; neither you nor any one else! +The last one executed, who, out of mercy, will have received a father +confessor"--here he stopped a moment-- + +_Duchess._--"Well, who will be the fortunate one, when this fortunate +preference will be granted?" + +_Cazotte._--"It will be the only preference that he shall yet keep; and +this will be the king of France!" + +Now the host arose from the table, and all with him. He went to Cazotte, +and said with an excited voice, "My dear M. Cazotte, this lamentable jest +has lasted long. You carry it too far, and within a degree where you place +the company in which you are, and yourself, into danger." + +Cazotte answered not, and made himself ready to go away, when madame +Grammont, who always tried to prevent the matter from being taken +seriously, and exerted herself to restore the gaiety of the company, went +to him, and said: "Now, M. Prophet! you have told us all our fortunes, but +you say nothing of your own fate?" + +He was silent and cast down his eyes; then he said: "Have you, madame, +read, in Josephus, the history of the siege of Jerusalem?" + +_Duchess._--"Certainly! who has not read it? but you seem to think that I +have not!" + +_Cazotte._--"Well, madame, during the siege a man went round the city, upon +the walls, for seven days, in the face of the besiegers and the besieged, +and cried continually, with a mournful voice, 'Wo unto Jerusalem! Wo unto +Jerusalem!' but on the seventh day he cried, 'Wo unto me!' and at that +moment he was dashed to pieces by an immense stone, which the machines of +the enemy had thrown." + +After these words, M. Cazotte bowed himself, and went away. + +In relation to the above extraordinary prediction, a certain M.... has +inserted the following article in the public journals of Paris: "That he +well knew this M. Cazotte, and has often heard from him the announcement +of the great oppression which was to come over France, and this at a time +when not the least of it was suspected. The attachment to the monarchy was +the reason why, on the second of September, 1792, he was brought to the +abbey, and was saved from the hands of the bloodthirsty rabble only through +the heroic courage of his daughter, who mitigated the raging populace. This +same rabble which wanted to destroy him, led him to his house in triumph. +All his friends came to congratulate him, that he had escaped death. A +certain M. D... who visited him after the terrible days, said to him: "Now, +you are saved!"--"I believe it not," answered Cazotte; "in three days I +shall be guillotined!"--"How can this be?" replied M. D... Cazotte +continued: "Yes, my friend, in three days I will die on the scaffold!" As +he said this he was very much affected, and added: "Shortly before your +arrival, I saw a gend'armes enter, who fetched me by order of Petion; I was +under the necessity of following him: I appeared before the mayor of Paris, +who ordered me to the _Conciergerie_, and thence I came before the +revolutionary tribunal. You see, therefore (by this vision, namely, which +Cazotte had seen), my friend, that my hour has arrived; and I am so much +convinced of this, that I am arranging my papers. Here are papers for which +I care very much, which you will deliver to my wife; I entreat you to give +them to her, and to comfort her."" + +M. D... declared this all folly, and left him with the conviction, that his +reason had suffered by the sight of the scenes of terror from which he had +escaped. + +The next day he came again; but he learned that a gensd'arme had taken M. +Cazotte to the Municipality. M. D... went to Petion; arrived at the +mayoralty, he heard that his friend had just been taken to prison; he +hurried thither; but he was informed that he could not speak to him, he +would be tried before the revolutionary tribunal. Soon after this, he heard +that his friend had been condemned and executed. + + + + +GREENWOOD. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. + +BY MAUNSELL B. FIELD. + + I would that I were dreaming, + Where lovely flowers are gleaming, + And the tall green grass is streaming + O'er the gone--for ever gone. + + MOTHERWELL. + + + The evening glories of a summer sky + Brimming the heart with yearnings to be blest; + The wood-bird's wailing as he soars on high + Winging his weary way to distant nest; + The murmuring billows as they kiss the strand, + Bearing dim memories of stranger land; + + The sad mysterious voices of the night, + Bathing the soul in reverie and love; + The low wind, whispering of its former might + To the tall trees that sigh the hills above, + Like angel-tones that roll from sphere to sphere + And dimly echo to the faithful ear; + + The flitting shadows glancing o'er the sail + Of some proud ship that's dreaming on the sea; + The lighthouse fires that fitful glow and pale; + The far-off strains of martial minstrelsy; + Wechawken's hoary head o'er hill and dell, + Gloomy and proud, a giant sentinel; + + Such the soft charms, thou Paradise of Death! + My languid spirit hath erewhile confest, + When wearied with the city's tainted breath, + Fever'd and faint I've sought thy shades of rest, + Where all combines in heaven, and earth, and sea, + To image life, death, immortality!-- + + Here where the dusky savage twanged his bow + In the old time at startled doe or fawn, + Raised the shrill war-whoop at the approach of foe, + His wild eye flashing with revenge and scorn; + Here where the Indian maiden told her love + To the soft sighing spirits of the grove. + + Here, where the bloody fiend of frantic war + Flapped its red wings o'er hill-top and o'er plain-- + Where the sharp musket ring, and cannon roar, + Crashed o'er the valley, thundered o'er the main, + No sound is heard, save the sweet symphony + Of Nature's all-pervading harmony. + + Here the pale willow, drooping o'er the wave, + Dips its long tresses in the silvery flood; + Here the blue violet, blooming o'er the grave, + Distils its fragrance to the enamored wood, + While the complaining turtle's mournful woe + Steals on the ear in murmurs soft and low. + + Here its cold shaft the polished marble rears; + Here, eloquent of grief, the sculptured urn + Bares its white bosom to the dewy tears, + Dropt pure from heaven, far purer to return! + Here the grim granite's sempeternal pile + In monumental grandeur stands the while. + + Where the still stars with gentlest radiance shine + On forest green and flower-enamelled vale, + Two simple columns circled by one vine, + Tell to the traveller's eye the tender tale + Of constancy in life and death--and love, + Not e'en the horrors of the tomb could move. + + Here strained, and struggling with the unequal might + Of sea and tempest, the poor foundering bark, + And the snapp'd cable, chiselled on yon height, + Where calmly sleeps the wave-tossed pilot mark; + Hope, with her anchor, pointing to the sky, + Triumphant hails the spirit flight on high! + + Hark! how the solemn spirit dirge ascends + In floating cadence on the evening air, + Where with clasped hands the weeping angel bends + In human grief o'er her that's buried there; + The gentle maid, in festive garments hurled + From life's gay glitter to the gloomy world! + + Thy childish laughter lingers on mine ear, + Thy fairy form still floats before mine eye; + Still is the music of thy footsteps near, + Visioned to sense by tenderest memory; + Thy soul too pure for purest mortal love, + Enraptured seraphs snatched to realms above! + + Here where the sparkling fountain flings its spray + In sportive freedom, frolicksome and wild, + Mocking the wood-nymphs with its gladsome lay, + Serenely sleeps the dark-eyed forest child-- + Her kinsman's glory and her nation's pride! + A chieftain's daughter and a warrior's bride! + + Oft shall the pale face, pensive o'er thy mound, + Weep for the white man's shame, the red man's wrong; + Oft from spring warblers, o'er this hallowed ground, + Shall gush the tenderest melody of song, + For the poor pilgrim to that distant shore, + Her fathers loved, their sons shall see no more! + + Pause, weary wanderer, pause! In yon lone glade + Where silence reigns in deep funereal gloom, + Where the pale moonbeams struggle through the shade, + Open the portals of "The Stranger's Tomb!" + No holier symbol taught since time began + The sacred sympathy of man for man! + + Dear Greenwood! when the solemn heights I tread, + And catch the gray old ocean's sullen roar, + Chanting the dirge of the mighty dead, + Over whose graves the oblivious billows pour, + A tearful prayer is gushing from my breast, + "Here in thy peaceful bosom may I rest!-- + + "Rest till the signal calls the ransomed throng + With shouts their Saviour and their God to greet; + Rest till the harp, the trumpet, and the song + Summon the dead, Death's conqueror to meet; + And love, imperfect, man's best gift below, + In heaven eternal rapture shall bestow!" + + + + +AN AUGUST REVERIE. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE + +BY A. OAKLEY HALL. + + +I have "laid" the tiniest ghost of my professional duties. I shook off city +dust twenty hours ago, and my lungs are rejoicing this August morning with +the glorious breezes that sweep from the summits of the "Trimountains" of +Waywayanda lake--that stretches its ten miles expanse before my freshened +vision. + +Waywayanda lake? + +A Quere. Shall I play geographer to those who are learned in the +nomenclature of snobbism? Who allow innkeepers and railroad guides to +assassinate Aboriginal terms in order that petty pride may exult in petty +fame? No! But if snobbism has a curiosity, I refer it to the first +landscape painter of its vicinage: or the nearest fisherman amateur: or the +Recorder of New-York: or sportsman Herbert and the pages of his "Warwick +Woodlands;" a list of references worthy of the spot. + +And as I gaze and breathe I feel as if the waters before me had bubbled +from the fountains of rejuvenescence for which Ponce de Leon so +enthusiastically searched in the everglades of Florida; and as if, too, I +had just emerged from their embraces. + +My pocket almanac says that I am living in the dogdays. Perhaps so. But +"Sirius" hath no power around these mountains and primeval solitudes. Were +the fiercest theological controversialist at my elbow, he would be as cool +as an Esquimaux. + +I feel at peace with all things. My friend M. says the conscience lieth in +the stomach. Perhaps so; and perhaps I owe my quietude of spirit to the +influence of as comforting a breakfast as ever blessed the palate of a +scientific egg-breaker. + +Shall I join forces with the laughing beauties who are handling maces in +the billiard room of the inn hard by? Shall I challenge my "Lady Gay +Spanker" of last night's acquaintance to a game of bowling? Shall I tempt +the unsophisticated pickerel of the lake under the shadow of yonder +frowning precipice, with glittering bait? Shall I clamber the mountain side +and feast my vision with an almost boundless view--rich expanses of farm +land stretching away for miles and miles, and edging themselves in the blue +haze of the horizon where the distant Catskill peaks rise solitary in their +sublimity? + +It is very comfortable here. Is there always poetry in motion? How far +distant are the confines of dreamland: that magical kingdom where the tired +soul satiates itself in the intoxications of fancy? + +I had just carefully deposited upon a velvety tuft of grass Ik Marvel's +"Reveries of a Bachelor." I had arrived at the conclusion that its pages +should be part and parcel of the landscape about. Surely there is a unison +between them both. There are always certain places where only certain +melodies can be sung to the proper harmony of the heart-strings. Who ever +learned "Thanatopsis" on the summit of the Catskills, and afterwards forgot +a line of it? Now I have seen these same "Reveries" of the said bachelor +upon many a centre-table: in the lap of many a town beauty, half cushioned +in the velvet of a drawing room sofa: but the latter half of the volume +never looked so inviting as it does here just in the middle of one of +nature's lexicons. May the page of it never be blurred. + +Reveries of a Bachelor! + +'Tis a sugared pill of a title. Its morals are sad will o' wisps. And if +the definition "that happiness consists in the search after it" be true, it +is so when the definition settles itself on the mind of a bachelor. Hath +_he_ reveries half so sweet for morsels under the tongues of memory and +fancy as those which come nigh to the brain of the married man? As sure as +the lesser is always included in the greater: as certain as the maxim _de +minimis lex non curat_: the reveries of the first are but bound up in the +reveries of the last; one is a _pleasing_ romance, the other its enchanting +sequel. + +What is that yonder? There is a merry-faced form in the distant haze, +shaking a dreamy negative with his head. A head whose reality is miles and +miles away, airing its brow of single blessedness in foreign travel. + +Let us argue the point: he smiles as if willing. Man socially is at least a +three volumed work: however much longer the James-like pen of destiny may +extend him. Volume first--bachelor. Volume second--husband. Volume +third--father. There _may_ be a dozen more--there _should_ be none less. + +You have been a bachelor: you are a husband and a father. You always had, +perhaps, a bump of self-esteem attractive to the digits of Fowler. You +never believed half so well of yourself as when one morning at your +business you were first asked concerning the well being of your _family_. +At the moment, you were in a fog, like the young attorney upon the first +question of his first examination: next, memory rallied and your face +brightened; your stature increased as you replied. You felt you were going +up in the social numeration table of life. Two years ago you were a unit: +you next counted your importance by tens over the parson's shoulder; when +your child was born you felt that the leap to hundreds in the scale was far +from enough and should have been higher. + +Before the publication of your third volume--the father--you had been +measurably blind. Your mental sight was afflicted with amaurosis. Like the +philosopher of old you are now tempted to grasp every one by the hand and +cry "Eureka." How indignantly you take down "Malthus" from your upper +library shelf and bury him on the lowest among the books of possible +reference. Your political views upon education are cured of their jaundice. +You pray of Sundays in the service for the widow and the orphan with a +double unction. You walk the streets with a new mantle of comfort. The +little beggar child whose importunities of the last wet day at the street +crossings excited your petulance, upon the next wet day invites your +sympathies. You stop and talk to her, nor perceive until you have +ascertained where her hard-hearted parents live, and that she is uncommonly +bright for the child of poverty and wretchedness, and that you have a half +dollar unappropriated--nor perceive until these are found out, I say, that +your umbrella has been dripping upon the skirts of your favorite coat, and +that you have stood with one foot in a puddle. How this would have annoyed +you years ago. But now--? How unconcernedly of the curious looks from +pedestrians around do you stop the careless nurse in Broadway, who has +allowed her infant charge to fall asleep in a painful attitude, and lay +"it" tenderly and comfortably in position. You recall to mind with much +remorse the execrations of five years ago, when the moanings of a dying +babe in the next apartment to your own at the hotel disturbed your rest; +and you wonder whether the mother still thinks of the little grave and the +white slab which a sympathetic fancy _now_ brings up before you. + +You are at your business: the lamps are lighting: in the suggestions of +profit by an hour or longer at the desk you recognize an unholy temptation. +Now, as often before, through all the turmoils of business memory suggests +the lines of Willis: + + "I sadden when thou smilest to my smile, + Child of my love! I tremble to believe + That o'er the mirror of thine eye of blue + The shadow of my soul must always pass-- + That soul which from its conflicts with the world + Comes _ever_ to thy guarded cradle home, + And careless of the staining dust it brings, + Asks for its idol!" + +And you dwell on them. You bless the author first, and truly think how +cruelly unjust are they who can call into torturing question the loyalty as +husband and father of him whose soul could plan and whose pen could write +such holy lines. And then you think deeper of the sentiments. And then the +profit-tempter hides himself in the farthest corner of the money-drawer; +and you begin to think your clerk a very clever manager: and wonder if +_his_ remaining will not do as well--poor fellow, he's _only_ a bachelor. +And then you decide that he will, and so yourself, "careless of the +staining dust" your coming brings, fly to "the guarded cradle home." + +You have been in Italy. Or you have studied the pictures in the _Louvre_. +But the hours which you passed before the canvas whereon was embodied +Madonna and child never seemed so agreeable in their realization as they +now appear in the glass of memory, as you see the child of your love in the +arms of your life companion whose eyes, always bright to yours, and +brighter still at your coming after absence, grow brightest when they are +lifted from the slumbering innocence beneath them. Men call you rough in +your bearing, perhaps. What would they say to see how gently your arms +receive the sleeping burthen and transfer it softly to its snowy couch? +Your step abroad is heavy and impetuous: how noiselessly it falls upon the +floor--_now!_ And how the modulated voice accords with every present +thought! + +You cannot give the child a sweeter sleep by watching over him so intently: +and yet you choose to stay. Moments are not so precious to you that at this +one household shrine they will become valueless in some most chastened +heart-worship! Your infant does not when awake understand the language +which your affection addresses: and yet you look with rapture to the +future, when the now inquiring eye will become one of understanding; when +the cautiously put forth arms will clasp in loving confidence; when the +fond endearing name now half intelligibly and doubtingly lisped forth will +be uttered in the boldness of love. + +The shadowy form in the distant cloud over the lake has been listening +intently. It listens still; and the face of it bends towards me as if to +say, there's a hidden truth and mysterious sympathy in all you say; and yet +the language soundeth strangely in these bachelor ears-- + +Bachelor ears! + +Listless and deaf, as yet, to all the sweeter human music of our nature. +Deafer yet to the clarion call of emulation in the race of life and +struggles for power, rank, and fame. Deafest of all to that which spurreth +on man to be a king of kings among the great men of his race. + +You are a father, then, I say; and working in your mental toil by night and +day, in the severest and darkest frowning of all professions. But in the +crowded senate-room, and in the close committee-chamber; and in the +court-room among the multitudes of faces all about, (some of these +anticipating in their changing features defeat and disgrace,) there is a +_something_ which overrides all agitation: clears the heavy brain, and oils +the tongue with every pungency of rhetoric. + +What is that "something?" + +Were I home and in my library the downturned leaf of the duodecimo +biography in the left corner of the first shelf would tell it you at a +glance. The biography of Lord Erskine; marked at the page which speaks of +his dauntless legal debut in the Sandwich case, when not the necessity of +speaking in a crowded court-room from the obscure back benches: when not +the sarcastic eyes of a hundred (etiquette-ly termed) brethren; when not +the awful presence of Lord Mansfield nor his rebuking interruption at a +critical sentence frightened the self-possession of the enthusiastic +advocate, or stopped the current of his eloquent invective. The biography, +which goes on to tell how, when the speech was ended, all the attorneys in +the room flocked around the debutant with retainers--needed, more than all +the smiles and congratulations to be drawn from earnest heart-wells: and +how the advocate replied--(when some one, timid of the judge, asked how the +barrister had the courage to stand the rebuking interruption, and never to +quail with embarrassment before it)--_I felt my little children tugging at +my gown and crying, now is the time, father, to get us bread_. + +How eloquent! + +How worthy of a father's heart! And in the reference, the dullest mind +cannot fail to read the "something" which, to every father in a like +position, nerves the will, disarms all agitation, clears the heavy brain, +and oils the tongue with every pungency of rhetoric. + +--The shadowy form turns closer towards me as my reverie yet chains me to +the lake side, where the mountain breezes still are freshening all the +August air.-- + +You have a purpose now in life, which, like the messenger of the king, that +every morning knocked at his bedroom door to say, "Oh king, remember all +this day that you are mortal," hourly brings to mind the bright reward of +every toil and every aspiration. Besides a physical frame there is a mental +constitution hinging on your own. There's a long life far beyond your own +brief years of breath to provide for. Your name is to be perpetuated. In +the very evening of your life there is to be a star that is now in its +morning of existence, which will cheer and enliven. You feel all this as in +some sad hour of the sickly night; you pace your room with the little +sufferer wrestling with disease, and you feel that in the future will be +found ample rewards for all your present bitter draughts of anxiety. + +Wrestling with disease! + +The thought is ugly to the mental sight. I pause to brush its cobweb from +my August Reverie as an idle vaporish thing. But the shadowy form, in the +edge of the distant cloud, over the far off waters of the lake, hisses the +words back into my brain. And then it comes nearer. And then the atmosphere +grows more dreamy and hazy about. And I half feel the mountain breezes, and +half miss them from off my temples. And next I feel my thoughts less +concentrate, as the shadowy form I know so well seems to be looking under +my half-closed lids, and dwelling on the words I brushed like +cob-webs--"wrestling with disease." + +And I think of the still chamber, with the blue edge of the bracket, as it +is rimmed with the faintest glimmer of the turned-down gas. And I see the +half-closed shutters. And the tumbler with its significant spoon on the +mantel. And the pale watcher by the ghostly curtains of the bed. And I am +bending silently and almost pulseless over the sleeping boy, upon whose +face each minute the fever-flushes play like summer lightning under a satin +cloud. + +And days go by. There is a strange hush in the household, with a horridly +sensitive jarring from the vehicles in the street, which never, never were +before so noisy, neither have the thronging passengers from the pavements +ever gossipped so discordantly, as they go under the windows of the silent +house. There's a strange echo of infantile prattle by the niches on the +landings of the stairs, and from the couches, and behind the curtains; but +the substantive music, whence the conjured-up echo came, is nowhere found. +Then the echo itself becomes but an illusion. And Memory is strangely and +impassionately chid for its creation. + +I pass into a little room scarcely wide enough to wheel a sofa within. It +seems as boundless in its desolation as an untenanted temple-ruin. There +are mournful spirits in the little atmosphere which sting me to the +heart--not to be torn away. The little cotton-dog, and morocco-ball, and +jingling-bells, and coral-toys, so strangely scattered all about, are +prodigious ruins to the sight. There's a gleeful laugh, a cunning smile, an +artless waving of the hands, which should be here as tenants of the room. +All gone! all gone into that hushed and silent chamber where yet the +patient-watcher is by the snowy curtains; and the sickly blue still edges +the rim of the bracket light, and the fever-flushes still play about the +wasted cheek. + +How long to last? What next to come? And the shadowy form no longer can +peep under the all-closed eyelids, but enters its whisperings through the +delicate passages of the ear into the brain, which tortures in a maze of +bitter conjecture and horrid contemplation. And my reverie becomes a +painful nightmare dream. + + * * * * * + +But the mountain-breezes, and the uprising-to-meridian sun, are merciful. +The shadowy form my reverie hinged itself upon is blown away. The open eyes +once more glance upon the glassy waters of the lake close by the shore, and +onward to the dancing ripples far away. And a merry prattling voice, from +out of loving arms, is coming nearer and nearer over the velvety lawn--a +voice so full of spirit, and life, and health, and sparkling innocence of +care, that in a moment the frightful nightmare-dream is quite forgotten. + +More-- + +My reverie turns itself into a lesson of bright reality; a present study of +budding mind; a jealous watch of care encroaching upon innocence; a kindly +outpouring of the father's manly heart upon the shrine of his idol. + +Could such a reverie better end? + + + + +HEROINES OF HISTORY--LAURA. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE BY MARY E. HEWITT. + + +Laura, rendered immortal by the love and lyre of Petrarch, was the daughter +of Audibert de Noves, who was of the _haute noblesse_ of Avignon. He died +in the infancy of Laura, leaving her a dowry of one thousand gold crowns, +(about fifty thousand dollars,) a magnificent portion for those times. She +was married at the age of eighteen to Hugh de Sade, a young noble only a +few years older than his bride, but not distinguished by any advantages +either of person or mind. The marriage contract is dated in January, 1325, +two years before her first meeting with Petrarch; and in it her mother, the +Lady Ermessende, and her brother, John de Noves, stipulate to pay the dower +left by her father; and also to bestow on the bride two magnificent dresses +for state occasions; one of green, embroidered with violets; the other of +crimson, trimmed with feathers. In all the portraits of Laura now extant, +she is represented in one of these two dresses, and they are frequently +alluded to by Petrarch. He tells us expressly that when he first met her at +matins in the church of Saint Claire, she was habited in a robe of green +spotted with violets. Mention is also made of a coronal of silver with +which she wreathed her hair; of her necklaces and ornaments of pearls. +Diamonds are not once alluded to because the art of cutting them had not +then been invented. From all which it appears that Laura was opulent, and +moved in the first class of society. It was customary for women of rank in +those times to dress with extreme simplicity on ordinary occasions, but +with the most gorgeous splendor when they appeared in public. + +There are some beautiful descriptions of Laura surrounded by her young +female companions, divested of all her splendid apparel, in a simple white +robe and a few flowers in her hair, but still preeminent over all by her +superior loveliness. + +She was in person a fair, Madonna-like beauty, with soft dark eyes, and a +profusion of pale golden hair parted on her brow, and falling in rich curls +over her neck. The general character of her beauty must have been pensive, +soft, unobtrusive, and even somewhat languid. This softness and repose must +nave been far removed from insipidity, for Petrarch dwells on the rare and +varying expression of her loveliness, the lightning of her smile, and the +tender magic of her voice, which was felt in the inmost heart. He dwells on +the celestial grace of her figure and movements, and describes the beauty +of her hand and the loveliness of her mouth. She had a habit of veiling her +eyes with her hand, and her looks were generally bent on the earth. + +In a portrait of Laura, in the Laurentinian library at Florence, the eyes +have this characteristic downcast look. + +Laura was distinguished, then, by her rank and fortune, but more by her +loveliness, her sweetness, and the untainted purity of her life and manners +in the midst of a society noted for its licentiousness. Now she is known as +the subject of Petrarch's verses, as the woman who inspired an immortal +passion, and, kindling into living fire the dormant sensibility of the +poet, gave origin to the most beautiful and refined, the most passionate, +and yet the most delicate amatory poetry that exists in the world. + +Petrarch was twenty-three years of age when he first felt the power of a +violent and inextinguishable passion. At six in the morning on the sixth of +April, A. D. 1327, (he often fondly records the exact year, day and hour,) +on the occasion of the festival of Easter, he visited the church of Saint +Claire at Avignon, and beheld, for the first time, Laura de Sade. She was +just twenty years of age, and in the bloom of beauty--a beauty so touching +and heavenly, so irradiated by purity and smiling innocence, and so adorned +by gentleness and modesty, that the first sight stamped the image in the +poet's heart, never thereafter to be erased. + +Petrarch beheld the loveliness and sweetness of the young beauty, and was +transfixed. He sought acquaintance with her, and while the manners of the +times prevented his entering her house, he enjoyed many opportunities of +meeting her in society, and of conversing with her. He would have declared +his love, but her reserve enforced silence. "She opened my breast and took +my heart into her hand, saying 'speak no word of this,'" he writes. Yet the +reverence inspired by her modesty and dignity was not always sufficient to +restrain her lover. Being alone with her on one occasion, and she appearing +more gracious than usual, Petrarch tremblingly and fearfully confessed his +passion; but she, with altered looks, replied, "I am not the person you +take me for!" Her displeasure froze the very heart of the poet, so that he +fled from her presence in grief and dismay. + +No attentions on his part could make any impression on her steady and +virtuous mind. While love and youth drove him on, she remained impregnable +and firm; and when she found that he still rushed wildly forward, she +preferred forsaking to following him to the precipice down which he would +have hurried her. Meanwhile, as he gazed on her angelic countenance, and +saw purity painted on it, his love grew spotless as herself. Love +transforms the true lover into a resemblance of the object of his passion. +In a town, which was the asylum of vice, calumny never breathed a taint +upon Laura's name: her actions, her words, the very expression of her +countenance, and her slightest gestures were replete with a modest reserve +combined with sweetness, and won the applause of all. + +Francesco Petrarch was of Florentine extraction, and the son of a notary, +who, being held in great esteem by his fellow-citizens, had filled several +public offices. + +When the Ghibelines were banished Florence, in 1302, Petraccolo was +included in the number of exiles; his property was confiscated, and he +retired with his wife, Eletta Canigiani, whom he had lately married, to the +town of Arrezzo, in Tuscany. And here on the night of the 20th of July, +1304, Petrarch first saw the light. When the child was seven months old his +mother was permitted to return from banishment, and she established herself +at a country house belonging to her husband near Ancisa, a small town +fifteen miles from Florence. The infant who, at his birth, it was supposed +would not survive, was exposed to imminent peril during this journey. In +fording a rapid stream, the man who had charge of him carried him, wrapped +in swaddling clothes, at the end of a stick; he fell from his horse, and +the babe slipped from the fastenings into the water; but he was saved, for +how could Petrarch die until he had seen his Laura? + +The youth of Petrarch was obscure in point of fortune, but it was attended +by all the happiness that springs from family concord, and the excellent +character of his parents. At the age of fifteen he was sent to study in the +university of Montpellier, then frequented by a vast concourse of students. +His father intended his son to pursue the study of the law, as the +profession best suited to ensure his reputation and fortune; but to this +pursuit Francesco was invincibly repugnant. He was soon after sent to +Bologna, where, as at Montpellier, he continued to display great taste for +literature, much to his father's dissatisfaction. + +At Bologna, Petrarch made considerable progress in the study of the law, +moved thereto, doubtless, by the entreaties of his excellent parent. + +After three years spent at Bologna, Petrarch was recalled to France by the +death of his father. Soon after his mother died also, and he and his +brother were left entirely to their own guidance, with very slender means, +and those diminished by the dishonesty of those whom his father named as +trustees to their fortune. Under these circumstances Petrarch entirely +abandoned the profession of the law, as it occurred to both him and his +brother that the clerical profession was their best resource in a city +where the priesthood reigned supreme. They resided at Avignon, and became +the favorites and companions of the ecclesiastical and lay nobles who +formed the papal court. His talents and accomplishments were of course the +cause of this distinction; besides that his personal advantages were such +as to prepossess every one in his favor. He was so handsome as frequently +to attract observation when he passed along the streets. When, to the +utmost simplicity and singleness of mind, were added splendid talents, the +charm of poetry, so highly valued in the country of the Troubadours, an +affectionate and generous disposition, vivacious and pleasing manners, an +engaging and attractive exterior; we cannot wonder that Petrarch was the +darling of his age, the associate of its greatest men, and the man whom +princes delighted to honor. + +The passion of Petrarch for Laura was purified and exalted at the same +time. She filled him with noble aspirations, and divided him from the +common herd. He felt that her influence made him superior to vulgar +ambition, and rendered him wise, true, and great. She saved him in the +dangerous period of youth, and gave a worthy aim to all his endeavors. The +manners of his age permitted one solace; a Platonic attachment was the +fashion of the day. The Troubadours had each a lady to adore, to wait upon, +and to celebrate in song; without its being supposed that she made him any +return beyond a gracious acceptance of his devoirs, and allowing him to +make her the heroine of his verses. Petrarch endeavored to merge the living +passion of his soul into this airy and unsubstantial devotion. Laura +permitted the homage: she perceived his merit and was proud of his +admiration; she felt the truth of his affection, and indulged the wish of +preserving it and her own honor at the same time. Without her +inflexibility, this had been a dangerous experiment: but she always kept +her lover distant from her; rewarding his reserve with smiles, and +repressing by frowns all the overflowings of his heart. + +By her resolute severity, she incurred the danger of ceasing to be the +object of his attachment, and of losing the gift of an immortal name, which +he has conferred upon her. But Petrarch's constancy was proof against +hopelessness and time. He had too fervent an admiration of her qualities +ever to change: he controlled the vivacity of his feelings, and they became +deeper rooted. "Untouched by my prayers," he says, "unvanquished by my +arguments, unmoved by my flattery, she remained faithful to her sex's +honor; she resisted her own young heart, and mine, and a thousand, thousand +things, which must have conquered any other. She remained unshaken. A woman +taught me the duty of a man! to persuade me to keep the path of virtue, her +conduct was at once an example and a reproach." + +But whether, in this long conflict, Laura preserved her heart untouched, as +well as her virtue immaculate; whether she shared the love she inspired; or +whether she escaped from the captivating assiduities and intoxicating +homage of her lover, "fancy free;" whether coldness, or prudence, or pride, +or virtue, or the mere heartless love of admiration, or a mixture of all +together, dictated her conduct, is at least as well worth inquiry as the +color of her eyes, or the form of her nose, upon which we have pages of +grave discussion. She might have been _coquette par instinct_, if not _par +calent_; she might have felt, with feminine _tacte_, that to preserve her +influence over Petrarch, it was necessary to preserve his respect. She was +evidently proud of her conquest: she had else been more or less than woman; +and at every hazard, but that of self-respect, she was resolved to retain +him. If Petrarch absented himself for a few days, he was generally better +treated on his return. If he avoided her, then her eye followed him with a +softer expression. When he looked pale from sickness of heart and agitation +of spirits, Laura would address him with a few words of pitying tenderness. +When he presumed on this benignity, he was again repulsed with frowns. He +flew to solitude,--solitude! Never let the proud and torn heart, wrung with +the sense of injury, and sick with unrequited passion, seek that worst +resource against pain, for there grief grows by contemplating itself, and +every feeling is sharpened by collision. Petrarch sought to "mitigate the +fever of his heart" amid the shades of Vaucluse, a spot so gloomy, and so +solitary, that his very servants forsook him; and Vaucluse, its fountains, +its forests, and its hanging cliffs, reflected only the image of Laura. + +He passed several years thus, cut off from society; his books were his +great resource; he was never without one in his hand. Often he remained in +silence from morning till night, wandering among the hills when the sun was +yet low; and taking refuge, during the heat of the day, in his shady +garden. At night, after performing his clerical duties (for he was canon of +Lombes), he rambled among the hills; often entering, at midnight, the +cavern, whose gloom, even during the day, struck his soul with awe. "Fool +that I was!" he exclaims in after life, "not to have remembered the first +school-boy lesson--that solitude is the nurse of love!" + +While living at Vaucluse, Petrarch, invited to Rome by the Roman Senate, +repaired thither to receive the laurel crown of poesy. The ceremony was +performed in the Capitol with great solemnity, in presence of all the +nobles and high-born ladies of the city. Leaving Rome soon after his +coronation, he repaired to Parma, where Clement VI. rewarded him for +subsequent political services by naming him prior of Migliarino in the +diocese of Pisa. + +Petrarch returned to Avignon. The sight of Laura gave fresh energy to a +passion which had survived the lapse of fifteen years. She was no longer +the blooming girl who had first charmed him. The cares of life had dimmed +her beauty. She was the mother of many children, and had been afflicted at +various times by illness. Her home was not happy. Her husband, without +loving or appreciating her, was ill-tempered and jealous. Petrarch +acknowledged that if her personal charms had been her sole attraction he +had already ceased to love her. But his passion was nourished by sympathy +and esteem; and, above all, by that mysterious tyranny of love, which, +while it exists, the mind of man seems to have no power of resisting, +though in feebler minds it sometimes vanishes like a dream. Petrarch was +also changed in personal appearance. His hair was sprinkled with gray, and +lines of care and sorrow trenched his face. On both sides the tenderness of +affection began to replace, in him the violence of passion, in her the +coyness and severity she had found necessary to check his pursuit. The +jealousy of her husband opposed obstacles to their seeing each other. They +met as they could in public walks and assemblies. Laura sang to him, and a +soothing familiarity grew up between them as her fears became allayed, and +he looked forward to the time when they might sit together and converse +without dread. + +At length he resolved to leave Laura and Avignon forever; and instead of +plunging into solitude, to seek the wiser resource of travel and society. +Laura saw him depart with regret. When he went to take leave of her, he +found her surrounded by a circle of her ladies. Her mien was dejected; a +cloud overcast her face, whose expression seemed to say, "Who takes my +faithful friend from me?" Petrarch was struck to the heart by a sad +presentiment: the emotion was mutual; they both seemed to feel that they +should never meet again. + +Petrarch departed. The plague, which had been extending its ravages over +Asia, entered Europe. It spread far and wide: nearly one half the +population of the world became its prey. Petrarch saw thousands die around +him, and he trembled for his friends. He heard that it was at Avignon. A +thousand sad presentiments haunted his mind. At last the fatal truth +reached him, Laura was dead! By a singular coincidence, she died on the +anniversary of the day when he first saw her. She was taken ill on the +third of April, and languished but three days. As soon as the symptoms of +the plague declared themselves, she prepared to die: she made her will, +which is dated on the third of April, and received the sacraments of the +church. On the sixth she died, surrounded by her friends and the noble +ladies of Avignon, who braved the dangers of infection to attend on one so +lovely and so beloved. On the evening of the same day on which she died, +she was interred in the chapel of the Cross which her husband had lately +built in the church of the Minor Friars at Avignon. + +Her tomb was discovered and opened in 1533, in the presence of Francis the +First, whose celebrated stanzas on the occasion are well known. + +Of the fame which, even in her lifetime, love and poetical adoration of +Petrarch had thrown around his Laura, a curious instance is given which +will characterize the manners of the age. When Charles of Luxembourg +(afterwards Emperor) was at Avignon, a grand fete was given, in his honor, +at which all the noblesse were present. He desired that Petrarch's Laura +should be pointed out to him; and when she was introduced, he made a sign +with his hand that the other ladies present should fall back; then going up +to Laura, and for a moment contemplating her with interest, he kissed her +respectively on the forehead and on the eyelids. + +Petrarch survived her twenty-six years, dying in 1374. He was found +lifeless one morning in his study, his hand resting on a book. + + + + +THE KING AND OUTLAW. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. + + + Robin Hood was a gentleman, + An outlaw bold was he; + He lost his Earldom and his land, + And took to the greenwood tree. + + The king had just come home from war + With the Soldan over sea; + And Robin dwelt in merry Sherwood, + And lived by archerie. + + Five bucks as fat as fat could be, + Were bleeding on the ground, + When up there came a hunter bright, + With a horn and leashed hound. + + "Who's this, who's this, i' th' merry greenwood? + Who's this with horn and hound? + We'll hang him, an' he pay not down + For his life a thousand pound. + + "Come hither, hither, Friar John, + And count your rosarie, + And shrive this sinful gentleman, + Under the greenwood tree!" + + "Stand back, stand back, thou wicked Friar, + Nor dare to stop my way; + I'll tear your cowl and cassock off, + And hurl your beads away!" + + "Nay! hold your hands, my merry man! + I like his gallant mood; + Sir Hunter pray you take a staff, + And play with Robin Hood." + + They played an hour with quarter staffs, + A good long hour or more, + And Robin Hood was beat at the game, + That never was beat before. + + "Hold off, hold off," he said at length, + And wiped the blood away; + "Thou art a noble gentleman, + Come dine with me to-day." + + "With the quarter staff, as a yeoman might, + For love I played with thee; + Now draw thy sword, as fits a knight, + And play awhile with me." + + They fought an hour with rapiers keen, + A weary hour or more, + And Robin Hood began to fail, + That never failed before. + + But still he fought as best he might, + In the summer's burning heat, + Till he sank at last with loss of blood, + And fell at the Stranger's feet. + + He brought him water from the spring, + And took him by the hand; + "Rise up!" he said, "my good old Earl, + The best man in the land! + + "Rise up, rise up, Earl Huntington, + No longer Robin Hood; + I will be king in London town, + And you in green Sherwood!" + + + + +SAINT ESCARPACIO'S BONES. + +TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE. + + +Upon a fine May morning in the year 1585, a Spanish vessel lay at anchor in +the Port of St. Jago, in the island of Cuba. She was about to sail for +Cadiz, the passengers were on board, and the sailors at their several +stations, awaiting the word of command. The captain, a small, tight-built, +shrewd-looking man, with the voice and manner of a naval officer, which, +indeed, he had formerly been, was brave and experienced, and although +somewhat wild and daring, he was a good fellow at heart, but now and then +violent and headstrong to a fault, in short, Captain Perez was the terror +of his men. + +He was walking the deck with rapid strides, and exhibiting the greatest +impatience, now stopping to observe the direction of the wind, and casting +a glance at the shore, then resuming his walk with a preliminary stamp of +disappointment and vexation; no one, in the meanwhile, daring to ask why he +delayed getting under way. + +At length strains of church music at a distance are heard on board the +vessel, and all eyes are directed to the shore. A long procession of monks, +holding crosses and lighted wax tapers, and singing, is seen approaching +the beach opposite the vessel. The procession moves slowly and solemnly to +the cadence of the music. Between two rows of monks dressed in deep black +is a coffin richly decorated with all the symbols of the Catholic faith, +and covered with garlands and chaplets, and, what is singular, the coffin +is carried with difficulty by six stout negroes. Four venerable Jesuits +support the corners of the pall, and, immediately behind the coffin, walks +alone, with a grave and dignified step, the Right Reverend Father Antonio, +superior of the Jesuit missionaries of the island of Cuba. An immense crowd +of citizens, the garrison of the island, and the military and civil +authorities, piously form the escort. + +Suddenly the singing ceases, the procession halts, the coffin is placed on +elevated supporters. Father Antonio approaches it, and, kissing the pall +with reverence, exclaims, with a solemnity befitting the occasion, + +"Adieu! Saint Escarpacio, thou worthy model of our order, adieu! In +separating myself from thy holy remains, I fulfil thy last wishes; may they +piously repose in our happy Spain, and may thy saintly vows and aspirations +be thus accomplished. But before their departure from our shores, we +conjure thee, holy saint, to look down from thy holy place of rest in +heaven, and deign to bless this people, and us, thy mourning friends on +earth." + +The whole assembly then knelt upon the ground, after which the negroes, +resuming their heavy burden, carried it on board a boat, closely followed +by Father Antonio. With vigorous rowing the boat soon reached the vessel's +side, and the coffin was hoisted on board. + +"You are very late, reverend father," said Captain Perez, "and you know +_wind and tide wait for no man_. I ought to have been far on my way long +before this hour." + +"We could not get ready sooner, my son," the holy father replied, "but fear +not, God will reward you for the delay, and these precious remains will +speed you on your voyage. I hope you have made your own private cabin, as +you promised, worthy of their reception?" + +"Yes, certainly, I have." + +"You must not for a moment lose sight of the coffin." + +"Make yourself easy on that point, holy father; I shall watch over it as if +it were my own. Hollo there forward, bear a hand aft," the captain cried. + +Four sailors place themselves at the corners of the coffin, but they can +hardly raise it from the deck; two more are called, and the six, bending +under its weight, succeed in carrying it down into the cabin, followed by +the Captain and by Father Antonio. + +When the coffin was properly bestowed, the reverend father addressed +Captain Perez in the most earnest and solemn manner: + +"I hope you will be found worthy of the great confidence and trust I now +repose in you. These precious remains should occupy your every moment, and +you will sacredly and faithfully account to me for their safety--the +smallest negligence will cost you dear. On your arrival at Cadiz, you will +deliver the coffin to none other than Father Hieronimo, and not to him +even, unless he shall first place in your hands a letter from me--you +understand my instructions and commands? Now depart, and may God speed you +on your way." + +Father Antonio then came upon deck, and bestowed his benediction upon the +vessel, and upon all it contained; after which, descending to the boat, he +was rowed to the shore. As he placed himself at the head of the procession, +the singing recommenced, the anchor was weighed, and, to the sound of +music, the cheering of the people, and the roar of cannon, the vessel moved +slowly on her destined voyage. + +When fairly at sea, the wind was favorable, and all went well. The second +evening out, Captain Perez was alone in his private cabin, and in a +contemplative mood, when the feeble light of the single lamp glancing +across the coffin, as the vessel rocked from side to side, attracted his +attention, and led him to think about the singularity of its great weight. + +"It is very strange," he said musingly, "six stout fellows to carry a man's +dry bones!--it cannot be possible. But what does the coffin contain if it +does not contain the saint's bones? Father Antonio was very, _very_ +particular. I should really like to know what there is in the coffin. It +took a good half dozen strong healthy negroes, and then as many sailors, to +carry it: what can there be in the coffin? Why, after all, I _can_ know if +I please. I have but to take out a few screws, it can be done without the +slightest noise, and I am alone, and the cabin door is easily fastened." + +Suiting the action to his soliloquy, he bolted the door of the cabin, took +from his tool-chest a screw-driver, and, after a moment's indecision, began +cautiously to loosen one of the screws in the lid of the coffin, his hands +all the while trembling violently. + +"If," thought he, "I am committing a heinous sin, if the saint should start +up, and if, in his anger, he should in some appalling manner punish my +sacrilegious meddling with his bones?" + +A cold sweat overspread his bronzed visage, and he stood still a moment, +hesitating as to whether he should go on. But curiosity conquered, and he +rallied his energies with the reflection, that if he opened the coffin, +Saint Escarpacio himself well knew it was only to find out what made his +bones so heavy; there could be no impiety in that--quite the contrary. His +conscience was by this time somewhat fortified, his superstitious fears +gradually grew fainter, and keeping his eyes steadily fixed upon the lid of +the coffin--to be sure the saint did not stir--he slowly and silently took +out the first screw. He then stopped short: the saint showed no signs of +anger. + +"I knew it," said Perez, going to work more boldly upon the second screw, +"I knew there was nothing sinful in opening the coffin, for the sin lies in +the intention." + +All the screws were soon drawn out, and to gratify his curiosity it only +remained to raise the coffin lid, and here his heart beat violently--but +courage--Perez did raise the lid, _and, and, he saw--no saint, but hay--the +hay is carefully removed--then strips of linen--they are removed--then hay +again, but no saint, nothing like the bone of a saint--but a wooden box_. + +"Well, that is odd," thought Perez, "and what can there be in it? I must +open the box, but how? there is no key, what is to be done? Shall I force +the lock, or break the cover of the box? Either attempt would make a noise, +which the passengers or sailors might hear, but what is to be done? Good +Saint Escarpacio, take pity on me, and direct me how to open the box," +whispered Perez, and there was perhaps a little irony in the supplication. + +In feeling among the hay surrounding the box, Perez found a key at one of +its corners secured by a small iron chain. + +"Ah! ha! I have it at last" Perez cried, "_the key, the key_," and quickly +putting it into the key-hole, he opened the Box--and he saw--what? +_Leathern bags filled to the top_ according to the beautifully written +tickets, with GOLD PISTOLES--SILVER CROWNS, closely ranged in shining +piles--all in the most perfect order. "But what is this? a letter? I must +read it," exclaimed the excited Perez--"_by your leave, gentle wax_," and +he tears the letter open. It began thus: + +"Father Antonio, of Cuba, to the reverend fathers in Cadiz, greeting. + +"As agreed between us, Most Reverend Fathers, I send you THREE HUNDRED +THOUSAND LIVRES, in the name, and under the semblance of Father Escarpacio, +whose bones I am supposed to be sending to Spain. The annexed memorandum of +accounts will show that this sum comprises the whole of our little +gleanings and savings up to this time, for the benefit of our Holy Order. +You will pardon I am sure this innocent artifice on our part, Most Reverend +Fathers, as it will prove a safeguard to the treasure, and avoid awakening +the avarice and cupidity of the person to whom I am obliged to intrust it. +(Signed) ANTONIO, of Cuba." + +"Three hundred thousand livres! there are, then, three hundred thousand +livres," exclaimed Perez in amazement, as he realized that this immense sum +lay in real gold and silver coin before his eyes. "Oh, reverend, right +reverend and worthy fellows of the crafty Ignatius! you are indeed cunning +foxes! a hundred to one your trick was not discovered, for who but a Jesuit +could have imagined it, and who could have guessed that the coffin +contained _money_? And so these bags of gold are your _holy remains_, and I +too, old sea shark as I am, to be humbugged like a land lubber, with your +procession and your mummery--but I am deceived no longer, my eyes are +opened; and by my patron saint, trick for trick my pious masters--bones you +shall have, and burn me for a heretic, if you get any thing better than +bones;" and he began to untie and examine the contents of the money-bags. +"Let me consider" said he, "I want some bones, and where the devil shall I +find them?" + +He was on his knees, his body bent over the box, with his hands in the open +gold-bags. His agitated countenance expressed with energy the mingled +emotions, of desire to keep the rich booty all to himself, and of fear that +in some mysterious manner it might elude his grasp--but he must, he _must_ +have it. + +"A lucky thought strikes me," said he; "what a fool I am to give myself any +trouble about it. What says my bill of lading? '_Received from the Reverend +Father Antonio, a coffin containing bones, said to be those of Saint +Escarpacio._' A coffin containing bones, said to be those, &c.--very good, +and have I seen the bones, _said_ to be delivered to me, and _said_ to be +the saint's bones? certainly not, and the coffin might contain--any thing +else--_the said coffin containing_--what you please--how should I know? +_said to be the bones of Saint Escarpacio_," &c. &c. + +In short, Captain Perez began noiselessly and methodically to empty the box +of its bags of gold and piles of silver, taking care to stow the treasure +away in a chest, to which he alone had access. He then filled the box with +whatever was at hand, bits of rusty iron, lead, stones, shells, old junk, +hay, &c., substituting as nearly as possible pound for pound in weight if +not in value, conscientiously adding some bones which were far removed from +_canonisation_, and at last carefully screwing down the lid, the right +reverend father Antonio himself, had he been on board, could not have +discovered that the coffin had been touched by mortal hand. + +In about a month the vessel arrived at the port of Cadiz. The quarantine +for some unexplained reason was much shorter than usual, and had hardly +expired, when a venerable Jesuit was the first person who stood before the +captain, a few minutes only after he had taken possession of his lodgings +on shore. + +"I would speak with Captain Perez," said the Jesuit, gravely. + +"I am he," the captain replied, somewhat disconcerted at the abruptness of +the inquiry. Quickly recovering his presence of mind, however, he added, +with perfect calmness, "You have probably come, holy father, to take charge +of the precious remains intrusted to my care by Father Antonio, of Cuba?" +The Jesuit bowed his head, in token of assent. + +"And I have the honor of addressing Father Hieronimo?" + +"You have," was the reply. + +"You are no doubt the bearer of a letter for me, from Father Antonio?" + +"Here it is," said Father Hieronimo, handing Captain Perez a letter. + +"I beg a thousand pardons, holy father," the captain said, with much +humility, "but I hope you will not take offence at these necessary +precautions?" + +"On the contrary they speak in your favor." + +"I see all is right," said the captain, "and I will go myself and order the +coffin brought on shore." + +The captain went immediately on board, Father Hieronimo meanwhile placing +himself at an open window whence he could over-look the vessel and watch +every movement. The coffin was brought on shore by eight sailors, who, +bending under its weight, slowly approach the captain's quarters. + +"How heavy it is, how _very_ heavy," said the Jesuit, rubbing his hands in +exultation. + +Captain Perez had of course accompanied the coffin from the vessel, and now +that he was about to deliver it into Father Hieronimo's keeping, he said to +him, in a solemn and impressive manner, + +"I place in your hands, holy father, the precious remains intrusted to my +care." + +"I receive them with pious joy." + +"The responsibility was great." + +"It will henceforth be mine." + +"It was a precious treasure." + +"Very precious." + +"I have watched over it with vigilance." + +"God will reward you." + +"I hope so." + +"From this hour every thing will prosper with you." + +"Do you think so, holy father?" + +"I am sure of it. I must now bid you adieu." + +"You have forgotten, holy father, to give me a receipt; but if--" + +"You are right," said the Jesuit, "it had escaped me." And he seated +himself at a table on which lay writing materials, first sending a servant +for his carriage. + +The receipt spoke of the piety and zeal of Captain Perez in the most +flattering terms; and, while the captain was reading it with becoming +humility, the carriage drew up opposite to the coffin, which was soon +resting upon the cushioned seats within the vehicle. + +"I go immediately to Madrid," said Father Hieronimo. "You can no doubt +imagine the impatience of the holy fathers to possess the sacred relics; +they have waited so long. Once more adieu, believe me we shall never forget +you." + +With these words, and a parting benediction on Perez, Father Hieronimo +stepped into the carriage, and, with his holy remains by his side, started +at a brisk trot of his well-fed mules on the road to Madrid. When fairly +out of sight and hearing of Captain Perez, the good father laughed aloud. +"The captain, poor simple soul," said he, "suspects nothing." + +And Perez, he too would have laughed aloud if he had dared; indeed he could +with difficulty restrain himself in presence of his crew. "The crafty old +fox," he said exultingly, "he has got his holy remains--ha! ha!--and he +_suspects nothing_." + +A day or two after the delivery of the coffin, Captain Perez sailed for +Mexico. + +After an interval of ten years, during which period, according to the +Jesuit's prediction, prosperity had constantly waited upon Perez, he became +weary of successful enterprise, and tired of the roving and laborious life +he was leading. Worth a million, and a bachelor, he wisely resolved to give +the remainder of his days to enjoyment. Seville was judiciously selected +for his residence, where a magnificent mansion, extensive grounds, a well +furnished cellar, good cooks, chosen friends, with all the other et ceteras +which riches can bring, enabled him to pass his days and nights joyously. +Captain Perez was indeed a _happy dog_. + +One night he was at table, surrounded by his friends of both sexes. The +cook had done his duty; there were excellent fruits from the tropics; there +were wines in abundance and variety, and with songs and laughter the very +windows rattled, when Perez, the jolly Perez, _half seas over_, begged a +moment's silence. + +"I say, my worthy friends, I have something to tell you better than all +your singing. I must tell you a story that will make you split your +sides--a real good one, about a capital trick I served them poor devils the +Jesuits. You must know I was lying at anchor in Cuba, and--" + +Suddenly the door of the apartment is thrown open with great violence, and +a monk, clothed in deep black, enters, followed by a guard of _alguazils_ +armed to the teeth. + +"Profane impious wretches!" he cried, in a voice of appalling harshness, +"is it thus you do penance for your sins? Is it in riotous feasting and +drunkenness you spend the holy season of Lent?" Then, turning to Captain +Perez, he said, "Follow me to the palace of the Holy Inquisition. Before +that tribunal you must answer for your sacrilegious conduct." + +The guests were stupefied with fear, and Perez, now completely sobered, +stared in affright at the monk. + +"Do you recollect me, Captain Perez?" said the monk. + +"No--but--it appears to me I have somewhere seen--" + +"I am Father Antonio, of Cuba," cried the monk, fixing his eyes, sparkling +with savage fury, upon Perez. + +"And you are a member of the Holy Inquisition?" Perez faltered out in +trembling accents. + +"I am. Again I say, follow me on the instant." + +Poor Captain Perez, or rather rich Captain Perez, at the early day in which +he lived had, perhaps, never heard the avowal made by a man who, in +speaking of honesty and dishonesty, declared _honesty to be the best +policy, for_, said he, _I have tried both_. + +That the captain was not born to be hanged is certain; and although from +childhood a sojourner upon the ocean, it was not his destiny to be drowned. +There is a tradition handed down, that had it not been for very +considerable donations, under his hand and seal, to a religious community +in Spain, a method of bidding adieu to this life more in accordance with +the pious notions prevalent three hundred years ago, would certainly have +been chosen for our hero. Indeed, there were not wanting many +heretic-hating persons who affirmed that an _auto-da-fe_ was got up +expressly for the occasion. But we have ascertained beyond a doubt that he +reformed in his manner of living, that he secured to the Holy Order the +donations already mentioned, that the reverend fathers kindly took from his +legal heirs all trouble in the division of his riches, and that he died in +his bed at last, as a pious Catholic should die, and was buried in +consecrated ground, with every rite and ceremony belonging to the community +he had so munificently contributed to enrich. + + + + +DIRGE FOR AN INFANT. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. + + + He is dead and gone--a flower + Born and withered in an hour. + Coldly lies the death-frost now + On his little rounded brow; + And the seal of darkness lies + Ever on his shrouded eyes. + He will never feel again + Touch of human joy or pain; + Never will his once-bright eyes + Open with a glad surprise; + Nor the death-frost leave his brow-- + All is over with him now. + + Vacant now his cradle-bed, + As a nest from whence hath fled + Some dear little bird, whose wings + Rest from timid flutterings. + Thrown aside the childish rattle, + Hushed for aye the infant prattle-- + Little broken words that could + By none else be understood + Save the childless one that weeps + O'er the grave where now he sleeps. + Closed his eyes, and cold his brow-- + All is over with him now! + + R. S. CHILTON. + + + + +THE CHIMES. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. BY E.W. ELLSWORTH. + + + It was evening in New England, + And the air was all in tune, + As I sat at an open window, + In the emerald month of June. + + From the maples by the roadway, + The robins sang in pairs, + Listening and then responding, + Each to the other's airs. + + Sounds of calm that wrought the feeling + Of the murmur of a shell, + Of the drip of a lifted bucket + In a wide and quiet well. + + And I thought of the airs of bargemen, + Who tunefully recline, + As they float by Ehrenbreitstein, + In the twilight of the Rhine. + + And then of an eve in Venice, + And the song of the gondolier, + From the far lagunes replying + To the winged lion pier. + + And then of the verse of Milton, + And the music heard to rise, + Through the solemn night from angels + Stationed in Paradise. + + Thus I said it is with music, + Wheresoe'er at random thrown, + It will seek its own responses, + It is loth to die alone. + + Thus I said the poet's music, + Though a lovely native air, + May appeal unto a rhythm + That is native everywhere. + + For although in scope of feeling, + Human hearts are far apart, + In the depths of every bosom, + Beats the universal heart; + + Beats with wide accordant motion, + And the chimes among the towers + Of the grandest of God's temples + Seem as if they might be ours. + + And we grow in such a seeming, + Till indeed we may control + To an echo, our communion + With the good and grand in soul. + + As an echo in a valley + May revive a cadence there, + Of a bell that may be swaying + In a lofty Alpine air. + + As a screen of tremulous metal, + From the rolling organ tone, + Rings out to a note of the music + That can never be its own. + + As an earnest artist ponders + On a study nobly wrought, + Till his fingers gild his canvas + With a touch of the self-same thought. + + But the sun had now descended + Far along his cloudy stairs, + And the night had come like the angels + To Abraham, unawares. + + + + +A STORY WITHOUT A NAME.[2] + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ. + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +Mrs. Hazleton fancied herself in high good luck; for just as she was +passing through the door into the hall, Lady Hastings' maid crossed and +made her a curtsey. Mrs. Hazleton beckoned her up, saying in a quiet, easy, +every-day tone, "I suppose your lady is awake by this time?" + +"No, madam," replied the maid, "she is asleep still. She did not take her +nap as early as usual to-day; for Mistress Emily was with her, and my lady +would not go to sleep till she went out to take a walk." + +Mrs. Hazleton was somewhat alarmed at this intelligence; for she had not +much confidence in her good friend's discretion. "How is Miss Emily?" she +said in a tender tone. "She seemed very sad and low when last I saw her." + +"She is just the same, Madam," replied the maid. "She did not seem very +cheerful when she went out, and has been crying a good deal to-day." + +Mrs. Hazleton was better satisfied, and paused for an instant to think; but +the maid interrupted her cogitations by saying--"I think I may wake my lady +now, if you please to come up, Madam." + +"Oh, dear, no," replied Mrs. Hazleton. "Do not wake her. I will go in +quietly and sit with her till she wakes naturally. It is a pity to deprive +her of one moment's calm sleep. You needn't come, you needn't come. I will +ring for you when your mistress wakes;" and she quietly ascended the +stairs, though the maid offered some civil remonstrances to her undertaking +the task of watching by her sleeping mistress. + +The most careful affection could not have prompted greater precautions in +opening the door of the sick lady's chamber, than those which were taken by +Mrs. Hazleton. It was a good solid door, however, well seasoned, and well +hung, and moved upon its hinges without noise. She closed it with the same +care, and then with a soft tread glided up to the side of the bed. + +Lady Hastings was sleeping profoundly and quietly; and as she lay in an +attitude of easy grace, a shadow of her youthful beauty seemed to have +returned, and all the traces of after cares and anxiety were banished for +the time. On the table, near the bed-head, stood the vial of medicine, with +the glass and spoon; and Mrs. Hazleton eyed it for a moment or two without +touching it. She saw that she had hit the color exactly; but the quantity +in that vial, and the one she had with her, was somewhat different. She +felt puzzled and doubtful. She asked herself--"Would the difference be +discovered when the time came for giving her the medicine?" and a certain +degree of trepidation seized her. But she was bold, and said to +herself--"They will never see it. They suspect nothing. They will never see +it." She took the vial from her pocket, and held it for an instant or two +in her hand. Again a doubt and hesitation took possession of her. She gazed +at the sleeper with a haggard eye. The face was so calm, so sweet, so +gentle in expression, that the pleasant look perhaps did move her a little +with remorse. The voice within said again, and again, "Forbear!" She tried +to deafen herself against it, or to fill the ear of conscience with +delusive sounds. "She is dying," she said--"She will die--she cannot +recover. It is but taking away a few short hours, in order to stop that +fatal marriage, which shall never be. I am becoming a fool--a weak +irresolute fool." + +Just as she thus thought, Lady Hastings moved uneasily, as if to wake from +her slumber. That moment was decisive. With a hurried hand, and quick as +light, Mrs. Hazleton changed the two vials, and concealed the one which she +had taken away. + +Then it was, probably for the first time, that all the awful consequences +of the deed, for time and for eternity, flashed upon her. The scales fell +from her eyes: no longer passion, or mortified vanity, or irritated pride, +or disappointed love, distorted the objects or concealed their forms. She +stood there consciously a murderer. She trembled in every limb; and, unable +to support herself, sunk down in the chair that stood near. + +Had Lady Hastings slept on, Mrs. Hazleton would have been saved; for her +impulse was immediately to reverse the very act she had done--all would +have been saved--all to whom that act brought wretchedness. But the +movement of the chair--the sound of the vial touching the marble table--the +rustle of the thick silk--dispelled what remained of slumber, and Lady +Hastings opened her eyes drowsily, and looked round. At the very moment she +would have given worlds to recall it. The deed became irrevocable. The +barrier of Fate fell: it was amongst the things done; it was written in the +book of God as a great crime committed. Nothing remained but to insure, +that the end she aimed at would be obtained; that the evil consequences, in +this world at least, should be averted from herself. There was a terrible +struggle to recover her self-command--a wrestling of the spirit--against +the turbulent and fierce emotions which shook the body. She was still much +agitated when Lady Hastings recognized her and began to speak; but her +determination was taken to obtain the utmost that she could from the act +she had committed--to have the full price of her crime. She was no Judas +Iscariot, to be content with the thirty pieces of silver for the innocent +blood, and then hang herself in despair. Oh no! She had sold her own soul, +and she would have its price. + +But yet, as I have said, the struggle was terrible, and lasted longer than +usual with her. + +"Dear me, my kind friend, is that you?" said Lady Hastings. "Have you been +here long? I did not hear you come in." + +Her words, and her tone, were gentle and affectionate. All the coldness and +the sharpness of the preceding day seemed to have passed away, and to have +been forgotten; but words and tone were equally jarring to the feelings of +Mrs. Hazleton. The sharpest language, the most angry manner, would have +been a relief to her. They would have afforded her some sort of +strength--some sort of support. + +It is painful enough to hear sweet music when we are very sad. I have known +it rise almost to agony; but the tones of friendship and regard, of +gentleness and tender kindness, to the ear of hatred and malice, must be +more terrible still. + +"I have been here but a moment," said Mrs. Hazleton, gloomily--almost +peevishly. "I suppose it was my coming in woke you; but I am sure I made as +little noise as possible." + +"Why, what is the matter?" said Lady Hastings. "You look quite pale and +agitated, and you speak quite crossly." + +"Your sudden waking startled me," said Mrs. Hazleton; "and, besides, you +looked so ill, my dear friend. I almost thought you were dead till you +began to move." + +There was malice in the sentence, simple as it seemed, and it had its +effect. Nervous, hypochondriac, Lady Hastings was frightened at the mere +sound, and her heart beat strangely at the very thought of being supposed +dead. It seemed to her to augur that she was very ill; that she was much +worse than her friends allowed her to believe; that they anticipated her +speedy dissolution, and she remained silent and sad for several minutes, +giving Mrs. Hazleton time to recover herself completely. She was a little +piqued too at the abruptness of Mrs. Hazleton's manner. Neither the speech, +nor the mode, nor the speaker, pleased her; and she replied at +length--"Nevertheless, I feel a good deal better to-day. I have slept well +for, I dare say, a couple of hours; and my dear child Emily has been with +me all the morning. I must say she bears opposition and contradiction very +sweetly." + +She knew that would not please Mrs. Hazleton, and she laid some emphasis on +the words by way of retaliation. It was petty, but it was quite in her +character. "Now I think of it," she added, "you promised to tell me what +you discovered in regard to Marlow's relationship to Lord Launceston. I +find--but never mind. Tell me what you have found out." + +Mrs. Hazleton hesitated. The first impulse was to tell a lie--to assert +that Marlow was not the old earl's heir; but there was something in Lady +Hastings' manner which made her suspect that she had received more certain +information, and she made up her mind to speak the truth. + +"It is very true," she said; "Mr. Marlow is the old lord's nearest male +relation, and heir to his title. I suspect," she added with a silly +sounding laugh, "you have found this out yourself, my dear friend, and have +made your peace with Emily, by withdrawing your opposition to her +marriage." + +Her heart was very bitter at that moment; for she really did suspect all +that she said. The idea presented itself to her mind (producing a feeling +of fierce disappointment), of all her efforts being rendered fruitless, her +dark schemes frustrated, her cunning contrivances without effect, at the +very moment when the crime, by which she proposed to insure success, was so +far consummated as to be beyond recall. She was relieved on that score in a +moment. + +"Oh dear no," cried Lady Hastings. "I promised you, my dear friend, that I +would say nothing till I saw you, and I have said nothing either to my +husband or Emily. But I will of course now tell her all immediately, and I +do confess it will give me greater satisfaction than any act of my whole +life, to withdraw the opposition to her marriage which has made her so +miserable, and to bid her be happy with the man of her own choice--an +excellent good young man he is too. He has been laboring, I find, for the +last fortnight or three weeks, night and day, in our service, and has +detected the horrible conspiracy by which my husband was deprived of his +rights and property. I shall tell Emily, with great joy, as soon as ever +she comes back, that were it for nothing but this zeal in our cause, I +would receive him joyfully as my son-in-law." + +"You had better wait till to-morrow morning," said Mrs. Hazleton, in a cold +but significant tone. + +"Oh dear no," said Lady Hastings, somewhat petulantly, "I have waited quite +long enough--perhaps too long. You surely would not have me protract my +child's anxiety and sorrow unnecessarily. No, I will tell her the moment +she returns. She read me part of a letter from Marlow to-day, which shows +me that he has lost no time in seeking to serve us and make us happy, and I +will lose no time in making my child and him happy also." + +"As you please," replied Mrs. Hazleton; "I only thought that in this +changeable world, there are so many unexpected things occurring between one +day and another, it might be well for you to pause and consider a +little--in order, I mean, that after-thought may not show you reason to +withdraw your consent, as you now withdraw your objection." + +"My consent once given, shall never be withdrawn," replied Lady Hastings, +in a determined tone. + +Mrs. Hazleton looked at the vial by the bedside, and then at her watch. +"You had better avoid all agitation," she said, "and at all events before +you speak with Emily, take a dose of the medicine, which Short tells me he +has given you to soothe and calm your spirits--shall I give you one now?" + +"No, I thank you," replied Lady Hastings, briefly; "not at present." + +"Is it not the time?" said Mrs. Hazleton, looking at her watch again: "the +good man told me you were to take it very regularly." + +"But he told me," replied Lady Hastings, "that nobody was to give it to me +but Emily, and she will be back at the right time, I am sure. What o'clock +is it?" + +"Past five," replied Mrs. Hazleton, advancing the hour a little. + +"Then it wants three quarters of an hour to the time," said Lady Hastings, +"and Emily has only gone to take a walk. We are expecting Marlow to-night, +so she will not go far I am sure." + +Mrs. Hazleton fell into profound thought. In proposing to give Lady +Hastings the portion herself, she had deviated a little from her original +plan. She had intended all along, that the mortal draught should be +administered by the hand of Emily, and she had only been tempted to depart +from that purpose by the fear of Lady Hastings withdrawing her opposition +to her daughter's marriage with Marlow before the deed was fully +accomplished. There was no help for it, however. She was obliged to take +her chance of the result; and while she mused at that moment, vague +notions--what shall I call them?--not exactly schemes or purposes, but +rather dreams of turning suspicion upon Emily herself, of making men +believe--suspect, even if they could not prove--that the daughter knowingly +deprived the mother of life, crossed her imagination. She meditated rather +longer than was quite decorous, and then suddenly recollecting herself she +said, "By the way, has Emily yet condescended to particularize her +astounding charges against your poor friend? I am really anxious to hear +them, and although I confess that the matter has afforded me some +amusement, it has brought painful feelings and doubts with it too. I have +sometimes fancied, my dear friend, that there is a slight aberration in +your poor Emily's mind, and I can account for her conduct in this instance +by no other mode. You know her grandfather, Sir John, had moments when he +was hardly sane. I have heard your own good father declare upon one +occasion, that Sir John was as mad as a lunatic. Tell me then, has Emily +brought forward any proofs, or alluded to these accusations since I saw +you? You said she would explain all in a few hours." + +"She has not as yet explained all," replied Lady Hastings, "but I cannot +deny that she has alluded to the charges, and repeated them all +distinctly. She said that the delay had been rather longer than she +expected; but that as soon as Mr. Dixwell came, every thing should be +told." + +"The suspense is unpleasant," said Mrs. Hazleton, somewhat sarcastically; +"I trust the young lady does not play with the feelings of her lover as she +does with those of her friends, otherwise I should pity Marlow." + +Lady Hastings was a good deal nettled. "I do not think he much deserves +your pity," she replied; "and besides, I think he is quite satisfied with +Emily's conduct, as I am also. I am quite confident she has good reason for +what she says, my dear Madam--not that I mean to assert that the charges +are true, by any means--she may be mistaken, you know--she may be +misinformed--but that she brings them in good faith, and fully believes +that she can prove them distinctly, I do not for a moment doubt. If she is +wrong, nobody will be more grieved, or more ready to make atonement than +herself; but whether she is right or wrong, remains to be proved." + +"All that I have to request then is," said Mrs. Hazleton, "that you will be +kind enough to let me know, immediately you are yourself informed, what are +the specific charges, and upon what grounds they rest. That they must be +false, I know; and therefore I shall give myself no uneasiness about them. +All I regret is, that you should be troubled about what must be frivolous +and absurd. Nevertheless, I must beg you to let me hear immediately." + +"Sir Philip will do that," replied Lady Hastings, coldly. "If Emily is +right in her views, the matter will require the intervention of a man. It +will be too serious for a woman to deal with." + +"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Hazleton, with an air of offended dignity. "Good +morning, my dear Lady;" and she quitted the room. + +She paused upon the broad staircase for two or three minutes, leaning upon +the balustrade in deep thought; but when she descended to the hall, she +asked a servant who stood there if Mistress Emily had returned. The man +replied in the negative, and she then inquired for Sir Philip, asking to +see him. + +The servant said he was in his library, and proceeded to announce her. She +followed him so closely as to enter the room almost at the same moment, and +beheld Sir Philip Hastings, with his head leaning on his hand, sitting at +the table and gazing earnestly down upon it. There was a book before him, +but it was closed. + +"I beg pardon for intruding, my dear sir," said Mrs. Hazleton, "but I +wished to ask if you know where Emily is. I want to speak with her." + +"I know nothing about her," said Sir Philip, abruptly; and then muttered to +himself, "would I knew more." + +"I thought I saw her in the fields as I came," said Mrs. Hazleton, +"gathering flowers and herbs--she is fond of botany, I believe." + +"I know not," said Sir Philip, recovering himself a little. "Pray be +seated. Madam--I have not attended much to her studies lately." + +"Thank you, I must go," said Mrs. Hazleton. "Perhaps I shall meet her as I +drive along. Do not let me interrupt you, do not let me interrupt you;" and +she quietly quitted the room. + +"Gathering herbs!" said Sir Philip Hastings, "what new whim is this?" + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +Emily Hastings was not three hundred yards from the house when Mrs. +Hazleton drove away from the house door. She had never been more than three +hundred yards from it during that day. She had gathered no herbs, she had +wandered through no fields; but, at her mother's earnest request, she had +gone out to breathe the fresh air for half an hour, and had ascended +through the gardens to a little terrace on the hill, where she had +continued to walk up and down under the shade of some tall trees; had seen +Mrs. Hazleton arrive, and saw her depart. The scene which the terrace +commanded was very beautiful in itself, and the house below, the +well-cultivated gardens, a fountain here and there, neat hedge-rows, and +trim, well-ordered fields, gave the whole an air of home comfort, and +peaceful affluence, such as few countries but England can display. + +I have shown, or should have shown, that Emily was somewhat of an +impressible character, and the brightness and the pleasant character of the +scene had its usual effect in cheering. Certainly, to any one who had stood +near her, looking over even that fair prospect, she herself would have been +the loveliest object in it. Every year had brought out some new beauty in +her face, and without diminishing one charm of extreme youth, had expanded +her fair form into womanly richness. The contour of every limb was perfect: +the whole in symmetry complete; and her movements, as she walked to and +fro, upon the terrace, were all full of that easy, floating grace, which +requires a combination of youth and health, and fine proportion, and a +pure, high mind. If there was a defect it was that she was somewhat pale +that day; for she had not slept at all during the preceding night from +agitated feelings, and busy thoughts that would not rest. But the slight +degree of languor, which watching and anxiety had given, was not without +its own peculiar charm, and the liquid brightness of her eyes seemed but +the more dazzling for the drooping of the eyelid, with its long sweeping +fringe. + +There was a mixture, too, strange as it may seem to say so, of sadness and +cheerfulness, in the expression of her face that day--perhaps I should say +an alternation of the two expressions; but the change from the one to the +other was too rapid for distinctness; and the well of feelings from which +the expressions flowed, was of very mingled waters. The scene of death and +suffering which she had lately witnessed at the cottage, her father's wild +and gloomy manner, her mother's sickness, the displeasure of one parent, +however unjust, and the opposition of another, to her dearest wishes, +however unreasonable, naturally produced anxiety and sadness. But then +again, on the other hand, Marlow's letter had cheered and comforted her +much; the prospect of seeing him so speedily, rejoiced her more than she +had even anticipated, and the certainty that a few short hours would remove +for ever all doubts as to her conduct, her thoughts and her feelings, from +the mind of both her parents, and especially from that of her father, gave +her strength and happy confidence. + +Poor Emily! How lovely she looked as she walked along there with the ever +varying expressions fluttering over her face, and her rich nut brown hair, +free and uncovered, floating in curls on the sportive breath of the breeze. + +When first she came out the general tone of her feelings was sad; but the +bright hopes seemed to gain vigor in the open air, and her mind fixed more +and more gladly on the theme of Marlow's letter. As it did so she extracted +fresh motives of comfort from it. He had given her many details in regard +to his late proceedings. He had openly and plainly spoken of the conduct of +Mrs. Hazleton, and told her he could prove the facts which he asserted. He +had not even hinted at an injunction to secrecy, and although her first +impulse had been to wait for his arrival and let him explain the whole +himself, yet, as it was now getting late in the day, and he had not +come--as the obligation to secrecy, laid upon her by John Ayliffe, might +not be removed till the following morning, and her mother was evidently +anxious and uneasy for want of all explanations--Emily thought she might be +fully justified in reading more of Marlow's letter to Lady Hastings than +she had hitherto done, and showing her that she had asserted nothing +without reasonable cause. The sight of Mrs. Hazleton's carriage arriving +confirmed her in this intention. She knew that fair lady to possess very +great influence over her mother's mind. She believed that influence to have +been always exerted balefully, and she judged it better, much better, to +cut it short at once, rather than suffer it to endure even for another day. + +When she saw the carriage drive away, then, she returned rapidly to the +house, went to her room to get Marlow's letter, and then proceeded to her +mother's chamber. + +"Mrs. Hazleton has been here, my love," said Lady Hastings, as soon as +Emily approached, "and really, she has been very strange and disagreeable. +She seems not to have the slightest consideration for me; but even in my +weak state, says every thing that can agitate and annoy me." + +"I trust, my dear mother, that you will see her no more," said Emily. "The +full proofs of what I told you concerning her, I cannot yet give; but +Marlow lays me under no injunction to secrecy, and I have brought his +letter to read you the part in which he speaks of her. That will show you +quite enough to convince you that Mrs. Hazleton should never be permitted +within these doors again." + +"Oh read it, pray read it, my dear," said Lady Hastings. "I am all anxiety +to know the facts; for really one does not know how to behave to this +woman, and I feel in a very awkward position towards her." + +Emily sat down by the bedside and read, word for word, all that Marlow had +written in reference to Mrs. Hazleton, which was interspersed, here and +there, with many kindly and respectful expressions towards Lady Hastings +and her husband, which he knew well would be gratifying to her whom he +addressed. His statements were all clear and precise, and from them Lady +Hastings learned he had obtained proof, from various different sources, +that her seeming friend had knowingly and willingly supplied John Ayliffe +with the means of carrying on his fraudulent suit against Sir Philip +Hastings: that she had been his counsel and cooperator in all his +proceedings, and had suggested many of the most criminal steps he had +taken. The last passage which Emily read was remarkable: "To see into the +dark abyss of that woman's heart, my dearest Emily," he said, "is more than +I can pretend to do; but it is perfectly clear that she has been moved in +all her proceedings for some years, by bitter personal hatred towards Sir +Philip, Lady Hastings, and yourself. Mere self-interest--to which she is by +no means insensible on ordinary occasions--has been sacrificed to the +gratification of malice, and she has even gone so far as to place herself +in a situation of considerable peril for the purpose of ruining your +excellent father, and making your mother and yourself unhappy. What offence +has been committed by any of your family to merit such persevering and +ruthless hatred, I cannot tell. I only know that it must have been +unintentional; but that it has not been the less bitterly revenged. Perhaps +the disclosures which must be made as soon as I return, may give us some +insight into the cause; but at present I can only tell you the result." + +"My dear Emily," said Lady Hastings, "your father should know this +immediately. He has been very sad and gloomy since his return. I really +cannot tell what is the matter with him; but something weighs upon his +spirits, evidently; but this news will give him relief, or, at all events, +will divert his thoughts. It was very natural, my dear girl, that you +should first tell your mother, but I really think that we must now take +him into our councils." + +"I will go and ask him to come here, at once," said Emily. "I think my dear +father has not understood me rightly lately, and has chilled me by cold +looks and words when I would fain have spoken to him, and poured my whole +thoughts into his bosom. Oh, I shall be glad to do any thing to regain his +confidence; and although I know it must be regained in a very, very short +space of time, yet I would gladly do any thing to prevent its being +withheld from me even a moment longer." + +She took a step towards the door as she spoke; but Lady Hastings, +unhappily, called her back. "Stay, my Emily," she said. "Come hither, my +dear child; I have something to say that will cheer you and comfort you, +and give you strength to meet any little crosses of your father's with +patience and resignation. He has been sorely tried, and is much troubled. +But I was going to say, dear Emily," and she threw her arms round her +daughter's neck as she leaned over her, "that I have been thinking much of +all that was said the other day, in regard to your marriage with Marlow. I +see that your heart is set upon it, and that you can only be happy in a +union with him. I know him to be a good and excellent young man; and after +all that he has done to serve us, I must not interpose your wishes any +longer; although, perhaps, I might have chosen differently for you had the +choice rested with me. I give you, therefore, my full and free consent, +Emily, and trust you will be as happy as you deserve, my dear girl. I think +you might very well have made a higher alliance, but----" + +"But none that would have made me half so happy," replied Emily, embracing +her mother. "Oh, dear mother, if you could know the load you take from my +heart, you would be amply repaid for any sacrifice of opinion you make to +your child's happiness. I cannot conceive any situation more painful to be +placed in than a conflict between two duties. My positive promise to +Marlow, my obedience to you, are now reconciled, and I thank you a thousand +thousand times for having thus relieved me from so terrible a struggle." + +The tears rose in her eyes as she spoke, and Lady Hastings made her sit +down by her bedside, saying--"Nay, my dear child, do not suffer yourself to +be so much agitated. I did not know till the other day," she said, feeling +some self-reproach at having been brought to play the part she had acted +lately, "I did not know till the other day that you were really so much in +love, my Emily. But I have known what such feelings are, and can sympathize +with you. Indeed I should have yielded long ago if it had not been for the +persuasions of that horrid Mrs. Hazleton. She always stood in the way of +every thing I wanted to do, and would not even let me know the truth about +your real feelings--pretending all the time to be my friend too!" + +"She has been a friend to none of us, I fear," replied Emily, "and to me +especially an enemy; although I cannot at all tell what I ever did to merit +such pertinacious hatred as she seems to feel towards me." + +"Do you know, my child," said Lady Hastings, with a meaning smile, "I have +been sometimes inclined to think that she wished to marry Marlow herself?" + +Emily started and looked aghast, and then that delicate feeling, that +sensitiveness for the dignity of woman's nature, which none, I suspect, but +woman's heart can clearly comprehend, caused her cheek to glow like a rose +with shame at the very thought of a woman loving unloved, and seeking +unsought. She felt, however, at once, that there might be--that there +probably was--much truth in what her mother said, that she had touched the +true point, and had discovered one at least of the causes of Mrs. +Hazleton's strange conduct. Nevertheless, she answered, "Oh, dear mother, I +hope it is not so. Sure I am that Marlow would never trifle with any +woman's love, and I cannot think that Mrs. Hazleton would so degrade +herself as even to dream of a man who never dreamt of her; besides, she is +old enough to be his mother." + +"Not quite, my child, not quite," replied Lady Hastings. "She is, I +believe, younger than I am; and though old enough to be your mother, Emily, +I could not have been Marlow's, unless I had married at ten years old. +Besides, she is very beautiful, and she knows it, and may have thought that +such beauty as hers, and her great wealth, might well make up for a small +difference of years." + +"Perhaps you are right," replied Emily, thoughtfully, as many a +circumstance flashed upon her memory, which had seemed to her dark and +mysterious in times past; but to which the cause suggested by her mother +seemed now to afford a key. "But if it was me, only, she hated," added +Emily, "why should she so persecute my father and yourself?" + +"Perhaps," replied Lady Hastings, speaking with a clear-sighted wisdom +which she seldom evinced, "perhaps because she knew that the most terrible +blows are those which are aimed at us through those we love. Besides, one +cannot tell what offence your father may have given. He is very plain +spoken, and not accustomed to deal very tenderly. Now Mrs. Hazleton is not +well pleased to hear plain truths, nor to bear with patience any sharpness +or abruptness of manner. Moreover, my child, I have heard that it was old +Sir John Hastings' wish, when we were all young and free, that your father +should marry Mrs. Hazleton. But he preferred another, perhaps less worthy +of him in every respect." + +"Oh, no, no," cried Emily, with eager affection. "More worthy of him a +thousand times in all ways. More good--more kind--more beautiful." + +"Nay, nay, flatterer," said Lady Hastings, with a smile. "I was well enough +to look at once, Emily, and more to his taste. That is enough. My glass +tells me clearly that I cannot compete with Mrs. Hazleton now. But it is +growing dark, my dear, I must have lights." + +"I will ring for them, and then go and seek my father," replied Emily. + +She rang, and the maid appeared from the anteroom, just as Lady Hastings +was saying that it was time to take her medicine. Emily took up the vial +and the spoon, poured out the quantity prescribed, with a steady hand, very +unlike that with which Mrs. Hazleton had held the same bottle an hour +before, and having put the dose into a wine-glass, handed it to her mother. + +"Bring lights," said Lady Hastings, addressing her maid; and the moment +after, she raised the glass to her lips, and drank the contents. + +"It tastes very odd, Emily," she said, "I think it must be spoiled by the +heat of the room." + +"Indeed," said Emily. "That is very strange. The last vial kept quite well. +But Mr. Short will be here to-night, and we will make him send some more." + +She paused for a moment or two, and then added, "Now, shall I go for my +father?" + +"No," said Lady Hastings, somewhat faintly; "wait till the girl comes back +with the lights." + +She was silent for a few moments, and then raised herself suddenly on her +arm, saying in a tone of great alarm, "Emily, Emily! I feel very ill.--Good +God, I feel very ill!" + +Emily sprang to her side and threw her arm round her; but the next instant +Lady Hastings uttered a fearful scream, like the cry of a sea-bird, and her +head fell back upon her daughter's arm. + +Emily rang the bell violently: ran to the door and shrieked loudly for aid; +for she saw too well that her mother was dying. + +The maid, several of the other servants, and Sir Philip Hastings himself, +rushed into the room. Lights were brought: Mr. Short was sent for; but ere +the servant had well passed the gates, Lady Hastings, after a few +convulsive sobs, had yielded up her spirit. + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +When the surgeon entered the room of Lady Hastings there was a profound +silence. Sir Philip Hastings was standing by his wife's bedside, motionless +as a statue; gazing with a knitted brow and fixed stony eye upon the +features of her whom he had so well and constantly loved. Emily lay +fainting upon the floor, with her head supported by one of the maids, while +another tried to recall her to life. Two more servants were in the room, +but they, like all the rest, remained silent in presence of the awful scene +before them. The windows were not yet closed, and the faint, struggling, +gray twilight came in, and mingled sombrely with the pale light of the wax +candles, giving even a more deathlike hue to the face of the corpse, and +throwing strange crossing lights and shades upon features which remained +convulsed even after the agony of death was past. + +"Good God! Sir Philip, what is this I hear?" exclaimed Mr. Short before he +caught the whole particulars of the scene. + +Sir Philip Hastings made no answer. He did not even seem to hear; and the +surgeon advanced to the bedside, and gazed for an instant on the face of +Lady Hastings. He took her hand in his. It was still warm; but when he put +his fingers on her wrist, no pulse vibrated beneath his touch. The heart, +too, was quite still: not a flutter indicated a lingering spark of +vitality. The breath was gone; and though the surgeon sought on the +dressing-table for a small mirror, and applied it to the lips, it remained +undimmed. He shook his head sadly; but yet he made some efforts. Ho took a +vial of essence from his pocket, and applied it to the nostrils; he opened +a vein, and a few drops of blood issued from it, but stopped immediately; +and several other experiments he tried, that not a lingering doubt might +remain of death having taken possession completely. + +At length he ceased, saying, "It is in vain. How did this happen? It is +very strange. There was not an indication of such an event yesterday. She +was decidedly better." + +"And so she was this morning, sir," said Lady Hastings' maid; "she slept +quite well too, sir, before Mrs. Hazleton came." + +Sir Philip Hastings remained profoundly silent; but Mr. Short gave a sudden +start at the name of Mrs. Hazleton, and asked the maid when that lady had +left her mistress. + +"Not half an hour before her death, sir," replied the maid; "and even for a +little time after she was gone, my lady seemed quite well and cheerful with +Mistress Emily." + +"Were you with her when she was seized so suddenly?" asked the surgeon. + +"No, sir," said the maid. "No one was with her but Mistress Emily. My lady +had sent me away for lights; but just when I was coming up the stairs, I +heard my young lady ringing the bell violently, and screaming for help, and +in two minutes after I came in my lady was dead." + +"I must hear the first symptoms," said Mr. Short, "and this dear young lady +needs attending to. If I know her right, this shock will well nigh kill +her." + +He moved towards Emily as he spoke, but in passing across, his eye lighted +upon the vial which was standing upon the table at the bedside, with the +spoon and wine-glass which had been used in administering the medicine. +Something in the appearance of the bottle seemed to strike him suddenly, +and he raised it sharply and held it to the candle. "Good God!" exclaimed +Mr. Short; "Good God!" and his face turned as pale as death, and a fit of +trembling seized upon him. + +It was several moments before he uttered another word. He put his hand to +his brow, and seemed to think deeply and anxiously. Then he examined the +bottle again, took out the cork, held it to his nostrils, tasted a single +drop poured upon the end of his finger, and shook his head sadly and +solemnly. Every eye but those of the maid, who was supporting Emily's head, +was now turned upon him. There was something in his manner so unusual, so +strange, that even the attention of Sir Philip Hastings was attracted by +it; and he looked gloomily at the surgeon for a moment, as if in a dreamy +wonder at his proceedings. + +At length, Mr. Short spoke again. "Can any body tell me," he said, "when +Lady Hastings took a dose of this stuff?" + +No one remarked the irreverent term which he applied to the contents of the +vial; for every one who listened to him would probably have given it the +same name, had it been a mithridate; but the maid of the deceased lady +replied at once, "Only a few minutes before she died, sir. I saw her take +it myself." + +"Who gave it to her?" demanded the surgeon, sternly. + +"My young lady, sir," answered the maid, "just before I went for the +lights, and I am sure she did not give her a drop too much of it; for she +measured it out carefully in the spoon before she put it into the glass." + +Mr. Short remained silent again, and Sir Philip Hastings spoke for the +first time with a great effort. + +"What is the matter, sir?" he asked, gloomily; "you seem confounded, +thunder-struck. What has befallen to draw your eyes from that?" and he +pointed to the bed of his dead wife. + +"I am bound to say, Sir Philip," replied Mr. Short, "that it is my belief +that the dose given to Lady Hastings from that bottle, has been the cause +of her death. In a word, I believe it to be poison." + +Sir Philip Hastings gazed in his face with a wild look of horror. His teeth +chattered in his head, his whole frame shook visibly to the eyes of those +around, but he uttered not a word, and it was the maid who answered, +exclaiming in a shrill voice, "Oh, how horrible! How could you send my lady +such stuff?" + +"I never sent it to her, woman!" said Mr. Short, sternly; "if you had eyes +you would see that it is not of the same color, nor has it the same taste +of that which I sent. It is different in every respect; and if no other +proof were wanting that which I sent Lady Hastings was harmless, it would +be sufficient to say, that the last vial I brought was delivered to you +yourself yesterday quite full, that Lady Hastings ought to have taken four +or five doses of that medicine between that time and this, and----" + +"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the maid, interrupting him, "she took it quite +regularly. I saw Mistress Emily give her three doses myself." + +"Well, did those hurt her?" asked Mr. Short, sharply. + +"I can't say they did," replied the woman, "indeed she always seemed better +a little while after taking them." + +"Well that shows that this is not the same," said Mr. Short; "besides, this +bottle has never come out of my surgery. I always choose mine perfectly +clear and white, that I may be enabled to see if the medicine is at all +troubled or not. This has a green tinge, and must have come from some +common druggist's, and the stuff that it contains must be strictly +analyzed." + +As he spoke, Sir Philip Hastings strode up to him, grasped his hand, and +wrung it hard, saying in a hollow husky tone, and pointing to the bottle, +"What is it you mean? What is it all about? What is that?" + +"Poison! Sir Philip," replied Mr. Short, moved by the feelings of the +moment beyond all his ordinary prudence; "poison! and I very much fear that +it has been administered to your poor lady intentionally." + +"Gathering herbs!--gathering herbs!" screamed Sir Philip Hastings, like a +madman; and tearing the hair out of his head, he rushed away from the room, +and locked himself into his library. + +No one could tell to what his words alluded, nor did they trouble +themselves much to discover; for every one at once concluded that the shock +of his wife's sudden death, and the discovery of its terrible cause, had +driven him insane. + +"Oh, do run after my master, sir," cried the maid; "he has gone into the +library, I heard him bang the door." + +"Has he got any arms there?" asked Mr. Short, "there used to be pistols at +the Hall." + +"No, sir, no," exclaimed one of the house-maids, "they are not there. They +are in his dressing-room out yonder." + +"Well, then, I will leave him alone for the present," said the surgeon; +"here is one who demands more immediate care. Poor young lady! If she +should discover, in her present state of grief, how her mother has died, +and that her hand has been employed to produce such a catastrophe, it will +destroy either her life or her intellect." + +"But who could have done it, sir?" exclaimed Lady Hastings' maid. + +"Never you mind that for the present," said Mr. Short; "I have my +suspicions; but they are no more than suspicions at present. You stay with +me here, and let the other woman carry your poor young lady to her room. I +will be with her presently, and will give her what will do her good. One +of you, as soon as possible, send me up a man-servant--a groom would be +best." + +His orders were obeyed promptly; for he spoke with a tone of decision and +command which the terrible circumstances of the moment enabled him to +assume; although in ordinary circumstances he was a man of mild and gentle +character. + +As soon as poor Emily was borne away to her own chamber, Mr. Short turned +to the maid again, inquiring, "How long had Mistress Hazleton gone when +your mistress was seized with these fatal convulsions?" + +"About half an hour, sir," said the maid. "It couldn't have been longer. +Mrs. Hazleton came when my lady was asleep, and went in alone, saying she +would not disturb her." + +"Ha!" cried the surgeon; "was she with her for any time alone?" + +"All the time that she staid, sir," replied the maid; "for I did not like +to go in, and Mistress Emily was walking on the terrace up the hill." + +"I suppose then you cannot tell how long Mrs. Hazleton remained alone with +your lady before she woke?" + +"Yes, I can pretty nearly, sir," answered the maid, "for though Mrs. +Hazleton told me not to come in with her, and said she would ring when my +lady waked, I came after her into the anteroom, and sat there all the time. +For about five minutes, or it might be ten, all was quiet enough; but at +the end of that time I heard my lady and Mrs. Hazleton begin to speak." + +"You heard no other sounds previously?" asked the surgeon. + +"Nothing but the rustle of Mrs. Hazleton's gown, as she moved about once or +twice," said the maid, "and of that I can't be rightly sure." + +"You did not by chance look through the key-hole?" asked Mr. Short. + +"No, that I didn't," said the maid, tossing her head, "I never did such a +thing in my life." + +"Well, well. Get me a sheet of paper," replied the surgeon, "and a pen and +ink--oh, they are here are they?" But before he could sit down to write, a +groom crept in through the half-open door, and received orders from the +surgeon to saddle a horse instantly and return. Mr. Short then sat down and +wrote as follows: + +"MR. ATKINSON:--As you are high constable of Hartwell, I write as a justice +of the peace for the county of ----, to authorize and require you to follow +immediately the carriage of The Honorable Mistress Hazleton, to apprehend +that lady and to keep her in your safe custody, taking care that her person +be immediately searched by some proper person, and that any vials, bottles, +powders, or other objects whatsoever bearing the appearance of drugs or +medicines, or of having contained them, be carefully preserved, and marked +for identification. I have not time or means to fill up a regular warrant; +but I will justify you in, and be responsible for, whatever you may do to +insure that Mrs. Hazleton has no means or opportunity allowed her of +concealing or making away with any thing she has carried away from this +house, where Lady Hastings has just deceased from the effects of poison. +You had better take the fresh horse of the bearer, and lose not an instant +in overtaking the carriage." + +He then signed his name just as the groom returned; but ere he gave the man +the paper he added in a postscript: + +"You had better search the carriage minutely, and make any preliminary +investigation that you may think fit before I arrive. The hints given above +will be sufficient for your guidance." + +"Take this paper immediately to Jenny Best's cottage," said Mr. Short to +the groom. "Ask if Mr. Atkinson is there. Should he be so, give it to him, +and let him take your horse if he requires it. Should you not find him +there, seek for him either at the house of Mr. Dixwell, or at the farm +close by. Should he be at neither of those places, follow him on to his +house near Hartwell at full speed. Do you understand?" + +"Oh, quite well, sir," said the groom, who was a shrewd, keen fellow; and +he left the room without more words. + +When he got down to the hall door, however, he thought he might as well +know more of his errand, and read the paper which he had received with the +butler and the footman. A brief consultation followed between them, and not +a little horror and anger was excited by the information they had gained +from the paper, for Lady Hastings had been well loved by her servants, and +Mrs. Hazleton was but little loved by any of her inferiors in station. + +"Go you on, John, as fast as possible," said the footman. "I'll get a horse +and come after you as fast as possible with Harry; for this grand dame has +three servants with her, and mayn't choose to be taken easily." + +"Ay, come along, come along," said the groom; "we'll run her down, I'll +warrant," and hurrying away he got to his horse's back. + +In the mean time Mr. Short had proceeded to the room of poor Emily +Hastings, whom he found recovering from her fainting fit, and sobbing in +the bitterness of grief. + +"Oh, Mr. Short," she said, "this is very terrible. There surely was +something wrong about that medicine, for my poor mother was taken ill the +moment she had swallowed it. She had had the same quantity three times +to-day before; but she said that it tasted strange and unpleasant. It could +not surely have been spoiled by keeping so short a time, and that could not +have killed her even if it had been so. Pray do examine it." + +"I will, I will, my dear," replied Mr. Short kindly, "but I don't think +the medicine I sent could spoil, and if it did it could have no evil +effect. Now quiet yourself, my dear Mistress Emily; I am going to give you +a draught which will soothe your nerves, and fit you better to bear all +these terrible things." + +He then had recourse to the little store of medicines he usually carried in +his pocket, and administered first a stimulant and then a somewhat powerful +narcotic. For about ten minutes he remained seated by Emily's bedside with +her own maid standing at the foot, and during that time the poor girl spoke +once or twice, asking anxiously after her father, and expressing a great +desire to go to him. Gradually, however, her eyelids began to droop, her +sentences remained unfinished, and, in the end, she fell into a deep and +profound sleep. + +"She will not wake for six or eight hours," said Mr. Short, addressing the +maid. "But when she does wake it would be better you should be with her, my +good girl. If you like, therefore, you can go and take some rest in the +meanwhile; but order yourself to be called at the end of five hours." + +"If you are quite sure that she will remain asleep, sir," said the maid, "I +will lie down, for I am sure sorrow wearies one more than work." + +"She won't wake," said Mr. Short, "for six hours at least. I will now go +and see Sir Philip," and descending the stairs, he knocked at the door of +the library, thinking that probably he should find it locked. The stern +voice of Sir Philip Hastings, however, said "Come in," in a wonderfully +calm tone; and when the surgeon entered he found Sir Philip seated at the +library table, and apparently reading a Greek book, the contents of which +Mr. Short could not at all divine. + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +I must now follow the groom on his road, first to the cottage of good Jenny +Best, where he learned that Mr. Atkinson had gone away some five minutes +before, and then to the house of the neighboring farm, where he found the +person he sought still seated on his horse, but talking to the tenant at +the door. + +"Here, Mr. Atkinson," cried the groom as he came up; "here's a note for you +from Mr. Short the surgeon--a sort of warrant, I believe; for he's a +justice of the peace, you know, as well as a surgeon. Read it quick, Mr. +Atkinson, read it quick; for it won't keep hot long; and if that woman +isn't caught I think I'll hang myself." + +"Bring us a light, farmer," said Mr. Atkinson, "quickly. What is all this +about, John?" + +"Why, Madam Hazleton has poisoned my lady, and she's as dead as a door +nail," said the groom, "that's all; and bad enough too. Zounds, I thought +she'd do some mischief; she was always so hard upon her horses." + +"Good heaven!" exclaimed Mr. Atkinson, "you do not mean to say that she has +certainly poisoned Lady Hastings?" + +"Why, Mr. Short believes it, and every one believes it," answered the +groom. + +Mr. Atkinson might have endeavored to reduce the number comprised in the +term "every body" to its just proportions; but before he could do so, the +farmer returned with a light shaded from the wind by his hat; and the good +high constable of Hartwell, bending over his saddle, read hurriedly Mr. +Short's brief note. + +"What's the matter? what's the matter?" cried the farmer; and great was his +surprise and consternation to hear that Lady Hastings was dead, and that +strong suspicion existed of her having been poisoned by Mrs. Hazleton. +There is a stern, dogged love of justice, however, in the English peasant, +which rises into energy and excitement; and the farmer was instantly heard +calling for his horse. + +"Zounds, I'll ride with you, Atkinson," he said. "This great dame has got +so many servants, she may think fit to set the law at defiance; but she +must be taught that high people cannot poison other people any more than +low ones. But you go on; you go on. I'll catch you up, perhaps. If not, +I'll come in time, don't you be afraid." + +"I'm going along too," said the groom, "and two others are coming; so if +her tall men show fight, I think we'll leather their jackets." + +Away they went as fast as they could go, and to say truth, Mr. Atkinson was +not at all sorry to have some assistance; for without ever committing any +one act which could be characterized as criminal, unjust, or wrong, within +the knowledge of her neighbors, Mrs. Hazleton had somehow impressed the +minds of all who surrounded her with the conviction, that hers was a most +daring and remorseless nature. The general world received their impression +of her character--and often a false one, be it good or evil--by her greater +and more important actions: the little circle that surrounds us forms a +slower but more certain judgment from minute but often repeated traits. + +On rode Mr. Atkinson and the groom, as fast as their horses could carry +them. Wherever there was turf by the roadside they galloped; and at the +rate of progression made by carriages in that day, they made sure they must +be gaining very rapidly upon the object of their pursuit. When first they +set out it was very dark; but at the end of twenty minutes, in which period +they had ridden somewhat more than four miles, the edge of the moon began +to appear above the horizon, and her light showed them well nigh another +mile on the road before them. Still no carriage was in sight, and the groom +exclaimed, "Dang it, Mr. Atkinson, we must spur on, or she will get home +before we catch her." + +It is impossible to run after any thing without feeling some of the +eagerness of the fox-hound, and it is not to be denied that Mr. Atkinson +shared in some degree in the impetuous spirit of the chase with the groom. +He said nothing about it, indeed; but he made his spurs mark his horse's +sides, and on they went up the opposite slope at a quicker pace than ever. +From the top was a very considerable descent into the bottom of the valley, +in which Hartwell is situated; but the moon had not yet risen high enough +to illuminate more than half the scene, and darkness, doubly dark, seemed +to have gathered over the low grounds beneath the eyes of the two horsemen. + +Mr. Atkinson thought he perceived some large object below, moving on +towards Hartwell; but he could not be sure of it till he had descended some +way down the hill, when the carriage of Mrs. Hazleton, mounting a little +rise into the moonlight, became plainly visible to the eye. The groom took +off his cap and waved it, saying, "Tally ho!" but neither he nor his +companion paused in their rapid course, but went thundering down at the +risk of their necks, and of their horses' knees. The carriage moved slowly; +the pursuers went very fast: and at the end of about four minutes they had +reached and passed the two mounted men-servants, who, as customary in those +days, rode behind the vehicle. Robberies on the highway were by no means +uncommon; so that it was the custom for the attendants upon a carriage to +travel armed, and Mrs. Hazleton's two men instantly laid their hands upon +the holsters of their pistols, when those too rapid riders passed them at +such a furious pace. Mr. Atkinson, however, was not a man to be easily +frightened from anything he undertook, and wheeling his horse sharply when +in a little advance of the coachman, he exclaimed, "In the King's name I +command you to stop. I am James Atkinson, high constable of Hartwell. You +know me, sir; and I command you in the King's name to stop!" + +"Why, Master Atkinson, what is all this about?" cried the coachman. "There +is nobody but Mrs. Hazleton here. Don't you know the carriage?" + +"Quite well," replied Mr. Atkinson; "but you hear what I say, and will +disobey at your peril. John, ride round to the other side, while I speak to +the lady here." + +Now Mrs. Hazleton had heard the whole of this conversation, and had there +been sufficient light, Mr. Atkinson, whose eye was turned towards where she +sat, would have seen her turn deadly pale. It might naturally be supposed +that in any ordinary circumstances she would have directed her first +attention to the side from which the sounds proceeded; but so far from that +being the case, she instantly put her hand in her pocket, and was almost in +the act of throwing something into the road, when John the groom presented +himself at the window, and she stopped suddenly. + +"What is it, Mr. Atkinson?" she exclaimed, turning to the other window, and +speaking in a tone of high indignation. "Why do you presume to stop my +carriage on the King's highway?" + +"Because I am ordered, Madam, by lawful authority, so to do," replied Mr. +Atkinson. "I am sorry, Madam, to tell you that you must consider yourself +as a prisoner." + +Mrs. Hazleton would fain have asked upon what charge; but she did not dare, +and for a moment strength and courage failed her. It was but for a moment, +however, and in the next she exclaimed in a loud and more imperious tone +than ever, "This is a pretence for robbery or insult. Drive on, coachman. +Mathew--Rogerson--clear the way!" + +She reckoned wrongly, however, if she counted upon any great zeal in her +servants. The two men hesitated; for the King's name was a tower of +strength which they did not at all like to assail. Their mistress repeated +her order in an angry tone, and one of them, with habitual deference to her +commands, went so far as to cock the pistol which he now held in his hand; +but at that moment the adverse party received an accession of strength +which rendered all assistance hopeless. The other two servants of Sir +Philip Hastings came down the hill at full speed, and a gentleman, followed +by a servant, rode up from the side of Hartwell, and addressed Mr. Atkinson +by his name. + +"Ah, Mr. Marlow!" said Mr. Atkinson. "You come at a very melancholy moment, +sir, and to witness a very unpleasant scene; but, nevertheless, I must +require your assistance, sir, as this lady seems inclined to resist the +law." + +"What is the matter?" asked Marlow. "I hope there is no mistake here. If I +see rightly this is Mrs. Hazleton's carriage. What is she charged with?" + +"Murder, sir," replied Mr. Atkinson, who had been a little irritated by the +lady's resistance, and spoke more plainly than he might otherwise have +done. "The murder of Lady Hastings by poison." + +It was spoken. She heard the words clearly and distinctly. She had been +detected. Some small oversight--some accidental circumstance--some +precaution forgotten--some accidental word, or gesture, had betrayed the +dark secret, revealed the terrible crime. It was all known to men, as well +as to God, and Mrs. Hazleton sunk back in the carriage overpowered by the +agony of detection. + +"Oh, ho; here come the other men," said Mr. Atkinson, as the two servants +of Sir Philip Hastings rode up. "Now, coachman, drive on till I tell you to +stop. You, John, keep close to the other window, and watch it well. I will +take care of this one. The others come behind. Mr. Marlow, you had perhaps +better ride with us for half a mile or so; for I must stop at the house of +Widow Warmington, as I have orders to make a strict search." + +"Oh, take me to my own house--take me to my own house," said Mrs. Hazleton, +in a faint tone. + +"I dare not venture to do that, Madam," said Mr. Atkinson; "for we are +nearly three miles distant, and accidents might happen by the way which +would defeat the ends of justice. I must have a full search made at the +very first place where I can procure lights. That will be at Mrs. +Warmington's; but she is a friend of your own, Madam, and you will be +received there with all kindness." + +Mrs. Hazleton did not reply; and the carriage drove on, Mr. Atkinson +keeping a keen watch upon one window, and the groom riding close to the +other. + +A few minutes brought them to the house of the shrewd widow, and the bell +was rung sharply by one of the servants. A woman servant appeared in answer +to the summons, and without asking whether her mistress was at home, or +not, Atkinson took the candle from her hand, saying, "Lend me the light for +a moment. I wish to light Mrs. Hazleton into the house. Now, Madam, will +you please to descend.--John, dismount, and come round here; assist Mrs. +Hazleton to alight, and come with us on her other side." + +Mrs. Hazleton saw that she could not double or turn there. She withdrew her +hand from her pocket where she had hitherto held it, resumed her forgotten +air of dignity, and though, to say the truth, she would rather have met her +"dearest foe in heaven," than have entered that house so escorted, she +walked with a firm step and dauntless eye, with the high constable on one +side, and the groom on the other. + +"They shall not see me quail," she said to herself. "They shall not see me +quail. I know the worst, and I can meet it--I have had my revenge." + +In the mean time, the maid had run in haste to tell her mistress the +marvels of the scene she had just witnessed, and Mrs. Warmington had +gathered enough, without divining the whole, to rejoice her with +anticipated triumph. The arrest of Shanks the attorney on a charge of +conspiracy and forgery, had set going the hundred tongues of Rumor, few of +which had spared the name of Mrs. Hazleton; and Mrs. Warmington, at the +worst, suspected that her dear friend was implicated in the guilt of the +attorney. That, however, was sufficient to give the widow considerable +satisfaction, for she had not forgotten either some coldness and neglect +with which Mrs. Hazleton had treated her for some time, or her impatient +and insolent conduct that morning; and though upon the strength of her +plumpness, and easy manners, people looked upon Mrs. Warmington as a very +good natured person, yet fat people can be very vindictive sometimes. + +"Good gracious me, my dear, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mrs. Warmington, +as the prisoner was brought in, while Mr. Atkinson, speaking to those +behind, exclaimed, "Let no one touch or approach the carriage till I +return." + +Mrs. Hazleton made no answer to her dear friend's questions, and the high +constable, taking a little step forward, said, "I beg pardon, Mrs. +Warmington, for intruding into your house; but I have been ordered to +apprehend this lady, and to have her person and her carriage strictly +searched, without giving the opportunity for the concealment or destruction +of any thing. It seems to me that Mrs. Hazleton has something bulky in that +left hand pocket. As I do not like to put my hand rudely upon a lady, may I +ask you, Madam, to let me see what that pocket contains?" + +Without the slightest hesitation, but with a good deal of curiosity, Mrs. +Warmington advanced at once and took hold of the rich silk brocade of the +prisoner's gown. + +"Out, woman!" cried Mrs. Hazleton, with the fire flashing from her eyes; +and she struck her. + +But Mrs. Warmington did not quit her hold or her purpose. "Good gracious, +what a termagant!" she exclaimed, and at once thrust her right hand into +the pocket, and drew forth the vial which had been sent by the surgeon to +Lady Hastings. + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Warmington. "Why, this is the very bottle I saw +you mixing stuff in this morning, when you seemed so angry and vexed at my +coming into the still-room.--No, it isn't the same either; but it was one +very like this, only darker in the color." + +"Ha!" said Mr. Atkinson. "Madam, will you have the goodness to put a mark +upon that bottle by which you can know it again?--Scratch it with a diamond +or something." + +"Oh, poor I have no diamonds," said Mrs. Warmington. "My dear, will you +lend me that ring?" + +Mrs. Hazleton gave her a withering glance, but made no reply; and Marlow +pointed to two peculiar spots in the glass of the bottle, saying, "By those +marks it will be known, so that it cannot be mistaken." His words were +addressed to Mr. Atkinson; for he felt disgusted and sickened by the +heartless and insulting tone of Mrs. Warmington towards her former friend. + +At the sound of his voice--for she had not yet looked at him--Mrs. Hazleton +started and looked round. It is not possible to tell the feelings which +affected her heart at that moment, or to picture with the pen the varied +expressions, all terrible, which swept over her beautiful countenance like +a storm. She remembered how she had loved him. Perhaps at that moment she +knew for the first time how much she had loved him. She felt too, how +strongly love and hate had been mingled together by the fiery alchemy of +disappointment, as veins of incongruous metals have been mixed by the great +convulsions of the early earth. She felt too, at that moment, that it was +this love and this hate which had been the cause of her deepest crimes, and +all their consequences--the awful situation in which she there stood, the +lingering tortures of imprisonment, the agonies of trial, and the bitter +consummation of the scaffold. + +"Oh, Marlow, Marlow," she cried--in a tone for the first time +sorrowful--"to see you mingling in these acts!" + +"I have nothing to do with the present business, Mrs. Hazleton," replied +Marlow, "but I am bound to say that in consequence of information I have +procured, it would have been my duty to have caused your apprehension upon +other charges, had not this, of which I know nothing, been preferred +against you. All is discovered, madam; all is known. With a slight clue, at +first, I have pursued the intricate labyrinth of your conduct for the last +two years to its conclusion, and every thing has been made plain as day." + +"You, Marlow, you?" cried Mrs. Hazleton, fixing her eyes steadfastly upon +him, and then adding, as he bowed his head in token of assent, "but all is +not known, even to you. You shall know all, however, before I die; and +perhaps to know all may wring your heart, hard though it be. But what am I +talking of?" she continued, her face becoming suddenly suffused with +crimson, and her fine features convulsed with rage. "All is discovered, is +it? And you have done it? What matters it to me, then, whose heart is +wrung--or what becomes of you, or me, or any one? A drop more or less is +nothing in the overflowing well. Why should I struggle longer? Why should I +hide any thing? Why should I fly from this charge to meet another? I did +it--I poisoned her--I put the drug by her bedside. It is all true--I did it +all--I have had my revenge as far as it could be obtained, and now do with +me what you like. But remember, Marlow, remember, if Emily Hastings marries +you, she does it with a mother's curse upon her head--a curse that will +fall upon her heart like a milldew, and wither it for ever--a curse that +will dry up the source of all fond affections, blacken the brightest hours, +and embitter the purest joys--a dying mother's curse! She knows it--she has +heard it--it can never be recalled. I have put that beyond fate. Ha ha! It +is upon you both; and if you venture to unite your unhappy destinies, may +that curse cling to you and blast you for ever." + +She spoke with all the vehemence of intense passion, breaking, for the +first time in life, through strong habitual self-control; and when she had +done, she cast herself into a chair, and covered her eyes with her hands. + +She wept not; but her whole frame heaved and shivered, with the terrible +emotion that tore her heart. + +In the mean time, Marlow and Mrs. Warmington and the high constable spoke +upon it, consulting what was to be done with her. The prison system of +England was at that time as bad as it could be, and those who condemned and +abhorred her the most, were anxious to spare her as long as possible the +horrors of the jail. At length, after many difficulties, and a good deal of +hesitation, Mr. Atkinson agreed, at the suggestion of Mrs. Warmington, to +leave her in the house where she then was, under the charge of a constable +to be sent for from Hartwell. There was a high upper room from which there +was no possibility of escape, with an antechamber in which the constable +could watch, and there he was determined to confine her till she could be +brought before the magistrate on the following day. + +"I must have her thoroughly searched in the first place," said Mr. +Atkinson; "for she may have some more of the poison about her, and in her +present state, after all she has confessed, she is just as likely to +swallow it as not. However, Mr. Marlow, you had better, I think, ride on as +fast as possible to see Sir Philip Hastings, and tell him what has occurred +here. If I judge rightly, your presence will be very needful there." + +"It will indeed," said Marlow, a sudden vague apprehension of he knew not +what, seizing upon him; "God grant I have not tarried too long already;" +and quitting the room, he sprang upon his horse's back again. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[2] Continued from page 327. + + + + +TWO SONNETS. + +WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. + + +TRUTH. + + For constant truth my aching spirit yearns, + And finds no comfort in a glorious cheat; + On the firm rock I wish to set my feet, + And look upon the star that changeless burns; + Yon gorgeous clouds that in the sunset glow, + With fire-wrought domes for angel-palace meet, + Beneath my gaze their surface beauties fleet; + With parting light how dull their splendors grow. + I cannot worship vapors, and the hue + That on the dove's neck flickers, as it veers, + Bewilders, but not charms me; whilst the blue + Of the clear sky gives comfort 'mid all fears, + And but to think on that unshadowed white, + The angels walk in, makes my dark path bright. + + +THE FUTURE. + + Eternal sunshine withers; constant light + Would make the beauty of the world look wan; + The storm that sleeps with dark'ning terror on, + Leaves verdant freshness where it seemed to blight; + Most dreary is the land where comes no night, + For there the sun is chill, and slowly drawn + Round the horizon, spreads a sickly dawn, + No promise of a day more warm and bright. + Bless then the clouds and darkness, for we can + Discern with awe through them what angel faces + Watch and direct, and from their holy places + Smile with sublime benignity on man; + And dearly cherish sickness, pain, and sorrow, + As gloomy heralds of a bright to-morrow. + + V. + + + + +THE COUNT MONTE-LEONE: OR, THE SPY IN SOCIETY.[3] + +TRANSLATED FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE FROM THE FRENCH OF H. DE. +ST. GEORGES. + + +VIII.--THE GARRET. + +Half demented, Monte-Leone left the Duke's Hotel. His existence had become +a terrible dream, a hideous nightmare, every hour producing a new terror +and surprise. D'Harcourt was gone. He went to find Von Apsberg. "He at +least will speak. He will say something about this atrocious accusation. He +will explain the meaning of the perfidious reply of the chief of police. If +he repeated this atrocious calumny, if he persisted in thinking him guilty, +his heart would be open to Monte-Leone's blows. He would at least crush and +bury one of his enemies." + +A new misfortune awaited him. The doctor was not to be found. The police +had occupied the house at the time that the Vicomte was being arrested. The +doctor had beyond a doubt been previously informed of their coming and +escaped, but his papers were seized. All the archives and documents of +Carbonarism fell into the hands of M. H----. One might have said some evil +genius guided the police and led them in their various examinations into +the invisible mines of their prey. Furniture, drawers, and all were +examined. Count Monte-Leone, when he heard of the disappearance of the +Doctor and of the seizure of his papers, felt an increase of rage. The +discovery of the archives ruined for a long time, if not for ever, the +prospects of the work to which Monte-Leone had consecrated his life. The +flight of Matheus also deprived him of any means of extricating himself +from the cloud of mystery which surrounded him, and made futile any hope of +vengeance. Taddeo alone remained, and he was protected by the oath he had +taken to the Marquise. One other deception yet awaited him. A devoted +member of the Carbonari, on the next day, came to Monte-Leone's house and +informed the Count that on the day after the Vicomte's arrest and the +escape of Matheus, a similar course had been adopted against Rovero, who +was indebted for his liberty only to information from Signor Pignana on the +night before the coming of the police. A note from Aminta told Monte-Leone +of the disappearance of Rovero. The Count was then completely at sea, and +he was abandoned by all to a horrible imputation which he could neither +avenge nor dispute. He could, therefore, only suffer and bide his time. +Resignation, doubt, and delay, were terrible punishments to his energetic +and imperative character. One hope remained, which, if realized, would +enable him to contradict all the imputations on his honor. This was, that +he would be able to share the fate of his comrades, not of Von Apsberg and +Taddeo, who had escaped, but of those who languished in the cells of _la +Force_ and the _Conciergerie_. The Count knew that the police, from the +perusal of the archives, must be aware of his position, and awaited hourly +and daily his arrest. This did not take place, though he perpetually +received anonymous letters of the most perplexing and embarrassing +character, charging him, in the grossest terms of the language, with being +a spy and a traitor to the association to which he had pledged his life and +his honor. He resolved at last to play a desperate game--to exhibit an +unheard of energy and power. He repudiated the disdainful impunity which +apparently was inflicted on him intentionally. He surrendered himself to +the police.... + +While Count Monte-Leone acted thus courageously, the following scene took +place in a hotel whither our readers have been previously taken. + +A man apparently about thirty years old sat pale and downcast at a table, +writing with extreme rapidity. Occasionally he rested his weary head on his +hand, and his eyes wandered across the sky which he saw through a +trap-window, so usual in that room of houses known as the garret.[4] He +then glanced on the paper, and wrote down the inspirations he seemed to +have evoked from the abode of angels. He was the occupant of a garret, +which, though small, seemed so disguised by taste and luxury that the +narrow abode appeared even luxurious. The table at which the writer sat was +of Buhl, and was ornamented by vases of Sevres ware. The wooden bedstead +was hidden by a silken coverlet, and a large arm-chair occupied a great +portion of the room. On the small chimney-piece of varnished stone was a +china vase filled with magnificent flowers from hot-houses, above which +arose a superb camelia. A curtain of blue shut out the glare of the sun. It +was easy to see that female taste had presided over the arrangements of +this room. A beautiful woman really had done so. The inmate of the room was +Doctor von Apsberg. The girl of whom we have spoken was Marie d'Harcourt. + +On the day of Rene's arrest, a fortnight before the one we write of, the +Doctor was alone when the secret panel was opened. Pignana suddenly +appeared before the Doctor and told him that his house as well as the +Doctor's was surrounded by suspicious looking people. Pignana therefore +advised him to go at once. Von Apsberg was about to go to his bureau and +take possession of his papers. The police did not allow him time to do so; +they knocked at that very moment at the door and entered the house before +Von Apsberg had time to leave. It will be remembered that the studio of +the Doctor in which the archives were kept, was in the third story of the +house. Matheus was, therefore, forced to fly through the opening, into +Pignana's house, and with his ear to the wall listened to the noise made by +the police, with thankfulness for the secret passage. He heard a deep voice +say, "If your Jacobin Doctor has escaped, you shall answer for it." This +was said to Mlle. Crepineau. The good maiden swore the Doctor was absent, +as she thought, or feigned to think. Another voice, with a deep southern +accent, said the following words, which the young Doctor heard with +surprise and fear: + +"The one you seek is gone. If, though, you would find him, press that +copper nail which you see on the third row of books. You will find the +means of his escape into the next house." + +A cry was heard from the interior of the room. A female voice thus spoke to +the man who had just spoken: "Senor Munez, it is abominable for you thus to +betray the poor fellows. You are a bad and heartless man." + +When the Doctor heard thus revealed the secret of his retreat, he had +pushed through the inner door, and it was well he did, for it gave him time +to leave the room. The door of the library offered but a feeble resistance, +which was soon overcome, and Pignana's house was carefully entered and +searched. + +He at once conceived an idea of a plan of escape. He said to Pignana, "Not +a word; but follow me." Von Apsberg, accompanied by Pignana, left the place +where they were concealed, went into the yard, and proceeded to a shed +which was separated from his house by a few badly joined planks. One of +these he removed, passed through the opening, and stood in an outhouse +where he remembered he had once made some anatomical inquiries. + +"But you are going back," said Pignana, "you will again fall in the hands +of the enemy." + +"You would be a bad general, Pignana," said Von Apsberg; "this is a common +_ruse de guerre_, and is known as a counter-march. These places have been +explored by the enemy, and consequently they will return no more. While the +agents are looking where we are not, we will return where they have been." + +When night came, and at this time of the year it was at four o'clock, +Pignana told his companion of his plan. He purposed to scale the wall of +the yard by means of the trellices of the vines. When once on the other +side they would be in the garden of the Duke d'Harcourt, from which the +young physician expected to go to the hotel to obtain protection from the +Vicomte. The execution of this plan was easy for one as thin as d'Harcourt, +but was impracticable to a person with an abdomen like Pignana. As soon as +night had come, the latter said to Von Apsberg, "Go through the air, +Doctor, if you can. I intend to adopt a more earthly route--through the +door of the house, even if, much to Mlle. Crepineau's terror, I have the +audacity to assume the guise of the suicide, and terrify her into opening +the door for me. Besides, I am but slightly compromised, and will extricate +myself. Adieu, then, Doctor," said he, "and good luck to you amid the +clouds!" Von Apsberg clasped his hand, hurried from his retreat, ascended +the wall, passed it, and a few minutes after was in the Duke's garden. +Taking advantage of the darkness he went to the hotel, every window of +which, to his surprise, he found closed. He went without being seen to the +door of the reception rooms on the ground floor. The window had not been +shut since the arrest of the Vicomte. The Doctor entered it. At the back of +this room was a boudoir a la Louis XIV., of rare elegance, and appropriated +to Marie d'Harcourt. Amid the darkness he heard a strange sound of sighs +and sobs. The Doctor drew near, expecting that there was some pain for him +to soothe. "Who is there?" said the Duke d'Harcourt. + +"It is I, my lord, Doctor Matheus." + +"You here, sir!" said the Duke; "they told me that, like my unfortunate +son, you were arrested; and for the same offence." + +"What say you, sir?" said Von Apsberg, with deep distress; "Rene, dear +Rene, arrested?" + +"Yes, sir," said the old Duke; "arrested and torn from his father's arms. +Yet the blow did not overwhelm me. This, though, will take place ere long, +and the executioner's axe will strike father and son at once." + +A footman appeared with lights, and the Doctor saw the whole family +weeping. His head rested on Marie's shoulder, and the long white hair of +the old man was mingled with the young girl's dark locks, and seemed like +the silvery light of the moon resting on her brown hair. The Duke saw at a +glance how the Doctor participated in all his sorrows, and how the fate of +his son lacerated the heart of his visitor. He gave his hand to the Doctor. + +"I forgive you," said he, "the part you have had in my son's error, when I +remember how you love him, and the care you have taken of Marie." + +"Alas! Monsieur," said Von Apsberg; "that duty I can discharge no longer. +The fate of Rene must be mine, to-morrow, to-day, in a few moments--for I +came to seek for concealment. If, though, he has lost his liberty; if all +his plans are destroyed, why should I any longer contend against +misfortune? Adieu, Duke! I will rejoin Rene, share his misfortune, and +defend his life; if not against men, at least against the cruel disease +which menaces his career." + +As she heard these words, the cheeks of Marie d'Harcourt became pale as +marble, and she said, in tones of deep distress, "Father, will you suffer +him to go thus?" + +Von Apsberg looked at her with trouble and surprise. + +"No, my child," said the Duke, "the Doctor will not leave us; and we will +protect him." Von Apsberg then told the bold means by which he had entered +the house. + +"No one saw," said the Duke, "_how_ you came hither?" + +"No one." + +"There is no suspicion?" + +"None." + +Assisted by Marie, the Duke contrived a plan for an impenetrable asylum for +the Doctor. In the right wing of the hotel were many rooms intended for +servants, and uninhabited; for, since the death of his other sons, the Duke +had greatly reduced his household. In one of these rooms, carefully decked +and furnished, by Marie's care, Doctor Matheus was fixed. The old secretary +of the Duke d'Harcourt alone was in the secret, and this worthy man took +charge of the food of the Doctor, who saw no one except Marie and her +father. The young girl gradually became bolder, and touched with pity at +the loneliness of the prisoner, obeyed the dictates of her own heart and +went frequently to the young Doctor's room to be sure that he was in want +of nothing. Like a consoling angel, she came with her celestial presence to +adorn the captive's retreat, and restore something of happiness to his +heart. Von Apsberg, who had been for some days left alone, had reflected +deeply on his political opinions and on their consequences. The immense +difference between all old principles and the innovating ideas of +Carbonarism caused him to doubt the triumph of the latter; the great +discouragement which Monte-Leone's _apparent treason_ had produced, and the +fate of his associates, produced a deep impression on him. Amid all these +gloomy thoughts, one fresh and prominent idea reinvigorated his mind, and +gave him ineffable joy. + +Without wishing to analyze his feelings towards Marie, the Doctor was under +their influence. He did not dream of ever possessing that aristocratic +heart from which he was separated by rank, birth, and fortune. The heart of +man, nevertheless, is so constituted, that the most honest and loyal man is +never exempt from a shadow of egotism. Perhaps, therefore, in the Doctor's +mind there was a feeble hope of approaching that class whose position he so +envied. Let this be as it may, abandoning himself to the luxury of seeing +always by his side this beautiful creature, whose health his care had +already revived, the Doctor blessed his captivity, and lived in anxious +expectation of the hours when Marie used to visit him. Von Apsberg +possessed that Platonic heart which enabled him to look on Marie as a +creature of pure poetry. He entertained so respectful a tenderness for the +young girl, that he distrusted her no more than she did him. + +On the day we found the Doctor writing in his retreat with such ardor, he +was writing out a _regime_ for his patient. He told her what to do, and, as +if gifted with prescience, provided for her future life. + +"If," said he, "I be discovered--if the future have in reserve for the +heiress d'Harcourt"--and his heart felt as if a sharp iron had transfixed +it--"if a noble marriage separate me from her; at least in this painful +study of her health she will be able to contend against her family disease, +and perhaps will be indebted to me for life, happy and unsuffering." The +idea seemed too much for the strength of the young physician as he saw thus +fade before him all hope of a union with Marie. Steps just then were heard +outside his room just as he was concluding the sad _memoire_ we have spoken +of. + +The Doctor, in obedience to the request of his host, answered no knock, and +gave no evidence of life, except at a concerted signal known only to three +persons--the Duke, his daughter, and D'Arbel. Therefore he listened. The +person who advanced paused for a time before his door, and then left +rapidly as it had come. Von Apsberg, however, by means of that lover's +intuition, guessed who it was. The eyes of his heart pierced the opacity of +the door, to enable him to admire the charming angel who had alighted at +his door and flown away. Before this angel had disappeared from the long +corridor which led to the Doctor's room, the door was opened, and he paused +to glance at the young girl who was ready to escape. Marie returned to the +Doctor, and advanced slowly towards him. + +"Ah! Monsieur," said she to Matheus, "it is wrong in you not to keep your +promise better. You promised my father never to open the door without a +signal--" + +"Why then, Mademoiselle, did you not give the signal?" + +"I did not come to see you," said Marie; "but I brought you books and +flowers. I am so afraid you will grow weary in this little room, where you +are always alone and sad." + +As she spoke, the angel girl went to the Doctor's room, as she would have +done to her brother's, without any hesitation or trouble. She was robed in +innocence; and if her heart beat a little louder than usual then, the child +attributed it entirely to the rapidity with which she had ascended the +stairs. The Doctor took the books and flowers which she had placed at his +door, and put them in the vase on the mantle. He was glad to be able to +look away from Marie's face, for he felt that his countenance told all he +thought. + +"I took the most amusing books from my little library," said she. "One +learned as you are, always immersed in study, may not approve of my choice. +Perhaps though, Monsieur, as you read them you will think of your +patient--" + +"Ah! I do so always," said Von Apsberg. "I was thinking of you when you +came." + +"You were writing," said Marie, as she looked at the sheet Von Apsberg +pointed out to her. + +"Ah! Mademoiselle, I wrote for you. You must follow one rule of conduct in +relation to your health, when you are separated from your father--when you +are married." + +"Married!" said Mlle. d'Harcourt, and she grew pale. "I never thought of +being married." + +"But marry you must. You will marry rich; and, Mlle., a husband worthy of +you. Ere long you will have many suitors." + +"Monsieur," said the girl, "our house now is hung with mourning. The life +of my brother is in danger, and my health, as you said, is frail and +feeble. All this you know is altogether contradictory to what you say. As +for myself," said she, with an emotion she experienced for the first time, +"I am happy as I now am, and desire no other position, I must leave you, +though," added she: "for now my father must have come from the prison where +he obtained leave to visit my brother. I am anxious to hear from him. The +Duke and myself will soon tell you about him." + +Light as a vapor, rapid as a cloud, the young girl left the Doctor's room, +to his eyes radiant with the lustre she left behind her. + + +IX.--THE CONCIERGERIE. + +Eight days after the conversation between Von Apsberg and Marie, the Doctor +heard a knock at his door. The latter was reading over for the twentieth +time one of the books which had been brought him. This book was Telemachus, +the poetical romance one might have fancied Homer himself had dreamed of, +and which Virgil and Ovid had written--the book in which morals are +enwrapped in so dense a covering of flowers, that a reader often refuses to +glance at the serious part of the work, and pays attention only to the +graceful superficies. Von Apsberg, however, read the book, not for its own +sake, but for the sake of her who had given it to him. Marie had read every +page, and her hands had turned over every leaf. This fact gave the history +of the son of Ulysses an immense value in the eyes of the young Doctor, and +made Telemachus, not Fenelon's, but Marie d'Harcourt's book. The knock at +the Doctor's door was followed by the concerted signal. He opened it, and +saw the Duke's old secretary. "Monsieur," said he, "as the Duke is absent, +I am come to say that Mlle. Marie is ill. I know your care will be useful. +She does not, though, send for you, being too feeble to come up stairs, and +afraid to ask you to come down." + +"Monsieur d'Arbel, let no one into the hotel; and tell Mlle. I will visit +her. + +"She will see you, Monsieur, in the window next to the drawing-room. I will +send the servants out of the way, so that you can see Mlle. Marie without +fear of discovery." + +All the Secretary's arrangements were carried out, and a few minutes after +Matheus waited on his fair patient. She was ill. Since her conversation +with the Doctor, her health had really changed. Something mental seemed to +influence it. Her complexion, sullied by the tears she had shed since her +brother's arrest, was faded, and a flush was visible on her cheeks alone. +These symptoms made the Doctor unhappy. He, therefore, approached Marie +with great uneasiness. + +She said: "How kind you are, Doctor, to risk your liberty: I could not +otherwise have seen you. I have not strength enough." + +"I will try soon to confer it on you, if God grants me power to attend to +you." + +"I shall die," said she with an anxious voice, which penetrated the +Doctor's very heart, "if you cannot." + +"For your sake," said Matheus, "I will defend my liberty by every means in +my power, for I wish to restore your health, and preserve an existence +indispensable to your father's happiness." + +"How I suffer," said Marie, placing her hand on her snowy brow. "I have an +intense pain, which passes from temple to temple, and gives me much +suffering." + +"Do you sleep well?" asked Matheus. + +"No, no, for many days I have not slept, or if I have, phantoms have +flitted across my slumbers." She blushed as she spoke. This the Doctor did +not see, for he was searching out a remedy. + +"Well," said he, "I think we must use a remedy which has hitherto +succeeded. Magnetism will enable you to sleep, and perhaps will soothe your +sufferings." Rising, then, he placed his hand on the patient's brow, as he +had done a few months before when the Marquise had experienced such good +effects from it. He placed his hands on the young girl's temples, and then +made passes across her face, the result of which was that she sank softly +to sleep. The state of somnambulism ensued, and Marie unfolded the +condition of her heart to the young physician. While he was thus engaged +the Duke entered. + +"You here, Doctor?" said he; "how imprudent!" + +"_She_ was suffering," said the physician; "now she sleeps." The Duke +thanked Von Apsberg for his care, but seemed to centre all his hope in the +young Doctor, as the sailor devotes himself to the lord of storms and +waves. Now, though, every word the Duke said seemed a reproach. He +shuddered as he thought of the confessions of Mlle. d'Harcourt, and asked +himself if he participated in her sentiments or had suffered her to divine +his. All his delicacy and loyalty revolted from the idea that this +confession would cost the unfortunate father the life of his daughter.[5] +Von Apsberg saw that henceforth it would be impossible for him to remain +longer at the Duke's hotel, and that it would be criminal to remain with +one the secret thoughts of whom he knew. He, therefore, made up his mind to +speak to the Duke. Just then Marie, who had been for some time free from +any magnetic influence, awoke calm and smiling. "How deliciously I have +slept," said she; "how well I am!" + +The Duke kissed her affectionately. He said, "All this you owe to the +Doctor; and I thank heaven amid our misfortunes that he has been preserved +to us. I am glad I have been able to rescue him from his persecutors, and +preserve my daughter's health by means of his own watchful care." + +Marie gave the Doctor her hand. The young girl did not remember what she +had said while she slept. This slumber of the heart, however, could not +last, and the young Doctor knew it. He resolved on the painful sacrifice +which, but for the waking of his patient, he would at once have +communicated to the Prince. + +The reflections of the night confirmed the Doctor in the course he had +resolved to adopt. On the next day he put on a long cloak, which disguised +his stature, and went to the room of the Duke, after having also put on a +wig which Rene often wore when he visited Matheus, and which the Duke had +sent for to enable him in case of a surprise to leave unrecognized. + +The distress of the Duke at the Vicomte's imprisonment increased every day. +He had only once been able to reach his son, and had contrived to inspire +the captive with hopes of liberty he was far from entertaining himself. The +Vicomte was actively watched, and his most trifling actions were observed. +Ever alone in the sad cell in which he had been confined, ennui and despair +took possession of him, and his brilliant mind, to which mirth and activity +had been indispensable, became downcast and miserable. Since the visit of +his father, also, his delicate chest had begun to suffer. What the Doctor +especially apprehended for his friend was the possibility of cold and +dampness producing a dangerous irritation of the respiratory organs. This +took place; for nothing could be more humid and icy than the cell of Rene. +He had a dry and incessant cough. The keepers paid no attention to it, and +the keeper of the Conciergerie treated it as a simple cold of no +importance. The Vicomte was unwilling to inform his father of it lest he +should be uneasy, and the mere indisposition rapidly became a serious and +terrible disease. This was the state of things when Von Apsberg presented +himself before the Duke. "What is the matter?" said the old man. "Are you +discovered and forced to leave us?" + +"Duke," said the Doctor, "let me first express my deepest thanks for your +generous hospitality. Let me tell you how much your kindness has soothed +the cruel suffering to which I have been subjected day and night for three +weeks. I would, had it not been for your kindness, have weeks ago shared +the captivity of Rene; and the hope I entertained of being of use to your +daughter, alone prevented me from surrendering myself to despair at the +prospect of a crushed and prospectless life, when I saw my brethren +arrested in consequence of one whom I had always looked on as a devoted +friend." + +"Do not speak to me of that man," said the Duke in a terrible tone, "for my +son, in my presence, charged him with having betrayed him." + +"I have spoken to you of my gratitude," said the Doctor, "that you might +not doubt it now at our separation." + +"What danger now menaces you?" said the Duke, "why do you leave us?" + +"To avoid being ungrateful," said Von Apsberg. "That you may never accuse +your guest of selfishness, and that he may always deserve the esteem with +which you honor him." + +"What is the meaning of this mysterious language?" + +"Grant me," said the young physician, with a trembling voice, "the boon of +being permitted to keep the cause of my departure a secret. You would be as +sorry to hear as I would be to tell you." + +"No," said the old man, "I will not consent to this. You shall not quit the +house which shelters you from your enemies: no, you shall not. Ah! sir," +continued the Duke, "if you will not remain for your own sake do so for +mine, for you alone have preserved the life of my daughter thus far." The +Doctor said, as he gave a paper to the Duke: "Here is the result of my +study, in which I have traced out all the means known to science calculated +to strengthen the health of your daughter, and to parry the dangers which +menace her." + +"Doctor," said the Duke, "do not distress me by leaving the hotel. Do not +make me perpetually miserable, Doctor, I am already unfortunate enough." + +"Well," said the young man, unable to resist his prayers any longer, "you +shall know what forces me to go, and shall yourself judge of my duty." He +fell at the Duke's feet, and told him all he had learned during Marie's +slumber, his combats with himself, and his resolution. + +"You are an honest man," said the Duke, with an expression of poignant +grief, and lifting him up: "but I am a most unfortunate father." + +D'Asbel just then came in with a letter. + +"From my son," said the Duke, and he opened it. The features of the old man +assumed, as he read, such an expression of terror, that Von Apsberg and the +Secretary advanced towards him and sustained him, for he seemed ready to +faint. "Read," said he, with a voice half indistinct, and he gave the +Doctor the letter. It was as follows: + +"MY DEAR FATHER:--I can conceal no longer that I am dying. One man alone, +who has often soothed me by his care and advice, can now save me. This is +Von Apsberg. I cannot, though, ask him to accompany you, for he would +endanger his own liberty. Come, then, dear father, to see me for the last +time." + +"Let us go, sir," said the Doctor. "Let us not delay a minute, for in an +hour--it may be too late." + +"But you expose your life, Doctor, by going among your enemies," said the +Duke. + +"But I will save his," said Von Apsberg. The Duke rushed into his arms. + +Half an hour afterwards two men entered the Conciergerie. They were the +Vicomte's father and an English doctor whom the Duke brought to see his +son. The Director of the prison did not dare to refuse a father and +physician permission to see a sick son and patient. With the turnkeys they +passed an iron grate, beyond which was seen a vaulted passage, which, in +the darkness, seemed interminable. On the inner side of the grate sat a +morose looking man, whom nature seemed to have created exclusively to live +in one of these earthly hells. His only duty was to open and shut the +grate, to which he seemed as firmly attached as one of its own bars. His +duty was not without danger, for in case of a mutiny, the Cerberus had +orders to throw on the outside the heavy key he was intrusted with, and +thus expose himself, without means of escape, to the rage of the criminals. +They showed this man their pass. The key turned in the lock, and the grate +permitted them to enter. It then swung to, filling the vaulted passage with +its clash. Near this was a dark room, in which were several dark-browed +jailers and gend'armes. + +The Duke and the Doctor were minutely examined. One of them, whose features +hidden by a dirty cap might recall one of the persons of this history, left +the group, opened the grate, and disappeared rapidly, just as a new jailer +guided the visitors to a long corridor in one of the cells, on opening +which was the Vicomte D'Harcourt. On a miserable pallet, in a kind of dark +cellar, into which the day seemed to penetrate reluctantly, through a +grated window, was Rene D'Harcourt, the last hope of an illustrious house, +without air or any of the attentions his situation demanded. The Duke wept +to see him. Rene, with hollow cheeks, and eyes sparkling with a burning +fever, arose with pain and extended his arms to his father, who embraced +him tenderly. + +Fifteen days had expanded his disease, the germs of which had long slept in +his system. The bad air and icy dew, amid which he lived, the absence of +constant and vigilant care, in such cases so indispensable, had, as it +were, conspired against him. A violent and dry cough every moment burst +from his chest, and at every access his strength seemed more and more +feeble. Had he sooner informed his father of his condition, beyond doubt, +some active remedy would have been used, not for pity's sake, for at that +time little was shown to conspirators, but from fear of the liberal press, +whose censure the administration dreaded. Rene, however, was too disdainful +of the persons he called his executioners to ask any favors. The physician +of the prison, as we have said, was satisfied with ordering a few trifling +palliatives. The Vicomte was dying without his even being aware of it. When +the turnkey had introduced the Duke and the Englishman he left, telling +them that in a few minutes he would return. Then the Vicomte saw that a +stranger was with his father. The latter approached, and taking the young +man's hand pressed it to his heart with an affection which told the +prisoner who visited him. + +"Von Apsberg! Ah! father, I knew he would come." + +"Be silent, dear Rene; be silent," said the Doctor, "for your sake and +mine. Forget that I am your friend, and remember me only as a doctor. Tell +me how you suffer. Speak quick, for time is precious. Tell me nothing--and +do not exhaust yourself in describing--what is plain enough, I am sorry to +say. I see, I read in your eyes, what is your condition." + +To hide his tears Von Apsberg looked away. A father's heart though could +not be deceived, and the Duke had seen the Doctor's tears. The old man +said, "Save, Doctor, save my son." + +Von Apsberg made an effort to surmount the grief which overcame him. + +"We will save him," said he, calmly; "there is a remedy for such cases, +which in a few hours will terminate the progress of the malady, and enable +us to adopt other means. He took a card from his pocket and wrote a +prescription, which he ordered to be sent immediately to the nearest +apothecary. He yet had the card in his hand when the door of the cell was +violently thrown open, and several men accompanied by gend'armes rushed in +and seized the Doctor. + +"Arrest him," said an officer. "It is he, the German physician whom we have +so long sought for. He has been recognized." Nothing could equal the effect +of this scene. The Vicomte made useless attempts to leave his bed and +assist his friend. The Duke was pale and agitated; and Von Apsberg, calm +and resigned, gave himself up to the men who surrounded him. In anxiety for +Rene he had forgotten himself. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "you may do as you please with me, but, for heaven's +sake, let me remain a few moments with this young man, and one of you hurry +for this prescription I have written." + +"A paper," said the principal agent with joy, when he saw what Von Apsberg +had in his hand. "It is, perhaps, a plan of escape. This must be taken to +the Director for the _Procureur du Roi_. Another scheme, perhaps, of the +Jacobin has come to light----" He put the paper in his huge pocket. + +"Take this man away, said he to the gens d'armes, and do not let him speak +a word to the prisoner." Rushing on Von Apsberg like famished wolves, they +bore him away, and left the Duke alone with his son. The shock had done the +prisoner much injury. He sunk back on his bed with a violent cough, and +felt a mortal coldness glide over his frame and chill his blood. + +"A doctor, a doctor," said the Duke, rushing towards the door. "A +physician, for heaven's sake. My son is dying." The door did not close. The +poor father leaning over his child pressed his lips to his burning brow, +and then supported his head, from time to time attempting to warm his icy +hands with his breath. He continued to call in heaven's name for a +physician. + +Half an hour after Von Apsberg's arrest, and while the Duke yet pressed his +son's inanimate body, three men appeared in the room. They were the +Director, Doctor, and Jailer of the prison. + +"Monsieur," said the Duke to the Director, rising to his full stature, and +with a tone of painful solemnity, "you are an accomplice in a great crime, +and before the country and king, I, Duke d'Harcourt, peer of France, and +grand cordon of the Saint Esprit, will accuse you." + +"What mean you, sir?" said the Director, with a terror he could not +conceal. "Of what do you complain?" + +"That you have placed in a cell, without air and light, as if he were +sentenced to death, a man against whom there is now a mere suspicion; for +he has not been tried. I complain that you have wrested from me a physician +I have brought hither to attend to my son--and that with horrible brutality +you have taken possession of a prescription for a remedy which might have +preserved him, and have by this means deprived him of life." + +The Duke spoke but too truly, for a kind of suffocation took possession of +the young man. His breast seemed oppressed, and every sign of death was +visible. + +The Director muttered some apology in defence of himself, but the Duke +said, "Not another word here, sir; accomplish your task in peace; or at +least, give me back the paper. It is the life of my son----" + +As the Director was about to go in person for it, the Doctor called him +back and pointed to the patient over whose countenance death began to +steal. He said, "It is too late!" + +The Vicomte arose with difficulty and said, "Father, forgive me the wrong I +have done. Forgive me, as I forgive others. No, no, not so; for there is +one person I cannot forgive!" He looked around with an expression of +intense hatred and contempt. "He has ruined and destroyed me, and all of +us; he has delivered us to our enemies,--_that_ man, hear all of you, is +Count Monte-Leone!" His head sank on his breast, and his last breath +mingled with the kisses of his father. + +"I have no son!" said the old man in despair; and he sank by the side of +the child God had taken away from him. + + +X.--THE CONFESSION. + +As we have seen in a previous chapter, Count Monte-Leone went to the +Prefect of Police to surrender himself to his enemies. The Count did not +hesitate, for he preferred a sudden and cruel death to the intolerable life +he now led. The Prefect was as civil as possible, and altogether different +from what he would have been three days before to a person pointed out as +one of the agents. The reason was, that after the energetic protestation of +the Count in the presence of M. H---- at the Duke d'Harcourt's, grave +doubts had arisen in the mind of the chief of the political police in +relation to the services said to have been rendered by the Neapolitan. +Making use then of the police itself, and causing the man who said he was +an agent of the Count's to be watched, his conviction of the +non-participation of Monte-Leone in the treachery became almost certain, +and he began to tremble at the idea that he had been made a dupe in this +affair, and at the probable consequences. The first of these was the fear +of ridicule, that powerful instrument against a police; next, the just +recrimination to which the Count might subject them as having slandered +him; and the capital error of having left at liberty the most powerful of +the Carbonari in Europe, under the belief that he was an ally of the +Government--to which he was a mortal foe. All this crowd of faults H---- +had committed in his blind confidence, and had led astray the police and +all the agents. Thus uneasy, the Chief of Police saw that but one course of +safety was left him. This was both bold and adroit, for it foresaw danger +and prepared a conductor to turn its thunders aside. H---- went to the +Prefect and owned all. The first anger of the latter having passed away, +the two chiefs saw with terror that they were equally compromised--the one +for acting, and the other for suffering his subordinate to act. They, +therefore, adopted the only course left them, Machiavelian it is true, but +which extricated them from a great difficulty. This course was, to deny all +participation in the malicious reports circulated in relation to the Count, +but to suffer the public to imagine what it pleased, and attribute their +inaction to carelessness for the result, or to the mystery necessary to be +observed in police matters. Count Monte-Leone, too, since the arrest of his +accomplices, and the discovery of his friends, was not greatly to be +feared, especially as he was now repelled by society as a double traitor. + +Two things alone disturbed H----. The first was the course of the strange +man who had used the Count's name to unveil so completely the plans of the +conspiracy. He, however, was soon restored to confidence by remembering +that he was now strictly carrying out this man's plans. Besides, in case of +need, there were a thousand methods of securing this man's eternal silence. +As for the pass in Monte-Leone's name, which might be a terrible arm in the +possession of the Count in case he attacked the Government, H----learned +much to his satisfaction, from Salvatori himself, that it had been +destroyed. The Prefect, therefore, did not hesitate to receive the Count. +"Sir," said the latter, "a horrible slander is circulated against me. In +disregard of my character and name I have been charged with being one of +your agents, and beg you to contradict this." + +"The Prefect says your honor is above any such suspicion, and I should fear +I injured you even by referring to so idle a tale." + +"But one of your principal officers has given credit to this rumor by the +perfidious reply he made a few days since, when the Vicomte d'Harcourt was +arrested." + +The Prefect rang his bell and sent for M. H----. When the latter arrived, +he asked him, sternly, if he had seemed to believe that Count Monte-Leone +had any participation in the acts of the Police. + +H---- said, "The Count is in error, if he understood me thus. I did not +believe that his self-accusation was true, for I could not realize that one +so exalted in rank as the Count, could be guilty of conspiracy. I had no +idea of insulting him, as he thinks. Were it not likely to give the affair +too much gravity, I would every where repel it." + +This amazed the Count. His mind, which seemed to give way beneath so many +blows, had looked on this man's reply as an answer. The object of this +perfidy yet escaped him; and reason and good sense could form no idea of +the motive. + +"You see, Count," said the Prefect, "all think you so far above the calumny +of which you complain, that we would not dare even to defend you; the +character of the department makes it impossible for us to mix in +discussions about reputations." + +"I have already asked this gentleman," and the Count pointed to M. H----, +"to furnish a striking proof that I am not the creature they say I am. I +now ask you the same favor." The two officials were annoyed. "I am as +guilty as those you have arrested," continued he, "and demand a fate like +that of my associates." + +The Prefect said, "I never act except from the orders of a higher +authority, and have none in relation to you. I prefer to think that your +devotion to those you call your associates has caused you to exaggerate +your complicity, and when that is proven you will find us just and stern to +yourself, as we have been to them." The Prefect bowed and returned to his +private office, and the Count left in indescribable agitation. He was +deprived of his last justification, of one he wished to buy at the price of +his life. His rage and despair had no limits. He was to experience a new +shock in the death of Vicomte d'Harcourt, which was circulated through all +Paris. He also heard that the Duke charged him with being the cause of his +death, and with having denounced him. + +We will now leave our hero for a few moments, to refer to a terrible event +which at this crisis overwhelmed the Royal family and France with grief. +This circumstance, yet enwrapped in mystery, was the death of the Duke de +Berry. This Prince, the hope of France, expiring in the spring time of life +beneath the dagger of a vulgar assassin; the obscurity which covered the +details of the murder distressed all Europe. There was a general outcry +against secret societies. The one, the chief members of which were now in +prison, was especially thought guilty of having instigated the murder. The +chiefs of the Carbonari _ventas_ saw their chains grow heavier and their +prisons become dungeons. Ober, the banker F----, General A----, and Von +Apsberg, were not spared: their papers were examined, their past life +scrutinized in search of some connection with this odious murder. The trial +of the ruffian was anxiously waited for, in the hope that something would +connect him with Carbonarism. Nothing, however, was found in the whole of +the long and minute examination; and it soon became evident that the crime +had been committed by a fanatic who was isolated, without adherents, +instigators, or accomplices. Thus at least France thought of the result of +the trial. This was the impression produced by the execution of Louvel. + +The liberals, who had been for a time terrified by the reports circulated +in relation to their partisans, began to regain their courage, and, +fortified by their acquittal, complained of the calumnies circulated in +relation to them. The first reproach cast on Government, and especially on +the ministry of Decazes, was great injustice towards the Carbonari. The +ministry was accused of having invented a conspiracy and +conspirators--questions of political humanity were mooted--and true or +imaginary tortures, to which the prisoners had been subject, were +recounted. French generosity and pity became interested for the sake of +victims who languished in chains. One voice, though, was heard above all +others, and spoke so distinctly, that it touched every heart and mind. It +reached the very throne, and aroused one of those powerful influences which +truth alone can. This voice was that of the Duke d'Harcourt--a king in +virtue and feeling. His word was a law people of every shade of opinion +listened to, in consequence of the admiration caused by his life and +conduct. The Duke, who was entitled to sympathy from the successive death +of his sons, accused those who had taken the last from him of barbarity. He +told of the death of the Vicomte while suspected of a crime which perhaps +was imaginary; and in the sublime tones of his despair uttered loud charges +against the fallen administration. The new one trembled before a unanimous +sentiment, and sought to win popularity from clemency. This sentiment, +which in Louis XVIII. was innate, his ministers echoed. One by one the +prisons were opened and their sad inmates restored to life and light. The +chief Carbonari were less fortunate than their followers. Their trial +progressed, and though many abortive schemes were discovered, no act was +found. There were ideas, utopias, and social paradoxes, but nothing +positive. F----, B----, Ober and their associates, whose friends acted +busily, were subjected to some months' imprisonment, which, added to their +previous incarceration, seemed to their judges a sufficient punishment for +their hopes, which, though criminal, had never been realized. General A---- +was exiled, and Von Apsberg was detained for a long time in the +conciergerie. He was ultimately released. As for Taddeo, all the inquiries +of Aminta and of the Prince de Maulear, who loved him as a son, were vain. +Every day increased their uneasiness on this account, bringing to light the +disappointment of some hope. Thus a year passed.... + +Early in April, 1821, a man of about forty sat on a bench in a little +garden attached to a modest country abode near Neuilly. The garden was on +the Seine, which was the limit of a kind of town. The man of whom we speak +was almost bent beneath the double weight of grief and suffering. His +features were sharp and thin, his eyes sunken, and his hair, almost white, +gave him the appearance of one far more advanced in age. In this person +prematurely old and wretched, none would have recognized the brilliant and +elegant Count Monte-Leone, who once had been so deservedly admired. A deep +sorrow had crushed his strong constitution--months to him had become +years--and he had suffered all that a mind, richly endowed as his was, +could. Pursued by the atrocious slanders we refer to, he had given way +beneath the blow. In vain had he striven for some time after his useless +visit to the Prefect against them. The hideous monster which pursued him +redoubled its attacks, and cries of reprobation burst from every lip. The +relations and friends of the prisoners reproached him, and adversity seemed +to have seized him with its iron claw. In vain did he protest and call for +proof. All appealed to the circumstances. His many duels made people say in +his favor only this, "_Brave as he is, he is a spy!_" Despair, then, took +possession of him, and he fled from the world which cursed him, and hid +himself. One reason alone restrained him from suicide. This was, that he +knew another life depended on his, and clung to it as the ivy does to the +oak. The Count lived that another might not die. This person was an angel +rather than a woman. It was Aminta. Watching the unfortunate man as a +mother watches a child, braving the public opinion which dishonored him she +adored, Aminta rarely left the Count, whose tears fell on her heart like +burning lava. + +The Marquise had purchased an establishment near the house of Monte-Leone, +with whom she passed all her time; for her visits made his desolate heart +more serene. On the day we speak of, the Count sat in the garden, and old +Giacomo advanced towards him, taking care to announce himself with a slight +cough. "Monseigneur," said he, "it is I, your intendant. I am come to speak +to you." + +"I have no intendant," said the Count, "a miserable outlaw like myself can +indulge in no such luxury. Do not call me Monseigneur; the title now is +become an ironical insult." + +"It, however, is your excellency's name, and _that_ the slanderous villains +cannot deprive you of." + +"They have done more than that," said the Count, with a bitter smile; "they +have destroyed my honor. You shall not call me thus any longer." + +"Very well," said the good man, whom the Marquise had told not to thwart +his master; "I will call Monseigneur, Count only. You are Monseigneur, for +all that." + +"Enough," said the Count, "go away, you fatigue me, you injure me." + +"I injure you," said Giacomo, "when you know I would die for you?" + +The Count looked around on the companion of all his life; he saw the tears +the old man shed, and threw himself into his arms. "Ah! you love me in +spite of all--" + +"And so does _she_," said Giacomo, whose features became kindled with +pleasure at this sudden exhibition of his master's love; "yes, that noble, +true woman loves you dearly." + +"Aminta!" said the Count, "ah! but for her you would have no master." + +"Monseigneur,--no--Count!" said the old valet; "Madame la Marquise has come +hither." + +"Let her come--let her come--when she is with me, I pass my only happy +hours." + +"True," said Giacomo, "but she is not alone--" + +"Who accompanies her? Who has come to see the informer? Who dares to brave +the leprosy?" + +The old man said, "The Prince de Maulear." + +"The Prince! The Prince in my house! No, no! Tell him to go, that I see no +one! I will see no one--" + +"You will see me, Monsieur?" said the old nobleman, advancing with Aminta +on his arm. + +"What do you wish, sir?" said Monte-Leone; "if you insult me again, you +are indeed cruel." + +"Monte-Leone," said Aminta, "the Prince is your friend. His words will be +of service; I brought him hither." + +The Count sank on his seat and was silent. + +"Count," said the Prince, "had I not been confined at one of my estates for +eight months by an obstinate _gout_, you would have seen me long since." + +"Ah!" said the Count, with surprise. + +"You would have seen me brought to you by repentance for the injury I did +you. I gave way, Monte-Leone, to an indignant feeling I shall regret all my +life. Reflection has enlightened me. The account I have heard from my +daughter-in-law, the resources which you concealed, and especially your +despair, the wasted condition of your health, the ravages of your misery, +her love, her respect, have long told me how unjust I was to you." + +The Count looked at the Prince with mingled astonishment and doubt. The +Prince said, "As men of our rank are glad to confess their faults, and ask +pardon for them, I beg you, sir, to forgive me." The Prince bowed to +Monte-Leone, who seemed overcome by emotion. + +Taking the Prince's hand he placed it on his heart and said, "Now, sir, +feel this palpitation, and tell me whether the heart of a bad or guilty man +ever beat thus with joy, at justice being done him." + +From this day Monte-Leone enjoyed two of the greatest pleasures of life--a +tender love, and a noble friendship.... + +A month after the first visit of the Prince de Maulear to the house at +Neuilly, the following scene took place in a sad room of the _rue Casette_ +in the Faubourg St. Germain. + +A sick woman lay on a bed, and a stern dark man sat beside her. "I tell +you," said she, "I want a priest, and it is cruel for you to refuse me +one." + +"Bah! Signora, you are not sick enough for that. Why have a confidant in +our affairs? Confession is of no use except to the dying!" + +"I am very sick," said she, "and my strength every day decreases!" + +"Well, let us come to terms, then, Duchess. You shall have a priest--but +you do not intend to make your confession only to him, I know." + +"Your old ideas again, Stenio!" said La Felina. + +"They are not my ideas. Did you not say once when you were very sick, '_No, +I will not die until I am completely avenged. I wish to know whence came +the shaft which crushed him. I wish him to curse me as I have cursed +him!_'" + +"True!" said the Duchess, who, as she listened to the Italian, seemed lost +in thought. "It is true, I said all that." + +"Well, the time is come. You fear you are dying, and would not leave your +work incomplete!" + +"But if I tell all," said La Felina, "do you fear nothing for yourself?" + +"That man is now but a shadow," said Salvatori, "and now in my strong hand +I can grasp him, as he once grasped me, with his iron nerves, when he +stabbed me. Besides, no one would believe him. _Is he not a spy?_" + +The first words of the Italian, "_That man is but a shadow_," had arrested +La Felina's attention. She said, "Is he much changed? is he very sick?" She +could not restrain her accent. + +"He? yes, indeed; he is dying. Public contempt has completely crushed the +proud giant. We have effected that. Besides," continued he, "in order to +make a suitable return for the touching interest you inspired me with just +now, I must tell you I am going. You have made me rich, and if I were so +unfortunate as to lose you--Ah, words never kill," added he, as he saw how +terrified La Felina was--"I would not remain an hour in this accursed +country." + +"Very well," said she; "give me writing materials." She wrote a few lines +with a trembling hand. + +"To the Count," said she, giving them to Salvatori; "I expect him +to-morrow." + +"Very well," said the Italian, sternly. "This will kill him." + +Scarcely had he left the room when La Felina rang her bell, and the servant +who had always accompanied her entered. The Duchess drew her towards her, +and placing her lips close to the ear of the woman, as if she was afraid +some one would hear her, whispered a few words and sank back completely +exhausted. + +Such was the Duchess of Palma, the famous singer of San Carlo, whom we find +dying in this unknown and obscure retreat. The hand of God, who does not +always punish the soul of the criminal alone, but who sometimes strikes the +living body, weighed heavily on her. The Duke, weary of the ties imposed by +marriage on him, and becoming more and more infatuated with his thin +_danseuse_, sought for an opportunity to throw off his chains. He soon +found one. Feigning to be jealous, the Duke, in consequence of some vague +rumors, obtained the key of the bureau in which the Duchess kept the +"confessions of the heart," as she called the detail of her brief amour +with Monte-Leone. Having gotten possession of this paper, the Duke made a +great noise, threatened her with a suit, and easily obtained the separation +he desired so much. There was a general burst of indignation. The nobles +who had been furious at the _mesalliance_ of the Duke, were more so at the +ingratitude of the guilty wife and low-born woman, who had usurped a rank +and title of which she showed herself so unworthy. The Duchess disappeared +suddenly from the world, which gladly rejected one it had so unwillingly +received. La Felina took refuge in a small house in the retired quarter we +have mentioned. For, like _Venus attached to her prey_, she would not +leave Paris, in which she could not divest herself of the idea that +Monte-Leone, completely reinstated, would some day become Aminta's husband. +Sickness had gradually enfeebled her, and Salvatori, who was master of her +secrets, had established himself in her house. Taking advantage of her +complicity, he had, by means of cunning and terror, became in a manner the +master and tyrant, now that her health was gone, of one to whom he had been +an abject slave. For this reason he had, as we have seen, treated her with +such cruel disdain. + +On the very day this scene took place, Monte-Leone received the following +note: "A woman, whose handwriting you will recognize, has but a few hours +to live. Come to see her for the sake of that pity she deserves. Do not +resist the prayers of one who is on her death-bed." Below was the address +of the Duchess. + +The Count had long lost sight of La Felina; he knew she was separated from +her husband, but was so indifferent that he had not even asked why. Always +kind and generous, he thought duty required him to go, and on the next day +at noon, rang at La Felina's door. Stenio had preceded him a few moments, +and in the next room prepared to enjoy the scene. No sooner had the Count +entered the bedroom than Salvatori thought he heard steps in a boudoir +connected with it, and which opened on a back stairway. Uneasy at this +noise, for which he could not account, he was yet unable to satisfy +himself; for to do so, he would have been again obliged to cross the +Duchess's room, and the Count was already with her. + +When the Count and La Felina met, a cry of astonishment burst from the lips +of each. They seemed to each other two spectres. + +"Count," said the Duchess, in faint and broken voice, "the time is come +when the truth must be told, ere the tongue on which it depends be cold in +the grave. You are, therefore, about to hear the truth as the dying tell it +who have lost all dread of men and their wrath." + +"Speak out, Signora; my life has been so strange that nothing now can +surprise me," said the Count. + +"You will be astonished; for I am about to read the riddle, the mystery, +which you have so long attempted to penetrate." The Count was attentive. +"You have," said La Felina, "sought to know who was the secret enemy who +deprived you of name and fame. I am about to tell you." The Count seemed +surprised. "Do not interrupt me," said she. "This enemy has followed your +steps and poisoned your life. Thus has it been effected: You were ruined, +really ruined, but twice have fifty thousand francs been sent to you, and +you have been made to believe that this was but a restoration of your +fortune." + +"Did it not come from Lamberti?" said the Count. + +"No; bankrupts never pay. A forged letter from this banker insisted on +silence in relation to this restoration, and thus the mysterious resources +were created which awakened the suspicions of the world, and caused the +report that you were an agent of the police to be believed." + +The Count grew pale with horror. + +"Wait," said La Felina. "A man, a devil, purchased by your enemy, in +obedience to orders, went to the house of Matheus, your associate in +Carbonarism. This devil opened the drawer in which the archives of the +association were kept, and taking possession of the lists, substituted +copies for the originals." + +"Infamous," said Monte-Leone. + +"This devil did more. He dared to procure you a pass as a 'Spy in Society.' +This pass your friend Taddeo Rovero saw." + +"My God, my God, can I hear aright?" + +"This man did not think you were as yet sufficiently degraded in the eyes +of the world and your brethren. Taking advantage of a visit you paid me, he +went into your carriage with a cloak like yours over his shoulders, and was +driven to the Prefecture of Police." + +"This is hell itself," said the Count. + +"Did I not say this man was a demon?" said La Felina, coldly. "All this +evidence was accumulated against you. The French Government was deceived, +and did not exert severity towards the powerful chief of the Carbonari, now +become, as it believed, its agent. The world and public opinion did their +work." + +"Why was all this? what was the motive?" + +"You had destroyed the happiness of your enemy, and in return the sacrifice +of your honor was exacted; you had deserted one who adored you, and sought +to marry another; to prevent this she disgraced you. Now, Count +Monte-Leone," said La Felina, rising up, "is it necessary for me to name +that woman? Do you know me?" + +"Wretch!" said the Count, "are you not afraid that I will kill you?" + +"Why?" said she, "am I not dying?" + +"Well," said he, "you shall carry to the tomb one crime in addition to the +offences you have revealed to me. With honor you destroyed my life." Taking +a pistol from his bosom he placed it to his brow, and was about to fire-- + +At the last words of the Count a door was thrown open, and an arm seized +Monte-Leone's hand. He looked around and saw the Duke D'Harcourt. + +"Count," said he, "one person alone can restore you the honor of which you +have been so rudely deprived. That person is the Duke D'Harcourt." + +"The voice of the man, of the father," said he, and his eyes became +suffused with tears, "who charged you publicly with having denounced his +son, and surrendered him to the executioners, with having killed him. + +"Ah! God himself sends you hither," said the Count, with an indescribable +accent of hope. "Yes, yes; you have heard all, and will be believed. +Monsieur," said he, with great animation, "have you not heard all? You know +how I have been treated by those monsters. You will say so. Tell me that +you will. I cast myself at your feet to implore you." + +"Count," said the Duke, lifting up Monte-Leone and embracing him, "I am the +guilty man, for louder than any one I have uttered an anathema on the +innocent. I have appealed to man and God for vengeance." + +"Yes," said the Count, "and touched by the immensity of my sufferings God +has led you hither." + +"Yes, God," said the Duke, "and _she_;" pointing to La Felina, whose eyes +brightened up with animation, strangely contrasted with the morbid palor of +her face. + +"_She?_" said the Count. + +"Yes," said the Duke. "Stricken down by repentance, she besought me +yesterday to come hither to hear her confession." + +Scarcely had the Duke pronounced these words, than a cry of hatred, savage +as that of the jackal, was heard in the next room. + +"Save me, save me," said the Duchess, calling Monte-Leone to her, and +sheltering herself behind his body, "_He_ will murder me." + +"_He?_" said the Duke and Count together. + +"Whom do you refer to?" said Monte-Leone. + +"To Stenio Salvatori, the accomplice in this tissue of crime." + +The two noblemen rushed towards the room where the cry had been heard. A +door leading to the stairway was open, and there was no one visible. When +they returned, the invalid giving way to so severe a shock and exertion was +dying. She had only strength to repeat the request she had urged on Stenio +the day before. "A priest, for heaven's sake, a priest, that I may repeat +to God what I have said to man." + +The door opened and an ecclesiastic appeared. + +"Quick, father, quick," said the Duchess. "Tell me that God, like man, will +forgive me." + +The priest stood for a few minutes in the middle of the room, apparently +overpowered by emotion. He said, "One person must forgive you, Madame, and +that person is the individual whose life you have made miserable, whom you +have made use of to strike this innocent man;" and he pointed to the Count. +"I, as well as the Duke, was in the adjoining room, and have heard all. +That pardon I give you." + +The Duchess said, "Then Rovero, too, forgives me;" before she had finished +his name, Monte-Leone clasped Taddeo in his arms. + +Two days after, a funeral portage proceeded to a place of eternal rest. +Three men followed a body to the grave. They were Monte-Leone, the Duke +d'Harcourt, and the Abbe Rovero. Love and friendship having been both +betrayed, as he thought, Taddeo sought for consolation in religion. The +Divinity, he knew, did not betray those who love him. A fugitive and an +outlaw, he had sought refuge in a seminary, and subsequently had become a +priest. Chance had assigned him to a church near La Felina's house, and he +had been pointed out by the Duchess's confidential servant, as a priest +worthy her mistress's confidence. Heaven had accomplished the rest. + +All Paris, at that time, was filled with a strange report, and with +amazement learned the truth in relation to Monte-Leone. A letter from the +Duke d'Harcourt appeared in the journals of the day and unfolded this +terrible drama. The Duke told Paris and all Europe, what he had overheard +in the Duchess's boudoir. + +It said, if any voice should do justice to this injured man, it is that of +a father who wrongfully accused him of being the death of a son. The moral +reaction in favor of the Count was as sudden as the censure the world had +heaped on him had been. The person who, next to Monte-Leone, enjoyed this +complete reparation, was the adorable woman who had never doubted the honor +of the man she loved. + +The King sent for the Duke d'Harcourt; he understood and participated in +the grief of an unfortunate father, for he, also, had lost the heir of his +throne. When the old noble left the King he bore with him the pardon of +Rene's young friend, the generous Von Apsberg. The Duke went to the +conciergerie, and on the Doctor, in his gratitude, asking after Marie, the +former said, "She is a patient who will give you a great deal of trouble, +both her health and her heart being seriously affected. You will have two +grave diseases to attend to, and the husband must assist the physician." + + +EPILOGUE. + +A month after these events--on the first of May, that festival of sunlight, +flowers, and universal rejoicings--two couples, followed by many friends +and brilliant attendants, went from the small house on the banks of the +Seine, to the village church of Neuilly. The Prince de Maulear, made young +by happiness, had Marie d'Harcourt on his arm. The Duke escorted the +Marquise, and the Count and Von Apsberg followed them. The priest stood at +the foot of the altar. This priest, who made four persons happy, but who +looked to heaven alone for his own happiness, was Taddeo Rovero. + +The three fiery Carbonari gradually felt their revolutionary ardor grow +dull. The reason is, these three men were now attached to the society they +had sought to destroy, by strong ties. Two were bound to it by family +bonds, and the other by religion. + +_Carbonarism_ was not crushed in Europe, by the disasters of the French +association. It slumbered for ten years, but awoke in 1830. The tree has +grown, and the world now gathers its bitter fruits. + +Stenio Salvatori received in Italy the punishment due his great crimes in +France. His vile heart became the sheath of the stiletto of one of the +brethren of the _Venta_ of CASTEL LA MARC. + +Our old acquaintance, Mlle. Celestine Crepinean, touched by divine grace, +repented of having made so bad a disposition of her pure and virgin love. +Like Magdalen, she threw herself at the feet of her Savior, and lived to an +advanced age, greatly to the edification of the faithful as dispenser of +holy water at the church of Saint THOMAS AQUINAS. + +END OF THE SPY IN SOCIETY. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[3] Concluded from page 327. + +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. + +[4] _Mansarde_ Gallice, from the inventor Mansard, uncle of another +architect of the same name of the time of Louis XIV. + +[5] It is one of the maxims of _magnetism_, that when once an entire +sympathy between two minds is established equality ensues, and consequently +neither can exert influence over the other. + + + + +A GHOST STORY OF NORMANDY. + +BY THE AUTHOR OF "HAMON AND CATAR; OR, THE TWO RACKS." + +From Bentley's Miscellany. + + +I. + +On a fine summer evening, in 1846, I left my house, which was in the +neighborhood of Honfleur, Normandy, to take a stroll. It was July. All the +morning and all the afternoon the sun had been busily pouring down streams +of radiance like streams of boiling water, and I had kept the house, and +kept it closely shut up too, till the orb of day had gone some way down +towards the sea, as if, like a fire-eater, or like a locomotive, to get a +_drink_ after its work. + +My wife being asleep, I borrowed her parasol, for English life in France is +very free and easy, and I was rather careful of my complexion. I lit a +cigar, and starting, soon left the church of St. Catharine behind. My +business in the town was to post a letter, which I got safely done, and +then passing down the fish-market, I found myself, ere long, at the foot of +the Cote de Grace--a steep hill which rises abruptly from the town, and is +scaleable at one part by a sandy zigzag. + +My cigar was a bad one altogether--a bad one to look at and a bad one to +blow. Of government manufacture, it cost five sous, and was not worth one. +Its skin was as thick as an ass's hide, and no persuasion would make _it_ +draw. Like a false friend, it became quite hollow when I put the fire of +trial to it; and only waxed hot and oily as it burnt on. It was a French +regalia, and had nothing of French royalty about it but bad _smoke_. The +tobacco had, I think, lost savor, as salt used to do, in passing through +the monopolizing hands of the _Citoyen Roi_. In a word, my gorge rose at +it. + +I stood awhile at the foot of the zigzag, endeavoring to coax it into +usefulness, for I was a family man, and had given many hostages to fortune, +and dared not to be extravagant. I tried to doctor it by incisions, and by +giving it draughts; but all was in vain. At last it began to unwind, and +some loose ashes found their way to my eyes. I was about to throw it away +in disgust, when a young Frenchman, who had passed me a moment before with +a party (I knew him slightly and we had bowed), returned, and observing +that my cigar seemed troublesome, asked me to try one of his. + +His name was Le Brun. We had met occasionally on the pier, where in the +quiet evenings I used to take refuge from the uproar of my sanctuary at +home, and for awhile almost believed myself a lay bachelor lounging through +France without a charming wife and eight children. He and I had succeeded +well in chit-chat. The Browns, he was fond of saying, were a numerous race +in England, but if he ever settled there he would be distinguished from +them as THE Brown. He was vain of this play on his name, and I always +laughed when he produced it. I had no hesitation, therefore, when he +offered me a cigar: besides, I knew that he always smoked smuggled Cubas. + +We gossiped for a few moments. At length I saw him glance at my wife's +parasol, which was shielding me from the sun. He _said_ nothing, but I felt +my cheek burn with a sudden sort of shame, and immediately shut it up. + +"Madame will return," he said, "and Monsieur attends her." + +This was not the fact. Monsieur had to return, and Madame attended him. But +the observation was put in the narrative form, and if my friend gave me +information which I knew to be false, I was not bound to say so. I only +bowed, therefore; and he added that he was forced to join his party, and +bowed too; and so we separated. + +He had scarcely left me, when I thought that if I had avowed my solitary +state he might have asked me to join his party, which was evidently a merry +one; and I internally execrated the parasol, which had been the means of +preventing this. If by any accident I should meet him again, I resolved +that he should not see me with _it_, and without the lady; so I deposited +it at a little lace-maker's, and soon after began to ascend the Cote de +Grace, not without hopes of meeting the party as they returned, perhaps +from Val-a-Reine. + +Between each wind of the zigzag path was a flight of wooden steps, by which +the adventurous might ascend directly from the bottom of the hill. At the +head of some of these flights of steps were rustic seats; they were +generally on the outer edge of the path, but a few were placed far back, so +that the hill immediately below was unseen. + +I always climbed the Cote by the steps, as I used ever and anon to lie down +on the green carpet which nature has spread over each of the short ascents. +On the present occasion I had not mounted far before a pleasant piece of +this turf-flooring near the top of one of the little hills seduced me from +my toils. I sat down, took Shelley's "Revolt of Islam" from my pocket, +finished my cigar, and in consequence of reading half a dozen stanzas from +the poem--fell asleep. + +I woke suddenly, and as soon as I had my faculties about me, noticed that +people were speaking, and in loud tones, close above me. Otherwise, all was +still around. There was no wind among the little trees; a bee buzzed past +me now and then, and insects hummed, but further off down the hill, and +these voices sounded harsh and dissonant in the quiet air. I listened, at +first mechanically. The conversation was carried on in French. + +"It is time to end this," said a stern, disagreeable voice; "and I will not +wait any longer, M. Raymond." + +"But M. Gray," answered another and more pleasant voice, "you will think of +my situation--my family. I have done all I could." + +"I have thought too much of your family," replied Gray; "but I must also +think of myself. Esther--your daughter--she does not speak with me, for +example, as you said she should." + +"Monsieur!" exclaimed the other. + +"This Le Brun--she is all ears and eyes for him. She----" + +"M. Gray!" said Raymond. His voice had been deprecating before--it was firm +now. "You are so harsh to me; how can you expect kindness from her?" + +"Why, sir, you promised to use your influence with her----" + +"Promised, M. Gray!" Raymond burst in. "You did not think I should sell my +daughter for a debt of the table? I do not think, monsieur, you expected me +to _sell_ my Esther, for example." And there was an emphasis on these last +words which only a Frenchman could give. + +"I did not say you promised that," replied the other; "but I am seeking for +the money you owe me. I love your daughter; you know it; she does not +smile, and I must wait. But my creditors will not wait. I owe money, and +come to you for what you owe me." + +The voice that said this was cold and stern. Suddenly, as I listened to it, +it seemed familiar to me; but where I had heard it I could not remember. +Raymond replied: + +"And suppose I had not played with you and lost? What would you have done?" + +"But my friends in England are so dilatory," was the evasive answer. +"Still--if Mademoiselle Esther----" + +"Sacre!" cried Raymond, starting to his feet, and stamping on the path. +Gray seemed to rise too. "You press me too far. What do I know of you, +monsieur? You live here some few months--you play high--you--you----" + +"Ah, well, monsieur," said Gray, icily, as he paused. + +"My daughter, too," cried Raymond; "you use my debt to you as a means----." +He stopped again in his sudden passion. + +"Pardon me, monsieur," said Gray, sternly, "this is only a debt of honor;" +and he laid a stress on the word which drove it home. "In England we cannot +enforce a debt of honor." + +"What do you do there when it is not paid?" + +"First post the guilty man, and then shoot him," was the answer. + +I felt inclined to start from my concealment and say that this was false. I +recollected, however, just in time, that it was true. + +"But this is folly," pursued Gray, "and we should not quarrel. I am not +going to shoot Esther's father, for example." + +The effect of this cordial and peaceful declaration was instantaneous. Glad +apparently to drop his creditor in his friend at any price, Raymond +answered kindly, and even proposed to give Gray a small sum on account of +his debt, which he accepted. They then began to ascend the zigzag, and ere +long their voices died away in the distance. + +I had remained lying-to where I was all this while, and felt glad when they +left the neighborhood. I never overheard a conversation with pleasure since +I read how the Rev. Dr. Follett declared that his bamboo, and not his +cloth, should protect him from Mr. Eavesdrop. Once, indeed, I had thought +of retiring, but put it off so long that I thought I might just as well +stay out the interview. + +I knew Mr. Raymond by name. He was a banker, and reputed rich. He was also +thought religious--for a Frenchman, even pious. He crossed himself at all +the twopenny representations of the Divine agony. He never galloped past a +crucifix, or calvaire, or burial-place. And yet he now showed himself a +gambler, and apparently on the way to sell his daughter's hand to a man he +did not know, for a gambling debt. The discovery made me feel sick. And yet +I thought how many of my own parisioners, who wave their heads at the +sacred name in the creed, and appear to men to worship, are as false as +this man; packing away their religion like their best hat till next Sunday, +when it seems as good to the next pew as ever. + +But I felt more than an abstract discomfort at my discoveries. Le Brun's +name had been mixed up with Esther Raymond's by this Gray. Now his Cuba +cigar had bound me indissolubly to The Brown, and as long as he asked +nothing but what cost nothing, I was his faithful well-wisher and friend. +This was the time to show my friendship; and accordingly I sprang from my +couch, put Shelley into my pocket, and resumed my ascent of the Cote. + +I had gained the top, and, after looking across the water to Harfleur, +which showed well in the soft light of the westering sun, was about to +walk on, when I saw a party on the rude bench which is set on the seaward +side of the top of the Cote--Le Brun with them. I looked back across the +Seine, and watched the lights and shades shift on the hills of the opposite +shore, collecting my thoughts the while. Ere they were collected, however, +he joined me. + +"Ah! but madame is no longer with monsieur?" he said. + +"No; she's at home now," I answered, thinking how I should best break +ground, and almost inclined to leave him to his own courses now that it was +time to act. Why should I meddle in these foreigners' affairs? What were +they to me? I felt thus for a moment; Le Brun produced his cigar-case, and +I did not feel so for another. + +"I hope you liked my cigar; it is not French," he said. "Will you try +another?" + +"If you will try one of mine," I answered, ashamed to take without giving, +and forgetting that my property consisted of none but the despised French +article. The young gentleman took one of the great clown-like regalias with +a slight shudder, and I saw him wince as he inhaled a mouthful of its rank +produce, and, ere long, quietly drop the thing when he thought I was not +looking, and substitute one of his own. + +The flavor of his Cuba opened my heart to him, and ere long I broached the +subject with which I had no earthly business. + +"You know a certain M. Gray?" I asked. He started. + +"Yes," he said; "that is him talking to mademoiselle. Shall I introduce +you?" + +"Not at present--no, I thank you," I answered. He looked up at me. + +"Do you know him?" he asked. My eye had been bent on him for the last few +seconds. + +"I think I do," I said; "I am not sure." + +"He came here with the Dowlasses; he is the son of an English milord, who +allows him a thousand pounds a year." + +"Why did he leave England, then?" I inquired. + +"He was too gay, I believe." + +"And left his debts unpaid, I suppose." He looked up at me again. + +"If you do know him, or anything about him," he exclaimed, "pray tell me; I +am particularly anxious about him." + +"I know you must be, and so ought mademoiselle to be," I said. He blushed +like a girl and was going to speak, but I continued: "If he is the man I +think, never play at cards with him, M. le Brun; and, between us, separate +his hat from those pink ribbons further than they are now." + +His curiosity, his anxiety, was thoroughly aroused; but, as he began to +speak, a lady's voice called him. It was Esther's. + +"Will you join us?" he said. In another moment I was being introduced to +the party. + +I was at first surprised to find Gray and his dupe smoking and chatting as +gayly as any of the party. I am a good wonderer, but always reason my +surprises away. I soon did so now, reflecting that all men use their faces +as masks, by which they lie without speaking falsehood. And, though I +detest hypocrisy myself, I remembered that I often smiled when I could +grind my teeth with rage--that is, if they were not false ones. + +Le Brun had been summoned to rejoin the circle because a curious topic had +been started. M. Raymond was proprietor of an estate near St. Sauveur, the +house of which was reported to be haunted, and Esther had dared Gray to +spend a night there. + +"But I don't believe in ghosts," he recommenced, after the introduction. +"It would only be to waste a night." + +"Oh, there _is_ a goblin though," replied the beautiful girl--"a male +Amina; always walking into an occupied chamber, so that you're sure to see +him. He does not, however, stop to be caught napping in the morning, like +La Sonnambula." + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," answered Gray. "You've called M. le +Brun"--and he looked somewhat fiercely at my friend--"if he'll spend a +night there, I will. I'm engaged to-night, and to-morrow night, so that he +can go first. But I can't believe in your ghost, mademoiselle." + +"Not if I acknowledge to have seen him myself?" she asked. There was a +general movement among the listeners. "Well, I will accept for M. le Brun; +he shall go to-night or to-morrow, and you the night after--eh, M. +Frederic?" + +Le Brun murmured something about obedience to her wishes; what, I did not +hear. He evidently, however, did not like the scheme, and Gray saw it; but, +in the general interest for Esther's tale, no one else did. + +I do not give it here, for divers reasons. When she had done, it was found +to be time to return. I would have left the party, but Raymond having +seperated Le Brun from Esther, he joined himself to me, and I was unable to +do so. + +"What will Grace say?" thought I. "I hope she won't wait tea for me." I +should have been somewhat crusty if, on an ordinary occasion, I had +returned from a stroll and found that she and the rest had _not_ waited. Le +Brun asked me--as M. Raymond had already done--to stay all the evening with +the party. That, however, I felt to be impossible, and said so. + +"Well, for the present, then," he said. "What can you tell me of M. Gray?" +he added. + +"I expect my brother here to-morrow," I said, "when I will compare notes +with him. Till then I should be cautious, as I may injure an innocent man. +But do you be cautious too. How about this challenge? Shall you sleep in +the haunted house? It is romantic nonsense--this of a spirit, you know. +Mademoiselle has seen a clothes-horse, or a--a part of her dress in +moonlight. I don't believe in ghosts myself at all." + +"Don't you?" said he, somewhat sadly. "I--the truth is, mon cher, I am +afraid I do." + +"You must go on now, though," I said, maliciously. + +"Oh, yes--of course--go on," he answered; "but, monsieur----" he hesitated. + +"What is it, my dear friend?" I said. + +"I thought to ask a favor of you," he replied. "Will you accompany me to +this house, monsieur? I feel I ask much--but will you?" + +"Much, my very dear sir!" I exclaimed, in the fullness of my heart--"not at +all too much. I shall be happy to be of any use to you, and will sit and +smoke those cigars of yours, and let the ghosts go to old ----." I stopped +suddenly. + +"And what," thought I, "will Grace say to _that_?" A sort of dampness +rushed out upon my skin; I had forgotten her. My sentence remained +unfinished, and I looked eagerly about me, as if to question the adjoining +shrubs as to what on earth I was to do. My dear Grace was the light of my +eyes, and the joy of my heart, I'm sure; the best wife, the most amiable of +the sex, but yet she had a kind of will of her own, which was apt to get +grafted, as it were, upon mine. She never opposed me positively in any +thing, but somehow, if she did not like it, it was rarely done. I had just +promised what I might not be able to perform; and yet I did not like to +confess to this foreigner that my wife led me. "A plague upon his Cubas and +him too," I thought. Still, what was to be done? + +"If you cannot sleep there to-night," he said, noticing my uneasiness, "I +will claim the night's grace----" + +"Grace!" I exclaimed; my wife before me in the word. + +"Yes, she said to-night or to-morrow." + +"Oh, to-night?--impossible!" I cried. "I have a very--an engagement +to-night. I can not possibly make it to-night. Besides," I exclaimed, +grasping at an idea like a drowner at a rope, or any thing saving, +"mademoiselle may not give leave to share your danger with any one." + +"I asked her," he said--I had noticed them exchange whispers--"and she +will----" + +"Bother!" I muttered; but instantly continued, with a smile, "if it is to +be so I will be at your service to-morrow. Meanwhile, let me slip away +now--that engagement, you know." + +We were at the foot of the Cote de Grace by this time. He brought the party +to a stand-still, and, after some difficulty, I was allowed to desert, Le +Brun asking me to join him next day to dinner, to which I agreed. After I +left the joyous set I walked away fiercely, like a man with a purpose, till +they were out of sight; but, as I neared that sanctuary of the heart where +the tea would be waiting for me, the fierceness of my pace abated, and, +with hands in pockets and head depressed, I slackened my speed more and +more, till at last, when I reached my garden-gate, I came to a stand-still. + +Unhappily I am tall, and my children are all wonderfully quick. I had not +stood at the gate three seconds before I was surrounded by my urchins, +whooping, and getting among my legs, and hanging to my tails, and playing +the wildest pranks off on me. + +But suddenly I saw my wife leave the house and come down the garden without +her bonnet to welcome me. Oh, how I wished that, just for once, she had +been a shrew; I could have brazened out the matter then. But she smiled so +sweetly at me! + +"Well," she exclaimed, heartily, putting her hands in mine, "you have had a +splendid afternoon for your walk! Have you enjoyed it?" + +"Oh, yes," I said, "except for one thing." + +"What's that?" she asked; "no accident I hope. You've never, surely, been +among the orchards again; I'm sure the grass swarms with adders and +snakes." And she looked so anxiously and tenderly up into my face that I +was forced to stoop and----. But this is weakness. "What was it? I saw you +took out that divine Shelley." + +"Yes," I answered, jumping at any subject foreign to the one at my heart, +"he _is_ divine. I'll never deny it again; the very god of sleep." + +"For shame!" she cried; "and I saw you took something else, too. But where +is it?--the parasol, I mean?" I had forgotten it! I think I must have +started and changed color, for she immediately proceeded: "Never mind, it's +too late to go into the fields for it now. It will be quite destroyed, +though, by the dew to-night--there's always so much in this weather. But, +never mind--and yet how could you forget it?" + +"Oh, it's all right," I replied, somewhat pettishly; "we'll get it in the +morning. I left it in a shop at the foot of the Cote de Grace." + +"Well, then, what was the drawback to your walk?" + +"Oh! never mind it just now," I exclaimed. "Dear Grace, do let me have some +tea; I'll tell you by-and-by." And I bustled among the children towards the +house, she following in some surprise. + +As soon as tea was over I dispatched the children into the garden and +solemnly commenced my tale. Commenced? I plunged into it heels over head, +as a timid bather plunges into the pool when he is the cynosure of the eyes +of all swimmers in it, and by appearing on the brink in Nature's undress +_uniform_, feels himself pledged to enter the liquid. Like him, too, when +once in, I did not find the water so cold as I feared, after all. I had +made my promise so strong by constantly referring to it, that Grace never +even proposed my giving it up. My brother would arrive by to-morrow's boat, +and so that the house would have a guardian she would not object--for once. +I inwardly vowed not to put it in her power to refuse or grant such a favor +again. + + +II. + +So on the morrow, at the appointed time, I was comfortably seated at M. le +Brun's mahogany; and while, "for this occasion only," I played my old +_role_ of bachelor, I loosed the hymeneal reins, and actually told some +ancient Cider-cellar stories--in French, too,--which produced explosion +after explosion of laughter, though whether this was caused by the tales or +the telling I cannot of course guess. + +By-and-by evening came, and it was time to start. Le Brun and I hastened, +therefore, to finish the bottles then in circulation; and, as soon as that +was done, rose to walk to the haunted property. And now the skeptical +blockheads who doubt every thing would say that what follows was the +consequence of our libations. Let them say what they like, I only put it to +_you_, if it is likely that a thorough-going Church and State rector would +be influenced by a few bottles of _vin ordinaire_ and a mere _thought_ of +cognac after all. + +It was about nine o'clock when we arrived within sight of St. Sauveur. It +was a lovely night. Beyond the little village in the distance loomed the +hills, rising from the Eure, over which the moon was shining brilliantly. +Presently my companion turned sharply off from the main road, and we began +to ascend a narrow stony lane, so thickly fringed with bushes that the +light was excluded; but ere long we came upon a cross-path nearly as +narrow, but lighted by the rays of the bright moon; this we followed, till, +in a few minutes, we arrived before a gate, which we pushed open, and +advanced into a field. + +Le Brun paused to light a fresh cigar from the smoking ruins of the last, +and, as I walked on, I suddenly became reflective. "Your life, my dear and +reverend sir," I ejaculated, "has just been like this evening's walk. Your +school and college life were all bright and silvery as the highway flooded +by the glorious beams, and so forth. Then came the stony lane of +curateship, and then you gained a cross-lane, stony still, but lighted by +the smiles of Grace, and the prospect of a reversion, which your father got +you cheap, because the occupant was young. And then this youthful rector +joined the Church of Rome, leaving the gate open for you; and so you +stepped into your twelve hundred a year, of which you only need to +sacrifice seventy for a hack to do the work. So that after a somewhat +pleasant life you can enjoy yourself in foreign parts, and----" + +"Halloa!" cried a voice behind. + +I started. In a moment I remembered that I was upon haunted ground, and +motioned to fly. I am no coward, but I hate a surprise, and thought that +perhaps the hero of this enchanted ground was close beside me. Le Brun's +voice, however, dissipated those fears. I had strolled from the right path +in my dream, and he wished me to re-rejoin him. I did so, and we pursued +our walk. + +We soon arrived before the house. It was approachable at the rear by a road +which led to St. Sauveur, after winding about the country some two or three +miles more than necessary, as French roads are apt to do: but the main +entrance was from the fields, as we had come. It was a shabby place, and +looked in the staring moonlight as seedy as a bookseller's hack would look +in the glare of an Almack's ball. The windows were mostly broken, and the +portico, like its Greek model, was in ruins. Rude evergreens grew downward +from the rails which had fixed them, when young, in the way they were to +go, and were sprawling about the nominal garden, which was likewise overrun +by weeds and plots of grass, and fallen shrubs and flowers. The moon never +looked on a poorer spot, and yet there was an air about the tattered old +house which seemed to indicate that it had been good-looking once; as we +may see, despite the plaster-work among the wrinkles of some of our +dowagers, that they were not altogether hideous, as they now are, in the +days of the "Greatest Gentleman" in Europe. + +We entered. It was too late and too dark in-doors to survey the mansion; +so, as Le Brun had been directed to the habitable room, we struck a light, +and ascended directly to it. It was handsomely furnished, and a basket +containing that refreshment which we had looked forward to stood on the +table. The windows were whole; still I thought it well to close the +shutters, as I hate Midsummer nights' draughts as much as I love the +"Midsummer Night's Dream." This done, I sank on a sofa; Le Brun drew some +wine; we fell to at an early supper, and fared well. + +When we had finished we lighted cigars, and our conversation grew +frivolous. Le Brun was in the midst of a description of Esther, when I +heard a groan, and said so. He pooh-poohed me, and, half annoyed at the +interruption, proceeded. He had not got on very far before the groan was +repeated. I started up. + +"Pooh!--wind!" said my companion, retaining his seat and emitting his +smoke. + +"If so, it must be wind on the stomach, or wind in the lungs," I said. +"Hark!" + +I heard a faint noise. We both listened intently for some minutes, I +standing. It was not repeated, however; so, growing tired, I said that I +must have been mistaken, and sat down. Le Brun agreed with me, and resumed +his description. I followed with a tale; he was reminded by it of another; +and so we continued, till our repeated potations, much speaking, and the +late hour, made both of us prosy, and then we fell, as with one accord, +asleep. + +I must have slept for a considerable time, as, when I woke, I found that +the lamp had burned very low, and looked the worse for having been kept up +so late. I woke with a start, caused, as I imagined, by hearing the +room-door suddenly opened. That was a sound which, as a father of a large +family, I had got to know very well, especially about the smaller hours. I +looked towards the door, but my eyes were dim with sleep, and it was not +till Le Brun's boot was projected against my shin that I became +sufficiently awake to see if my idea was correct or no. It was. + +Not only was the door open but a person was evidently standing on the +threshold. In the sickly light his face was not visible; nothing, in fact, +but an outline of him. I rose, and with as much steadiness of voice as I +could command, requested the visitor to come in. He made a deep bow, set +his hat modestly upon the floor, came across the room, and stood as if +awaiting further orders. + +I had, however, none to give him. I had not sufficient impudence to bid him +sit down and help himself to wine, or what he liked; but I kicked Le Brun, +in payment for his attack on me, and motioned to him to do the honors. He +met the advance of my foot, however, in an unexpected way. + +"Diable!" he cried, "Est-ce que----" + +He stopped as if a gag had been thrust between his jaws; for our visitor, +doubtless applying the epithet to himself, suddenly turned his back on us, +walked to the door, picked up his hat, and, though I cried after him, as +the Master of Ravenswood cried after his dead Lucia's ghost, to stop, paid +no more heed than that virgin does to Mario, but retired quickly, his boots +screaming as he trod upon them like veritable souls in pain. We made no +motion to follow, but remained as if glued to our places, looking on each +other from our semi-sleepy eyes in a somewhat foolish manner. + +"He'll come back," said Le Brun. "Hush!" + +The boots had stopped at the bottom of the stairs; we heard no sound. + +"If he does, don't name Sathanas, for Heaven's sake," I said. "He doesn't +like it. It may recall unpleasant things--seem personal, in fact----" + +"Hush!" he exclaimed. + +We listened. The screaming boots were remounting the stairs. The visitor +had got over the personality, and was coming back. "What should be done? I +am no coward; I've said so before; but I seriously thought of running to, +shutting, fastening, and setting chairs against the door. But I did not +move. The footsteps approached, and then began to recede again. This +suspense of the interest--or, rather, dragging out of it--was most +tormenting. What if he should go on walking all night? But the steps were +ere long heard once more coming near the room, and once more the visitor +stood at the door. But he did not enter now. He looked steadfastly towards +us; beckoned slowly; then, turning, began to leave us again. I drew a long, +well-satisfied breath as he disappeared and leaned back on the sofa. + +"I trust he's gone for good now," I said. + +"He beckoned. We must follow," said Le Brun. + +"Follow! Pooh, pooh!" I exclaimed. "Let us sit still and be glad." + +"Not I," was his brave response. "Be he man, or be he----" + +"Hush!" I cried. "He may hear. He doesn't like the word----" + +"I do not understand the impulse," said Le Brun; "but we must follow." + +"I do not _feel_ the impulse," I rejoined. "Still, if you do, and obey it, +I will not desert you." + +"Come," he answered. And with quick steps we chased the vocal boots down +the corridor, and ere long saw the wearer of them, having descended the +stairs, cross the hall, and wait at the door of the house. + +The moon was still shining brightly, and its rays came through the broken +windows on the ground-floor, and fell on the figure of the mysterious one. +He was of middle height, and of broad and muscular build. He seemed more +like an English farmer than a French ghost. His garments were seedy, and +his hat was old; but his boots were like the boots of Thaddeus of Warsaw, +the son of Miss Porter, who was so mortally offended when asked the name of +the maker of his Bluchers, and they gleamed like boots of polished steel. +All, however, did not seem right about the stranger. His head appeared +awry, and his arms out of their places. But perhaps these blemishes were +attributable to the moonlight, and not to the man; for he showed that he +could turn his head and look at us, and use his arms to open the door. We +followed him out into the air. + +He led us through the field we had already traversed, but in a rather +different direction. The night was chilly, and the long grass damp, and I +began to grow weary of the adventure. Suddenly, however, our conductor +stopped before what appeared to be a ruined cow-shed. He looked at it +earnestly for a few moments, then at us, who kept a respectful distance; +then, making an abrupt motion of his arm towards it, too rapid for us to +understand, he seemed to me to spring into the air. Whether he did so or +not, I cannot declare; but I know that when I rubbed my eyes, and looked +round about for him, he was nowhere to be seen. We examined the spot, but +he had left no traces. Boots, and hat, and all his trappery had gone with +him. He had come like a dream, and vanished like a morning dream. + +We stood for a few moments uncertain what to do, and then it occurred to me +that the room we had left was warm and comfortable, and this field cold and +dreary; so I proposed to return, especially as, the stranger having +vanished, there did not appear to be any business in hand. Le Brun agreed, +and we did so, and, after talking awhile over our adventure, went to sleep +over our talk; and I did not wake again till morning was staring into the +chamber, as Le Brun threw open the shutters. + +The conversation that took place is as well to be imagined as transcribed. +Enough to say that I determined to have no share in Le Brun's narrative, +but left him to heighten it for himself. I parted with him at my house, +where I found Grace looking out for me; and he promised to return in the +course of the morning to pay his respects to her. + +To my surprise, however, when he came, he asked me for five minutes' +conversation, and we went together into the field belonging to my house, +which sloped down to the Seine. His countenance was _both_ joyous and +anxious, and I saw that he had something heavier on his mind than last +night's frolic. + +"I have spoken to you of M. Gray," he said, "and of Mademoiselle Raymond. I +have learnt this morning that M. Gray has her father in his power." + +"You learnt that from her?" I asked. + +He blushed and did not answer. + +I went on. I had compared notes with my brother about this Gray, and found +my suspicions correct. I therefore told Le Brun what I had overheard on the +zigzag, and he in reply told me that Raymond had accepted a bill for the +amount of the debt to Gray. + +"That's serious," I said. "But before we say more, monsieur, are you +engaged to Mademoiselle Esther?" + +He replied in the affirmative. + +"Can you live--excuse the question--with her without dowry?" + +He replied in the affirmative again. + +"Then," I said, "though it may sound oddly from one of my cloth, you must +either elope with her----" + +"But then M. Raymond?--But his family?" + +"He must suffer for his folly; not you. And you are only going to marry one +daughter, not all of them. The other alternative is--you must pay Raymond's +acceptance, as he cannot." + +"It would be ruin. I cannot, either," he replied. + +"Then you must lose Esther." + +"I will not. No. And yet if I was to shoot Gray----" + +"Shoot?" I interrupted, with the virtuous horror of a man who has never +been tempted to fight a duel--"and would you then outrage the laws of +divine and human?" + +"No; it wouldn't do to shoot him," he pursued. "But oh, monsieur, can you +not suggest something to help me--to help us?" + +A thought suddenly came into my head. "Gray is pledged to spend to-night in +the haunted house, is he not?" I asked. + +He answered that it was so. + +"I believe the man to be an arrant coward," I went on. "To be sure, he shot +a dear friend of mine in a duel, and behaved, as the world says, like a +brave man before his witnesses. But he's a coward for all that, and we'll +test it. I don't believe in our friend the Goblin Farmer; I don't believe +we saw any body, or any spirit last night at all. Well, never mind beliefs; +don't interrupt me. I think our eyes were made the fools of other senses, +and that there's no such thing. Gray has to spend the night there--we'll go +again to-night, that is, if my wife will let me, and perhaps get my brother +to help us--eh? Suppose we give him a lesson." And I laughed. + +He laughed too; and after a few more observations, he accompanied me into +my drawing-room. Grace and James, with his wife Emma, were sitting talking +there. + +I have said that I am a lazy rector. During my curatehood, however, I had +learned to preach sufficiently well for the parish where I worked. To be +sure my congregation was neither large or wakeful, except in winter, when +the church was like a Wenham ice depot, and people could not sleep. But I +was brief, and no faults were ever found in my time with brevity. My +experience in exposition and appeal now stood me in good stead. + +I introduced Le Brun, and then plunged into matters. I gave a brief account +of Esther and her father. I eulogized Le Brun. After that I spoke of Gray, +and reminded James of the life and times--the death, too, of John Finnis, +whom he saved from being plucked alive in St. James's, only that he might +be shot in Hampstead. These dispatched, I opened my plans, which were +listened to with great interest; the only alteration proposed was that +James should go to find the authorities (if there were any, which he +doubted), and give notice of Gray's character to them; after which he was +to return to my house, and stay there till Le Brun and I came back from our +nocturnal expedition, as Grace and Emma feared to be left alone. Poor Emma, +indeed, declared that this was the most romantic thing she had ever heard +of, except one which happened in the village where she was born; but as +neither James or I liked to hear her speak of her origin, we cut her +narrative short. + +The cresset moon was up in heaven--at least, Emma said it was--when we +started. It seemed to me nearly full; but she was poetical. I told her that +if it was a cresset, it was tilting up, and ought, therefore, to be pouring +out oil, and not light, on the earth. We started, I repeat, and a short +time after, in the language of a favorite novelist, two travellers might +have been seen slowly wending on their way, bundle in hand, towards the +haunted house. + +In another hour or so, when the wind had sunk into repose, and the birds +had ceased their songs, and all things save the ever-watching stars were +sleeping (as that favorite historian might go on, if he were telling this +tale and not I), a tall and ecclesiastical form crept slowly from a place +of concealment near the house, approached it, and gently knocked at the +door. It was opened, and he entered cautiously. A few whispered sentences +passed with some friend within, which being over, he proceeded, though with +some hesitation, to mount the stairs and pace along the corridor. + +My boots (for I was the ecclesiastic) creaked and crackled like mad boots. +Onward I went, like the Ghost in Hamlet, only with very vocal buskins. I +reached Gray's room and opened the door. A strange sight met my eyes +through the green glass goggles which I wore over them. + +Gray was pacing up and down, in evident fear. A quantity of half-burnt +cigars, some bottles of wine, glasses, the lamp, and, above all, two +pistols were on the table. As I opened the door, and the light fell on me, +I feared that I should be discovered. But the gambler was afraid--and fear +has no eyes. I advanced into the room, and solemnly waved to him to follow. +He must have caught up a pistol ere he did so. I led the way. + +It was my determination to lead him a long chase, and leave him in a ditch +if possible, Le Brun being near at hand to cudgel him. He had readily +understood my pantomime (I studied under Jones the player when in training +for orders), for I found he followed me, though at a distance. + +But all my plans were disconcerted. As I reached the stair-head I heard a +noise, and stopped; so did Gray. It was as of some one forcing the house +door. Directly afterwards I heard the loud cries of the real goblin's +boots, and the sound of Le Brun in swift pursuit. + +"Take care, monsieur," he cried up the stairs to me. + +"By heaven they are robbers--murderers! Help! help!" roared Gray from +behind; and as the real apparition came gliding up, he fired his pistol at +it. The unexpected sound of the weapon, so close to my ear, too, stunned me +for a moment; but I recovered myself directly, and flung myself on him, in +fear lest he had his second pistol, too, and might fire at _me_. The real +goblin continued to advance, and I felt Gray tremble with terror in my arms +as _it_ survived the shot. + +An unwonted boldness came over me. I felt myself committed to be brave. + +"Villain!" I muttered in his ear, "you would swindle my descendant out of +all he has?" + +"No--forgive me. I will not take a sou." + +"His acceptance--where is it? Give it me." He shuddered. + +"I will give it to you," he said. + +I released him, and followed to the lamp-lighted chamber. The other +apparition creaked after him, too, and at the door I gave it the +precedence. It was well I did so. The sudden light seemed to make Gray +bold, for snatching up the other pistol he levelled it at the Simon Pure, +and before I could utter a word, fired. The shot must have passed clean +through the breast of the Mysterious Stranger--he only bowed. + +Gray was now in mortal fear. + +"Give up that bill," I said in solemn, pedal tones. He drew it frantically +from his pocket, and, leaping up, gave it to the mysterious one. + +"Go to th----" he began, with a sort of ferocious recklessness. The next +moment he was sprawling on the floor. The Goblin reached out his hand, and +struck Gray, as it seemed, lightly with it. I would have raised him. I +motioned to do so; but my original touched me on the shoulder, handed me +the bill, and motioned to me to follow. I did not like his notes of +hand--his signature by mark on Gray's face--I therefore at once obeyed. Le +Brun had vanished. + +The stranger led me by the old route till we were again close to the +tottering cow-house. Here he paused, as on the last occasion, and was, +perhaps, preparing to disappear again. + +"One moment, sir," I said. "Be good enough to explain yourself more plainly +than you did last night. However much I may admire your acting, and it has +_beaucoup de l'Esprit_ about it, family arrangements will prevent me from +again assisting----" + +He nodded as though he quite understood me, advanced to the side of the +shed, stopped under a sort of window, and then, deliberately sitting down +on the grass, began to pull off his boots. I gazed at him in amazement, and +was about to address him again, when a little cloud sailed across the moon, +and for a moment shaded all the place. As it passed away, and I looked to +our mysterious visitant and my mysterious Original, no remains of him were +to be seen--except the boots. + +At this moment Le Brun joined me. I was the first (as before and as ever) +to throw aside my natural fears, and I advanced to the spot. There were two +highly polished Bluchers, side by side, as if they waited till the occupant +of the cow-house was out of bed and shaved. I took one of them up. +Something inside chinked. I reversed it, and three Napoleons fell upon the +turf. + +I was wondering why a French farmer-ghost should choose a Blucher to +deliver Napoleons into an Englishman's hands, when Le Brun, finding nothing +in the other boot, suggested that it would be well to get Gray out of the +neighborhood, and perhaps the three Napoleons might be useful to him. To +this I agreed at once, though I was somewhat dissatisfied with the little +fellow for the small share he had taken in the risks of the evening. + +I went to the room where the gambler was; he was evidently in mortal fear. +I put down the Napoleons on the table, and then in those deep, pedal, and +ecclesiastical notes, which have so often hymned my congregation to repose, +informed him that friends of John Finnis were in the town, that he was +proclaimed to the authorities, and that he had better leave the +neighborhood for ever. With this I left him, joined Le Brun, and was soon +on my way back to Honfleur. + +"It was well I drew the shot from his pistols," said Le Brun, as we were +parting. I did not then see any latent meaning in his words, nor would he +ever afterwards answer any questions on the subject. I had forgotten to +remove my ghostly dresses and decorations, and Grace and Emma both uttered +gentle screams as I stalked into their presence. My tale was soon told, and +we retired to rest. + +Here the whole tale ends. As the events I recorded recede into the past, I +begin almost to doubt the truth of them. But I have one living +evidence--now I am glad to say not single--and Le Brun may fairly lay it to +me that he has at this moment the most agreeable little lady in all +Normandy for his wedded wife. I am not aware if Boots still visits the +glimpses of the moon at St. Sauveur, for soon after these events I was +obliged to return to my parish to put down the Popish fooleries which I +found my hack had begun to introduce. If, however, he does, I only hope his +reappearance will be as useful as in the above little narrative, but the +Brown, the Gray--and the narrator have now done with him for ever. + + + + +CREBILLON, THE FRENCH AESCHYLUS. + +From Fraser's Magazine. + + +About the year 1670, there lived at Dijon a certain notary, an original in +his way, named Melchior Jolyot. His father was an innkeeper; but of a more +ambitious nature than his sire, the son, so soon as he had succeeded in +collecting a little money, purchased for himself the office of head clerk +in the Chambres des Comptes of Dijon, with the title of Greffier of the +same. During the following year, having long been desirous of a title of +nobility, he acquired, at a very low price, a little abandoned and almost +unknown fief, that of Crebillon, situated about a league and a half from +the city. + +His son, Prosper Jolyot, the future poet, was at that time a young man of +about two-and-twenty years of age, a student at law, and then on the eve of +being admitted as advocate at the French bar. From the first years of his +sojourn in Paris, we find that he called himself Prosper Jolyot _de +Crebillon_. About sixty years later, a worthy philosopher of Dijon, a +certain Monsieur J. B. Michault, writes as follows to the President de +Ruffey:--"Last Saturday (June 19th, 1762), our celebrated Crebillon was +interred at St. Gervais. In his _billets de mort_ they gave him the title +of _ecuyer_; but what appears to me more surprising, is the circumstance of +his son adopting that of _messire_." + +Crebillon had then ended by cradling himself in a sort of imaginary +nobility. In 1761, we find him writing to the President de Brosse: "I have +ever taken so little thought respecting my own origin, that I have +neglected certain very flattering elucidations on this point. M. de Ricard, +maitre des comptes at Dijon, gave my father one day two titles he had +found. Of these two titles, written in very indifferent Latin, the first +concerned one Jolyot, chamberlain of Raoul, Duke of Burgundy; the second, a +certain Jolyot, chamberlain of Philippe le Bon. Both of these titles are +lost. I can also remember having heard it said in my youth by some old +inhabitants of Nuits, my father's native place, that there formerly existed +in those cantons a certain very powerful and noble family, named Jolyot." + +O vanity of vanities! would it be believed that, under the democratic reign +of the Encyclopoedia, a man like Crebillon, ennobled by his own talents +and genius, could have thus hugged himself in the possession of a vain and +deceitful chimera! For truth compels us to own that, from the fifteenth to +the end of the seventeenth century, the Jolyots were never any thing more +or less than honest innkeepers, who sold their wine unadulterated, as it +was procured from the black or golden grapes of the Burgundy hills. + +Meanwhile Crebillon, finding that his titles of nobility were uncontested, +pushed his aristocratic weakness so far as to affirm one day that his +family bore on its shield an eagle, or, on a field, azure, holding in its +beak a lily, proper, leaved and sustained, argent. All went, however, +according to his wishes; his son allied himself by an unexpected marriage +to one of the first families of England. The old tragic poet could then +pass into the other world with the consoling reflection that he left behind +him here below a name not only honored in the world of letters, but +inscribed also in the golden muster-roll of the French nobility. But +unfortunately for poor Crebillon's family tree, about a century after the +creation of this mushroom nobility--which, like the majority of the +nobilities of the eighteenth century, had its foundation in the sand--a +certain officious antiquary, who happened at the time to have nothing +better to do, bethought himself one day of inquiring into the validity of +his claim. He devoted to this strange occupation several years of precious +time. By dint of shaking the dust from off the archives of Dijon and +Nuits, and of rummaging the minutes of the notaries of the department, he +succeeded at length in ferreting out the genealogical tree of the Jolyot +family. Some, the most glorious of its members, had been notaries, others +had been innkeepers. Shade of Crebillon, pardon this impious archaeologist, +who thus, with ruthless hands, destroyed "at one fell swoop" the brilliant +scaffolding of your vanity! + +Prosper Jolyot de Crebillon was born at Dijon, on the 13th of February, +1674; like Corneille, Bossuet, and Voltaire, he studied at the Jesuits' +college of his native town. It is well known that in all their seminaries, +the Jesuits kept secret registers, wherein they inscribed, under the name +of each pupil, certain notes in Latin upon his intellect and character. It +was the Abbe d'Olivet who, it is said, inscribed the note referring to +Crebillon:--"_Puer ingeniosus sed insignis nebulo._" But it must be said +that the collegiate establishments of the holy brotherhood housed certain +pedagogues, who abused their right of pronouncing judgment on the scholars. +Crebillon, after all, was but a lively, frolicksome child, free and +unreserved to excess in manners and speech. + +His father, notary and later _greffier en chef_ of the "Chambre des +Comptes" at Dijon, being above all things desirous that his family should +become distinguished in the magistracy, destined his son to the law, saying +that the best heritage he could leave him was his own example. Crebillon +resigned himself to his father's wishes with a very good grace, and +repaired to Paris, there to keep his terms. In the capital, he divided his +time between study and the pleasures and amusements natural to his age. As +soon as he was admitted as advocate, he entered the chambers of a procureur +named Prieur, son of the Prieur celebrated by Scarron, an intimate friend +of his father, who greeted him fraternally. One would have supposed that +our future poet, who bore audacity on his countenance, and genius on his +brow, would, like Achilles, have recognized his sex when they showed him +arms; but far from this being the case, not only was it necessary to warn +him that he _was_ a poet, but even to impel him bodily, as it were, and +despite himself, into the arena. + +The writers and poets of France have ever railed in good set terms against +procureurs, advocates, and all such common-place, every-day personages; and +in general, we are bound to confess they have had right on their side. We +must, however, render justice to one of them, the only one, perhaps, who +ever showed a taste for poetry. The worthy man to whom, fortunately for +himself, Crebillon had been confided, remarked at an early stage of their +acquaintanceship, the romantic disposition of his pupil. Of the same +country as Piron and Rameau, Crebillon possessed, like them, the same frank +gayety and good-tempered heedlessness of character, which betrayed his +Burgundian origin. Having at an early age inhaled the intoxicating perfumes +of the Burgundian wines, his first essays in poetry were, as might be +expected, certain _chansons a boire_, none of which, however, have +descended to posterity. The worthy procureur, amazed at the degree of power +shown even in these slight drinking-songs, earnestly advised him to become +a poet by profession. + +Crebillon was then twenty-seven years of age; he resisted, alleging that he +did not believe he possessed the true creative genius; that every poet is +in some sort a species of deity, holding chaos in one hand, and light and +life in the other; and that, for his part, he possessed but a bad pen, +destined to defend bad causes in worse style. But the procureur was not to +be convinced; he had discovered that a spark of the creative fire already +shone in the breast of Crebillon. "Do not deny yourself becoming a poet," +he would frequently say to him; "it is written upon your brow; your looks +have told me so a thousand times. There is but one man in all France +capable of taking up the mantle of Racine, and that man is yourself." + +Crebillon exclaimed against this opinion; but having been left alone for a +few hours to transcribe a parliamentary petition, he recalled to mind the +magic of the stage--the scenery, the speeches, the applause; a moment of +inspiration seized him. When the procureur returned, his pupil extended his +hand to him, exclaiming, enthusiastically, "You have pointed out the way +for me, and I shall depart." "Do not be in a hurry," replied the procureur; +"a _chef d'oeuvre_ is not made in a week. Remain quietly where you are, +as if you were still a procureur's clerk; eat my bread and drink my wine; +when you have completed your work, you may then take your flight." + +Crebillon accordingly remained in the procureur's office, and at the very +desk on which he transcribed petitions, he composed the five long acts of a +barbarous tragedy, entitled, "The Death of Brutus." The work finished, our +good-natured procureur brought all his interest into play, in order to +obtain a reading of the piece at the Comedie Francaise. After many +applications, Crebillon was permitted to read his play: it was unanimously +rejected. The poet was furious; he returned home to the procureur's, and +casting down his manuscript at the good man's feet, exclaimed, in a voice +of despair, "You have dishonored me!" + +D'Alembert says, "Crebillon's fury burst upon the procureur's head; he +regarded him almost in the light of an enemy who had advised him only for +his own dishonor, swore to listen to him no more, and never to write +another line of verse so long as he lived." + +Crebillon, however, in his rage maligned the worthy procureur; he would not +have found elsewhere so hospitable a roof or as true a friend. He returned +to the study of the law, but the decisive step had been taken; beneath the +advocate's gown the poet had already peeped forth. And then, the procureur +was never tired of predicting future triumphs. Crebillon ventured upon +another tragedy, and chose for his subject the story of the Cretan king, +Idomeneus. This time the comedians accepted his piece, and shortly +afterwards played it. Its success was doubtful, but the author fancied he +had received sufficient encouragement to continue his new career. + +In his next piece, "Atree," Crebillon, who had commenced as a school-boy, +now raised himself, as it were, to the dignity of a master. The comedians +learned their parts with enthusiasm. On the morning of the first +representation, the procureur summoned the young poet to his bedside, for +he was then stricken with a mortal disease: "My friend," said he, "I have a +presentiment that this very evening you will be greeted by the critics of +the nation as a son of the great Corneille. There are but a few days of +life remaining for me; I have no longer strength to walk, but be assured +that I shall be at my post this evening, in the pit of the Theatre +Francaise." True to his word, the good old man had himself carried to the +theatre. The intelligent judges applauded certain passages of the tragedy, +in which wonderful power, as well as many startling beauties, were +perceptible; but at the catastrophe, when Atreus compels Thyestes to drink +the blood of his son, there was a general exclamation of horror--(Gabrielle +de Vergy, be it remarked, had not then eaten on the stage the heart of her +lover). "The procureur," says D'Alembert, "would have left the theatre in +sorrow, if he had awaited the judgment of the audience in order to fix his +own. The pit appeared more terrified than interested; it beheld the curtain +fall without uttering a sound either of approval or condemnation, and +dispersed in that solemn and ominous silence which bodes no good for the +future welfare of the piece. But the procureur judged better than the +public, or rather, he anticipated its future judgment. The play over, he +proceeded to the green-room to seek his pupil, who, still in a state of the +greatest uncertainty as to his fate, was already almost resigned to a +failure; he embraced Crebillon in a transport of admiration: 'I die +content,' said he. 'I have made you a poet; and I leave a man to the +nation!'" + +And, in fact, at each representation of the piece, the public discovered +fresh beauties, and abandoned itself with real pleasure to the terror which +the poet inspired. A few days afterwards, the name of Crebillon became +celebrated throughout Paris and the provinces, and all imagined that the +spirit of the great Corneille had indeed revisited earth to animate the +muse of the young Burgundian. + +Crebillon's father was greatly irritated on finding that his son had, as +they said then, abandoned Themis for Melpomene. In vain did the procureur +plead his pupil's cause--in vain did Crebillon address to this true father +a supplication in verse, to obtain pardon for him from his sire; the +_greffier en chef_ of Dijon was inexorable; to his son's entreaties he +replied that he cursed him, and that he was about to make a new will. To +complete, as it were, his downfall in the good opinion of this individual, +who possessed such a blind infatuation for the law, Crebillon wrote him a +letter, in which the following passage occurs: "I am about to get married, +if you have no objection, to the most beautiful girl in Paris; you may +believe me, sir, upon this point, for her beauty is all that she +possesses." + +To this his father replied: "Sir, your tragedies are not to my taste, your +children will not be mine; commit as many follies as you please, I shall +console myself with the reflection that I refused my consent to your +marriage; and I would strongly advise you, sir, to depend more than ever on +your pieces for support, for you are no longer a member of my family." + +Crebillon, for all that, married, as he said, the most beautiful girl in +Paris--the gentle and charming Charlotte Peaget, of whom Dufresny has +spoken. She was the daughter of an apothecary, and it was while frequenting +her father's shop that Crebillon became acquainted with her. There was +nothing very romantic, it is true, in the match; but love spreads a charm +over all that it comes in contact with. Thus, a short time before his +marriage, Crebillon perceived his intended giving out some marshmallow and +violets to a sick customer: "My dear Charlotte," said he, "we will go +together, some of these days, among our Dijonnaise mountains, to collect +violets and marshmallows for your father." + +It was shortly after his marriage and removal to the Place Maubert, that he +first evinced his strange mania for cats and dogs, and, above all, his +singular passion for tobacco. He was, beyond contradiction, the greatest +smoker of his day. It has been stated by some of the writers of the time, +that he could not turn a single rhyme of a tragedy, save in an obscure and +smoky chamber, surrounded by a noisy pack of dogs and cats; according to +the same authorities, he would very frequently, also, in the middle of the +day, close the shutters, and light candles. A thousand other extravagances +have been attributed to Crebillon; but we ought to accept with caution the +recitals of these anecdote-mongers, who were far too apt to imagine they +were portraying a man, when in reality they were but drawing a ridiculous +caricature. + +When M. Melchior Jolyot learned that his son had, in defiance of his +paternal prohibition, actually wedded the apothecary's daughter, his grief +and rage knew no bounds. The worthy man believed in his recent nobility as +firmly as he did in his religion, and his son's _mesalliance_ nearly drove +him to despair: this time he actually carried his threat into execution, +and made a formal will, by virtue of which he completely disinherited the +poet.--Fortunately for Crebillon, his father, before bidding adieu to the +world and his nobility, undertook a journey to Paris, curious, even in the +midst of his rage, to judge for himself the merits and demerits of the +theatrical tomfooleries, as he called them, of his silly boy, who had +married the apothecary's daughter, and who, in place of gaining nobility +and station in a procureur's office, had written a parcel of trash for +actors to spout. We must say, however, that Crebillon could not have +retained a better counsel to urge his claims before the paternal tribunal +than his wife, the much maligned apothecary's daughter, one of the +loveliest and most amiable women in Paris; and we may add, that this +nobility of which his father thought so much--the nobility of the +robe--which had not been acquired in a Dijonnaise family until after the +lapse of three generations, was scarcely equal to the nobility of the pen, +which Crebillon had acquired by the exercise of his own talents. + +The old greffier, then, came to Paris for the purpose of witnessing one of +the sad tomfooleries of that unhappy profligate, who in better times had +been his son. Fate so willed it that on that night "Atree" should be +performed. The old man was seized with mingled emotions of terror, grief, +and admiration. That very evening, being resolved not to rest until he had +seen his son, he called a coach on leaving the theatre, and drove straight +to the Faubourg Saint Marceau, to the house which had been pointed out to +him as the dwelling of Crebillon. No sooner had the doors opened than out +rushed seven or eight dogs, who cast themselves upon the old greffier, +uttering in every species of canine _patois_ the loudest possible +demonstrations of welcome. One word from Madame Crebillon, however, was +sufficient to recall this unruly pack to order; yet the dogs, having no +doubt instinctively discovered a family likeness, continued to gambol round +the limbs of M. Melchior Jolyot, to the latter's no small confusion and +alarm. Charlotte, who was alone, waiting supper for her husband, was much +surprised at this unexpected visit. At first she imagined that it was some +great personage who had come to offer the poet his patronage and +protection; but after looking at her visitor two or three times, she +suddenly exclaimed: "You are my husband's father, or at least you are one +of the Jolyot family." The old greffier, though intending to have +maintained his incognito until his son's return, could no longer resist the +desire of abandoning himself to the delights of a reconciliation; he +embraced his daughter-in-law tenderly, shedding tears of joy, and accusing +himself all the while for his previous unnatural harshness: "Yes, yes," +cried he, "yes, you are still my children--all that I have is yours!" then, +after a moment's silence, he continued, in a tone of sadness: "But how does +it happen that, with his great success, my son has condemned his wife to +such a home and such a supper?" + +"Condemned, did you say?" murmured Charlotte; "do not deceive yourself, we +are quite happy here;" so saying she took her father-in-law by the hand, +and led him into the adjoining room, to a cradle covered with white +curtains. "Look!" said she, turning back the curtains with maternal +solicitude. + +The old man's heart melted outright at the sight of his grandchild. + +"Are we not happy?" continued the mother. "What more do we require? We live +on a little, and when we have no money, my father assists us." + +They returned to the sitting-room. + +"What wine is this?" said the old Burgundian, uncorking the bottle intended +to form part of their frugal repast. "What!" he exclaimed, "my son fallen +so low as this! The Crebillons have always drunk good wine." + +At this instant, the dogs set up a tremendous barking: Crebillon was +ascending the stairs. A few moments afterwards he entered the room escorted +by a couple of dogs, which had followed him from the theatre. + +"What! two more!" exclaimed the father; "this is really too much. Son," he +continued, "I am come to entreat your pardon; in my anxiety to show myself +your father, I had forgotten that my first duty was to love you." + +Crebillon cast himself into his father's arms. + +"But _parbleu_, Monsieur," continued the old notary, "I cannot forgive you +for having so many dogs." + +"You are right, father; but what would become of these poor animals were I +not to take compassion upon them? It is not good for man to be alone, says +the Scripture. No longer able to live with my fellow-creatures, I have +surrounded myself with dogs. The dog is the solace and friend of the +solitary man." + +"But I should imagine you were not alone here," said the father, with a +glance towards Charlotte, and the infant's cradle. + +"Who knows?" said the young wife, with an expression of touching melancholy +in her voice. "It is perhaps through a presentiment that he speaks thus. I +much fear that I shall not live long. He has but one friend upon the earth, +and that friend is myself. Now, when I shall be no more----" + +"But you shall not die," interrupted Crebillon, taking her in his arms. +"Could I exist without you?" + +Madame Crebillon was not deceived in her presentiments: the poet, who, we +know, lived to a patriarchal age, lived on in widowed solitude for upwards +of fifty years. + +Crebillon and his wife accompanied the old greffier back from Paris to +Dijon, where, to the great surprise of the inhabitants, the father +presented his son as "M. Jolyot de Crebillon, who has succeeded Messieurs +Corneille and Racine in the honors of the French stage." Crebillon had the +greatest possible difficulty in restraining the enthusiasm of his sire. He +succeeded, however, at length, not through remonstrance, but by the +insatiable ardor he displayed in diving into the paternal money-bags. After +a sojourn of three months at Dijon, Crebillon returned to Paris; and well +for him it was that he did so; a month longer, and the father would +indubitably have quarrelled with him again, and would have remade his will, +disinheriting this time, not the rebellious child, but the prodigal son. +Crebillon, in fact, never possessed the art of keeping his money; and in +this respect he but followed the example of all those who, in imagination, +remove mountains of gold. + +Scarcely had he arrived in Paris when he was obliged to return to Dijon. +The old greffier had died suddenly. The inheritance was a most difficult +one to unravel. "I have come here," writes Crebillon to the elder of the +brothers Paris, "only to inherit law-suits." And, true enough, he allowed +himself to be drawn blindly into the various suits which arose in +consequence of certain informalities in the old man's will, and which +eventually caused almost the entire property to drop, bit by bit, into the +pockets of the lawyers. + +"I was a great blockhead," wrote Crebillon later; "I went about reciting +passages from my tragedies to these lawyers, who feigned to pale with +admiration; and this manoeuvre of theirs blinded me; I perceived not that +all the while these cunning foxes were devouring my substance; but it is +the fate of poets to be ever like La Fontaine's crow." + +Out of this property he succeeded only in preserving the little fief of +Crebillon, the income derived from which he gave up to his sisters. On his +return to Paris, however, he changed altogether his style of living; he +removed his penates to the neighborhood of the Luxembourg, and placed his +establishment on quite a seignorial footing, as if he had become heir to a +considerable property. This act of folly can scarcely be explained. The +report, of course, was spread, that he had inherited property to a large +amount. Most probably he wished, by acting thus, to save the family honor, +or, to speak more correctly, the family vanity, by seeking to deceive the +world as to the precise amount of the Jolyot estate. + +True wisdom inhabits not the world in which we dwell. Crebillon sought all +the superfluities of luxury. In vain did his wife endeavor to restrain him +in his extravagances; in vain did she recal to his mind their frugal but +happy meals, and the homely furniture of their little dwelling in the Place +Maubert; "_so gay for all that on sunny days_." + +"Well," he would reply, "if we must return there, I shall not complain. +What matters if the wine be not so good, so that it is always your hand +which pours it out." + +Fortunately, that year was one of successive triumphs for Crebillon. The +"Electre" carried off all suffrages, and astonished even criticism itself. +In this piece the poet had softened down the harshness of his tints, and +while still maintaining his "majestic" character, had kept closer to nature +and humanity. + +"Electre" was followed by "Rhadamiste," which was at the time extolled as a +perfect _chef-d'oeuvre_ of style and vigor. There is in this play, if we +may be allowed the term, a certain rude nobility of expression, which is +the true characteristic of Crebillon's genius. It was this tragedy which +inspired Voltaire with the idea, that on the stage it is better to strike +hard than true. The enthusiastic auditory admitted, that if Racine could +paint love, Crebillon could depict hatred. Boileau, who was then dying, and +who, could he have had his wish, would have desired that French literature +might stop at his name, exclaimed, that this success was scandalous. "I +have lived too long!" cried the old poet, in a violent rage. "To what a +pack of Visigoths have I left the French stage a prey! The Pradons, whom we +so often ridiculed, were eagles compared to these fellows." Boileau +resembled in some respect old "Nestor" of the _Iliad_, when he said to the +Greek kings--"I would advise you to listen to me, for I have formerly mixed +with men who were your betters." The public, however, amply avenged +Crebillon for the bitter judgment of Boileau; in eight days two editions of +the "Rhadamiste" were exhausted. And this was not all: the piece having +been played by command of the Regent before the court at Versailles, was +applauded to the echo. + +Despite these successes, Crebillon was not long in getting to the bottom of +his purse. In the hope of deferring as long as he possibly could the evil +hour when he should be obliged to return to his former humble style of +living, he used every possible means to replenish his almost exhausted +exchequer. He borrowed three thousand crowns from Baron Hoguer, who was the +resource of literary men in the days of the Regency; and sold to a Jew +usurer his author's rights upon a tragedy which was yet to be written. He +had counted upon the success of "Xerxes;" but this tragedy proved an utter +failure. Crebillon, however, was a man of strong mind. He returned home +that evening with a calm, and even smiling countenance: "Well," eagerly +exclaimed Madame Crebillon, who had been awaiting in anxiety the return of +her husband. "Well," replied he, "they have damned my play; to-morrow we +will return to our old habits again." + +And, true to his word, on the following morning Crebillon returned to the +Place Maubert, where he hired a little apartment near his father-in-law, +who could still offer our poet and his wife, when hard pressed, a glass of +his _vin ordinaire_ and a share of his dinner. Out of all his rich +furniture Crebillon selected but a dozen cats and dogs, whom he chose as +the companions of his exile. To quote d'Alembert's words--"Like Alcibiades, +in former days, he passed from Persian luxury to Spartan austerity, and, +what in all probability Alcibiades was not, he was happier in the second +state than he had been in the first." + +His wife was in retirement what she had been in the world. She never +complained. Perhaps even she showed herself in a more charming light, as +the kind and devoted companion of the hissed and penniless poet, than as +the admired wife of the popular dramatist. Poor Madame Crebillon hid their +poverty from her husband with touching delicacy; he almost fancied himself +rich, such a magic charm did she contrive to cast over their humble +dwelling. Like Midas, she appeared to possess the gift of changing whatever +she touched into gold, that is to say, of giving life and light by her +winning grace to every thing with which she came in contact. Blessed, +thrice blessed is that man, be he poet or philosopher, who, like Crebillon, +has felt and understood that amiability and a contented mind are in a wife +treasures inexhaustible, compared to which mere mundane wealth fades into +utter insignificance. No word of complaint or peevish expression ever +passed Madame Crebillon's lips; she was proud of her poet's glory, and +endeavored always to sustain him in his independent ideas; she would listen +resignedly to all his dreams of future triumphs, and knew how to cast +herself into his arms when he would declare that he desired nothing more +from mankind. One day, however, when there was no money in the house, on +seeing him return with a dog under each arm, she ventured on a quiet +remonstrance. "Take care, Monsieur de Crebillon," she said, with a smile, +"we have already eight dogs and fifteen cats." + +"Well, I know that," replied Crebillon; "but see how piteously these poor +dogs look at us; could I leave them to die of hunger in the street?" + +"But did it not strike you that they might possibly die of hunger here? I +can fully understand and enter into your feelings of love and pity for +these poor animals, but we must not convert the house into a hospital for +foundling dogs." + +"Why despair?" said Crebillon. "Providence never abandons genius and +virtue. The report goes that I am to be of the Academy." + +"I do not believe it," said Madame Crebillon. "Fontenelle and La Motte, who +are but _beaux esprits_, will never permit a man like you to seat himself +beside them, for if you were of the Academy, would you not be the king of +it?" + +Crebillon, however, began his canvass, but as his wife had foreseen, +Fontenelle and La Motte succeeded in having him black-balled. + +All these little literary thorns, however, only imparted greater charms to +the calm felicity of Crebillon's domestic hearth; but we must now open the +saddest page of our poet's hitherto peaceful and happy existence. + +One evening, on his return from the Cafe Procope, the resort of all the +wits and _litterateurs_ of the eighteenth century, Crebillon found his wife +in a state of great agitation, half-undressed, and pressing their sleeping +infant to her bosom. + +"Why, Charlotte, what is the matter?" he exclaimed. + +"I am afraid," replied she, trembling, and looking towards the bed. + +"What folly! you are like the children, you are frightened at shadows." + +"Yes, I am frightened at shadows; just now, as I was undressing, I saw a +spectre glide along at the foot of the bed. I was ready to sink to the +earth with terror, and it was with the greatest difficulty that I could +muster strength enough to reach the child's cradle." + +"Child yourself," said Crebillon, playfully; "you merely saw the shadow of +the bed-curtains." + +"No, no," cried the young wife, seizing the poet's hand--"it was Death! I +recognized him; for it is not the first time that he has shown himself to +me. Ah! _mon ami_, with what grief and terror shall I prepare to lie down +in the cold earth! If you love me as I love you, do not leave me for an +instant; help me to die, for if you are by my side at that hour, I shall +fancy I am but dropping asleep." + +Greatly shocked at what he heard, Crebillon took his child in his arms, and +carried it back to its cradle. He returned to his wife, pressed her to his +bosom, and sought vainly for words to relieve her apprehensions, and to +lead back her thoughts into less sombre channels. He at length succeeded, +but not without great difficulty, in persuading her to retire to rest; she +scarcely closed an eye. Poor Crebillon sat in silence by the bedside of his +wife praying fervently in his heart; for perhaps he believed in omens and +presentiments even to a greater degree than did Charlotte. Finding, at +length, that she had dropped asleep, he got into bed himself. When he awoke +in the morning, he beheld Charlotte bending over him in a half-raised +posture, as though she had been attentively regarding him as he slept. +Terrified at the deadly paleness of her cheeks, and the unnatural +brilliancy of her eyes, and sensitive and tender-hearted as a child, he was +unable to restrain his tears. She cast herself passionately into his arms, +and covered his cheeks with tears and kisses. + +"'Tis all over now," she whispered, in a broken voice; "my heart beats too +strongly to beat much longer, but I die contented and happy, for I see by +your tears that you will not forget me." + +Crebillon rose hastily and ran to his father-in-law. "Alas!" said the poor +apothecary, "her mother, who was as beautiful and as good as she, died +young of a disease of the heart, and her child will go the same way." + +All the most celebrated physicians of the day were called in, but before +they could determine upon a method of treatment, the spirit of poor +Charlotte had taken flight from its earthly tabernacle. + +Crebillon, inconsolable at his loss, feared not the ridicule (for in the +eighteenth century all such exhibitions of feeling were considered highly +ridiculous) of lamenting his wife; he wept her loss during half a +century--in other words, to his last hour. + +During the space of two years he scarcely appeared once at the Theatre +Francaise. He had the air of a man of another age, so completely a stranger +did he seem to all that was going on around him. One might say that he +still lived with his divine Charlotte; he would speak to her unceasingly, +as if her gentle presence was still making the wilderness of his solitary +dwelling blossom like the rose. After fifteen years of mourning, some +friends one day surprised him in his solitude, speaking aloud to his dear +Charlotte, relating to her his projects for the future, and recalling their +past days of happiness: "Ah, Charlotte," he exclaimed, "they all tell me of +my glory, yet I think but of thee!" + +The friends of Crebillon, uneasy respecting his future destiny, had advised +him during the preceding year to present himself at court, where he was +received and recognized as a man of genius. In the early days of his +widowhood, he quitted Paris suddenly and took up his residence at +Versailles. But at Versailles he lived as he had done in Paris, immured in +his chamber, and entirely engrossed with his own sombre and lugubrious +thoughts and visions; in consequence of this, he was scarcely noticed; the +king seeing before him a species of Danubian peasant, proud of his genius +and his poverty, treated him with an almost disdainful coldness of manner. +Crebillon did not at first comprehend his position at Versailles. He was a +simple-minded philosopher, who had studied heroes and not men. At length, +convinced that a poet at court is like a fish out of water, he returned to +Paris to live more nobly with his heroes and his poverty. He retired to the +Marais, to the Rue des Deux-Portes, taking with him only a bed, a table, +two chairs, and an arm-chair, "in case," to use his own words, "an honest +man should come to visit him." + +Irritated at the rebuff he had met with at Versailles, ashamed of having +solicited in vain the justice of the king, he believed henceforth only in +liberty. "Liberty," said he, "is the most vivid sentiment engraven on my +heart." Unintentionally, perhaps, he avenged himself in the first work he +undertook after this event: the tragedy of "Cromwell,"--"an altar," as he +said, "which I erect to liberty." According to D'Alembert, he read to his +friends some scenes of this play, in which our British aversion for +absolutism was painted with wild and startling energy; in consequence +thereof, he received an order forbidding him to continue his piece. His +Cromwell was a villain certainly, but a villain which would have told well +upon the stage, from the degree of grandeur and heroic dignity with which +the author had invested the character. From that day he had enemies; but +indeed it might be said that he had had enemies from the evening of the +first representation of his "Electre." Success here below has no other +retinue. + +Crebillon was now almost penniless. By degrees, without having foreseen +such an occurrence, he began to hear his numerous creditors buzzing around +him like a swarm of hornets. Not having any thing else to seize, they +seized at the theatre his author's rights. The affair was brought before +the courts, and led to a decree of parliament which ordained that the works +of the intellect were not seizable, consequently Crebillon retained the +income arising from the performance of his tragedies. + +Some years now passed away without bringing any fresh successes. Compelled +by the court party to discontinue "Cromwell," he gave "Semiramis," which, +like "Xerxes," some time previously, was a failure. Under the impression +that the public could not bring itself to relish "sombre horrors of human +tempests," he sought to arm himself as it were against his own nature, to +subdue and soften it. The tragedy of "Pyrrhus," which recalled the tender +colors of Racine, cost him five years' labor. At that time, so strong in +France was the empire of habit, that this tragedy, though utterly valueless +as a work of art, and wanting both in style, relief, and expression, was +received with enthusiasm. But Crebillon possessed too much good sense to be +blinded by this spurious triumph. "It is," said he, when speaking of his +work, "but the shadow of a tragedy." + +"Pyrrhus" obtained, after all, but a transitory success. After a brief +period, the public began to discover that it was a foreign plant, which +under a new sky gave out but a factitious brilliancy. In despair at having +wasted so much precious time in fruitless labor, and disgusted besides at +the conduct of some shameless intriguers who frequented the literary cafes +of the capital, singing his defeat in trashy verse, Crebillon now retired +almost wholly from the world. He would visit the theatre, however, +occasionally to chat with a few friends over the literary topics of the +day; but at length even this recreation was abandoned, and he was seen in +the world no more. + +He lived now without any other friends than his heroes and his cats and +dogs, devouring the novels of La Calprenede, and relating long-winded +romances to himself. His son affirms having seen fifteen dogs and as many +cats barking and mewing at one time round his father, who would speak to +them much more tenderly than he would to himself. According to Freron's +account, Crebillon would pick up and carry home under his cloak all the +wandering dogs he met with in the street, and give them shelter and +hospitality. But in return for this, he would require from them an aptitude +for certain exercises; when, at the termination of the prescribed period, +the pupil was convicted of not having profited by the education he had +received, the poet would take him under his cloak again, put him down at +the corner of a street and fly from the spot with tears in his eyes. + +On the death of La Motte, Crebillon was at length admitted into the +Academy. As he was always an eccentric man, he wrote his "Discourse" of +reception in verse, a thing which had never been done before. On +pronouncing this line, which has not yet been forgotten-- + + Aucun fiel n'a jamais empoisonne ma plume-- + +he was enthusiastically applauded. From that day, but from that day only, +Crebillon was recognized by his countrymen as a man of honor and virtue, as +well as genius. It was rather late in the day, however; he had lost his +wife, his son was mixing in the fashionable world, he was completely alone, +and almost forgotten, expecting nothing more from the fickle public. More +idle than a lazzarone, he passed years without writing a single line, +though his ever-active imagination would still produce, mentally, tragedy +after tragedy. As he possessed a wonderful memory, he would compose and +rhyme off-hand the entire five acts of a piece without having occasion to +put pen to paper. One evening, under the impression that he had produced a +masterpiece, he invited certain of his brother Academicians to his house to +hear his new play. When the party had assembled, he commenced, and +declaimed the entire tragedy from beginning to end without stopping. +Judging by the ominous silence with which the conclusion was received, that +his audience was not over delighted with his play, he exclaimed, in a pet-- + +"You see, my friends, I was right in not putting my tragedy on paper." + +"Why so?" asked Godoyn. + +"Because, I should have had the trouble of throwing it into the fire. Now, +I shall merely have to forget it, which is easier done." + +When Crebillon seemed no longer formidable in the literary world, and all +were agreed he was in the decline of his genius, the very men who had +previously denied his power, now thought fit to combat Voltaire by exalting +Crebillon, in the same way as they afterwards exalted Voltaire so soon as +another star appeared on the literary horizon. + +"With the intention of humbling the pride of Voltaire, they proceeded," +says a writer of the time, "to seek out in his lonely retreat the now aged +and forsaken Crebillon, who, mute and solitary for the last thirty years, +was no longer a formidable enemy for them, but whom they flattered +themselves they could oppose as a species of phantom to the illustrious +writer by whom they were eclipsed; just as, in former days, the Leaguers +drew an old cardinal from out the obscurity in which he lived, to give +him the empty title of king, only that they themselves might reign under +his name." + +The literary world was then divided into two adverse parties--the +Crebillonists, and the Voltairians. The first, being masters of all the +avenues, succeeded for a length of time in blinding the public. Voltaire +passed for a mere wit; Crebillon, for the sole heir of the sceptre of +Corneille and Racine. It was this clique which invented the formula ever +afterwards employed in the designation of these three poets--Corneille the +great, Racine the tender, and Crebillon the tragic. One great advantage +Crebillon possessed over Voltaire: he had written nothing for the last +thirty years. His friends, or rather Voltaire's enemies, now began to give +out that the author of "Rhadamiste" was engaged in putting the finishing +hand to a tragedy, a veritable dramatic wonder, by name "Catilina." Madame +de Pompadour herself, tired of Voltaire's importunate ambition, now went +over with her forces to the camp of the Crebillonists. She received +Crebillon at court, and recommended him to the particular care of Louis +XV., who conferred a pension on him, and also appointed him to the office +of censor royal. + +"Catilina" was at length produced with great _eclat_. The court party, +which was present in force at the first performance, doubtless contributed +in a great measure to the success of the piece. The old poet, thus +encouraged, set to work on a new play, the "Triumvirat," with fresh ardor; +but as was Voltaire's lot in after years, it was soon perceptible that the +poet was but the shadow of what he had been. Out of respect, however, for +Crebillon's eighty-eight years, the tragedy was applauded, but in a few +days the "Triumvirat" was played to empty benches. Crebillon had now but +one thing left to do: to die, which, in fact, he did in the year 1762. + +It cannot be denied that Crebillon was one of the remarkable men of his +century. That untutored genius, so striking in the boldness and brilliancy +of its creations, but which more frequently repels through its own native +barbarity, was eminently the genius of Crebillon. But what, above all, +characterizes the genius of the French nation--wit, grace, and +polish--Crebillon never possessed; consequently, with all his vigor and all +his force, he never succeeded in creating a living work. He has depicted +human perversity with a proud and daring hand--he has shown the +fratricide, the infanticide, the parricide, but he never succeeded in +attaining the sublimity of the Greek drama. And yet J. J. Rousseau affirmed +that of all the French tragic poets, Crebillon alone had recalled to him +the grandeur of the Greeks. If so, it was only through the nudity of +terror, for the "French AEschylus" was utterly wanting in what may be termed +human and philosophical sentiment. + +There is a very beautiful portrait of Crebillon extant, by Latour. It would +doubtless be supposed that the man, so terrible in his dramatic furies, was +of a dark and sombre appearance. Far from it; Crebillon was of a fair +complexion, and had an artless expression of countenance, and a pair of +beautiful blue eyes. It must, however, be confessed, that by his method of +borrowing the gestures of his heroes, coupled, moreover, with the habit he +had acquired of contracting his eyebrows in the fervor of composition, +Crebillon in the end became a little more the man of his works. He was, +moreover, impatient and irritable, even with his favorite dogs and cats, +and occasionally with his sweet-tempered and angelic wife, the ever +cheerful partner alike of his joys and sorrows, who had so nobly resigned +herself to the chances and changes of his good and ill-fortune; that loving +companion of his hours of profusion and gaiety, when he aped the _grand +seigneur_, as well as the devoted sharer of those days of poverty and +neglect, when he retired from the world in disgust, to the old +dwelling-house of the Place Maubert. + + + + +HABITS OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. + + +The principal part of the life of this great monarch was spent in camp, and +in a constant struggle with a host of enemies. Yet even then, when the busy +day scarcely afforded a vacant moment, that moment, if it came, was sure to +be given to study. Let the young shopocracy of Glasgow never forget that +Frederic had _very early_ formed an attachment to reading, which neither +the opposition of his father--who thought that the scholar would spoil the +soldier--nor the schemes of ambition and conquest, which occupied him so +much in after life, were able to destroy or weaken. When at last, +therefore, he felt himself at liberty to sheathe the sword, he gave himself +up to the cultivation and patronage of literature and the arts of peace, as +eagerly as he had ever done to the pursuit of military renown. Even before +his accession to the throne, and while yet but a young man, he had +established in his residence at Rheimsberg nearly the same system of +studious application and economy in the management of his time to which he +ever afterwards continued to adhere. His relaxations even then were almost +entirely of an intellectual character; and he had collected around him a +circle of literary associates, with whom it was his highest enjoyment to +spend his hours in philosophic conversation, or in amusements not unfitted +to adorn a life of philosophy. In a letter written to one of his friends, +he says--"I become every day more covetous of my time; I render an account +of it to myself, and lose none of it but with great regret. My mind is +entirely turned toward philosophy; it has rendered me admirable services, +and I am greatly indebted to it. I find myself happy, abundantly more +tranquil than formerly; my soul is less subject to violent agitations; and +I do nothing till I have considered what course of action I ought to +adopt." Let young men contrast such conduct with the frivolities of other +noble and royal persons, and be faithful to her whose ways are +pleasantness, and whose paths are peace. I shall conclude this paper with a +sketch of his doings for the ordinary four-and-twenty hours. Dr. Towers, +who has written a history of his reign, informs us that it was his general +custom to rise at five o'clock in the morning, and sometimes earlier. He +commonly dressed his hair himself, and seldom employed more than two +minutes for that purpose. His boots were put at the bedside, for he +scarcely ever wore shoes. After he was dressed, the adjutant of the first +battalion of his guards brought him a list of all the persons that had +arrived at Potsdam, or departed from thence. When he had delivered his +orders to this officer he retired into an inner cabinet, where he employed +himself in private till seven o'clock. He then went into another apartment, +where he drank coffee or chocolate, and here he found all the letters +addressed to him from Potsdam and Berlin. Foreign letters were placed upon +a separate table. After reading all these letters, he wrote hints or notes +on the margin of those which his secretaries were to answer, and then +returning into the inner cabinet carried with him such as he meant to write +or dictate an answer to himself. Here he employed himself until nine +o'clock. At ten the generals who were about his person attended. At eleven +he mounted his horse and rode to the parade, when he reviewed and exercised +his guards; and at the same hour, says Voltaire, all the colonels did the +same throughout the provinces. He afterwards walked for some time in the +garden with his generals. At one o'clock he sat down to dinner. He had no +carver, but did the honors of the table like a private gentleman. His +dinner-time did not much exceed an hour. He then retired into his private +apartment, making low bows to his company. He remained in private till five +o'clock, when his reader waited on him. His reading lasted about two hours, +and this was succeeded by a concert upon the flute which lasted till nine. +He supped at half-past nine with his favorite _literati_, and at twelve the +king went to bed.--_Communication from David Vedder, in the Glasgow +Citizen._ + + + + +THE OLD MAN'S DEATH. + +A CHILD'S FIRST SIGHT OF SORROW. + +From "Recollections of our Neighborhood in the West."[6] + +BY ALICE CAREY. + + +Change is the order of nature; the old makes way for the new; over the +perished growth of last year brighten the blossoms of this. What changes +are to be counted, even in a little noiseless life like mine! How many +graves have grown green; how many locks have grown gray; how many, lately +young, and strong in hope and courage, are faltering and fainting; how many +hands that reached eagerly for the roses are drawn back bleeding and full +of thorns; and, saddest of all, how many hearts are broken! I remember when +I had no sad memory, when I first made room in my bosom for the +consciousness of death. + + We have gained the world's cold wisdom now, + We have learned to pause and fear; + But where are the living founts whose flow + Was a joy of heart to hear! + +I remember the twilight, as though it were yesterday--grey, and dim, and +cold, for it was late in October, when the shadow first came over my heart, +that no subsequent sunshine has ever swept entirely away. From the window +of our cottage home, streamed a column of light, in which I sat stringing +the red berries of the brier rose. + +I had heard of death, but regarded it only with that vague apprehension +which I felt for the demons and witches that gather poison herbs under the +new moon, in fairy forests, or strangle harmless travelers with wands of +the willow, or with vines of the wild grape or ivy. I did not much like to +think about them, and yet I felt safe from their influence. + +There might be people, somewhere, that would die some time; I did'nt know, +but it would not be myself, or any one I knew. They were so well and so +strong, so full of joyous hopes, how could their feet falter, and their +smiles grow dim, and their fainting hands lay away their work, and fold +themselves together! No, no--it was not a thing to be believed. + +Drifts of sunshine from that season of blissful ignorance often come back, +as lightly + + As the winds of the May-time flow, + And lift up the shadows brightly + As the daffodil lifts the snow-- + +the shadows that have gathered with the years! It is pleasant to have them +thus swept off--to find myself a child again--the crown of pale pain and +sorrow that presses heavily now, unfelt, and the graves that lie lonesomely +along my way, covered up with flowers--to feel my mother's dark locks fall +upon my cheek, as she teaches me the lesson or the prayer--to see my +father, now a sorrowful old man whose hair has thinned and whitened almost +to the limit of three score years and ten, fresh and vigorous, strong for +the race--and to see myself a little child, happy with a new hat and a pink +ribbon, or even with the string of briar buds that I called coral. Now I +tie it about my neck, and now around my forehead, and now twist it among my +hair, as I have somewhere read great ladies do their pearls. The winds are +blowing the last yellow leaves from the cherry tree--I know not why, but it +makes me sad. I draw closer to the light of the window, and slyly peep +within--all is quiet and cheerful; the logs on the hearth are ablaze; my +father is mending a bridle-rein, which "Traveller," the favorite riding +horse, snapt in two yesterday, when frightened at the elephant that +(covered with a great white cloth), went by to be exhibited at the coming +show,--my mother is hemming a ruffle, perhaps for me to wear to school next +quarter--my brother is reading in a newspaper, I know not what, but I see, +on one side, the picture of a bear: Let me listen--and flattening my cheek +against the pane, I catch his words distinctly, for he reads loud and very +clearly--it is an improbable story of a wild man who has recently been +discovered in the woods of some far-away island--he seems to have been +there a long time, for his nails are grown like claws, and his hair, in +rough and matted strings, hangs to his knees; he makes a noise like +something between the howl of a beast and a human cry, and, when pursued, +runs with a nimbleness and swiftness that baffle the pursuers, though +mounted on the fleetest of steeds, urged through brake and bush to their +utmost speed. When first seen, he was sitting on the ground and cracking +nuts with his teeth; his arms are corded with sinews that make it probable +his strength is sufficient to strangle a dozen men; and yet on seeing human +beings, he runs into the thick woods, lifting such a hideous scream, the +while, as make his discoverers clasp their hands to their ears. It is +suggested that this is not a solitary individual, become wild by isolation, +but that a race exists, many of which are perhaps larger and of more +terrible aspects; but whether they have any intelligible language, and +whether they live in caverns of rocks or in trunks of hollow trees, remains +for discovery by some future and more daring explorers. + +My brother puts down the paper and looks at the picture of the bear. "I +would not read such foolish stories," says my father, as he holds the +bridle up to the light, to see that it is nearly mended; my mother breaks +the thread which gathers the ruffle; she is gentle and loving, and does not +like to hear even implied reproof, but she says nothing; little Harry, who +is playing on the floor, upsets his block-house, and my father, clapping +his hands together, exclaims, "This is the house that Jack built!" and +adds, patting Harry on the head, "Where is my little boy? this is not he, +this is a little carpenter; you must make your houses stronger, little +carpenter!" But Harry insists that he is the veritable little Harry, and no +carpenter, and hides his tearful eyes in the lap of my mother, who assures +him that he is her own little boy, and soothes his childish grief by +buttoning on his neck the ruffle she has just completed; and off he +scampers again, building a new house, the roof of which he makes very +steep, and calls it grandfather's house, at which all laugh heartily. + +While listening to the story of the wild man I am half afraid, but now, as +the joyous laughter rings out, I am ashamed of my fears, and skipping +forth, I sit down on a green ridge which cuts the door-yard diagonally, and +where, I am told, there was once a fence. Did the rose-bushes and lilacs +and flags that are in the garden, ever grow here? I think--no, it must have +been a long while ago, if indeed the fence were ever here, for I can't +conceive the possibility of such change, and then I fall to arranging my +string of brier-buds into letters that will spell some name, now my own, +and now that of some one I love. A dull strip of cloud, from which the hues +of pink and red and gold have but lately faded out, hangs low in the west; +below is a long reach of withering woods--the gray sprays of the beech +clinging thickly still, and the gorgeous maples shooting up here and there +like sparks of fire among the darkly magnificent oaks and silvery columned +sycamores--the gray and murmurous twilight gives way to darker shadows and +a deeper hush. + +I hear, far away, the beating of quick hoof-strokes on the pavement; the +horseman, I think to myself, is just coming down the hill through the thick +woods beyond the bridge. I listen close, and presently a hollow rumbling +sound indicates that I was right; and now I hear the strokes more +faintly--he is climbing the hill that slopes directly away from me; but now +again I hear distinctly--he has almost reached the hollow below me--the +hollow that in summer is starry with dandelions and now is full of brown +nettles and withered weeds--he will presently have passed--where can he be +going, and what is his errand? I will rise up and watch. The cloud passes +from the face of the moon, and the light streams full and broad on the +horseman--he tightens his rein, and looks eagerly toward the house--surely +I know him, the long red curls, streaming down his neck, and the straw hat, +are not to be mistaken--it is Oliver Hillhouse, the miller, whom my +grandfather, who lives in the steep-roofed house, has employed three +years--longer than I can remember! He calls to me, and I laughingly bound +forward, with an exclamation of delight, and put my arms about the slender +neck of his horse, that is champing the bit and pawing the pavement, and I +say, "Why do you not come in?" + +He smiles, but there is something ominous in his smile, as he hands me a +folded paper, saying, "Give this to your mother;" and, gathering up his +reins, he rides hurriedly forward. In a moment I am in the house, for my +errand, "Here mother is a paper which Oliver Hillhouse gave me for you." +Her hand trembles as she receives it, and waiting timidly near, I watch her +as she reads; the tears come, and without speaking a word she hands it to +my father. + +That night there came upon my soul the shadow of an awful fear; sorrowful +moans and plaints disturbed my dreams that have never since been wholly +forgot. How cold and spectral-like the moonlight streamed across my pillow; +how dismal the chirping of the cricket in the hearth; and how more than +dismal the winds among the naked boughs that creaked against my window. For +the first time in my life I could not sleep, and I longed for the light of +the morning. At last it came, whitening up the East, and the stars faded +away, and there came a flush of crimson and purple fire, which was +presently pushed aside by the golden disk of the sun. Daylight without, but +within there was thick darkness still. + +I kept close about my mother, for in her presence I felt a shelter and +protection that I found no where else. + +"Be a good girl till I come back," she said, stooping and kissing my +forehead; "mother is going away to-day, your poor grandfather is very +sick." + +"Let me go too," I said, clinging close to her hand. We were soon ready; +little Harry pouted his lips and reached out his hands, and my father gave +him his pocket-knife to play with; and the wind blowing the yellow curls +over his eyes and forehead, he stood on the porch looking eagerly while my +mother turned to see him again and again. We had before us a walk of +perhaps two miles--northwardly along the turnpike nearly a mile, next, +striking into a grass-grown road that crossed it, in an easternly direction +nearly another mile, and then turning northwardly again, a narrow lane, +bordered on each side by old and decaying cherry-trees, led us to the +house, ancient fashioned, with high steep gables, narrow windows, and low, +heavy chimneys of stone. In the rear was an old mill, with a plank sloping +from the door-sill to the ground, by way of step, and a square open window +in the gable, through which, with ropes and pulleys, the grain was drawn +up. + +This mill was an especial object of terror to me, and it was only when my +aunt Carry led me by the hand, and the cheerful smile of Oliver Hillhouse +lighted up the dusky interior, that I could be persuaded to enter it. In +truth it was a lonesome sort of place, with dark lofts and curious binns, +and ladders leading from place to place; and there were cats creeping +stealthily along the beams in wait for mice or swallows, if, as sometimes +happened, the clay nest should be loosened from the rafter, and the whole +tumble ruinously down. I used to wonder that aunt Carry was not afraid in +the old place, with its eternal rumble, and its great dusty wheel moving +slowly round and round, beneath the steady tread of the two sober horses +that never gained a hair's breadth for their pains; but on the contrary, +she seemed to like the mill, and never failed to show me through all its +intricacies, on my visits. I have unraveled the mystery now, or rather, +from the recollections I still retain, have apprehended what must have been +clear to older eyes at the time. + +A forest of oak and walnut stretched along this extremity of the farm, and +on either side of the improvements (as the house and barn and mill were +called) shot out two dark forks, completely cutting off the view, save +toward the unfrequented road to the south, which was traversed mostly by +persons coming to the mill, for my grandfather made the flour for all the +neighbourhood round about, besides making corn-meal for Johny-cakes, and +"chops" for the cows. + +He was an old man now, with a tall, athletic frame, slightly bent, thin +locks white as the snow, and deep blue eyes full of fire and intelligence, +and after long years of uninterrupted health and useful labor, he was +suddenly stricken down, with no prospect of recovery. + +"I hope he is better," said my mother, hearing the rumbling of the +mill-wheel. She might have known my grandfather would permit no +interruption of the usual business on account of his illness--the +neighbors, he said, could not do without bread because he was sick, nor +need they all be idle, waiting for him to die. When the time drew near, he +would call them to take his farewell and his blessing, but till then let +them sew and spin, and prepare dinner just as usual, so they would please +him best. He was a stern man--even his kindness was uncompromising and +unbending, and I remember of his making toward me no manifestation of +fondness, such as grandchildren usually receive, save once, when he gave me +a bright red apple, without speaking a word till my timid thanks brought +out his "Save your thanks for something better." The apple gave me no +pleasure, and I even slipt into the mill to escape from his cold, +forbidding presence. + +Nevertheless, he was a good man, strictly honest, and upright in all his +dealings, and respected, almost reverenced, by everybody. I remember once, +when young Winters, the tenant of Deacon Granger's farm, who paid a great +deal too much for his ground, as I have heard my father say, came to mill +with some withered wheat, my grandfather filled up the sacks out of his own +flour, while Tommy was in the house at dinner. That was a good deed, but +Tommy Winters never suspected how his wheat happened to turn out so well. + +As we drew near the house, it seemed to me more lonesome and desolate than +it ever looked before. I wished I had staid at home with little Harry. So +eagerly I noted every thing, that I remember to this day, that near a +trough of water, in the lane, stood a little surly looking cow, of a red +color, and with a white line running along her back. I had gone with aunt +Carry often when she went to milk her, but, to-day she seemed not to have +been milked. Near her was a black and white heifer, with sharp short horns, +and a square board tied over her eyes; two horses, one of them gray, and +the other sorrel, with a short tail, were reaching their long necks into +the garden, and browsing from the currant bushes. As we approached they +trotted forward a little, and one of them, half playfully, half angrily, +bit the other on the shoulder, after which they returned quietly to their +cropping of the bushes, heedless of the voice that from across the field +was calling to them. + +A flock of turkeys were sunning themselves about the door, for no one came +to scare them away; some were black, and some speckled, some with heads +erect and tails spread, and some nibbling the grass; and with a gabbling +noise, and a staid and dignified march, they made way for us. The smoke +arose from the chimney in blue, graceful curls, and drifted away to the +woods; the dead morning-glory vines had partly fallen from the windows, but +the hands that tended them were grown careless, and they were suffered to +remain blackened and void of beauty, as they were. Under these, the white +curtain was partly put aside, and my grandmother, with the speckled +handkerchief pinned across her bosom, and her pale face, a shade paler than +usual, was looking out, and seeing us she came forth, and in answer to my +mother's look of inquiry, shook her head, and silently led the way in. The +room we entered had some home-made carpet, about the size of a large +table-cloth, spread in the middle of the floor, the remainder of which was +scoured very white; the ceiling was of walnut wood, and the side walls were +white-washed--a table, an old-fashioned desk, and some wooden chairs, +comprised the furniture. On one of the chairs was a leather cushion; this +was set to one side, my grandmother neither offering it to my mother, nor +sitting in it herself, while, by way of composing herself, I suppose, she +took off the black ribbon with which her cap was trimmed. This was a more +simple process than the reader may fancy, the trimming, consisting merely +of a ribbon, always black, which she tied around her head after the cap was +on, forming a bow and two ends just above the forehead. Aunt Carry, who was +of what is termed an even disposition, received us with her usual cheerful +demeanor, and then, re-seating herself comfortably near the fire, resumed +her work, the netting of some white fringe. + +I liked aunt Carry, for that she always took especial pains to entertain +me, showing me her patchwork, taking me with her to the cowyard and dairy, +as also to the mill, though in this last I fear she was a little selfish; +however, that made no difference to me at the time, and I have always been +sincerely grateful to her: children know more, and want more, and feel +more, than people are apt to imagine. + +On this occasion she called me to her, and tried to teach me the mysteries +of her netting, telling me I must get my father to buy me a little bureau, +and then I could net fringe and make a nice cover for it. For a little time +I thought I could, and arranged in my mind where it should be placed, and +what should be put into it, and even went so far as to inquire how much +fringe she thought would be necessary. I never attained to much proficiency +in the netting of fringe, nor did I ever get the little bureau, and now it +is quite reasonable to suppose I never shall. + +Presently my father and mother were shown into an adjoining room, the +interior of which I felt an irrepressible desire to see, and by stealth I +obtained a glimpse of it before the door closed behind them. There was a +dull brown and yellow carpet on the floor, and near the bed, on which was a +blue and white coverlid, stood a high backed wooden chair, over which hung +a towel, and on the bottom of which stood a pitcher, of an unique pattern. +I know not how I saw this, but I did, and perfectly remember it, +notwithstanding my attention was in a moment completely absorbed by the +sick man's face, which was turned towards the opening door, pale, livid, +and ghastly. I trembled, and was transfixed; the rings beneath the eyes, +which had always been deeply marked, were now almost black, and the blue +eyes within looked glassy and cold, and terrible. The expression of agony +on the lips (for his disease was one of a most painful nature) gave place +to a sort of smile, and the hand, twisted among the gray locks, was +withdrawn and extended to welcome my parents, as the door closed. That was +a fearful moment; I was near the dark steep edges of the grave; I felt, for +the first time, that I was mortal too, and I was afraid. + +Aunt Carry put away her work, and taking from a nail in the window-frame a +brown muslin sun bonnet, which seemed to me of half a yard in depth, she +tied it on my head, and then clapt her hands as she looked into my face, +saying, "bopeep!" at which I half laughed and half cried, and making +provision for herself in grandmother's bonnet, which hung on the opposite +side of the window, and was similar to mine, except that it was perhaps a +little larger, she took my hand and we proceeded to the mill. Oliver, who +was very busy on our entrance, came forward, as aunt Carry said, by way of +introduction, "A little visitor I've brought you," and arranged a seat on a +bag of meal for us, and taking off his straw hat pushed the red curls from +his low white forehead, and looked bewildered and anxious. + +"It's quite warm for the season," said aunt Carry, by way of breaking +silence, I suppose. The young man said "yes," abstractedly, and then asked +if the rumble of the mill were not a disturbance to the sick room, to which +aunt Carry answered, "No, my father says it is his music." + +"A good old man," said Oliver, "he will not hear it much longer," and then, +even more sadly, "every thing will be changed." Aunt Carry was silent, and +he added, "I have been here a long time, and it will make me very sorry to +go away, especially when such trouble is about you all." + +"Oh, Oliver," said aunt Carra, "you don't mean to go away?" "I see no +alternative," he replied; "I shall have nothing to do; if I had gone a year +ago it would have been better." "Why?" asked aunt Carry; but I think she +understood why, and Oliver did not answer directly, but said, "Almost the +last thing your father said to me was, that you should never marry any who +had not a house and twenty acres of land; if he has not, he will exact that +promise of you, and I cannot ask you not to make it, nor would you refuse +him if I did; I might have owned that long ago, but for my sister (she had +lost her reason) and my lame brother, whom I must educate to be a +school-master, because he never can work, and my blind mother; but God +forgive me! I must not and do not complain; you will forget me, before +long, Carry, and some body who is richer and better, will be to you all I +once hoped to be, and perhaps more." + +I did not understand the meaning of the conversation at the time, but I +felt out of place some way, and so, going to another part of the mill, I +watched the sifting of the flour through the snowy bolter, listening to the +rumbling of the wheel. When I looked around I perceived that Oliver had +taken my place on the meal bag, and that he had put his arm around the +waist of aunt Carry in a way I did not much like. + +Great sorrow, like a storm, sweeps us aside from ordinary feelings, and we +give our hearts into kindly hands--so cold and hollow and meaningless seem +the formulae of the world. They had probably never spoken of love before, +and now talked of it as calmly as they would have talked of any thing else; +but they felt that hope was hopeless; at best, any union was deferred, +perhaps, for long years; the future was full of uncertainties. At last +their tones became very low, so low I could not hear what they said; but I +saw that they looked very sorrowful, and that aunt Carry's hand lay in that +of Oliver as though he were her brother. + +"Why don't the flour come through?" I said, for the sifting had become +thinner and lighter, and at length quite ceased. Oliver smiled, faintly, as +he arose, and saying, "This will never buy the child a frock," poured a +sack of wheat into the hopper, so that it nearly run over. Seeing no child +but myself, I supposed he meant to buy me a new frock, and at once resolved +to put it in my little bureau, if he did. + +"We have bothered Mr. Hillhouse long enough," said aunt Carry, taking my +hand, "and will go to the house, shall we not?" + +I wondered why she said "Mr. Hillhouse," for I had never heard her say so +before; and Oliver seemed to wonder, too, for he said reproachfully, laying +particular stress on his own name, "You don't bother Mr. Hillhouse, I am +sure, but I must not insist on your remaining if you wish to go." + +"I don't want to insist on my staying," said aunt Carry, "if you don't want +to, and I see you don't," and lifting me out to the sloping plank, that +bent beneath us, we descended. + +"Carry," called a voice behind us; but she neither answered nor looked +back, but seeming to feel a sudden and expressive fondness for me, took me +up in her arms, though I was almost too heavy for her to lift, and kissing +me over and over, said I was light as a feather, at which she laughed as +though neither sorrowful nor lacking for employment. + +This little passage I could never precisely explain, aside from the ground +that "the course of true love never did run smooth." Half an hour after we +returned to the house, Oliver presented himself at the door, saying, "Miss +Caroline, shall I trouble you for a cup, to get a drink of water?" Carry +accompanied him to the well, where they lingered some time, and when she +returned her face was sunshiny and cheerful as usual. + +The day went slowly by, dinner was prepared, and removed, scarcely tasted; +aunt Carry wrought at her fringe, and grandmother moved softly about, +preparing teas and cordials. + +Towards sunset the sick man became easy, and expressed a wish that the door +of his chamber might be opened, that he might watch our occupations and +hear our talk. It was done accordingly, and he was left alone. My mother +smiled, saying she hoped he might yet get well, but my father shook his +head mournfully, and answered, "He wishes to go without our knowledge." He +made amplest provision for his family always, and I believe had a kind +nature, but he manifested no little fondnesses, nor did he wish caresses +for himself. Contrary to the general tenor of his character, was a love of +quiet jests, that remained to the last. Once, as Carry gave him some drink, +he said, "You know my wishes about your future, I expect you to be +mindful." + +I stole to the door of his room in the hope that he would say something to +me, but he did not, and I went nearer, close to the bed, and timidly took +his hand in mine; how damp and cold it felt! yet he spoke not, and climbing +upon the chair, I put back his thin locks, and kissed his forehead. "Child, +you trouble me," he said, and these were the last words he ever spoke to +me. + +The sun sunk lower and lower, throwing a beam of light through the little +window, quite across the carpet, and now it reached the sick man's room, +climbed over the bed and up the wall; he turned his face away, and seemed +to watch its glimmer upon the ceiling The atmosphere grew dense and dusky, +but without clouds, and the orange light changed to a dull lurid red, and +the dying and dead leaves dropt silently to the ground, for there was no +wind, and the fowls flew into the trees, and the grey moths came from +beneath the bushes and fluttered in the waning light. From the hollow tree +by the mill came the bat, wheeling and flitting blindly about, and once or +twice its wings struck the window of the sick man's chamber. The last +sunlight faded off at length, and the rumbling of the mill-wheel was still: +he has fallen asleep in listening to its music. + +The next day came the funeral. What a desolate time it was! All down the +lane were wagons and carriages and horses, for every body that knew my +grandfather had come to pay him the last honors. "We can do him no further +good," they said, "but it seemed right that we should come." Close by the +gate waited the little brown wagon to bear the coffin to the grave, the +wagon in which he was used to ride while living. The heads of the horses +were drooping, and I thought they looked consciously sad. + +The day was mild and the doors and windows of the old house stood all open, +so that the people without could hear the words of the preacher. I remember +nothing he said; I remember of hearing my mother sob, and of seeing my +grandmother with her face buried in her hands, and of seeing aunt Carra +sitting erect, her face pale but tearless, and Oliver near her, with his +hands folded across his breast save once or twice, when he lifted them to +brush away tears. + +I did not cry, save from a frightened and strange feeling, but kept wishing +that we were not so near the dead, and that it were another day. I tried to +push the reality away with thoughts of pleasant things--in vain. I remember +the hymn, and the very air in which it was sung. + + "Ye fearful souls fresh courage take, + The clouds ye so much dread, + Are big with mercy, and shall break + In blessings on your head. + Blind unbelief is sure to err, + And scan his works in vain; + God is his own interpreter, + And he will make it plain." + +Near the door blue flagstones were laid, bordered with a row of shrubberies +and trees, with lilacs, and roses, and pears, and peach-trees, which my +grandfather had planted long ago, and here, in the open air, the coffin was +placed, and the white cloth removed, and folded over the lid. I remember +how it shook and trembled as the gust came moaning from the woods, and +died off over the next hill, and that two or three withered leaves fell on +the face of the dead, which Oliver gently removed and brushed aside a +yellow winged butterfly that hovered near. + +The friends hung over the unsmiling corpse till they were led weeping and +one by one away; the hand of some one rested for a moment on the forehead, +and then the white cloth was replaced, and the lid screwed down. The coffin +was placed in the brown wagon, with a sheet folded about it, and the long +train moved slowly to the burial-ground woods, where the words "dust to +dust" were followed by the rattling of the earth, and the sunset light fell +there a moment, and the dead leaves blew across the smoothly shapen mound. + +When the will was read, Oliver found himself heir to a fortune--the mill +and the homestead and half the farm--provided he married Carry, which I +suppose he did, for though I do not remember the wedding, I have had an +aunt Caroline Hillhouse almost as long as I can remember. The lunatic +sister was sent to an asylum, where she sung songs about a faithless lover +till death took her up and opened her eyes in heaven. The mother was +brought home, and she and my grandmother lived at their ease, and sat in +the corner, and told stories of ghosts, and witches, and marriages, and +deaths, for long years. Peace to their memories! for they have both gone +home; and the lame brother is teaching school, in his leisure playing the +flute, and reading Shakspeare--all the book he reads. + +Years have come and swept me away from my childhood, from its innocence and +blessed unconsciousness of the dark, but often comes back the memory of its +first sorrow! + +Death is less terrible to me now. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] In press and soon to be published by J. S. Redfield. + + + + +MY NOVEL: + +OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE.[7] + +BY PISISTRATUS CAXTON. + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +Before a table in the apartments appropriated to him in his father's house +at Knightsbridge, sat Lord L'Estrange, sorting or destroying letters and +papers--an ordinary symptom of change of residence. There are certain +trifles by which a shrewd observer may judge of a man's disposition. Thus, +ranged on the table, with some elegance, but with soldier-like precision, +were sundry little relics of former days, hallowed by some sentiment of +memory, or perhaps endeared solely by custom; which, whether he was in +Egypt, Italy, or England, always made part of the furniture of Harley's +room. Even the small, old-fashioned, and somewhat inconvenient inkstand in +which he dipped the pen as he labelled the letters he put aside, belonged +to the writing-desk which had been his pride as a school-boy. Even the +books that lay scattered round were not new works, not those to which we +turn to satisfy the curiosity of an hour, or to distract our graver +thoughts: they were chiefly either Latin or Italian poets, with many a +pencil-mark on the margin; or books which, making severe demand on thought, +require slow and frequent perusal, and become companions. Somehow or other, +in remarking that even in dumb inanimate things the man was averse to +change, and had the habit of attaching himself to whatever was connected +with old associations, you might guess that he clung with pertinacity to +affections more important, and you could better comprehend the freshness of +his friendship for one so dissimilar in pursuits and character as Audley +Egerton. An affection once admitted into the heart of Harley L'Estrange, +seemed never to be questioned or reasoned with: it became tacitly fixed, as +it were, into his own nature; and little less than a revolution of his +whole system could dislodge or disturb it. + +Lord L'Estrange's hand rested now upon a letter in a stiff legible Italian +character; and instead of disposing of it at once, as he had done with the +rest, he spread it before him, and re-read the contents. It was a letter +from Riccabocca, received a few weeks since, and ran thus:-- + + _Letter from Signor Riccabocca to Lord Estrange._ + + "I thank you, my noble friend, for judging of me with + faith in my honor, and respect for my reverses. + + "No, and thrice no to all concessions, all overtures, + all treaty with Giulio Franzini. I write the name, and + my emotions choke me. I must pause and cool back into + disdain. It is over. Pass from that subject. But you + have alarmed me. This sister! I have not seen her since + her childhood; and she was brought up under his + influence--she can but work as his agent. She wish to + learn my residence! it can be but for some hostile and + malignant purpose. I may trust in you. I know that. You + say I may trust equally in the discretion of your + friend. Pardon me--my confidence is not so elastic. A + word may give the clue to my retreat. But, if + discovered, what harm can ensue? An English roof + protects me from Austrian despotism; true; but not the + brazen tower of Danae could protect me from Italian + craft. And were there nothing worse, it would be + intolerable to me to live under the eyes of a + relentless spy. Truly saith our proverb, 'He sleeps ill + for whom the enemy wakes.' Look you, my friend, I have + done with my old life--I wish to cast it from me as a + snake its skin. I have denied myself all that exiles + deem consolation. No pity for misfortune, no messages + from sympathizing friendship, no news from a lost and + bereaved country follow me to my hearth under the skies + of the stranger. From all these I have voluntarily cut + myself off. I am as dead to the life I once lived as if + the Styx rolled between _it_ and me. With that + sternness which is admissible only to the afflicted, I + have denied myself even the consolation of your + visits. I have told you fairly and simply that your + presence would unsettle all my enforced and infirm + philosophy, and remind me only of the past, which I + seek to blot from remembrance. You have complied on the + one condition, that whenever I really want your aid I + will ask it; and, meanwhile, you have generously sought + to obtain me justice from the cabinets of ministers and + in the courts of kings. I did not refuse your heart + this luxury; for I have a child--(Ah! I have taught + that child already to revere your name, and in her + prayers it is not forgotten.) But now that you are + convinced that even your zeal is unavailing, I ask you + to discontinue attempts that may but bring the spy upon + my track, and involve me in new misfortunes. Believe + me, O brilliant Englishman, that I am satisfied and + contented with my lot. I am sure it would not be for my + happiness to change it. 'Chi non ha provato il male non + conosce il bene.' ('One does not know when one is well + off till one has known misfortune.') You ask me how I + live--I answer, _alla giornata_--to the day--not for + the morrow, as I did once. I have accustomed myself to + the calm existence of a village. I take interest in its + details. There is my wife, good creature, sitting + opposite to me, never asking what I write, or to whom, + but ready to throw aside her work and talk the moment + the pen is out of my hand. Talk--and what about? Heaven + knows! But I would rather hear that talk, though on the + affairs of a hamlet, than babble again with recreant + nobles and blundering professors about commonwealths + and constitutions. When I want to see how little those + last influence the happiness of wise men, have I not + Machiavel and Thucydides? Then, by-and-by, the Parson + will drop in, and we argue. He never knows when he is + beaten, so the argument is everlasting. On fine days I + ramble out by a winding rill with my Violante, or + stroll to my friend the Squire's, and see how healthful + a thing is true pleasure; and on wet days I shut myself + up, and mope, perhaps, till, hark! a gentle tap at the + door, and in comes Violante, with her dark eyes that + shine out through reproachful tears--reproachful that I + should mourn alone, while she is under my roof--so she + puts her arms round me, and in five minutes all is + sunshine within. What care we for your English gray + clouds without? + + "Leave me, my dear Lord--leave me to this quiet happy + passage towards old age, serener than the youth that I + wasted so wildly: and guard well the secret on which my + happiness depends. + + "Now to yourself, before I close. Of that same + _yourself_ you speak too little, as of me too much. But + I so well comprehend the profound melancholy that lies + underneath the wild and fanciful humor with which you + but suggest, as in sport, what you feel so in earnest. + The laborious solitude of cities weighs on you. You are + flying back to the _dolce far niente_--to friends few, + but intimate; to life monotonous, but unrestrained; and + even there the sense of loneliness will again seize + upon you; and you do not seek, as I do, the + annihilation of memory; your dead passions are turned + to ghosts that haunt you, and unfit you for the living + world. I see it all--I see it still, in your hurried + fantastic lines, as I saw it when we two sat amidst the + pines and beheld the blue lake stretched below. I + troubled by the shadow of the Future, you disturbed by + that of the Past. + + "Well, but you say, half-seriously, half in jest, 'I + _will_ escape from this prison-house of memory; I will + form new ties, like other men, and before it be too + late; I _will_ marry--aye, but I must love--there is + the difficulty'--difficulty--yes, and heaven be thanked + for it! Recall all the unhappy marriages that have come + to your knowledge--pray have not eighteen out of twenty + been marriages for love? It always has been so, and it + always will. Because, whenever we love deeply, we exact + so much and forgive so little. Be content to find some + one with whom your hearth and your honor are safe. You + will grow to love what never wounds your heart--you + will soon grow out of love with what must always + disappoint your imagination. _Cospetto!_ I wish my + Jemima had a younger sister for you. Yet it was with a + deep groan that I settled myself to a--Jemima. + + "Now, I have written you a long letter, to prove how + little I need of your compassion or your zeal. Once + more let there be long silence between us. It is not + easy for me to correspond with a man of your rank, and + not incur the curious gossip of my still little pool of + a world which the splash of a pebble can break into + circles. I must take this over to a post-town some ten + miles off, and drop it into the box by stealth. + + "Adieu, dear and noble friend, gentlest heart and + subtlest fancy that I have met in my walk through life. + Adieu--write me word when you have abandoned a + day-dream and found a Jemima. + + ALPHONSO. + + "_P. S._--For heaven's sake caution and re-caution your + friend the minister, not to drop a word to this woman + that may betray my hiding-place." + +"Is he really happy?" murmured Harley as he closed the letter; and he sank +for a few moments into a reverie. + +"This life in a village--this wife in a lady who puts down her work to talk +about villagers--what a contrast to Audley's full existence. And I can +never envy nor comprehend either--yet my own--what is it?" + +He rose, and moved towards the window, from which a rustic stair descended +to a green lawn--studded with larger trees than are often found in the +grounds of a suburban residence. There were calm and coolness in the sight, +and one could scarcely have supposed that London lay so near. + +The door opened softly, and a lady past middle age, entered; and, +approaching Harley, as he still stood musing by the window, laid her hand +on his shoulder. What character there is in a hand! Hers was a hand that +Titian would have painted with elaborate care! Thin, white, and +delicate--with the blue veins raised from the surface. Yet there was +something more than mere patrician elegance in the form and texture. A true +physiologist would have said at once, "there are intellect and pride in +that hand, which seems to fix a hold where it rests; and, lying so lightly, +yet will not be as lightly shaken off." + +"Harley," said the lady--and Harley turned--"you do not deceive me by that +smile," she continued sadly; "you were not smiling when I entered." + +"It is rarely that we smile to ourselves, my dear mother; and I have done +nothing lately so foolish as to cause me to smile _at_ myself." + +"My son," said Lady Lansmere, somewhat abruptly, but with great +earnestness, "you come from a line of illustrious ancestors; and methinks +they ask from their tombs why the last of their race has no aim and no +object--no interest--no home in the land which they served, and which +rewarded them with its honors." + +"Mother," said the soldier simply, "when the land was in danger I served it +as my forefathers served--and my answer would be the scars on my breast." + +"Is it only in danger that a country is served--only in war that duty is +fulfilled? Do you think that your father, in his plain manly life of +country gentleman, does not fulfil, though obscurely, the objects for which +aristocracy is created and wealth is bestowed?" + +"Doubtless he does, ma'am--and better than his vagrant son ever can." + +"Yet his vagrant son has received such gifts from nature--his youth was so +rich in promise--his boyhood so glowed at the dream of glory?--" + +"Ay," said Harley very softly, "it is possible--and all to be buried in a +single grave!" + +The Countess started, and withdrew her hand from Harley's shoulder. + +Lady Lansmere's countenance was not one that much varied in expression. She +had in this, as in her cast of feature, little resemblance to her son. + +Her features were slightly aquiline--the eyebrows of that arch which gives +a certain majesty to the aspect: the lines round the mouth were habitually +rigid and compressed. Her face was that of one who had gone through great +emotion and subdued it. There was something formal, and even ascetic, in +the character of her beauty, which was still considerable;--in her air and +in her dress. She might have suggested to you the idea of some Gothic +baroness of old, half chatelaine, half abbess; you would see at a glance +that she did not live in the light world round her, and disdained its +fashion and its mode of thought; yet with all this rigidity it was still +the face of the woman who has known human ties and human affections. And +now, as she gazed long on Harley's quiet, saddened brow, it was the face of +a mother. + +"A single grave," she said, after a long pause. "And you were then but a +boy, Harley! Can such a memory influence you even to this day? It is +scarcely possible; it does not seem to me within the realities of man's +life--though it might be of woman's." + +"I believe," said Harley, half soliloquising, "that I have a great deal of +the woman in me. Perhaps men who live much alone, and care not for men's +objects, do grow tenacious of impressions, as your sex does. But oh," he +cried aloud, and with a sudden change of countenance, "oh, the hardest and +the coldest man would have felt as I do, had he known _her_--had he loved +_her_. She was like no other woman I have ever met. Bright and glorious +creature of another sphere! She descended on this earth, and darkened it +when she passed away. It is no use striving. Mother, I have as much courage +as our steel-clad fathers ever had. I have dared in battle and in +deserts--against man and the wild beast--against the storm and the +ocean--against the rude powers of Nature--dangers as dread as ever pilgrim +or Crusader rejoiced to brave. But courage against that one memory! no, I +have not!" + +"Harley, Harley, you break my heart!" cried the Countess, clasping her +hands. + +"It is astonishing," continued her son, so wrapped in his own thoughts that +he did not perhaps hear her outcry--"yea, verily, it is astonishing, that +considering the thousands of women I have seen and spoken with, I never see +a face like hers--never hear a voice so sweet. And all this universe of +life cannot afford me one look and one tone that can restore me to man's +privilege--love. Well, well, well, life has other things yet--Poetry and +Art live still--still smiles the heaven, and still wave the trees. Leave me +to happiness in my own way." + +The Countess was about to reply, when the door was thrown hastily open, and +Lord Lansmere walked in. + +The Earl was some years older than the Countess, but his placid face showed +less wear and tear; a benevolent, kindly face--without any evidence of +commanding intellect, but with no lack of sense in its pleasant lines. His +form not tall, but upright, and with an air of consequence--a little +pompous, but good-humoredly so. The pomposity of the _Grand Seigneur_, who +has lived much in provinces--whose will has been rarely disputed, and whose +importance has been so felt and acknowledged as to react insensibly on +himself; an excellent man: but when you glanced towards the high brow and +dark eye of the Countess, you marvelled a little how the two had come +together, and, according to common report, lived so happily in the union. + +"Ho, ho! my dear Harley," cried Lansmere, rubbing his hands with an +appearance of much satisfaction, "I have just been paying a visit to the +Duchess." + +"What Duchess, my dear father?" + +"Why, your mother's first cousin, to be sure--the Duchess of Knaresborough, +whom, to oblige me, you condescended to call upon; and delighted I am to +hear that you admire Lady Mary--" + +"She is very high-bred, and rather-high-nosed," answered Harley. Then +observing that his mother looked pained, and his father disconcerted, he +added seriously, "But handsome certainly." + +"Well, Harley," said the Earl, recovering himself, "the Duchess, taking +advantage of our connection to speak freely, had intimated to me that Lady +Mary has been no less struck with yourself; and to come to the point, since +you allow that it is time you should think of marrying, I do not know a +more desirable alliance. What do you say, Catherine?" + +"The Duke is of a family that ranks in history before the Wars of the +Roses," said Lady Lansmere, with an air of deference to her husband; "and +there has never been one scandal in its annals, or one blot in its +scutcheon. But I am sure my dear Lord must think that the Duchess should +not have made the first overture--even to a friend and a kinsman?" + +"Why, we are old-fashioned people," said the Earl rather embarrassed, "and +the Duchess is a woman of the world." + +"Let us hope," said the Countess mildly, "that her daughter is not." + +"I would not marry Lady Mary, if all the rest of the female sex were turned +into apes," said Lord L'Estrange, with deliberate fervor. + +"Good Heavens!" cried the Earl, "what extraordinary language is this! And +pray why, sir?" + +_Harley._--"I can't say--there is no why in these cases. But, my dear +father, you are not keeping faith with me." + +_Lord Lansmere._--"How?" + +_Harley._--"You and my Lady here entreat me to marry--I promise to do my +best to obey you; but on one condition--that I choose for myself, and take +my time about it. Agreed on both sides. Whereon, off goes your +Lordship--actually before noon, at an hour when no lady without a shudder +could think of cold blonde and damp orange flowers--off goes your Lordship, +I say, and commits poor Lady Mary and your unworthy son to a mutual +admiration--which neither of us ever felt. Pardon me, my father--but this +is grave. Again let me claim your promise--full choice for myself, and no +reference to the Wars of the Roses. What war of the roses like that between +Modesty and Love upon the cheek of the virgin!" + +_Lady Lansmere._--"Full choice for yourself, Harley;--so be it. But we, +too, named a condition--Did we not, Lansmere?" + +The _Earl_ (puzzled).--"Eh--did we! Certainly we did." + +_Harley._--"What was it?" + +_Lady Lansmere._--"The son of Lord Lansmere can only marry the daughter of +a gentleman." + +The _Earl._--"Of course--of course." + +The blood rushed over Harley's fair face, and then as suddenly left it +pale. + +He walked away to the window--his mother followed him, and again laid her +hand on his shoulder. + +"You were cruel," said he gently and in a whisper, as he winced under the +touch of the hand. Then turning to the Earl, who was gazing at him in blank +surprise--(it never occurred to Lord Lansmere that there could be a doubt +of his son's marrying beneath the rank modestly stated by the +Countess)--Harley stretched forth his hand, and said, in his soft winning +tone, "you have ever been most gracious to me, and most forbearing; it is +but just that I should sacrifice the habits of an egotist, to gratify a +wish which you so warmly entertain. I agree with you, too, that our race +should not close in me--_Noblesse oblige_. But you know I was ever +romantic; and I must love where I marry--or, if not love, I must feel that +my wife is worthy of all the love I could once have bestowed. Now, as to +the vague word 'gentleman' that my mother employs--word that means so +differently on different lips--I confess that I have a prejudice against +young ladies brought up in the 'excellent foppery of the world,' as the +daughters of gentlemen of our rank mostly are. I crave, therefore, the most +liberal interpretation of this word 'gentleman.' And so long as there be +nothing mean or sordid in the birth, habits, and education of the father of +this bride to be, I trust you will both agree to demand nothing +more--neither titles nor pedigree." + +"Titles, no--assuredly," said Lady Lansmere; "they do not make gentlemen." + +"Certainly not," said the Earl. "Many of our best families are untitled." + +"Titles--no," repeated Lady Lansmere; "but ancestors--yes." + +"Ah, my mother," said Harley with his most sad and quiet smile, "it is +fated that we shall never agree. The first of our race is ever the one we +are most proud of; and pray, what ancestors had he? Beauty, virtue, +modesty, intellect--if these are not nobility enough for a man, he is a +slave to the dead." + +With these words Harley took up his hat and made towards the door. + +"You said yourself, '_Noblesse oblige_,'" said the Countess, following him +to the threshold; "we have nothing more to add." + +Harley slightly shrugged his shoulders, kissed his mother's hand, whistled +to Nero, who started up from a doze by the window, and went his way. + +"Does he really go abroad next week?" said the Earl. + +"So he says." + +"I am afraid there is no chance for Lady Mary," resumed Lord Lansmere, with +a slight but melancholy smile. + +"She has not intellect enough to charm him. She is not worthy of Harley," +said the proud mother. + +"Between you and me," rejoined the Earl, rather timidly, "I don't see what +good his intellect does him. He could not be more unsettled and useless if +he were the merest dunce in the three kingdoms. And so ambitious as he was +when a boy! Catherine, I sometimes fancy that you know what changed him." + +"I! Nay, my dear Lord, it is a common change enough with the young, when of +such fortunes; who find, when they enter life, that there is really little +left for them to strive for. Had Harley been a poor man's son, it might +have been different." + +"I was born to the same fortunes as Harley," said the Earl, shrewdly, "and +yet I flatter myself I am of some use to old England." + +The Countess seized upon the occasion, complimented her Lord, and turned +the subject. + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +Harley spent his day in his usual desultory, lounging manner--dined in his +quiet corner at his favorite club--Nero, not admitted into the club, +patiently waited for him outside the door. The dinner over, dog and man, +equally indifferent to the crowd, sauntered down that thoroughfare which, +to the few who can comprehend the Poetry of London, has associations of +glory and of woe sublime as any that the ruins of the dead elder world can +furnish--thoroughfare that traverses what was once the courtyard of +Whitehall, having to its left the site of the palace that lodged the +royalty of Scotland--gains, through a narrow strait, that old isle of +Thorney, in which Edward the Confessor received the ominous visit of the +Conqueror--and, widening once more by the Abbey and the Hall of +Westminster, then loses itself, like all memories of earthly grandeur, +amidst humble passages and mean defiles. + +Thus thought Harley L'Estrange--ever less amidst the actual world around +him, than the images invoked by his own solitary soul--as he gained the +bridge, and saw the dull lifeless craft sleeping on the "Silent Way," once +loud and glittering with the gilded barks of the antique Seignorie of +England. + +It was on that bridge that Audley Egerton had appointed to meet L'Estrange, +at an hour when he calculated he could best steal a respite from debate. +For Harley, with his fastidious dislike to all the resorts of his equals, +had declined to seek his friend in the crowded regions of Bellamy's. + +Harley's eye, as he passed along the bridge, was attracted by a still form, +seated on the stones in one of the nooks, with its face covered by its +hands. "If I were a sculptor," said he to himself, "I should remember that +image whenever I wished to convey the idea of _despondency_!" He lifted his +looks and saw, a little before him in the midst of the causeway, the firm +erect figure of Audley Egerton. The moonlight was full on the bronzed +countenance of the strong public man,--with its lines of thought and care, +and its vigorous but cold expression of intense self-control. + +"And looking yonder," continued Harley's soliloquy, "I should remember that +form, when I wished to hew out from the granite the idea of _Endurance_." + +"So you are come, and punctually," said Egerton, linking his arm in +Harley's. + +_Harley._--"Punctually, of course, for I respect your time, and I will not +detain you long. I presume you will speak to-night." + +_Egerton._--"I have spoken." + +_Harley_, (with interest.)--"And well, I hope." + +_Egerton._--"With effect, I suppose, for I have been loudly cheered, which +does not always happen to me." + +_Harley._--"And that gave you pleasure?" + +_Egerton_, (after a moment's thought.)--"No, not the least." + +_Harley._--"What, then, attaches you so much to this life--constant +drudgery, constant warfare--the more pleasurable faculties dormant, all the +harsher ones aroused, if even its rewards (and I take the best of those to +be applause) do not please you?" + +_Egerton._--"What?--custom." + +_Harley._--"Martyr!" + +_Egerton._--"You say it. But turn to yourself; you have decided, then, to +leave England next week." + +_Harley_, (moodily.)--"Yes. This life in a capital, where all are so +active, myself so objectless, preys on me like a low fever. Nothing here +amuses me, nothing interests, nothing comforts and consoles. But I am +resolved, before it be too late, to make one great struggle out of the +Past, and into the natural world of men. In a word, I have resolved to +marry." + +_Egerton._--"Whom?" + +_Harley_, (seriously.)--"Upon my life, my dear fellow, you are a great +philosopher. You have hit the exact question. You see I cannot marry a +dream; and where out of dreams, shall I find this 'whom?'" + +_Egerton._--"You do not search for her." + +_Harley._--"Do we ever search for love? Does it not flash upon us when we +least expect it? Is it not like the inspiration to the muse? What poet +sits down and says, 'I will write a poem?' What man looks out and says, 'I +will fall in love.' No! Happiness, as the great German tells us, 'falls +suddenly from the bosom of the gods;' so does love." + +_Egerton._--"You remember the old line in Horace: 'Life's tide flows away, +while the boor sits on the margin and waits for the ford.'" + +_Harley._--"An idea which incidentally dropped from you some weeks ago, and +which I had before half meditated, has since haunted me. If I could but +find some child with sweet dispositions and fair intellect not yet formed, +and train her up, according to my ideal. I am still young enough to wait a +few years, and meanwhile I shall have gained what I so sadly want--an +object in life." + +_Egerton._--"You are ever the child of romance. But what"-- + +Here the minister was interrupted by a messenger from the House of Commons, +whom Audley had instructed to seek him on the bridge should his presence be +required-- + +"Sir, the opposition are taking advantage of the thinness of the House to +call for a division, Mr. ---- is put up to speak for time, but they won't +hear him." + +Egerton turned hastily to Lord L'Estrange, "You see you must excuse me now. +To-morrow I must go to Windsor for two days; but we shall meet on my +return." + +"It does not matter,"' answered Harley; "I stand out of the pale of your +advice, O practical man of sense. And if," added Harley with affectionate +and mournful sweetness--"If I worry you with complaints which you cannot +understand, it is only because of old school-boy habits. I can have no +trouble that I do not confide in you." + +Egerton's hand trembled as it pressed his friend's; and, without a word, he +hurried away abruptly. Harley remained motionless for some seconds, in deep +and quiet reverie; then he called to his dog, and turned back towards +Westminster. + +He passed the nook in which had sat the still figure of Despondency. But +the figure had now risen, and was leaning against the balustrade. The dog +who had preceded his master paused by the solitary form, and sniffed it +suspiciously. + +"Nero, sir, come here," said Harley. + +"Nero," that was the name by which Helen had said that her father's friend +had called his dog. And the sound startled Leonard as he leant, sick at +heart, against the stone, he lifted his head and looked wistfully, eagerly, +into Harley's face. Those eyes, bright, clear, yet so strangely deep and +absent, which Helen had described, met his own, and chained them. For +L'Estrange halted also; the boy's countenance was not unfamiliar to him. He +returned the inquiring look fixed on his own, and recognized the student by +the book-stall. + +"The dog is quite harmless, sir," said L'Estrange, with a smile. + +"And you called him Nero?" said Leonard, still gazing on the stranger. + +Harley mistook the drift of the question. + +"Nero, sir; but he is free from the sanguinary propensities of his Roman +namesake." Harley was about to pass on, when Leonard said falteringly,-- + +"Pardon me, but can it be possible that you are one whom I have sought in +vain, on behalf of the child of Captain Digby?" + +Harley stopped short. "Digby!" he exclaimed, "where is he? He should have +found me easily. I gave him an address." + +"Ah, Heaven be thanked," cried Leonard. "Helen is saved; she will not die;" +and he burst into tears. + +A very few moments, and a very few words sufficed to explain to Harley the +state of his old fellow-soldier's orphan. And Harley himself soon stood in +the young sufferer's room, supporting her burning temples on his breast, +and whispering into ears that heard him, as in a happy dream, "Comfort, +comfort; your father yet lives in me." + +And then Helen, raising her eyes, said "But Leonard is my brother--more +than brother--and he needs a father's care more than I do." + +"Hush, hush, Helen. I need no one--nothing now!" cried Leonard; and his +tears gushed over the little hand that clasped his own. + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +Harley L'Estrange was a man whom all things that belong to the romantic and +poetic side of our human life deeply impressed. When he came to learn the +tie between these two children of nature, standing side by side, alone +amidst the storms of fate, his heart was more deeply moved than it had been +for many years. In those dreary attics, overshadowed by the smoke and reek +of the humble suburb--the workday world in its harshest and tritest forms +below and around them--he recognized that divine poem which comes out from +all union between the mind and the heart. Here, on the rough deal table, +(the ink scarcely dry,) lay the writings of the young wrestler for fame and +bread; there, on the other side the partition, on that mean pallet, lay the +boy's sole comforter--the all that warmed his heart with living mortal +affection. On one side the wall, the world of imagination; on the other +this world of grief and of love. And in both, a spirit equally +sublime--unselfish Devotion--"the something afar from the sphere of our +sorrow." + +He looked round the room into which he had followed Leonard, on quitting +Helen's bedside. He noted the MSS. on the table, and, pointing to them, +said gently, "And these are the labors by which you supported the soldier's +orphan?--soldier yourself, in a hard battle!" + +"The battle was lost--I could not support her," replied Leonard mournfully. + +"But you did not desert her. When Pandora's box was opened, they say Hope +lingered last----" + +"False, false," said Leonard; "a heathen's notion. There are deities that +linger behind Hope;--Gratitude, Love, and Duty." + +"Yours is no common nature," exclaimed Harley, admiringly, "but I must +sound it more deeply hereafter; at present I hasten for the physician; I +shall return with him. We must move that poor child from this low close air +as soon as possible. Meanwhile, let me qualify your rejection of the old +fable. Wherever Gratitude, Love, and Duty remain to man, believe me that +Hope is there too, though she may be oft invisible, hidden behind the +sheltering wings of the nobler deities." + +Harley said this with that wondrous smile of his, which cast a brightness +over the whole room--and went away. + +Leonard stole softly towards the grimy window; and looking up towards the +stars that shone pale over the roof-tops, he murmured, "O thou, the +All-seeing and All-merciful!--how it comforts me now to think that though +my dreams of knowledge may have sometimes obscured the Heaven, I never +doubted that Thou wert there!--as luminous and everlasting, though behind +the cloud!" So, for a few minutes, he prayed silently--then passed into +Helen's room, and sat beside her motionless, for she slept. She woke just +as Harley returned with a physician, and then Leonard, returning to his own +room, saw amongst his papers the letter he had written to Mr. Dale; and +muttering, "I need not disgrace my calling--I need not be the mendicant +now"--held the letter to the flame of the candle. And while he said this, +and as the burning tinder dropped on the floor, the sharp hunger, unfelt +during his late anxious emotion, gnawed at his entrails. Still even hunger +could not reach that noble pride which had yielded to a sentiment nobler +than itself--and he smiled as he repeated, "No mendicant!--the life that I +was sworn to guard is saved. I can raise against Fate the front of the Man +once more." + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A few days afterwards, and Helen, removed to a pure air, and under the +advice of the first physicians, was out of all danger. + +It was a pretty detached cottage, with its windows looking over the wild +heaths of Norwood, to which Harley rode daily to watch the convalescence of +his young charge--an object in life was already found. As she grew better +and stronger, he coaxed her easily into talking, and listened to her with +pleased surprise. The heart so infantine, and the sense so womanly, struck +him much by its rare contrast and combination. Leonard, whom he had +insisted on placing also in the cottage, had stayed there willingly till +Helen's recovery was beyond question. Then he came to Lord L'Estrange, as +the latter was about one day to leave the cottage, and said quietly, "Now, +my Lord, that Helen is safe, and now that she will need me no more, I can +no longer be a pensioner on your bounty. I return to London." + +"You are my visitor--not my pensioner, foolish boy," said Harley, who had +already noticed the pride which spoke in that farewell; "come into the +garden, and let us talk." + +Harley seated himself on a bench on the little lawn; Nero crouched at his +feet; Leonard stood beside him. + +"So," said Lord L'Estrange, "you would return to London!--What to do?" + +"Fulfil my fate." + +"And that?" + +"I cannot guess. Fate is the Isis whose veil no mortal can ever raise." + +"You should be born for great things," said Harley, abruptly. "I am sure +that you write well. I have seen that you study with passion. Better than +writing and better than study, you have a noble heart, and the proud desire +of independence. Let me see your MSS., or any copies of what you have +already printed. Do not hesitate--I ask but to be a reader. I don't pretend +to be a patron; it is a word I hate." + +Leonard's eyes sparkled through their sudden moisture. He brought out his +portfolio, placed it on the bench beside Harley, and then went softly to +the further part of the garden. Nero looked after him, and then rose and +followed him slowly. The boy seated himself on the turf, and Nero rested +his dull head on the loud heart of the poet. + +Harley took up the various papers before him and read them through +leisurely. Certainly he was no critic. He was not accustomed to analyse +what pleased or displeased him; but his perceptions were quick, and his +taste exquisite. As he read, his countenance, always so genuinely +expressive, exhibited now doubt and now admiration. He was soon struck by +the contrast in the boy's writings; between the pieces that sported with +fancy, and those that grappled with thought. In the first, the young poet +seemed so unconscious of his own individuality. His imagination, afar and +aloft from the scenes of his suffering, ran riot amidst a paradise of happy +golden creations. But in the last, the THINKER stood out alone and +mournful, questioning, in troubled sorrow, the hard world on which he +gazed. All in the thought was unsettled, tumultuous; all in the fancy, +serene, and peaceful. The genius seemed divided into twain shapes; the one +bathing its wings amidst the starry dews of heaven; the other wandering +"melancholy, slow," amidst desolate and boundless sands. Harley gently laid +down the paper and mused a little while. Then he rose and walked to +Leonard, gazing on his countenance as he neared the boy, with a new and +deeper interest. + +"I have read your papers," he said, "and recognize in them two men, +belonging to two worlds, essentially distinct." + +Leonard started, and murmured, "True, true!" + +"I apprehend," resumed Harley, "that one of these men must either destroy +the other, or that the two must become fused and harmonized into a single +existence. Get your hat, mount my groom's horse, and come with me to +London; we will converse by the way. Look you, I believe you and I agree in +this, that the first object of every noble spirit is independence. It is +towards this independence that I alone presume to assist you; and this is a +service which the proudest man can receive without a blush." + +Leonard lifted his eyes towards Harley's, and those eyes swam with grateful +tears; but his heart was too full to answer. + +"I am not one of those," said Harley, when they were on the road, "who +think that because a young man writes poetry he is fit for nothing else, +and that he must be a poet or a pauper. I have said that in you there seem +to me to be two men, the man of the Ideal world, the man of the Actual. To +each of these men I can offer a separate career. The first is perhaps the +more tempting. It is the interest of the state to draw into its service all +the talent and industry it can obtain; and under his native state every +citizen of a free country should be proud to take service. I have a friend +who is a minister, and who is known to encourage talent--Audley Egerton. I +have but to say to him, 'There is a young man who will well repay to the +government whatever the government bestows on him' and you will rise +to-morrow independent in means, and with fair occasions to attain to +fortune and distinction. This is one offer, what say you to it?" + +Leonard thought bitterly of his interview with Audley Egerton, and the +minister's proffered crown-piece. He shook his head and replied-- + +"Oh, my lord, how have I deserved such kindness? Do with me what you will; +but if I have the option, I would rather follow my own calling. This is not +the ambition that inflames me." + +"Hear, then, the other offer. I have a friend with whom I am less intimate +than Egerton, and who has nothing in his gift to bestow. I speak of a man +of letters--Henry Norreys--of whom you have doubtless heard, who, I should +say, conceived an interest in you when he observed you reading at the +book-stall. I have often heard him say, that literature as a profession is +misunderstood, and that rightly followed, with the same pains and the same +prudence which are brought to bear on other professions, a competence at +least can be always ultimately obtained. But the way may be long and +tedious--and it leads to no power but over thought; it rarely attains to +wealth; and, though _reputation_ may be certain, _Fame_, such as poets +dream of, is the lot of few. What say you to this course?" + +"My lord, I decide," said Leonard, firmly; and then his young face lighting +up with enthusiasm, he exclaimed. "Yes, if, as you say, there be two men +within me, I feel, that were I condemned wholly to the mechanical and +practical world, one would indeed destroy the other. And the conqueror +would be the ruder and the coarser. Let me pursue those ideas that, though +they have but flitted across me vague and formless--have ever soared +towards the sunlight. No matter whether or not they lead to fortune or to +fame, at least they will lead me upward! Knowledge for itself I +desire--what care I, if it be not power?" + +"Enough," said Harley, with a pleased smile at his young companion's +outburst. "As you decide so shall it be settled. And now permit me, if not +impertinent, to ask you a few questions. Your name is Leonard Fairfield?" + +The boy blushed deeply, and bowed his head as if in assent. + +"Helen says you are self-taught; for the rest she refers me to +you--thinking, perhaps, that I should esteem you less--rather than yet more +highly--if she said you were, as I presume to conjecture, of humble birth." + +"My birth," said Leonard, slowly, "is very--very--humble." + +"The name of Fairfield is not unknown to me. There was one of that name who +married into a family in Lansmere--married an Avenel--" continued +Harley--and his voice quivered. "You change countenance. Oh, could your +mother's name have been Avenel?" + +"Yes," said Leonard, between his set teeth. Harley laid his hand on the +boy's shoulder. "Then indeed I have a claim on you--then, indeed, we are +friends. I have a right to serve any of that family." + +Leonard looked at him in surprise--"For," continued Harley, recovering +himself, "they always served my family; and my recollections of Lansmere, +though boyish, are indelible." He spurred on his horse as the words +closed--and again there was a long pause; but from that time Harley always +spoke to Leonard in a soft voice, and often gazed on him with earnest and +kindly eyes. + +They reached a house in a central, though not fashionable street. A +man-servant of a singularly grave and awful aspect opened the door; a man +who had lived all his life with authors. Poor devil, he was indeed +prematurely old! The care on his lip and the pomp on his brow--no mortal's +pen can describe! + +"Is Mr. Norreys at home?" asked Harley. + +"He is at home--to his friends, my lord," answered the man, majestically; +and he stalked across the hall with the step of a Dangeau ushering some +Montmorenci to the presence of _Louis le Grand_. + +"Stay--show this gentleman into another room. I will go first into the +library; wait for me, Leonard." The man nodded, and ushered Leonard into +the dining-room. Then pausing before the door of the library, and listening +an instant, as if fearful to disturb some mood of inspiration, opened it +very softly. To his ineffable disgust, Harley pushed before, and entered +abruptly. It was a large room, lined with books from the floor to the +ceiling. Books were on all the tables--books were on all the chairs. Harley +seated himself on a folio of Raleigh's History of the World, and cried-- + +"I have brought you a treasure!" + +"What is it?" said Norreys, good-humoredly, looking up from his desk. + +"A mind!" + +"A mind!" echoed Norreys, vaguely. "Your own?" + +"Pooh--I have none--I have only a heart and a fancy. Listen. You remember +the boy we saw reading at the book-stall. I have caught him for you, and +you shall train him into a man. I have the warmest interest in his +future--for I knew some of his family--and one of that family was very dear +to me. As for money, he has not a shilling, and not a shilling would he +accept gratis from you or me either. But he comes with bold heart to +work--and work you must find him." Harley then rapidly told his friend of +the two offers he had made to Leonard--and Leonard's choice. + +"This promises very well; for letters a man must have a strong vocation as +he should have for law--I will do all that you wish." + +Harley rose with alertness--shook Norreys cordially by the hand--hurried +out of the room, and returned with Leonard. + +Mr. Norreys eyed the young man with attention. He was naturally rather +severe than cordial in his manner to strangers--contrasting in this, as in +most things, the poor vagabond Burley. But he was a good judge of the human +countenance, and he liked Leonard's. After a pause he held out his hand. + +"Sir," said he, "Lord L'Estrange tells me that you wish to enter literature +as a calling, and no doubt to study it is an art. I may help you in this, +and you meanwhile can help me. I want an amanuensis--I offer you that +place. The salary will be proportioned to the services you will render me. +I have a room in my house at your disposal. When I first came up to London, +I made the same choice that I hear you have done. I have no cause, even in +a worldly point of view, to repent my choice. It gave me an income larger +than my wants. I trace my success to these maxims, which are applicable to +all professions--1st, Never to trust to genius--for what can be obtained by +labor; 2dly, Never to profess to teach what we have not studied to +understand; 3dly, Never to engage our word to what we do not do our best to +execute. With these rules literature, provided a man does not mistake his +vocation for it, and will, under good advice, go through the preliminary +discipline of natural powers, which all vocations require, is as good a +calling as any other. Without them a shoeblack's is infinitely better." + +"Possible enough," muttered Harley; "but there have been great writers who +observed none of your maxims." + +"Great writers, probably, but very unenviable men. My Lord, my Lord, don't +corrupt the pupil you bring to me." Harley smiled and took his departure, +and left Genius at school with Common Sense and Experience. + + +CHAPTER XX. + +While Leonard Fairfield had been obscurely wrestling against poverty, +neglect, hunger, and dread temptations, bright had been the opening day, +and smooth the upward path, of Randal Leslie. Certainly no young man, able +and ambitious, could enter life under fairer auspices; the connection and +avowed favorite of a popular and energetic statesman, the brilliant writer +of a political work, that had lifted him at once into a station of his +own--received and courted in those highest circles, to which neither rank +nor fortune alone suffices for a familiar passport--the circles above +fashion itself--the circles of power--with every facility of augmenting +information, and learning the world betimes through the talk of its +acknowledged masters,--Randal had but to move straight onward, and success +was sure. But his tortuous spirit delighted in scheme and intrigue for +their own sake. In scheme and intrigue he saw shorter paths to fortune, if +not to fame. His besetting sin was also his besetting weakness. He did not +aspire--he _coveted_. Though in a far higher social position than Frank +Hazeldean, despite the worldly prospects of his old school-fellow, he +coveted the very things that kept Frank Hazeldean below him--coveted his +idle gaieties, his careless pleasures, his very waste of youth. Thus, also, +Randal less aspired to Audley Egerton's repute than he coveted Audley +Egerton's wealth and pomp, his princely expenditure, and his Castle +Rackrent in Grosvenor Square. It was the misfortune of his birth to be so +near to both these fortunes--near to that of Leslie, as the future head of +that fallen house,--near even to that of Hazeldean, since as we have seen +before, if the Squire had had no son, Randal's descent from the Hazeldeans +suggested himself as the one on whom these broad lands should devolve. Most +young men, brought into intimate contact with Audley Egerton, would have +felt for that personage a certain loyal and admiring, if not very +affectionate, respect. For there was something grand in Egerton--something +that commands and fascinates the young. His determined courage, his +energetic will, his almost regal liberality, contrasting a simplicity in +personal tastes and habits that was almost austere--his rare and seemingly +unconscious power of charming even the women most wearied of homage, and +persuading even the men most obdurate to counsel--all served to invest the +practical man with those spells which are usually confined to the ideal +one. But indeed, Audley Egerton was an Ideal--the ideal of the Practical. +Not the mere vulgar, plodding, red-tape machine of petty business, but the +man of strong sense, inspired by inflexible energy, and guided to definite +earthly objects. In a dissolute and corrupt form of government, under a +decrepit monarchy, or a vitiated republic, Audley Egerton might have been a +most dangerous citizen; for his ambition was so resolute, and his sight to +its ends was so clear. But there is something in public life in England +which compels the really ambitious man to honor, unless his eyes are +jaundiced and oblique like Randal Leslie's. It is so necessary in England +to be a gentleman. And thus Egerton was emphatically considered a +_gentleman_. Without the least pride in other matters, with little apparent +sensitiveness, touch him on the point of gentleman, and no one so sensitive +and so proud. As Randal saw more of him, and watched his moods with the +lynx eyes of the household spy, he could perceive that this hard mechanical +man was subject to fits of melancholy, even of gloom, and though they did +not last long, there was even in his habitual coldness an evidence of +something comprest, latent, painful, lying deep within his memory. This +would have interested the kindly feelings of a grateful heart. But Randal +detected and watched it only as a clue to some secret it might profit him +to gain. For Randal Leslie hated Egerton; and hated him the more because +with all his book knowledge and his conceit in his own talents, he could +not despise his patron--because he had not yet succeeded in making his +patron the mere tool or stepping-stone--because he thought that Egerton's +keen eye saw through his wily heart, even while, as if in profound disdain, +the minister helped the protege. But this last suspicion was unsound. +Egerton had not detected Leslie's corrupt and treacherous nature. He might +have other reasons for keeping him at a certain distance, but he inquired +too little into Randal's feelings towards himself to question the +attachment, or doubt the sincerity of one who owed to him so much. But that +which more than all embittered Randal's feelings towards Egerton, was the +careful and deliberate frankness with which the latter had, more than once +repeated, and enforced the odious announcement, that Randal had nothing to +expect from the ministers--WILL, nothing to expect from that wealth which +glared in the hungry eyes of the pauper heir to the Leslies of Rood. To +whom, then, could Egerton mean to devise his fortune? To whom but Frank +Hazeldean. Yet Audley took so little notice of his nephew--seemed so +indifferent to him, that that supposition, however natural, seemed exposed +to doubt. The astuteness of Randal was perplexed. Meanwhile, however, the +less he himself could rely upon Egerton for fortune, the more he revolved +the possible chances of ousting Frank from the inheritance of Hazeldean--in +part, at least, if not wholly. To one less scheming, crafty, and +remorseless than Randal Leslie with every day became more and more, such a +project would have seemed the wildest delusion. But there was something +fearful in the manner in which this young man sought to turn knowledge into +power, and make the study of all weakness in others subservient to his own +ends. He wormed himself thoroughly into Frank's confidence. He learned +through Frank all the Squire's peculiarities of thought and temper, and +thoroughly pondered over each word in the father's letters, which the son +gradually got into the habit of showing to the perfidious eyes of his +friend. Randal saw that the Squire had two characteristics which are very +common amongst proprietors, and which might be invoked as antagonists to +his warm fatherly love. First, the Squire was as fond of his estate as if +it were a living thing, and part of his own flesh and blood; and in his +lectures to Frank upon the sin of extravagance, the Squire always let out +this foible:--"What was to become of the estate if it fell into the hands +of a spendthrift? No man should make ducks and drakes of Hazeldean; let +Frank beware of _that_," &c. Secondly, the Squire was not only fond of his +lands, but he was jealous of them--that jealousy which even the tenderest +father sometimes entertains towards their natural heirs. He could not bear +the notion that Frank should count on his death; and he seldom closed an +admonitory letter without repeating the information that Hazeldean was not +entailed; that it was his to do with as he pleased through life and in +death. Indirect menace of this nature rather wounded and galled than +intimidated Frank; for the young man was extremely generous and +high-spirited by nature, and was always more disposed to some indiscretion +after such warnings to his self-interest, as if to show that those were the +last kinds of appeal likely to influence him. By the help of such insights +into the character of father and son, Randal thought he saw gleams of +daylight illumining his own chance of the lands of Hazeldean. Meanwhile it +appeared to him obvious that, come what might of it, his own interests +could not lose, and might most probably gain, by whatever could alienate +the Squire from his natural heir. Accordingly, though with consummate tact, +he instigated Frank towards the very excesses most calculated to irritate +the Squire, all the while appealing rather to give the counter advice, and +never sharing in any of the follies to which he conducted his thoughtless +friend. In this he worked chiefly through others, introducing Frank to +every acquaintance most dangerous to youth, either from the wit that +laughs at prudence, or the spurious magnificence that subsists so +handsomely upon bills endorsed by friends of "great expectations." + +The minister and his protege were seated at breakfast, the first reading +the newspaper, the last glancing over his letters; for Randal had arrived +to the dignity of receiving many letters--ay, and notes too, +three-cornered, and fantastically embossed. Egerton uttered an exclamation, +and laid down the paper. Randal looked up from his correspondence. The +minister had sunk into one of his absent reveries. + +After a long silence, observing that Egerton did not return to the +newspaper, Randal said, "Ehem--sir, I have a note from Frank Hazeldean, who +wants much to see me; his father has arrived in town unexpectedly." + +"What brings him here?" asked Egerton, still abstractedly. + +"Why, it seems that he has heard some vague reports of poor Frank's +extravagance, and Frank is either afraid or ashamed to meet him." + +"Ay--a very great fault extravagance in the young!--destroys independence; +ruins or enslaves the future. Great fault--very! And what does youth want +that it should be extravagant? Has it not every thing in itself merely +because it _is_? Youth is youth--what needs it more?" + +Egerton rose as he said this, and retired to his writing-table, and in his +turn opened his correspondence. Randal took up the newspaper, and +endeavored, but in vain, to conjecture what had excited the minister's +exclamation, and the reverie that succeeded it. + +Egerton suddenly and sharply turned round in his chair--"If you have done +with the _Times_, have the goodness to place it here." + +Randal had just obeyed, when a knock at the street-door was heard, and +presently Lord L'Estrange came into the room, with somewhat a quicker step, +and somewhat a gayer mien than usual. + +Audley's hand, as if mechanically, fell upon the newspaper--fell upon that +part of the columns devoted to births, deaths, and marriages. Randal stood +by, and noted; then, bowing to L'Estrange, left the room. + +"Audley," said L'Estrange, "I have had an adventure since I saw you--an +adventure that reopened the Past, and may influence my future." + +"How?" + +"In the first place, I have met with a relation of--of--the Avenels." + +"Indeed! Whom--Richard Avenel?" + +"Richard--Richard--who is he? Oh, I remember; the wild lad who went off to +America; but that was when I was a mere child." + +"That Richard Avenel is now a rich thriving trader, and his marriage is in +this newspaper--married to an honorable Mrs. M'Catchley. Well--in this +country--who should plume himself on birth?" + +"You did not say so always, Egerton," replied Harley, with a tone of +mournful reproach. + +"And I say so now, pertinently to a Mrs. M'Catchley, not to the heir of the +L'Estranges. But no more of these--these Avenels." + +"Yes, more of them. I tell you I have met a relation of theirs--a nephew +of--of-- + +"Of Richard Avenel's?" interrupted Egerton; and then added in the slow, +deliberate, argumentative tone in which he was wont to speak in public: +"Richard Avenel the trader! I saw him once--a presuming and intolerable +man!" + +"The nephew has not those sins. He is full of promise, of modesty, yet of +pride. And his countenance--oh, Egerton, he has _her_ eyes." + +Egerton made no answer. And Harley resumed-- + +"I had thought of placing him under your care. I knew you would provide for +him." + +"I will. Bring him hither," cried Egerton eagerly. "All that I can do to +prove my--regard for a wish of yours." + +Harley pressed his friend's hand warmly. + +"I thank you from my heart; the Audley of my boyhood speaks now. But the +young man has decided otherwise; and I do not blame him. Nay, I rejoice +that he chooses a career in which, if he find hardship, he may escape +dependence." + +"And that career is--" + +"Letters." + +"Letters--Literature!" exclaimed the statesman. "Beggary! No, no, Harley, +this is your absurd romance." + +"It will not be beggary, and it is not my romance: it is the boy's. Leave +him alone, he is in my care and my charge henceforth. He is of _her_ blood, +and I said that he had _her_ eyes." + +"But you are going abroad; let me know where he is; I will watch over him." + +"And unsettle a right ambition for a wrong one? No--you shall know nothing +of him till he can proclaim himself. I think that day will come." + +Audley mused a moment, and then said, "Well, perhaps you are right. After +all, as you say, independence is a great blessing, and my ambition has not +rendered myself the better or the happier." + +"Yet, my poor Audley, you ask me to be ambitious." + +"I only wish you to be consoled," cried Egerton with passion. + +"I will try to be so; and by the help of a milder remedy than yours. I said +that my adventure might influence my future; it brought me acquainted not +only with the young man I speak of, but the most winning, affectionate +child--a girl." + +"Is this child an Avenel too?" + +"No, she is of gentle blood--a soldier's daughter; the daughter of that +Captain Digby, on whose behalf I was a petitioner to your patronage. He is +dead, and in dying, my name was on his lips. He meant me, doubtless, to be +the guardian to his orphan. I shall be so. I have at last an object in +life." + +"But can you seriously mean to take this child with you abroad?" + +"Seriously, I do." + +"And lodge her in your own house?" + +"For a year or so while she is yet a child. Then, as she approaches youth, +I shall place her elsewhere." + +"You may grow to love her. Is it clear that she will love you?--not mistake +gratitude for love? It is a very hazardous experiment." + +"So was William the Norman's--still he was William the Conqueror. Thou +biddest me move on from the past, and be consoled, yet thou wouldst make me +as inapt to progress as the mule in Slawkenbergius's tale, with thy cursed +interlocutions, 'Stumbling, by St. Nicholas, every step. Why, at this rate, +we shall be all night getting into--' _Happiness!_ Listen," continued +Harley, setting off, full pelt, into one of his wild whimsical humors. "One +of the sons of the prophets in Israel, felling wood near the River Jordan, +his hatchet forsook the helve, and fell to the bottom of the river; so he +prayed to have it again, (it was but a small request, mark you;) and having +a strong faith, he did not throw the hatchet after the helve, but the helve +after the hatchet. Presently two great miracles were seen. Up springs the +hatchet from the bottom of the water, and fixes itself to its old +acquaintance, the helve. Now, had he wished to coach it to Heaven in a +fiery chariot like Elias, be as rich as Job, strong as Samson, and +beautiful as Absalom, would he have obtained it, do you think? In truth, my +friend, I question it very much." + +"I cannot comprehend what you mean. Sad stuff you are talking." + +"I can't help that; Rabelais is to be blamed for it. I am quoting him, and +it is to be found in his prologue to the chapters on the Moderation of +Wishes. And apropos of 'moderate wishes in point of hatchet,' I want you to +understand that I ask but little from Heaven. I fling but the helve after +the hatchet that has sunk into the silent stream. I want the other half of +the weapon that is buried fathom deep, and for want of which the thick +woods darken round me by the Sacred River, and I can catch not a glimpse of +the stars." + +"In plain English," said Audley Egerton, "you want"--he stopped short, +puzzled. + +"I want my purpose and my will, and my old character, and the nature God +gave me. I want the half of my soul which has fallen from me. I want such +love as may replace to me the vanished affections. Reason not--I throw the +helve after the hatchet." + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +Randal Leslie, on leaving Audley, repaired to Frank's lodgings, and after +being closeted with the young guardsman an hour or so, took his way to +Limmer's hotel, and asked for Mr. Hazeldean. He was shown into the +coffee-room, while the waiter went up stairs with his card, to see if the +Squire was within, and disengaged. The _Times_ newspaper lay sprawling on +one of the tables, and Randal, leaning over it, looked with attention into +the column containing births, deaths, and marriages. But in that long and +miscellaneous list, he could not conjecture the name which had so excited +Mr. Egerton's interest. + +"Vexatious!" he muttered; "there is no knowledge which has power more +useful than that of the secrets of men." + +He turned as the waiter entered, and said that Mr. Hazeldean would be glad +to see him. + +As Randal entered the drawing-room, the Squire shaking hands with him, +looked towards the door as if expecting some one else, and his honest face +assumed a blank expression of disappointment when the door closed, and he +found that Randal was unaccompanied. + +"Well," said he bluntly, "I thought your old school-fellow, Frank, might +have been with you." + +"Have not you seen him yet, sir?" + +"No, I came to town this morning; travelled outside the mail; sent to his +barracks, but the young gentleman does not sleep there--has an apartment of +his own; he never told me that. We are a plain family, the +Hazeldeans--young sir; and I hate being kept in the dark, by my own son +too." + +Randal made no answer, but looked sorrowful. The Squire, who had never +before seen his kinsman, had a vague idea that it was not quite polite to +entertain a stranger, though a connection to himself, with his family +troubles, and so resumed good-naturedly: + +"I am very glad to make your acquaintance at last, Mr. Leslie. You know, I +hope, that you have good Hazeldean blood in your veins?" + +_Randal_, (smilingly).--"I am not likely to forget that; it is the boast of +our pedigree." + +_Squire_, (heartily.)--"Shake hands again on it, my boy. You don't want a +friend, since my grandee of a half-brother has taken you up; but if ever +you should, Hazeldean is not very far from Rood. Can't get on with your +father at all, my lad--more's the pity, for I think I could have given him +a hint or two as to the improvement of his property. If he would plant +those ugly commons--larch and fir soon come into profit, sir; and there are +some low lands about Rood that would take mighty kindly to draining." + +_Randal._--"My poor father lives a life so retired, and you cannot wonder +at it. Fallen trees lie still, and so do fallen families." + +_Squire._--"Fallen families can get up again, which fallen trees can't." + +_Randal._--"Ah, sir, it often takes the energy of generations to repair +the thriftlessness and extravagance of a single owner." + +_Squire_, (his brow lowering.)--"That's very true. Frank _is_ d----d +extravagant; treats me very coolly, too--not coming; near three o'clock. By +the by, I suppose he told you where I was, otherwise how did you find me +out!" + +_Randal_, (reluctantly.)--"Sir, he did; and, to speak frankly, I am not +surprised that he has not yet appeared." + +_Squire._--"Eh?" + +_Randal._--"We have grown very intimate." + +_Squire._--"So he writes me word--and I am glad of it. Our member, Sir +John, tells me you are a very clever fellow, and a very steady one. And +Frank says that he wishes he had your prudence, if he can't have your +talents. He has a good heart, Frank," added the father, relentingly. "But, +zounds, sir, you say you are not surprised he has not come to welcome his +own father?" + +"My dear sir," said Randal, "you wrote word to Frank that you had heard +from Sir John and others, of his goings-on, and that you were not satisfied +with his replies to your letters." + +"Well." + +"And then you suddenly come up to town." + +"Well." + +"Well. And Frank is ashamed to meet you. For, as you say, he has been +extravagant, and he has exceeded his allowance; and, knowing my respect for +you, and my great affection for himself, he has asked me to prepare you to +receive his confession and forgive him. I know I am taking a great liberty. +I have no right to interfere between father and son; but pray--pray think I +mean for the best." + +"Humph!" said the Squire, recovering himself very slowly, and showing +evident pain. "I knew already that Frank had spent more than he ought; but +I think he should not have employed a third person to prepare me to forgive +him. (Excuse me--no offence.) And if he wanted a third person, was not +there his own mother? What the devil!--(firing up)--am I a tyrant--a +bashaw--that my own son is afraid to speak to me? Gad, I'll give it him?" + +"Pardon me, sir," said Randal, assuming at once that air of authority which +superior intellect so well carries off and excuses. "But I strongly advise +you not to express any anger at Frank's confidence in me. At present I have +influence over him. Whatever you may think of his extravagance, I have +saved him from many an indiscretion, and many a debt--a young man will +listen to one of his own age so much more readily than even to the kindest +friend of graver years. Indeed, sir, I speak for your sake as well as for +Frank's. Let me keep this influence over him; and don't reproach him for +the confidence he placed in me. Nay, let him rather think that I have +softened any displeasure you might otherwise have felt." + +There seemed so much good sense in what Randal said, and the kindness of it +seemed so disinterested, that the Squire's native shrewdness was deceived. + +"You are a fine young fellow," said he, "and I am very much obliged to you. +Well, I suppose there is no putting old heads upon young shoulders; and I +promise you I'll not say an angry word to Frank. I dare say, poor boy, he +is very much afflicted, and I long to shake hands with him. So, set his +mind at ease." + +"Ah, sir," said Randal, with much apparent emotion, "your son may well love +you; and it seems to be a hard matter for so kind a heart as yours to +preserve the proper firmness with him." + +"Oh, I can be firm enough," quoth the squire--"especially when I don't see +him--handsome dog that he is--very like his mother--don't you think so?" + +"I never saw his mother, sir." + +"Gad! Not seen my Harry! No more you have; you must come and pay us a +visit. We have your grandmother's picture, when she was a girl, with a +crook in one hand and a bunch of lilies in the other. I suppose my +half-brother will let you come?" + +"To be sure, sir. Will you not call on him while you are in town? + +"Not I. He would think I expected to get something from the Government. +Tell him the ministers must go on a little better, if they want my vote for +their member. But go. I see you are impatient to tell Frank that all's +forgot and forgiven. Come and dine with him here at six, and let him bring +his bills in his pocket. Oh, I shan't scold him." + +"Why, as to that," said Randal, smiling, "I think (forgive me still) that +you should not take it too easily; just as I think that you had better not +blame him for his very natural and praiseworthy shame in approaching you, +so I think, also, that you should do nothing that would tend to diminish +that shame--it is such a check on him. And therefore, if you can contrive +to affect to be angry with him for his extravagance, it will do good." + +"You speak like a book, and I'll try my best." + +"If you threaten, for instance, to take him out of the army, and settle him +in the country, it would have a very good effect." + +"What! would he think it so great a punishment to come home and live with +his parents?" + +"I don't say that; but he is naturally so fond of London. At his age, and +with his large inheritance, _that_ is natural." + +"Inheritance!" said the Squire, moodily--"inheritance! he is not thinking +of that, I trust? Zounds, sir, I have as good a life as his own. +Inheritance!--to be sure the Casino property is entailed on him; but, as +for the rest, sir, I am no tenant for life. I could leave the Hazeldean +lands to my ploughman, if I chose it. Inheritance, indeed!" + +"My dear sir, I did not mean to imply that Frank would entertain the +unnatural and monstrous idea of calculating on your death; and all we have +to do is to get him to sow his wild oats as soon as possible--marry, and +settle down into the country. For it would be a thousand pities if his town +habits and tastes grew permanent--a bad thing for the Hazeldean property, +that. And," added Randal, laughing, "I feel an interest in the old place, +since my grandmother comes of the stock. So, just force yourself to seem +angry, and grumble a little when you pay the bills." + +"Ah, ah, trust me," said the Squire, doggedly and with a very altered air, +"I am much obliged to you for these hints, my young kinsman." And his stout +hand trembled a little as he extended it to Randal. + +Leaving Limmer's, Randal hastened to Frank's rooms in St. James's Street. +"My dear fellow," said he, when he entered, "it is very fortunate that I +persuaded you to let me break matters to your father. You might well say he +was rather passionate; but I have contrived to soothe him. You need not +fear that he will not pay your debts." + +"I never feared that," said Frank changing color; "I only fear his anger. +But, indeed, I feared his kindness still more. What a reckless hound I have +been! However, it shall be a lesson to me. And my debts once paid, I will +turn as economical as yourself." + +"Quite right, Frank. And, indeed, I am a little afraid that when your +father knows the total, he may execute a threat that would be very +unpleasant to you." + +"What's that?" + +"Make you sell out, and give up London." + +"The devil!" exclaimed Frank, with fervent emphasis; "that would be +treating me like a child." + +"Why, it _would_ make you seem rather ridiculous to your set, which is not +a very rural one. And you, who like London so much, and are so much the +fashion." + +"Don't talk of it," cried Frank, walking to and fro the room in great +disorder. + +"Perhaps on the whole, it might be well not to say all you owe, at once. If +you named half the sum, your father would let you off with a lecture; and +really I tremble at the effect of the total." + +"But how shall I pay the other half?" + +"Oh, you must save from your allowance; it is a very liberal one; and the +tradesmen are not pressing." + +"No--but the cursed bill-brokers"-- + +"Always renew to a young man of your expectations. And if I get into an +office, I can always help you, my dear Frank." + +"Ah, Randal, I am not so bad as to take advantage of your friendship," said +Frank warmly. "But it seems to me mean, after all, and a sort of a lie, +indeed, disguising the real state of my affairs. I should not have listened +to the idea from any one else. But you are such a sensible, kind, honorable +fellow." + +"After epithets so flattering, I shrink from the responsibility of advice. +But apart from your own interests, I should be glad to save your father the +pain he would feel at knowing the whole extent of the scrape you have got +into. And if it entailed on you the necessity to lay by--and give up +hazard, and not be security for other men--why it would be the best thing +that could happen. Really, too, it seems hard on Mr. Hazeldean, that he +should be the only sufferer, and quite just that you should bear half your +own burdens." + +"So it is, Randal; that did not strike me before. I will take your counsel; +and now I will go at once to Limmer's. My dear father! I hope he is looking +well?" + +"Oh, very. Such a contrast to the sallow Londoners! But I think you had +better not go till dinner. He has asked me to meet you at six. I will call +for you a little before, and we can go together. This will prevent a great +deal of _gene_ and constraint. Good-bye till then.--Ha!--by the way, I +think if I were you, I would not take the matter too seriously and +penitentially. You see the best of fathers like to keep their sons under +their thumb, as the saying is. And if you want at your age to preserve your +independence, and not be hurried off and buried in the country, like a +school-boy in disgrace, a little manliness of bearing would not be amiss. +You can think over it." + +The dinner at Limmer's went off very differently from what it ought to have +done. Randal's words had sunk deep, and rankled sorely in the Squire's +mind; and that impression imparted a certain coldness to his manner which +belied the hearty, forgiving, generous impulse with which he had come up to +London, and which even Randal had not yet altogether whispered away. On the +other hand, Frank, embarrassed both by the sense of disingenuousness, and a +desire "not to take the thing too seriously," seemed to the Squire +ungracious and thankless. + +After dinner, the Squire began to hum and haw, and Frank to color up and +shrink. Both felt discomposed by the presence of a third person; till, with +an art and address worthy of a better cause, Randal himself broke the ice, +and so contrived to remove the restraint he had before imposed, that at +length each was heartily glad to have matters made clear and brief by his +dexterity and tact. + +Frank's debts were not in reality, large; and when he named the half of +them--looking down in shame--the Squire, agreeably surprised, was about to +express himself with a liberal heartiness that would have opened his son's +excellent heart at once to him. But a warning look from Randal checked the +impulse; and the Squire thought it right, as he had promised, to affect an +anger he did not feel, and let fall the unlucky threat, "that it was all +very well once in a way to exceed his allowance; but if Frank did not, in +future, show more sense than to be led away by a set of London sharks and +coxcombs, he must cut the army, come home, and take to farming." + +Frank imprudently exclaimed, "Oh, sir, I have no taste for farming. And +after London, at my age, the country would be so horribly dull." + +"Aha!" said the Squire, very grimly--and he thrust back into his +pocket-book some extra bank-notes which his fingers had itched to add to +those he had already counted out. "The country is terribly dull, is it? +Money goes there not upon follies and vices, but upon employing honest +laborers, and increasing the wealth of the nation. It does not please you +to spend money in that way: it is a pity you should ever be plagued with +such duties." + +"My dear father--" + +"Hold your tongue, you puppy. Oh, I dare say, if you were in my shoes, you +would cut down the oaks, and mortgage the property--sell it, for what I +know--all go on a cast of the dice! Aha, sir--very well, very well--the +country is horribly dull, is it? Pray, stay in town." + +"My dear Mr. Hazeldean," said Randal, blandly, and as if with the wish to +turn off into a joke what threatened to be serious, "you must not interpret +a hasty expression so literally. Why, you would make Frank as bad as Lord +A----, who wrote word to his steward to cut down more timber; and when the +steward replied, 'There are only three signposts left on the whole estate,' +wrote back, '_They've_ done growing, at all events--'down with them.' You +ought to know Lord A----, sir; so witty; and Frank's particular friend." + +"Your particular friend, Master Frank? Pretty friends!"--and the Squire +buttoned up the pocket, to which he had transferred his note-book, with a +determined air. + +"But I'm his friend, too," said Randal, kindly; "and I preach to him +properly, I can tell you." Then, as if delicately anxious to change the +subject, he began to ask questions upon crops, and the experiment of bone +manure. He spoke earnestly, and with _gusto_, yet with the deference of one +listening to a great practical authority. Randal had spent the afternoon in +cramming the subject from agricultural journals and Parliamentary reports; +and, like all practised readers, had really learned in a few hours more +than many a man, unaccustomed to study, could gain from books in a year. +The Squire was surprised and pleased at the young scholar's information and +taste for such subjects. + +"But, to be sure," quoth he, with an angry look at poor Frank, "you have +good Hazeldean blood in you, and know a bean from a turnip." + +"Why, sir," said Randal, ingenuously, "I am training myself for public +life; and what is a public man worth if he do not study the agriculture of +his country?" + +"Right--what is he worth? Put that question, with my compliments, to my +half-brother. What stuff he did talk, the other night, on the malt tax, to +be sure!" + +"Mr. Egerton has had so many other things to think of, that we must excuse +his want of information upon one topic, however important. With his strong +sense, he must acquire that information, sooner or later; for he is fond of +power; and, sir,--knowledge is power!" + +"Very true;--very fine saying," quoth the poor Squire, unsuspiciously, as +Randal's eye rested upon Mr. Hazeldean's open face, and then glanced +towards Frank, who looked sad and bored. + +"Yes," repeated Randal, "knowledge is power;" and he shook his head wisely, +as he passed the bottle to his host. + +Still, when the Squire, who meant to return to the Hall next morning, took +leave of Frank, his heart warmed to his son; and still more for Frank's +dejected looks. It was not Randal's policy to push estrangement too far at +first, and in his own presence. + +"Speak to poor Frank--kindly now, sir--do;" whispered he, observing the +Squire's watery eyes, as he moved to the window. + +The Squire rejoiced to obey--thrust out his hand to his son--"My dear boy," +said he, "there, don't fret--pshaw!--it was but a trifle after all. Think +no more of it." + +Frank took the hand, and suddenly threw his arm round his father's broad +shoulder. + +"Oh, sir, you are too good--too good." His voice trembled so, that Randal +took alarm, passed by him, and touched him meaningly. + +The Squire pressed his son to his heart--heart so large, that it seemed to +fill the whole width under his broadcloth. + +"My dear Frank," said he, half blubbering, "it is not the money; but, you +see, it so vexes your poor mother; you must be careful in future; and, +zounds, boy, it will be all yours one day; only don't calculate on it; I +could not bear _that_--I could not, indeed." + +"Calculate!" cried Frank. "Oh, sir, can you think it!" + +"I am so delighted that I had some slight hand in your complete +reconciliation with Mr. Hazeldean," said Randal, as the young men walked +from the hotel. "I saw that you were disheartened, and I told him to speak +to you kindly." + +"Did you? Ah, I am sorry he needed telling." + +"I know his character so well already," said Randal, "that I flatter myself +I can always keep things between you as they ought to be. What an excellent +man!" + +"The best man in the world!" cried Frank, heartily; and then as his accent +drooped, "yet I have deceived him. I have a great mind to go back--" + +"And tell him to give you twice as much money as you had asked for. He +would think you had only seemed so affectionate in order to take him in. +No, no, Frank; save--lay by--economize; and then tell him that you have +paid half your own debts. Something high-minded in that." + +"So there is. Your heart is as good as your head. Good night." + +"Are you going home so early? Have you no engagements?" + +"None that I shall keep." + +"Good night, then." + +They parted, and Randal walked into one of the fashionable clubs. He neared +a table, where three or four young men (younger sons, who lived in the most +splendid style, heaven knew how) were still over their wine. + +Leslie had little in common with these gentlemen; but he forced his nature +to be agreeable to them, in consequence of a very excellent piece of +worldly advice given to him by Audley Egerton. "Never let the dandies call +you a prig," said the statesman. "Many a clever fellow fails through life, +because the silly fellows, whom half a word well spoken could make his +_claqueurs_, turn him into ridicule. Whatever you are, avoid the fault of +most reading men: in a word, don't be a prig!" + +"I have just left Hazeldean," said Randal--"what a good fellow he is!" + +"Capital," said the honorable George Borrowwell. "Where is he?" + +"Why, he is gone to his rooms. He has had a little scene with his father, a +thorough, rough country squire. It would be an act of charity if you would +go and keep him company, or take him with you to some place a little more +lively than his own lodgings." + +"What! the old gentleman has been teasing him?--a horrid shame! Why, Frank +is not expensive, and he will be very rich--eh?" + +"An immense property," said Randal, "and not a mortgage on it; an only +son," he added, turning away. + +Among these young gentlemen there was a kindly and most benevolent whisper, +and presently they all rose, and walked away towards Frank's lodgings. + +"The wedge is in the tree," said Randal to himself, "and there is a gap +already between the bark and the wood." + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +Harley L'Estrange is seated beside Helen at the lattice-window in the +cottage at Norwood. The bloom of reviving health is on the child's face, +and she is listening with a smile, for Harley is speaking of Leonard with +praise, and of Leonard's future with hope. "And thus," he continued, +"secure from his former trials, happy in his occupation, and pursuing the +career he has chosen, we must be content, my dear child, to leave him." + +"Leave him!" exclaimed Helen, and the rose on her cheek faded. + +Harley was not displeased to see her emotion. He would have been +disappointed in her heart if it had been less susceptible to affection. + +"It is hard on you, Helen," said he, "to separate you from one who has been +to you as a brother. Do not hate me for doing so. But I consider myself +your guardian, and your home as yet must be mine. We are going from this +land of cloud and mist, going as into the world of summer. Well, that does +not content you. You weep, my child; you mourn your own friend, but do not +forget your father's. I am alone, and often sad, Helen; will you not +comfort me? You press my hand, but you must learn to smile on me also. You +are born to be the Comforter. Comforters are not egotists; they are always +cheerful when they console." + +The voice of Harley was so sweet, and his words went so home to the child's +heart, that she looked up and smiled in his face as he kissed her ingenuous +brow. But then she thought of Leonard, and felt so solitary--so +bereft--that tears burst forth again. Before these were dried, Leonard +himself entered, and obeying an irresistible impulse, she sprang to his +arms, and, leaning her head on his shoulder, sobbed out, "I am going from +you, brother--do not grieve--do not miss me." + +Harley was much moved: he folded his arms, and contemplated them both +silently--and his own eyes were moist, "This heart," thought he, "will be +worth the winning!" + +He drew aside Leonard, and whispered, "Soothe but encourage and support +her. I leave you together; come to me in the garden later." + +It was nearly an hour before Leonard joined Harley. + +"She was not weeping when you left her?" asked L'Estrange. + +"No; she has more fortitude than we might suppose. Heaven knows how that +fortitude has supported mine. I have promised to write to her often." + +Harley took two strides across the lawn, and then, coming back to Leonard, +said, "Keep your promise, and write often for the first year. I would then +ask you to let the correspondence drop gradually." + +"Drop!--Ah, my lord!" + +"Look you, my young friend, I wish to lead this fair mind wholly from the +sorrows of the Past. I wish Helen to enter, not abruptly, but step by step, +into a new life. You love each other now as do two children--as brother and +sister. But later, if encouraged, would the love be the same? And is it not +better for both of you, that youth should open upon the world with youth's +natural affections free and unforestalled?" + +"True! and she is so above me," said Leonard, mournfully. + +"No one is above him who succeeds in your ambition, Leonard. It is not +_that_, believe me!" + +Leonard shook his head. + +"Perhaps," said Harley, with a smile, "I rather feel that you are above me. +For what vantage-ground is so high as youth? Perhaps I may become jealous +of you. It is well that she should learn to like one who is to be +henceforth her guardian and protector. Yet, how can she like me as she +ought, if her heart is to be full of you?" + +The boy bowed his head; and Harley hastened to change the subject, and +speak of letters and of glory. His words were eloquent, and his voice +kindling; for he had been an enthusiast for fame in his boyhood; and in +Leonard's his own seemed to him to revive. But the poet's heart gave back +no echo--suddenly it seemed void and desolate. Yet when Leonard walked back +by the moonlight, he muttered to himself, "Strange--strange--so mere a +child, this cannot be love! Still what else to love is there left to me?" + +And so he paused upon the bridge where he had so often stood with Helen, +and on which he had found the protector that had given to her a home--to +himself a career. And life seemed very long, and fame but a dreary phantom. +Courage, still, Leonard! These are the sorrows of the heart that teach thee +more than all the precepts of sage and critic. + +Another day, and Helen had left the shores of England, with her fanciful +and dreaming guardian. Years will pass before our tale reopens. Life in all +the forms we have seen it travels on. And the Squire farms and hunts; and +the Parson preaches and chides and soothes. And Riccabocca reads his +Machiavelli, and sighs and smiles as he moralizes on Men and States. And +Violante's dark eyes grow deeper and more spiritual in their lustre; and +her beauty takes thought from solitary dreams. And Mr. Richard Avenel has +his house in London, and the honorable Mrs. Avenel her opera box; and hard +and dire is their struggle into fashion, and hotly does the new man, +scorning the aristocracy, to pant become aristocrat. And Audley Egerton +goes from the office to the Parliament, and drudges, and debates, and helps +to govern the empire in which the sun never sets. Poor Sun, how tired he +must be--but none more tired than the Government! And Randal Leslie has an +excellent place in the bureau of a minister, and is looking to the time +when he shall resign it to come into Parliament, and on that large arena +turn knowledge into power. And meanwhile, he is much where he was with +Audley Egerton; but he has established intimacy with the Squire, and +visited Hazeldean twice, and examined the house and the map of the +property--and very nearly fallen a second time into the Ha-ha, and the +Squire believes that Randal Leslie alone can keep Frank out of mischief, +and has spoken rough words to his Harry about Frank's continued +extravagance. And Frank does continue to pursue pleasure, and is very +miserable, and horribly in debt. And Madame di Negra has gone from London +to Paris, and taken a tour into Switzerland, and come back to London again, +and has grown very intimate with Randal Leslie; and Randal has introduced +Frank to her; and Frank thinks her the loveliest woman in the world, and +grossly slandered by certain evil tongues. And the brother of Madame di +Negra is expected in England at least; and what with his repute for beauty +and for wealth, people anticipate a sensation; and Leonard, and Harley, and +Helen? Patience--they will all reappear. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[7] Continued from page 386. + + + + +FRAGMENTS FROM A VOLUME OF POEMS + +BY THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES. + +[Just Published in London.] + + +NOTHING ALONE. + + All round and through the spaces of creation + No hiding-place of the least air, or earth, + Or sea, invisible, untrod, unrained on, + Contains a thing alone. Not e'en the bird, + That can go up the labyrinthine winds + Between its pinions, and pursues the summer,-- + Not even the great serpent of the billows, + Who winds him thrice around this planet's waist,-- + Is by itself in joy or suffering. + + +LOVE. + + O that sweet influence of thoughts and looks! + That change of being, which, to one who lives, + Is nothing less divine than divine life + To the unmade! Love? Do I love? I walk + Within the brilliance of another's thought, + As in a glory. + + +INNOCENT WELCOME TO EVIL. + + How thou art like the daisy in Noah's meadow, + On which the foremost drop of rain fell warm + And soft at evening; so the little flower + Wrapped up its leaves, and shut the treacherous water + Close to the golden welcome of its breast,-- + Delighting in the touch of that which led + The shower of oceans, in whose billowy drops + Tritons and lions of the sea were warring. + + +THE IMPARTIAL BANQUET. + + The unfashionable worm, + Respectless of crown-illumined brow, + To cheek's bewitchment, or the sceptred clench, + With no more eyes than Love, creeps courtier-like, + On his thin belly, to his food,--no matter + How clad or nicknamed it might strut above, + What age or sex,--it is his dinner-time. + + +ARGUMENT FOR MERCY. + + I have a plea, + As dewy piteous as the gentle ghost's + That sits alone upon a forest-grave + Thinking of no revenge: I have a mandate, + As magical and potent as e'er ran + Silently through a battle's myriad veins, + Undid their fingers from the hanging steel, + And drew them up in prayer: I AM A WOMAN. + O motherly-remembered be the name, + And, with the thought of loves and sisters, sweet + And comforting! + + +INTERCESSION BETWEEN A FATHER AND A SON. + + There stands before you + The youth and golden top of your existence, + Another life of yours: for, think your morning + Not lost, but given, passed from your hand to his + The same except in place. Be then to him + As was the former tenant of your age, + When you were in the prologue of your time, + And he lay hid in you unconsciously + Under his life. And thou, my younger master, + Remember there's a kind of God in him; + And, after heaven, the next of thy religion. + Thy second fears of God, thy first of man, + Are his, who was creation's delegate, + And made this world for thee in making thee. + + + + +Authors and Books. + + +CARL IMMERMAN'S _Theater-Briefe_ (Letters on the Theatre), says a German +critic, "is interesting not only as a history of a German theatre, but as +an excellent addition to the literature of aesthetic criticism. This work +refers more especially to the years 1833-37, during which time, as is well +known, Immerman attempted to establish in Duesseldorf an _ideal_ theatre, +somewhat in the style of that at Weimar." We have frequently, in +conversation with a gentleman who held an appointment in this Duesseldorf +_Ideal Theatre_, received amusing and interesting accounts of Immerman's +style of management. That his plan did not succeed is undoubtedly for the +sake of Art to be regretted; yet we can by no means unconditionally approve +of the ideas upon which Immerman based his theories. He was certainly right +in endeavoring to form a unity of style in dramatic representations; but +how he could have deemed such an unity possible, when grounded upon such +diametrically opposed aesthetic bases as those of Shakespeare and Calderon, +is to us unintelligible. The remarks on the most convenient and practical +style of executing certain pieces--for example, Hamlet--are worthy of +attention, as also a few explanations relative to Immerman's own dramatic +conceptions. + + * * * * * + +KOHL, whose innumerable and well-known books of travel have caused him to +be cited even in book-making Germany as an instance of _Ausserordentlichen +Fruchtbarkeit_, or extraordinary fertility, has published, through Kuntze +of Dresden, yet another work, entitled _Sketches of Nature and Popular +Life_, which is however said to be inferior to the average of his +works--principally, we imagine, from his falling into the besetting sin of +German writers since the late revolutions, namely, of talking politics when +he should have quoted poetry. We should not be surprised to find some day a +treatise on qualitative chemistry, commencing with an analysis of the +Prussian constitution, or an anatomical work, concluding with a dissection +of Germany in general. Kohl possesses, however, great faculties of +observation, is an accurate describer, and has, perhaps, done as much as +any man of the age towards making different countries acquainted with each +other. + + * * * * * + +The friends of the Italian language and literature, will do well to cast an +occasional kindly glance on _L'Eco d'Italia_ (The Echo of Italy), an +excellent weekly paper published by Signor SECCHI DE CASALI, in this city, +at number 289 Broadway. Many admirable poems find their way from time to +time into this periodical, while its foreign correspondence is of a high +order of merit. + + * * * * * + +The Polish authoress NARCISA ZWICHOWSKA, well known to all who are +acquainted with the literature of that country, has received from the +Russian authorities an order to enter a convent, and no longer to occupy +herself with literature, but with labors of a manual kind, which are more +becoming to women. She is to receive from the treasury a silver ruble, or +about sixty-two and a half cents a day for her support. + + * * * * * + +Cooking is no doubt a great science, and its chief prophet is undeniably +EUGENE BARON BAERST. This gentleman, who is well known in Germany and +elsewhere for his gallant services in Spain, in the army of Don Carlos, has +just brought out a work in two volumes, of some six hundred and fifty pages +each, entitled _Gastrosophie, oder die Lehre von den Freuden der Tafel_ +(Gastrosophy, or the Doctrine of the Delights of the Table). In this he +evinces a thoroughness of knowledge and a fire of enthusiasm well +calculated to astonish the reader, who has probably not before been aware +of the grandeur of the subjects discussed. He begins with the very elements +of his theme. "The man," he exclaims in his preface, "who undertakes to +write a cook-book, must begin by teaching the mason how to build a +fire-place, so as not merely to produce heat from above or below, but from +both at once; he must teach the butcher how to cut his meat, and above all +the baker how to make bread, and especially the _semmel_ (a sort of small +loaves with caraway or anise seed, much liked in Germany), which are often +very like leather and perfectly indigestible. It is true that in Psalm CIV. +verse 15, we are told that bread strengthens the heart of man, but the +semmel sort does no such thing; and when Linguet affirms,--and it is one of +the greatest paradoxes I know of,--that bread is a noxious article of food, +he must be thinking of just that kind. Further, it is necessary to instruct +the gardener, the vegetable woman, the cattle dealer and feeder, and a +hundred other people down to the scullion, who must learn to chop the +spinage very fine and rub and tie it well, and also not to wash the salad, +&c. And this is all the more necessary, because bad workmen,--and their +name is legion,--love no sort of instruction, but fancy that they already +know every thing better than anybody else." To this extensive and thankless +work of instruction, the Baron declares that he has devoted himself, and +that the iron will necessary to its accomplishment is his. The iron health +is however wanting, and accordingly he can do nothing better for "the +fatherland's artists in eating" than the present work. At the last advices, +the valiant Baron was dangerously ill. + + * * * * * + +Works on natural history and philosophy seldom possess much interest for +the uninitiated in "the physically practical." An exception to this may +however be found in the beautiful _Schmetterlingsbuch_, or _Butterfly +book_, recently published by Hoffman of Stuttgart, containing eleven +hundred colored illustrations of these "winged flowers," as the Chinese +poetically term them. Equally attractive to every lover of exquisite works +of scientific art, is the recent American _Pomology_, edited by Dr. +BRINCKLE of Philadelphia, and published by Hoffy of that city. This, we +state on the authority of the Philadelphia Art-Union Reporter, is the most +splendid work of the kind ever published in this country or Europe, with a +single exception, which was issued under royal patronage. + + * * * * * + +A valuable and useful book in these times is STEIN'S _Geschichte der +socialen Bewegung in Frankreich von 1789 bis auf unsere Tage_ (History of +the Social Movement in France from 1789 to our day). It is in three +volumes, published at Leipzig. The _Socialismus und Communismus_ of the +same author has given him a wide reputation for impartiality and +thoroughness, which the present work must confirm and extend. We do not +coincide in all his views, historical or critical, but cordially recommend +him to the study of all who desire to inform themselves as to one of the +most important phases of modern history. + + * * * * * + +An interesting work entitled _Die Macht des Kleinen_, or _The power of the +Little, as shown in the formation of the crust of our earth-ball_, has +recently been translated from the Dutch of _Schwartzkopt_, by Dr. SCHLEIDEN +of Leipzig. This book treats entirely of the works and wonders effected by +that "invisible brotherhood" of architects, the _animalculae_, and shows how +greatly the organic world is indebted to coral insects, _foraminiferae_, +polypi, and other cryptic beings, for its existence and progress. The +illustrations are truly admirable. + + * * * * * + +Among the recent publications at Halle, is a heavy octavo by Dr. J. H. +KRAUSE, on the _History of Education, Instruction and Culture among the +Greeks, Etruscans and Romans_. It is drawn from the original sources, and +is the result of a most studious and thorough investigation of the subject. + + * * * * * + +A very intelligent young priest, by name JOSEPH LUTZ, has recently +published by Laupp of Tuebingen, a _Handbook of Catholic Pulpit Eloquence_. +This work will be found highly interesting to those desirous of +investigating the history and theories of modern eloquence. We were already +aware that in New-England smoking and whistling are regarded as vices, but +first learned from the prospectus of this work that, according to Theremin, +eloquence is a _virtue_! + + * * * * * + +A collection of the popular songs of Southern Russia is now being published +at Moscow by Mr. MAKSIMOWITSCH, who for twenty years has been in the +Ukraine, engaged in taking down and preserving these interesting products +of the early life of his people in that region. This is not the first +contribution of the kind that he has made to Russian literature; in 1827 he +published the _Songs of Little Russia_, consisting of one hundred and +thirty pieces for male and female voices; in 1834 the _Popular Songs of the +Ukraine_, consisting of one hundred and thirteen songs for men; and in the +same year the _Voices of Ukraine Song_, twenty-five pieces with music. The +present work is called by way of distinction _Collectaneum of Ukraine +Popular Songs_; it is to be in six parts, containing about two thousand +national poems. Each part is to be accompanied with explanatory notes, and +the last volume will contain an essay on Russian popular poetry in general, +as well as on that of the Ukraine in particular. One volume has already +appeared; it is in two divisions: the first of Ukraine _Dumy_, the second +of cradle songs and lullabys. The _Dumy_ are a particular sort of poems +peculiar to the Ukraine. They are in a most irregular measure, varying from +four to twelve syllables, with the cadence varying in each line. The only +requirement is that they should rhyme, and frequently several successive +lines are made to do so. These poems are the production of the +_Vandurists_, or bards of the country, who are even yet found on the +southern shore of the Dnieper. These singers, usually blind old men, chant +their _Dumy_ and their songs to the people, accompanying themselves with +both hands on the many-stringed _vandura_. The _Dumy_ flourished most in +the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. There are some existing composed +by Mazeppa after the battle of Pultowa, and one or two other poets have +left a _Dumy_ of the eighteenth, but they are not equal to those of more +primitive times. Since then there have been no new compositions in the way +of popular songs and ballads, but the older works have been repeated with +variations and to new melodies. The most frequent subjects of these ballads +were, of course, historic personages and warlike deeds; but often they sung +of domestic matters and feelings, winding up with a moral for the benefit +of the young. In this volume of Mr. Maksimowitsch, are twenty _Dumy_; their +subjects are such as these: Fight of the Cossack with the Tartar, the Three +Brothers, On the Victory of Gorgsun (1648). He reckons the number in +existence at thirty. Of these he publishes, four have not before been +known. + + * * * * * + +A new edition of Hogarth's Works is in process of republication at +Goettingen in a diminished size. There are to be twelve parts at fifty cents +each; the third part has been published. + + * * * * * + +Of DR. ANDREE'S great work on _America_, whose commencement we noticed some +months since, the fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth parts have just reached +us. The German savan continues to justify the high encomiums we passed upon +the earlier portions of his work. He has used with the utmost industry and +conscientiousness all the best sources of information on every subject he +treats. Gallatin, Morton and Squier he frequently quotes as authorities. +These four parts are devoted to the conclusion of the essay on the origin +and history of the American race. In this he calls attention to the fact +that all the developments of American civilization took place on high plain +lands and not in the rich vallies of the great rivers--a fact by the way +which confirms Mr. Carey's theory of the first settlement and culture of +land, though to this Dr. Andree does not refer. He then treats of Canada, +New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, the Bermudas and the United States. The leading +facts in the geography, history, the sources of population, the political +constitution, the geological structure, soil, climate, industry, resources, +and prospects of these countries are given with admirable succinctness, +thoroughness and justice. As a book of ordinary reference, none could be +more convenient or reliable. The most difficult questions are considered +with a genuine German cosmopolitan impartiality of judgment. The +predominant influence in the formation of the American democratic +institutions Dr. Andree considers to be English, or more strictly speaking +Teutonic. Other races and nations have contributed to the mass of the +people, but only the Teutonic has laid the foundation and built the +structure of the state. It is a great blessing in the history of the +continent that the French did not succeed in their plans of colonization, +for they would everywhere have founded not democratic but feudal +institutions. The slavery question he treats more in the interest of the +south than in the spirit of the abolitionists, whose course he condemns +with considerable plainness of expression. On the mode of finally solving +this question, he offers no speculations, but contents himself with showing +the great difficulties attending colonization and emancipation upon the +soil. The former he thinks impossible, the latter can only produce war +between the two races, in which the latter must be exterminated. This mode +of viewing this subject we can testify is frequent among well-educated +Germans. The statistics relating to the United States, Dr. Andree has +collected in a most lucid manner; we do not know where they are better or +more conveniently arranged. Products, imports, exports, debt of federal and +state governments, taxation, shipping, railroads, canals, schools, are all +given; nothing escapes the vigilance of this most exemplary ethnographer. +His style is no less clear and vivid in these four parts than in those +preceding. The remainder will follow regularly. The work may be found at +Westermann's, corner of Broadway and Reade street, by whose house in +Brunswick, Germany, it is published. + + * * * * * + +M. ALEXANDER DUVAL has a long article in the _Journal des Debats_ entitled, +_Studies upon German Love_, taking his text from Bettina von Arnim's famous +correspondence with Goethe, and from the _Book of Love_, in which the same +sentimentalist has recorded her relations with the unfortunate Guenderode. +M. Duval finds that in his intercourse with Bettina, Goethe played a part +which was honorable neither to his mind nor his heart. In the _Book of +Love_, says M. Duval, there is a little of every thing--of physics, of +metaphysics, of poetry, of natural history, of biographical anecdotes, the +history of the first kiss, of the second kiss, and of the third kiss +received by Mlle. Bettina, mixed up with apostrophes to the stars, to the +ocean, to the mountains, and above all, to the moon, which she loves so +much that she never leaves it in peace. In fact, she has such a passion for +whatever is lunatic, that the moon above is not sufficient, and she invents +another, an interior and metaphysical moon, which enlightens the world of +our thoughts. About this she writes to Goethe: "When thou art about to go +to sleep, confide thyself to the inward moon, sleep in the light of the +moon of thy own nature." French literature was never disgraced by a girl's +making a god of its most illustrious representative, and his allowing the +silly incense to be burned for years upon his altars; but the evil is +getting into France as well. Rousseau did not dare to publish his +confessions, but Lamartine has had the courage, and has served up to the +public his own letters and the portraits of his mistresses. Madame Sand's +_Memoirs_ are also advertised; another step that way and Germany need no +longer envy the country of Montesquieu and Voltaire, of good sense and +action. + + * * * * * + +Readable and instructive is HASE'S _Neue Propheten_ (New Prophets), just +published in Germany. The new prophets are Joan d'Arc, Savonarola, and the +Anabaptists of Muenster. They are treated historically and philosophically, +in a style whose simplicity, animation, and clearness, differ most +gratefully from the crabbed and long-winded sentences of the earlier German +writers, in the study of whom we dug our way into some imperfect +acquaintance with that rich and flexible tongue. The book is worthy of +translation. + + * * * * * + +A new book on a subject which has latterly become prominent among the +themes of European observation and thought is called _Suedslavische +Wanderwagen im Sommer 1850_ (Wandering in Southern Slavonia in the Summer +of 1850). It is a series of vivid and interesting pictures of one of the +most remarkable races and regions of Europe. + + * * * * * + +A singular work has recently been published by Decker of Berlin, entitled +_Monasticus Irenaeus, von Jerusalem, nach Bethlehem_ (or Irenaeus Monasticus: +a public message to the noble Lady Ida, Countess of Hahn-Hahn: for the +profit and piety of all newly converted Catholics.) In this work we find +much talent, deep learning, and abundance of Schleiermachian philosophy; +but remark on the other hand the following weak points: Firstly, that the +author cuts down a gnat with a scimitar, or in other words overrates the +talent and abilities of his adversary; and, secondly, that he affects to +assume the tone and style in which her work was written, even in the title. +(The reader will remember that the work of the Countess was entitled "_From +Jerusalem_," and bore the motto, "SOLI DEO GLORIA.") In other respects also +is this work, if not decidedly wrong, at least quite indifferent. + + * * * * * + +LAMARTINE'S History of the Restoration is reviewed at length in the +_Journal des Debats_, by M. Cuvillier-Fleury. It is a very severe piece of +criticism. Lamartine is charged with injustice, confusion, and even a +systematic perversion of the truth, especially toward Napoleon. The account +of the Emperor's last days at Fontainebleau, is pronounced a tragi-comedy, +full of grimaces, of explosions, of puerile hesitations, of impossible +exaggerations. Men and facts are judged without reflection, by prejudice, +by blind passion, by a sort of fated and involuntary partiality. The method +of the book runs into declamation, turgidity, and redundancy; he does not +narrate, he discourses or expounds; he falls into mere gossip or is lost in +analysis; instead of portraits he paints miniatures, and does not conceive +an historical picture without a fancy vignette. His descriptive lyricism, +instead of imparting a grandeur to his subject, diminishes it; instead of +refining it, renders it petty. Besides, in his overstrained and exaggerated +style, he is guilty of writing bad French; M. Cuvillier-Fleury quotes +several striking examples of this. The article concludes by saying that the +historian writes without ballast, and goes at the impulse of every breeze +which swells his sails, and with no other care than the inspiration of the +moment. His subject carries him off by all the perspectives it opens to his +imagination or his memory. He is like a ship moving out of port with +streamers floating from every mast, its poop crowned with flowers, and +every sail set, but without a rudder. In spite of all criticism, however, +this history has a large sale in France: the first edition is already +exhausted. The practice of pirating, usual at Brussels and Leipzic, with +reference to French works of importance, has been prevented, in this case, +by the preparation of cheap editions for Belgium and Germany, which were +issued there cotemporaneously with the publication at Paris. + + * * * * * + +The second part of the third volume of HUMBOLDT'S _Kosmos_ is nearly +completed, and will soon appear. A fourth volume is to be added, in which +the geological studies of the venerable author will be set forth. He is now +nearly eighty-one years old, and is as vigorous and youthful in feeling as +ever. The first part of the third volume of _Kosmos_ appeared in German and +English several months ago. + + * * * * * + +A History of Polish Literature, from the remotest antiquity to 1830, is now +being published at Warsaw, by Mr. MACIEJOWKI, a writer thoroughly +acquainted with the subject. Three parts of the first volume have appeared, +bringing the history down to the first half of the seventeenth century. One +more part will complete the volume, and three volumes will complete the +work. + + * * * * * + +The study of Russian archaeology and history is prosecuted in that country +with a degree of activity and thoroughness that other nations are not aware +of, and publications of importance are made constantly. Within the present +year the fifth part of the complete collection of _Russian Chronicles_ has +appeared, the fourth of the collection of public documents relating to the +history of Western Russia, and the beginning of a new collection of foreign +historians of Russia. + + * * * * * + +A curious contrast of light and shade is exhibited in the titles of two +works recently published in Vienna. SIEGFRIED WEISS (or _white_) puts forth +a book, _On the present state and trade policy of Germany_, while in the +next paragraph of the same list N. SCHWARTZ (or _black_) appears as the +author of _The situation of Austria as regards her trade policy_. This +latter we should judge to be an excellent illustration of the old phrase, +"_nomen et omen!_" + + * * * * * + +Periodical literature is making its way into Asia. A literary monthly has +made its appearance at Tiflis, in the Georgian language. It will discuss +Georgian literature, furnish translations from foreign tongues, and treat +of the arts and sciences, and of agriculture. What oriental students will +find most interesting in this magazine, will be its specimens of the +popular literature of the country. A new Armenian periodical has also been +commenced in the Trans-Caucasian country. + + * * * * * + +A German version of HAWTHORNE'S _Scarlet Letter_ has been executed by one +DU BOIS, and published by Velliagen & Klasing of Nielefeld. + + * * * * * + +OTTO HUBNER, the industrious German economist, is about to publish at +Leipsic a collection of the tariffs of all nations. + + * * * * * + +A work on Freemasonic medals has been published by Dr. MERZDORF, +superintendent of the Grand Ducal Library of Oldenburg: with plates. + + * * * * * + +The German Universities are well off for teachers. In the twenty-seven +institutions of the kind at the last summer term, there were engaged 1586 +teachers, viz.: 816 ordinary, 330 extraordinary, and 37 honorary +professors, with 403 private tutors, exclusive of 134 masters of languages, +gymnastics, fencing and dancing. Muenster has the fewest teachers, numbering +only 18, Olmuetz 22, Innsbruck, 26, Gratz 22, Berne and Basle each 33, +Rostock, 38; on the other hand Berlin has 167, Munich 102, Leipzic and +Goettingen each 100, Prague 92, Bonn 90, Breslau 84, Heidelberg 81, Tuebingen +77, Halle 75, Jena 74. The whole number of students in the last term was +16,074; Berlin counting 2199, Munich 1817, Prague 1204, Bonn 1026, Leipzic +846, Breslau 831, Tuebingen 768, Goettingen 691, Wuerzburg 684, Halle 646, +Heidelberg 624, Gratz 611, Jena 434, Giessen 409, Freiburg 403, Erlangen +402, Olmuetz 396, Koenigsberg 332, Muenster 323, Marburg 272, Innsbruck 257, +Greifswald 208, Zuerich 201, Berne 184, Rostock 122, Kiel 119, Basel 65. + + * * * * * + +Among the last poetical issues of the German press we notice _Poetis che +Schriften_, by A. HENSEL (Vienna, 2 vols.), are exaggerated, almost insane +expression of Austrian loyalty running through sonnets, lyrics, ballads and +romances; _Friedrichsehre_ (Honor to Frederick), by an anonymous author +(Posen), a new wreath for the weather-beaten old brows of Frederick the +Great; _Erwachen_ (Waking), seven poems by Hugo le Juge (Berlin), a book +with talent in it; _Lebensfruehling_, by Paul Eslin (Liepsic), the second +edition of a collection of neat and pleasing poems for children. + + * * * * * + +The Russian government has published some book-making statistics of Poland +in 1850. In the course of the year, 359 manuscript works were submitted to +the censorship, being 19 more than in 1849. Almost all were scientific, the +greater part treating of theology, jurisprudence, and medicine; 327 were +licensed to be printed, 4 rejected, and 15 returned to their authors for +modification; upon 13 no decision has been given. In 1850, there were +imported into the kingdom 15,986 works, in 58,141 volumes; this was 749 +works less, and 1,027 volumes more than in 1849. + + * * * * * + +A new work on Russia is appearing at Paris with the title of _Etudes sur +les Forces Productives de la Russie_. Its author is Mr. L. DE TEGOBORSKI, a +Russian privy councillor. The first volume, a stout octavo, has been +issued. It treats of the geographical situation and extent of Russia, the +climate, fertility and configuration of the soil; population; productions +of the earth and their gross value; vegetable, animal and mineral +productions; agriculture; raising of domestic animals. The whole work will +consist of three volumes; the second is in press. + + * * * * * + +Notices in the later numbers of the _Europa_, of KARL QUENTIN in America, +and _The Art Journal_, are not without interest. The Grenzboten also +contains interesting articles on THOMAS MOORE, and OERSTED. + + * * * * * + +Of Ritter's great work, the _History of Philosophy_, of which only earlier +volumes have appeared in English, a tenth volume is shortly to be +published. + + * * * * * + +A new and compendious history of philosophy has been published at Leipzic +in two octavo volumes, called _Das Buch der Weltweisheit_. It gives in the +most succinct form a statement of the doctrines of the leading +philosophical thinkers of all times, and is designed for the cultivated +among the German people. Men of other nations are however not forbidden to +derive from it what advantage they can. + + * * * * * + +DE FLOTTE, whose election to the French Assembly made such a stir a year +since, has lately published a thick volume entitled _De la Souverainete du +Peuple_. It is a series of essays in which he discusses with great +penetration and remarkable power of abstract thought, the spirit, ends, and +present results of the great general revolution, of which all the special +revolutions that have hitherto occurred, are merely incidents and phases. +De Flotte considers that humanity is advancing toward liberty absolute and +universal, in politics, religion, industry, and every department of life. +"One thing," he says, "has ever astonished me; this is that some men +presume to accuse the revolution of denying tradition, because they think +only of one age, or of one dynasty, while we think of all sovereigns and of +all ages; they oppose, with a curious good faith, the history of a single +epoch or a single party, to the history of all epochs and of all men. +Strange ignorance and singular forgetfulness! Why do they fail to do in +space, what they do in time, in geography what they do in history? Why do +they not deny the existence of negroes and of the Chinese because none of +them come to France? The reason is that life in space strikes the bodily +eye, while life in time strikes the eye of the mind, and theirs is +blinded!" + + * * * * * + +In France, 78,000 francs have been voted by the National Assembly for +excavations at Nineveh. Mr. LAYARD, without further means for the +prosecution of his researches there, is in England, and we are sorry to +learn, in ill health. His new book, _Fresh Discoveries in Nineveh_, will +soon be published by Mr. Putnam. Dr. H. WEISSENBORN has printed in +Stuttgart, _Nineveh and its Territory, in respect to the latest excavations +in the valley of the Tigris_. Some specimens of the exhumed sculptures of +Nineveh have been sent to New-York by Rev. D. W. Marsh, of the American +mission at Mosul. + + * * * * * + +A second series of EUGENE SUE's _Mysteres du Peuple_ is announced as about +to commence at Paris. This is an attempt to set forth the history of the +French people, or working classes, the form of a modern story being merely +a frame in which to set the author's pictures of former times. The first +series completes the history of the early Gauls and of Roman domination; +the second will treat of feudalism and of the introduction of modern social +castes and distinctions. Sue has published a preamble in the form of an +address to his readers, in which he draws the outline of the subject he is +about to treat, and establishes his main historical positions by reference +to a great variety of learned authorities. + +The same author is now publishing in _La Presse_ a new novel called +_Fernand Duplessis, or Memoirs of a Husband_. We have seen some eight or +ten numbers of it; so far it is comparatively free from the clap-trap +romance machinery in which French writers in general, and Sue in +particular, are apt to indulge, while it is otherwise less unobjectionable +than the mass of his stories. + + * * * * * + +The historian MICHELET has published a new part of his _Revolution +Francaise_. It is devoted to the Girondists. The conclusions of the author +are that these unfortunate politicians of a terrible epoch were personally +innocent, that they never thought of dismembering France, and had no +understanding with the enemy, but that the policy they pursued in the early +part of '93, was blind and impotent, and if followed out could only have +resulted in the destruction of the republic, and the triumph of the +royalists. The whole is treated in the Micheletian manner, in distinct +chapters, each elucidating some mind. + + * * * * * + +A work _On the Fabrication of Porcelain in China, with its History from +Antiquity to the present Day_, that is to say, from 583 to 1821, has just +been translated from Chinese into French by STANISLAS JULIEN, and published +at Paris. It puts the European manufacturer perfectly in possession of the +secrets of Chinese workmen, their methods, and the substances they employ. +M. Julien has previously translated a Chinese essay on education of +silkworms, and the culture of the mulberry. He is one of the most learned +sinologues in Europe. + + * * * * * + +A French archaeeologist, M. FELIX DE VERNEILH, has published an elaborate +essay on the Cologne Cathedral, in which he denies to Germany the credit of +inventing the purest model of the pointed arch, and demonstrates that this +Cathedral was not planned at the beginning of the most brilliant period of +Christian art, but was the climax thereof, and that instead of having +served as the archetype in construction of other edifices, it shows the +influence of them, and especially of the Cathedral of Amiens. + + * * * * * + +An interesting and instructive little work has been published at Paris on +the Workingmen's Associations of that city and country. It is by M. ANDRE +COCHUT, one of the editors of _Le National_. It gives the history of each +of the more important of these establishments, with their mode of +organization, number of members, and pecuniary and social results. The +title is _Les Associations Ouvrieres; Histoire et Theorie des Centatives de +Reorganisation Industrielle depuis la Revolution de 1848_. + + * * * * * + +A complete edition of the works of GEORGE SAND is now publishing at Paris, +in parts, with illustrations by Tony Johannot. It is to be elegant, yet +cheap, the whole only costing about $5. There will be some six hundred +illustrations. The first part contains _La Mare au Diable_ and _Andre_, +with a new preface to the former, in which the author contradicts the +notion that it was intended by her as the beginning of a new order of +literature, or was attempted as a new style of writing. Other authors are +to follow in the same manner. + + * * * * * + +The new volume of THIER's _History of the Consulate and the Empire_ is +regarded as the most able and most interesting of the series. There is to +be one other volume. + + * * * * * + +ALEXANDER DUMAS has written the following letter to the _Presse_: + + "Sir,--I understand that a publisher who at second hand + is the owner of a book of mine called "The History of + Louis Philippe," intends to issue the work under the + title of "Mysteries of a Royal Family." I have written + the history of Louis Philippe, just as I have written + the histories of Louis XIV., and Louis XV., and Louis + XVI., the history of the revolution, and the history of + the empire. I have sold this series of historical works + to a single publisher, M. Dufour. I never had the + intention to provoke the scandal indicated by the title + with which I am threatened in substitution for the one + that I had given to the work. In the life of Louis + Philippe and the royal family there is nothing + mysterious. A fatal obstinacy in a course leading to an + abyss: there's for the king. For the queen there is + goodness, self-sacrifice, charity, religion, virtue. + For the deceased royal prince and his living brothers, + there is courage, loyalty, gallantry, intelligence, + patriotism. You see in all this there is nothing + mysterious. If he persists in giving to my book a title + which I regard as infamous, the courts of justice shall + decide between me and the publisher. May God keep me + from invoking aught but historical truth with regard to + a man who touched my hand when a king, and my heart, + when an exile. + + "ALEX. DUMAS." + + + +Conduct of this sort--the changing of titles, in violation of the wishes of +authors, or any change in a book, by a publisher--is atrocious crime, for +the punishment of which a revival of the whipping-post would not be +inappropriate. There have been many such cases in this country, and to some +of them we may hereafter call particular attention. + + * * * * * + +One of the most truly successful of the younger living French writers is +ALFRED DE MUSSET. His works are principally poetic and dramatic. He +originated a style of pieces called _Caprices_, which have become +exceedingly popular not only from their own point and spirit, but from the +incomparable manner in which they are rendered on the stage of the _Theatre +Francais_. M. de Musset's reputation has been achieved since the revolution +of July. The last number of the _Grenzboten_ devotes a long leading article +to the discussion of his works and his position in the world of letters. We +translate the following paragraph: "We find in him an elegance of language, +a truth of views, even though they be true only for him individually, a +sensibility to all the problems of the soul and heart, and a freedom from +the usual French prejudices, which lay a strong claim to our attention. He +never falls into that shallow pathos with which Victor Hugo in his +'greatest moments' sometimes covers an intolerable triviality; phrases +never run away with him as they do so often with the king of the +romanticists, whose profoundest monologues not seldom turn out to be empty +jingle. In clearness, delicacy and grace, he can be compared, among the +modern romanticists, with only Prosper Merimee and Charles de Bernard. They +also resemble him in the fear of being led away by general modes of +expression and reflection. They strive only for _individual_ truth; but he +differs from them in the breadth and multiformity of his perspectives, and +in a singular power of assimilation which is based on extensive reading. In +fact, the combinations of his wit and fancy often go so into the distant +and boundless, that we think we are reading a German author." The critic +then compares De Musset with Byron; the latter is more original and +spontaneous, the former richer and more comprehensive. The questions Byron +discusses have forced themselves upon him; those of De Musset are of his +own invention. For the rest he has been greatly influenced by Heine and +Hoffmann, as well as by the Faust of Goethe. The more important of his +works are: _Contes d'Espagne et d'Italie_ (1830); _Un Spectacle dans un +Fauteuil_ (1833); _Poesies Nouvelles_ (1835-40); the same (1840-49); _Les +Comedies Injouables_, a collection of small dramatic pieces (1838); _Louis, +ou il faut qu'une porte soit ouverte ou fermee_, _Les deux Martiesses_, +_Emmeline_, _Le Seuet de Javatte_, _Le Fils de Titien_, _Les Adventures de +Laagon_, _La Confession d'un Enfant du Siecle_; romances published between +1830-40. De Musset is still a young man. A good deal has been said at +sundry times about his admission to the French Academy, but the vacancies +have been filled without him. + + * * * * * + +The London _Leader_ announces an abridged translation of AUGUSTE COMTE'S +six volumes of _Positive Philosophy_, to appear as soon as is compatible +with the exigencies of so important an undertaking. The _Leader_ says: "a +very competent mind has long been engaged upon the task; and the growing +desire in the public to hear more about this _Bacon_ of the nineteenth +century, renders such a publication necessary." But we do not believe in +the competence of any one who proposes an _abridgment_ of Comte: the idea +is absurd. In this country, we believe, two full translations of the great +Frenchman are in progress--one by Professor Gillespie, of which the Harpers +have published the first volume, and another by one of the wisest and +profoundest scholars of the time--a personal friend of Comte, thoroughly +familiar with his system, and master of a style admirably suited for +philosophical discussion. + + * * * * * + +JULES JANIN has published a new romance called _Gaite Champetre_. The +preface has reached us in the feuilleton of the _Journal des Debats_. It is +in the usual elaborate, learned, and fanciful, but most readable style of +the author. He defends his calling as a mere man of letters, a student of +form and style, in short an artist. + + * * * * * + +We mentioned not long ago (_International_, vol. iii. p. 214,) the pleasant +letters of FERDINAND HILLER to a German Gazette, respecting his experiences +among authors and artists in Paris. We see that Herr Hiller has been +engaged by Mr. Lumley as musical director to Her Majesty's Theatre in +London and the Italian Opera in Paris. He has filled the appointments of +director to the Conservatoire and Maitre de Chapelle, at Cologne, for some +considerable time. His post at the Conservatoire is to be occupied by M. +Liszt. He will be an important accession to society as well as to the +theatres in those cities. + + * * * * * + +DR. R. G. LATHAM, whose important works on _The Varieties of Man_, _The +English Language_, _the Ethnology of the British Empire_, &c., are familiar +to scholars, and have proved their author the most profound and sagacious +writer, in a wide and difficult field of science, now living, has in press +an edition of the _Germania_ of Tacitus, in which his philological +acquisitions and his skill in conjectural history will have ample room for +display. + + * * * * * + +MR. JAMES T. FIELDS was a passenger in the steamer Pacific, which left +New-York on the 11th ult. for Liverpool. Mr. Fields will pass the coming +winter in France and Italy. + + * * * * * + +We hear of four new histories of the war with Mexico, one of which will be +in three large volumes, by an accomplished officer who served under General +Scott. + + * * * * * + +MR. HORACE MANN is engaged on a work illustrating his ideas of the +character, condition, and proper sphere of woman. He does not quite agree +with Abby Kelly. + + * * * * * + +The old charge that + + "Garth did not write his own Dispensary," + +has been revived with exquisite absurdity in the case of General Morris and +the song of "Woodman, Spare that Tree!" We have not seen the original +accusation which appeared in an obscure sheet in Boston, but we give place +with pleasure to the letter of the poet. We can imagine nothing less "apt +and of great credit," as Iago defines the requisites of a judicious +calumny, than this figment. The characteristics of Morris's style are +exceedingly marked, and are altogether different from those of Woodworth, +who was an excellent songwriter and a most worthy man, but was as little +like Morris in his literary manner as two men can be who write in the same +age and country. There are among our living poets few fairer and purer +literary reputations than that of General Morris; few that, in a covetous +mood, one would be more disposed to envy. It lives not in the tumult of +reckless criticism and the noisy dogmatism of friendly reviews, but in the +sympathy and enjoyment of thousands of refined and feeling hearts. His +calm, delicate, and simple genius has won its way quietly to an apprecient +admiration that no assaults can disturb, and it may now look down upon most +of its contemporaries without jealousy and without fear. It will shine in +its clear brightness when many clamorous notorieties of the day are +quenched in night and silence. The charge of the Boston editor is a mere +buffoonery. He could not expect that so ridiculous a fabrication would be +believed by any body. It is a device of common-place, stupid malice, +designed only to annoy a very amiable man. Had we been of counsel with the +poet we should have advised him to take no notice of the foolish slander; +but as he has seen fit to write a very interesting note on the subject, we +are happy to preserve it here. The gentleman to whom the note is addressed +gives the following account of the circumstances: + + "Some two or three months ago, the editor of the Boston + Sunday News, took General Morris's literary character + to task, and charged him with having obtained the + famous song of 'Woodman Spare that Tree,' from the late + Samuel Woodworth. In a word, he charged that the + General was not the author of a celebrated poem, which + has long been before the world in his name. + + "As the editor in question was a friend of mine, and as + I knew that he had done General Morris great injustice, + I wrote him a long letter, in which I attempted to set + him right, and thus induce him if possible to render + unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's. In other words, + I hoped he would correct his misstatements. Instead of + complying with my expressed hope, he thanked me for my + letter--very kindly published it; but, in the very same + paper, repeated his original charge. In common justice + to General Morris, I beg leave to remark, in closing + this note, that I have known him intimately and well + the last thirty years, and that I never knew a poet or + author in any department of literature who was more + strictly original. He is incapable of the petty conduct + attributed to him, and would scorn to wear honors that + belong to another. A more honorable, high-minded + gentleman never lived." + + + HOME JOURNAL OFFICE, NEW-YORK, _September 22, 1851_. + + TO JOHN SMITH, JR., OF ARKANSAS: _My Dear Sir_:--I + thank you sincerely for your kind defence of me against + the unfounded aspersions of an editor of a Boston + paper. Your course was precisely what was to be + expected from a just man, and a contemporary who has + known me from my boyhood. The editor alluded to, + charges me with a crime that I abhor. It is + substantially as follows: "_That the ballad of + 'Woodman, spare that tree,' was not written by me, but + by the late Samuel Woodworth, who, while in a state + intoxication, sold it to me, in a public bar-room, for + a paltry sum_." A more infamous charge was never made, + and the whole story, from beginning to end, without any + qualification whatever, is an unmitigated _falsehood_. + The history of the song in question is simply this: In + the autumn of 1837, Russell, the vocalist, applied to + me for an original ballad, and I wrote him "_Woodman, + spare that tree_," and handed it to him with a letter + which he afterwards read at his concerts, and published + in the newspapers of the day. It also accompanied the + first edition of the music. Mr. Woodworth never saw or + heard of the song until after it appeared in print. I + am not indebted to any human being, dead or alive, for + a single word, thought, or suggestion, embodied in that + song. It is entirely original and entirely my + composition, and this is also true of _all_ the + productions I have ever claimed to be the author of, + with the exception of the play of "Brier Cliff," which + is founded upon a novel by Mrs. Thayer, and the opera + of the "Maid of Saxony," dramatized from a story by + Miss Edgeworth. In both instances I duly acknowledged + my indebtedness to the authors from whom I derived my + materials for those pieces. The attack upon Mr. + Woodworth is also shameful in the extreme, and is in + keeping with the whole affair. A more pure and + honorable man never drew the breath of life, and it is + due to his memory to say that he was not less + remarkable for his habits of _temperance_, than for his + many excellent qualities of head and heart. I do not + think that he was ever intoxicated in the whole course + of his life, and he was too upright a man to lend + himself to such a bare-faced imposition as I am charged + with practising through his agency. If he were alive to + answer for himself, he would spurn, as I do, these + malicious fabrications. The whole of the charges made + against me are _untrue in every particular_, and what + motive any one can have for circulating such vile + slanders in private life, or for proclaiming them from + the house-tops of the press, baffles my ingenuity to + determine. Those who know me will doubtless consider + this vindication of myself entirely unnecessary. If I + were to follow my own inclinations I should not notice + the scandalous libel; but, as you justly remarked, "a + slander well hoed grows like the devil," and as my + silence might possibly be misunderstood, I deem it a + duty I owe myself to contradict the infamous and + malicious aspersions of the Boston editor, and to + declare, in the language of Sheridan, that "there is + not one word of truth in all _that gentleman_ has + uttered." In conclusion, I would say, that my defamer + has either been imposed upon, or that he is one of + those lawless bravos of our profession who really + imagine, because they are "permitted to print they are + privileged to insult." Again, thanking you for your + courtesy and kind interposition in my behalf, I remain, + my dear sir, yours very cordially. + + GEORGE P. MORRIS. + + * * * * * + +PROFESSOR TORREY, of Vermont University, has published the fourth volume of +his translation of Neander's _History of the Christian Religion_--a work +which must have rank with the great historical compositions of Niebuhr and +Grote, which have or will have superseded all modern histories of the two +chief empires of antiquity. The volumes of Professor Torrey's very able +translation of Neander's History are regularly republished in rival +editions in England, and so he loses half the reward to which his service +is entitled. Puthes, of Hamburg, advertises the eleventh part (making half +of another volume), which Neander left in MS. This will, of course, be +reproduced by Professor Torrey. + + * * * * * + +Another translation of the _Divine Comedy_ has been made in England. It is +by a Mr. C. B. CAYLEY, and is in the original ternary rhyme. From a hasty +examination of it we incline to prefer it to Wright's or Carey's; but we +have seen no version of DANTE that in all respects satisfies us so well as +that of Dr. THOMAS W. PARSONS, of Boston, of which some ten cantos were +published a few years ago, and of which the remainder is understood to be +completed for the press. Speaking of Dante, reminds us of the fact that Mr. +Richard Henry Wilde's elaborate memoir of the great Italian has not yet +been printed. Mr. Wilde wrote to us not long before his death that he had +been occupying himself in leisure hours with the revision of some of its +chapters, and we have no doubt that the work is completed. If so, for the +honor of the lamented author, and for the honor of American criticism, it +should be given to the public. + + * * * * * + +From a forthcoming volume by ALICE CAREY, _Recollections of Our +Neighborhood in the West,_ (to be published early in December by J. S. +Redfield,) we copy a specimen chapter, under the title of "The Old Man's +Death," into another part of this magazine. It has no particular excellence +to distinguish it from the rest of the work; indeed it is rather below than +above the average of Miss Carey's recent compositions; but we may safely +challenge to it the scrutiny of critics capable of appreciating the finest +capacities for the illustration of pastoral life. If we look at the entire +catalogue of female writers of prose fiction in this country we shall find +no one who approaches Alice Carey in the best characteristics of genius. +Like all genuine authors she has peculiarities; her hand is detected as +unerringly as that of Poe or Hawthorne; as much as they she is apart from +others and above others; and her sketches of country life must, we think, +be admitted to be superior even to those delightful tales of Miss Mitford, +which, in a similar line, are generally acknowledged to be equal to any +thing done in England. It is the fault of our literary women that they are +commonly careless and superficial, and that in stories, when they attempt +this sort of writing, they are for the most part but feeble copyists, +without individuality, and without naturalness. We can point to very few +exceptions to this rule, but among such exceptions Alice Carey is eminent. +The book which is announced by Mr. Redfield is without the tinsel, or +sickly sentiment, or impudent smartness, which distinguish some +contemporary publications by women, but it will establish for her an +enviable reputation as an original and most graphic delineator of at least +one class in American society--the middle class, in the rural +neighborhoods, with whom rest, in our own as in other countries, the real +distinctions of national character, and the best elements of national +greatness. + + * * * * * + +Mr. HENRY INGALLS, a writer of considerable abilities, displayed chiefly in +anonymous compositions on questions in law, writes to a friend in New-York +from Paris, that he has devoted two years to the investigation of pretended +miracles in modern Europe; that the number of alleged miracles in the Roman +Catholic church of which he has exact historical materials, is over one +thousand; that the analyses of these will be amply suggestive of the +character of the rest; and that his work on the subject, to make three or +four large and closely printed volumes, will conclusively show complicity +on the part of the highest authorities of the church, in "the frauds that +are now most notorious and most generally acknowledged." + +Mr. Ingalls is of opinion that his work will be eminently curious in +literary, philosophical, and religious points of view, and that it cannot +fail of usefulness, especially in illustrating the silly credulity which +has obtained in such poor juggleries as have lately been practiced by the +Smiths, Davises, Fishes, Harrises, and other imposters and mountebanks of +this country. + + * * * * * + +Among the new works in press by the Appletons is a new novel entitled +_Adrian, or the Clouds of the Mind_--the joint production of Mr. G. P. R. +JAMES and Mr. MAUNSELL B. FIELD. Such partnerships in literature were +common in the days of Elizabeth, and in our own country we have instances +in the production of _Yamoyden_, by Sands and Eastburn, &c. Mr. Field is +not yet a veteran, but he is a writer of fine talents and much cultivation. +Among the original papers in the present number of the _International_ is a +poem from his hand, under the title of _Greenwood_. + + * * * * * + +The first volume of a _History of the German Reformed Church_, by the late +Rev. Dr. LEWIS MAYER, has been published in Philadelphia; and Professor +SCHAFF, of Mercersburg, has printed in German the first volume of a +_History of the Christian Church, from its Establishment to the Present +Time_. Dr. MURDOCK, the well-known translator of Mosheim's History, has +published a translation of the celebrated Syriac version of the New +Testament, called the _Peshito_. + + * * * * * + +PROFESSOR HACKETT, of the Newton Theological Institution, has added to his +claims of distinction in sacred learning by a very able _Commentary on the +Acts of the Apostles_, (published by John P. Jewett & Co., of Boston). It +is much praised by the best critics. The last _Bibliotheca Sacra_ complains +that there is a decline of activity in this department, and that in +theology and biblical criticism no important works are now in progress. + + * * * * * + +Mr. MELVILLE's new novel, _The Whale_, will be published in a few days, +simultaneously, by the Harpers and by Bentley of London. + + * * * * * + +Mr. HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT, with the general character of whose works our +readers must be familiar, will publish immediately (through Charles +Scribner), _The Captains of the Old World, from the Persian to the Punic +Wars_. The volume embraces critical sketches of Miltiades, Themistocles, +Pausanias, Xenophon, Epaminondas, Alexander, and Hannibal, as compared with +modern generals--not _lives_ but strategetical accounts of their campaigns, +reviewed and described according to the rules and views of modern military +science--the armature and mode of fighting in all the various nations--the +fields of battle, from personal observation or the best modern +travels--with the modern names of ancient places, so that the routes of the +armies can be followed on any ordinary map. The causes of the success or +failure of this or that action are shown in a military point of view, and +the characters of the men are epigrammatically contrasted with those of the +men of the late French and English wars, involving incidental notices and +critiques of modern fields. The work is of course spirited and well +proportioned, and as Mr. Herbert is confessedly one of the best critics of +ancient manners and history, it will scarcely need any reviewer's +endorsement to insure for it an immediate and very great popularity. + + * * * * * + +A new edition of _St. Leger, or the Threads of Life_, by Mr. KIMBALL, has +just been published by Putnam, who, we understand, has now in press a +sequel to that remarkable and eminently successful novel. Mr. Kimball's +abilities as a writer of tales are not as well illustrated in this +performance as in several shorter stories, which will soon be collected and +reissued with fit designs by Darley. In these we think he has exhibited a +very unusual degree of pathos and dramatic skill, so that scarcely any +compositions of their class in American literature have such a power upon +the feelings or are likely to have a more permanent fame. Mr. Kimball is +one of the small number among our young writers who do not disdain +elaborately to _finish_ what they choose to submit for public criticism. + + * * * * * + +A new edition of Mr. JUDD's remarkable novel of _Margaret_ has just been +published, in two volumes, by Phillips & Sampson, of Boston, and the same +house has nearly ready _Memoirs of Sarah Margaret Fuller_, in two volumes, +edited by William H. Channing and Ralph Waldo Emerson. It will probably +embrace a large selection of her inedited writings. + + * * * * * + +The Rev. Dr. TEFFT, of Cincinnati, has published (John Ball, Philadelphia +and New-Orleans,) a very interesting and judicious work under the title of +_Hungary and Kossuth, or an American Exposition of the Hungarian +Revolution_. Dr. Tefft appears to have studied the subject well and to have +made as much of it as was warranted by his materials. + + * * * * * + +Mr. GREELEY has just published in a handsome volume (De Witt & Davenport) +his _Glances at Europe_, consisting of the letters written for the +_Tribune_ during his half year abroad. We frequently entirely disagree with +the author in matters of social philosophy, but we have the most perfect +confidence in the honesty of his searching after truth, and in these +letters, which were written under very apparent disadvantages, and are here +put forward modestly, we are inclined to believe there is for the mass of +readers more that is new in fact and sensible in observation than is +contained in any other volume by an American on Europe. Even when writing +of art, Mr. Greeley never fails at least to entertain. + + * * * * * + +Mr. JOHN L. WHEELER, late the treasurer of the state of North Carolina, has +in the press of Lippencott, Grambo, & Co., of Philadelphia, _Historical +Sketches_ of that State, from 1584 to 1851, from original records, official +documents, and traditional statements. It will be in two large octavo +volumes. Dr. Hawks has for some time had in preparation a work on the same +subject. + + * * * * * + +One of those wrongs for which there is no sufficient remedy in law, has +been perpetrated by Derby, Miller & Co., of Auburn, in getting up a life of +Dr. Judson, to anticipate that by the widow of the great missionary and +deprive her of the best part of the profits to which she is entitled. Their +excuse is, "A public character is public property, and we will do with one +as we please." + + * * * * * + +MRS. H. C. CONANT, (wife of the learned Professor Conant of the university +of Rochester), has published (through Lewis Colby) _The Epistle of St. Paul +to the Philippians, practically Explained by_ Dr. AUGUSTUS NEANDER. Mrs. +Conant, as we have before had occasion to observe, is one of the most able +and accomplished women of this country, and this version of Neander is +worthy of her. + + * * * * * + +A small volume entitled _Musings and Mutterings by an Invalid_, has been +published by John S. Taylor. The style is rather careless, sometimes, but +the work appears to be informed with a genuine earnestness, and to be +underlaid with a vein of good sense that contrasts strongly with much of +the desultory literature brought out in similar forms. + + * * * * * + +Dr. LARDNER's _Handbooks of Natural Philosophy and Astronomy_ have been +republished by Blanchard & Lea, of Philadelphia (12mo., pp. 749); carefully +revised; various errors which had escaped the attention of the author +corrected; occasional omissions supplied; and a series of questions and +practical examples appended to each subject. The volume contains treatises +on mechanics; hydrostatics, hydraulics, pneumatics, and sound, and optics. + + + + +The Fine Arts. + + +The London _Art Journal_ for October praises Mr. BURT's engraving of Anne +Page, issued this year by the _American Art-Union_, and thus refers to the +principal engravings announced for 1852: + + The prospectus of this society for the present year + announces a large engraving by Jones, from Woodville's + picture of "American News;" a small etching of this + work accompanies the "Bulletin," to which reference has + just been made. The composition is clever, but we must + warn our friends on the other side of the Atlantic, + that it is not by the circulation of such works as + this, a feeling for true Art will be generated among + their countrymen. The subject is common-place, without + a shadow of refinement to elevate its character; it is, + we dare say, national, and may, therefore, be popular; + but they to whom is intrusted the direction of a vast + machine like the American Art-Union, should take + especial care that all its operations should tend to + refine the taste and advance the intelligence of the + community. Our own Mulready, Wilkie, and Webster, have, + we know, immortalized their names by a somewhat + analogous class of works, in which, nevertheless, we + see humor without vulgarity, and truth without + affectation. + + * * * * * + +The Philadelphia Art-Union issues this year two very beautiful engravings +from the well-known masterpieces of Huntington, _Mercy's Dream_ and +_Christiana and her Children_, from the celebrated collection of the late +Edward C. Carey,--an appreciating patron by whose well-directed liberality +the arts, especially painting and engraving, had more advantage than has +been conferred by any other individual in this country. _Mercy's Dream_ has +been engraved by A. H. Ritchie of this city, and _Christiana and her +Children_ by Andrews & Wagstaff of Boston, each on surfaces of sixteen by +twenty-two inches; and we know of no more perfect examples of combined +mezzotint, stipple, and line engraving. The management may well be praised +for such an exercise of judgment as secures to the subscribers of the +Art-Union two such beautiful works. + +A recent visit to Philadelphia afforded us an opportunity to visit its +public galleries. Among the additions lately made to that of the Art-Union +is one of the finest compositions of Mr. Cropsey, in which the +characteristics of the scenery of Italy are combined with remarkable +effect. From a bold and vigorously executed foreground, marked by chesnut +and cypress tress, the eye is attracted by groves and streams, and convents +and palaces, and ruined temples and aqueducts, reposing under such a sky as +bends over that land alone, away to shining and sleeping waters that seem +to reach close to the gates of paradise. _The Coast of Greece_, by Paul +Weber of Philadelphia, is in the grand and imposing style of Achenbach. +There is a breadth and massiveness and solemn grandeur in this picture +which clearly indicate that the artist, who has hitherto given his +attention altogether to landscapes, has in such efforts his true vocation. +_Hagar and Ishmael in the Desert_, by A. Woodside, is a cabinet picture +which would be regarded as good beside any of the many great productions +which illustrate the same subject. In color and composition it is +excellent. Mr. Woodside is the painter of a large and attractive picture, +_The Introduction of Christianity into Britain_, which was among the prizes +of the last distribution of the American Art-Union. _Lager Beer_, by C. +Schnessele, is a genre picture, illustrative of German character in +Philadelphia at the present day. The scene is an interior of a large beer +saloon, by gaslight, in which a dozen or fifteen persons with brimming cups +are gathered round a table where a trio are singing songs of the +fatherland. The drawing, grouping, light and shade, are highly effective. +Mr. Schnessele is a Frenchman, a pupil of Delaroche, and has been in the +United States about three years. His works exhibit that skill in detail and +general execution which is a result of a cultivation very rare among +American painters. _Waiting the Ferry_, by W. T. Van Starkenburgh, is a +landscape with cattle and human figures, with some of the best qualities +conspicuous in Backhuysen's works of a similar character. _Cattskill +Creek_, by G. N. T. Van Starkenburgh,--a brother of the last mentioned +painter,--is full of the beauty of that condition of nature which soothes +the restless spirit of man, when + + She glides + Into his darker musings, with a mild + And healing sympathy, that steals away + Their sharpness, ere he is aware. + +Mr. Winner has some vigorous heads of old men, and other artists whom our +limits will not suffer us to mention particularly are represented by +various creditable works. + +As the plan of the Philadelphia Art-Union is essentially different from +that of any other in this country, we quote from a circular in its last +"Reporter" an explanatory paragraph: + + "The distinguishing and most important feature in our + plan, is that which gives the annual prize-holders the + right of selecting their prizes from among the + productions of American Art in any part of the United + States. This plan was adopted as the one which would + best secure the object for which we have been + incorporated, viz., "The Promotion of the Arts of + Design in the United States." It is evident that the + distribution of fifty prize certificates among our + members, as was the case at our last annual + distribution, with which the prize-holders themselves + could purchase their own pictures any where in the + United States, is preferable to any plan which empowers + a committee, composed of a limited number of managers, + with the entire right to control the funds involved in + the purchase, and make the selection of such a number + of pictures. In the one case, individual taste, and + local predilection for some particular style of art, or + certain class of artists, may influence the decision of + a mere picture-buying committee in the selection and + purchase of the whole number of the prizes; but in the + other case, the various taste of a large number of + prize-holders, residing in different sections of our + vast country, is made to bear upon Art, and, + consequently, there must ensue a diffusion of knowledge + upon a subject wherein those persons themselves are the + interested parties. Should a subscriber to the + Art-Union of Philadelphia, residing in St. Louis, be + allotted a prize certificate of one hundred dollars, he + has the option to order or select his picture in that + city, and thereby encourage the Fine Arts at home, just + the same as if that Art-Union were located where he + lived, and with just as much advantage to the artist as + though it were the result of that progress in art, in + his vicinity, which should cause the production of such + a picture. And there can be no doubt of the judicious + selection on the part of such a subscriber. No man with + a hundred dollars to spend for a picture, would be + likely to make such a purchase without having some + knowledge on the subject himself, or without consulting + persons of acknowledged taste in the matter; thereby + insuring more general satisfaction to all concerned, + than would a picture of the same value awarded by + chance from the selection of a committee located in + another part of the country. No committee, no matter + how great its judgment, or how well performed its + duties, could effect a more satisfactory arrangement; + for in our case the prize-holder and the artist are the + contracting parties, without the intervention of the + Art-Union, or the payment of any commission on either + side. Another argument in favor of the Art-Union of + Philadelphia is the fact, that by this plan the + Managers are merely the agents who collect the means + which are necessary to promote and foster the Arts of + Design in our rapidly progressing country, while the + prize-holders themselves actually become the persons + who make the disbursements. Thus giving to the people + at large the means to exercise a public and universal + taste in the expenditure of a large sum--the aggregate + of small contributions--large as the liberality of our + countrymen, by their generous subscription, may assist + us in accumulating." + + * * * * * + +The _Western-Art Union_ of Cincinnati has lately published a large and +excellent engraving by Booth, of _the Trapper's Last Shot_, and for the +coming year, it will give in the same style, _The Committee of Congress +Drafting the Declaration of Independence_, from a painting by +Rothermel--Mr. Jefferson represented reading the Declaration to the other +members of the committee before it was reported to the Congress. For prizes +of the next distribution the Union will have a bust of Washington, and one +of Franklin, in marble, by Powers, and a beautiful medallion in relief by +Palmer, and two pictures are engaged or purchased from Whittridge, two from +Rothermel, two from McConkey, one from Read, one from Mrs. Spencer, one +from Ranney, and one from Terry, besides others from Sontag, Duncanson, +Eaton, and Griswold, and other western painters. + + * * * * * + +Mr. HEALY has finished his large picture of _Daniel Webster replying to +Robert Y. Hayne, in the Senate of the United States_, and it has been some +time on exhibition at the rooms of the National Academy of Design. The +canvas is twenty-six feet in length by fifteen in breadth, and embraces one +hundred and thirty figures. Many persons not senators are introduced, and +it is difficult to conceive a reason for this, in the cases of several of +them, who were not then, if they were ever, at Washington. The picture has +good points, but on the whole we believe it is admitted to be a failure--so +far as the fit presentation of the illustrious orator is concerned, a most +complete and melancholy failure. Engravings of it however, if well +executed, may perhaps compete with Messrs. Anthony's immense piece of +mezzotint, studded with copies of Daguerreotypes, which has been published +under the title of Mr. Clay's last Appearance in the Senate. + + * * * * * + +The illustrations of the life of MARTIN LUTHER published at Hamburg, from +the pencil of GUSTAV KOeNIG, of which the fourth series has just appeared, +continue to receive the praise which has been bestowed on the previous +series. The first, which came out in 1847, consisted of fifteen engravings, +the second in 1848 of ten engravings, the third in 1849 of ten, and the +fourth, which concludes the work, has thirteen. The accompanying +letter-press is furnished by Professor Gelzer, and though very elaborate, +is spoken of as only partially successful. The illustrations on the other +hand are said by competent judges to leave nothing to be desired, and as +far as the earlier series are concerned, we can almost agree with even so +unbalanced commendation. Mr. Koenig has every where taken care to give +faithful portraits of the personages represented, which adds to the value +of his work, for foreign readers especially. At the same time his +compositions are undeniably most spirited and effective. + + * * * * * + +The long expected work of LEUTZE, _Washington Crossing the Delaware_, is +now at the Stuyvesant Institute, and it appears generally to have given the +most perfect satisfaction to the critics; to be regarded indeed as the best +picture yet given to the world in illustration of American history. Our +readers will remember that we have already given in the _International_ a +particular description of it, from a German writer who saw it at +Duesseldorf: so that it is unnecessary here to enter further into details on +the subject. We are pleased to learn that Messrs. Goupil, who own it, +intend to have this work engraved in line by Girardet in the highest style, +and upon a plate of the largest size ever used. The print will indeed cover +a surface equal to that of the famous one of Cardinal Richelieu, which some +of our readers will not fail to remember. + + + + +Noctes Amicae. + + +The "figure we cut" in the Crystal Palace was for a long time a subject of +sneers by amiable foreign critics, and a cause of ingenuous shame by too +sensitive young gentlemen in white gloves, who went over from New-York and +Boston to see society and the show. We remember that Mr. Greeley was said +to be making himself appear excessively ridiculous by writing home that we +should come out very well notwithstanding we had no Kohinoor, and but +little to boast of in the way of fancy articles in general. An excellent +neighbor of ours down Broadway, who left London before the tide turned, +sent a letter to the _Evening Post_, we believe, of the regret felt by the +"respectable Americans in Europe" that we had been so weak as to enter into +this competition at all. But see what the _Times_ has said of the matter +since the first of October: + + "One point that strikes us forcibly on a survey of the + last few months is, the extraordinary contrast which + the attractive and the useful features of the display + present. It will be remembered that the American + department was at first regarded as the poorest and + least interesting of all foreign countries. Of late it + has justly assumed a position of the first importance, + as having brought to the aid of our distressed + agriculturists a machine which, if it realizes the + anticipations of competent judges, _will amply + remunerate England for all her outlay connected with + the Great Exhibition_. The reaping machine from the + United States is the most valuable contribution from + abroad to the stock of our previous knowledge that we + have yet discovered." + +Again: + + "It seems to us that the great event of 1851 will + hereafter be found blemished by a _grand oversight_. + Attracted by the novelty and splendid success of the + occasion, we have certainly yielded more admiration to + the grand and the beautiful than to the unostentatious, + the practical, and the useful. The captivating luxuries + which are adapted to the few have entered more largely + into our imaginations and our hearts, than those + objects which are adapted to supply the homely comforts + and the unpretending wants of the many. We have thought + more of gold and silver work--of silks, satins, and + velvets--of rich brocades, splendid carpets, glowing + tapestry, and all that tends to embellish and adorn + life, than of the vast and still unexplored fields + which the necessities of the humbler classes all over + the world are constantly opening up to us. France has + thus been enabled to run quietly away with fifty-six + out of about one hundred and sixty of our great medals, + while to the department of American "notions" we owe + the most confessed and the most important contribution + to our industrial system." + +Again: + + "Well worthy of notice is the Maynard primer, a + substitution for the percussion-cap, which is simply a + coil of paper, at intervals in which spots of + detonating powder are placed. The action of the doghead + carries out from the chamber in which it is contained + this cheap and self-acting substitute for the ordinary + gun apparatus, which is a vast economy in expense as + well as in time. In its character the invention is one + which admits of being easily adapted to every + description of firearms at present commonly in use, and + that at a trifling cost." + +In the same pleasant way are noticed our Mr. Hobbs, his locks, and a score +or so of similarly ingenious productions; and as for Mr. Palmer's _leg_, it +is declared the chief astonisher contributed by all the world--so perfect, +indeed, that some of the journals recommend a general cutting off of +natural understandings in order to adopt the always comfortable and +well-conditioned substitute introduced by our countryman. + + * * * * * + +A considerable number of shameless women and feeble-minded men met in +convention--a sort of caldron of sickly sentimentalism, brazen atheism, and +whatever is most ridiculous and disgusting in the diseases of society,--at +Worcester in Massachusetts, on the 14th of October, and continued in +session three days. A Mrs. Rose (who, we understand, generally makes the +leading speeches of the Tom Paine birth-night festivals in New-York), and +Abby Kelley Foster, and William L. Garrison, were among the principal +actors. The main propositions before this convention, so far as they can be +ascertained from the newspaper reports, involve the setting aside of the +laws of God as they are revealed in the Bible; the laws of custom in all +savage and civilized, pagan and Christian communities, in every age; and +the laws of analogy--vindicating the existing order of society--in every +grade of animated nature. Complaints have been made that persons of +character, like the Rev. H. W. Beecher of Brooklyn, in some way sanctioned +the mummery by writing letters to its managers. Such eccentricities may be +pardonable, but the public will be sure to remember them. + + * * * * * + +A female, probably a cheap dress maker, named Dexter, has been lecturing in +London on the "Bloomer costume;" and it appears to have been assumed by +her, as well as in many English journals, that this ridiculous and indecent +dress is common in American cities, where, as of course our readers know, +if it is ever seen, it is on the persons of an abandoned class, or on those +of vulgar women whose inordinate love of notoriety is apt to display itself +in ways that induce their exclusion from respectable society. _Punch_ has +some very clever caricatures of "Bloomerism," but it would surprise the +conductor of that sprightly paper to learn, that, except persons who walk +our St. Giles's at late hours, scarcely any New-Yorker has ever seen such a +dress. + + * * * * * + +There have never been remarked so many sudden deaths and suicides in Paris +and in the suburbs, as within the last few weeks. The following is one of +the most extraordinary cases of suicide: + + "The body of a young man was found floating in the + Seine, near St. Cloud. The corpse appeared to have + remained some days in the water. The deceased appeared + to have been about 25 years of age, and to have + belonged to the higher class of society. His features + were handsome, his hair brown, and his beard long and + black. His linen was of the finest quality, and his + other clothing made in the latest fashion. A small + glass bottle, corked and sealed, was suspended from his + neck, in which was a paper writing, containing the + following words:--"I am about to die! young, it is + true! and if my body be discovered a complaint may + perhaps be made. This I do not wish. An angel appeared + to me in a dream, who said to me, 'I am the Genius of + France. Royal blood circulates in your veins; but + before you occupy the sovereign power, which parties + are disputing in France, you must go to see the Eternal + Sovereign of all things.... God! ... die. Let the + waters of the Seine swallow your body. Fear not, you + shall revive when the hour of your triumph shall have + struck! I have spoken!' and the angel disappeared. I + have accomplished his desire. But I leave this writing + in case the celestial envoy may have deceived me. I + pray the Attorney-General to prosecute him, + + "THE FUTURE KING OF FRANCE." + + + +The body has not been claimed, and the police authorities have instituted +an inquiry to discover his family. + + * * * * * + +The following clever and extraordinary story is told in the Paris _Droit_: + + "A commercial traveller, whose business frequently + called him from Orleans to Paris, M. Edmund D----, was + accustomed to go to an hotel, with the landlord of + which he was acquainted. Liking, like almost all + persons of his profession, to talk and joke, he was the + favorite of everybody in the hotel. A few days ago he + arrived, and was received with pleasure by all, but it + was observed that he was much less gay than usual. The + stories that he told, instead of being interesting as + formerly, were of a lugubrious character. On Thursday + evening, after supper, he invited the people of the + hotel to go to his chamber to take coffee, and he + promised to tell them a tale full of dramatic incident. + On entering the room, his guests saw on the bed, near + which he seated himself, a pair of pistols. 'My story,' + said he, 'has a sad _denouement_, and I require the + pistols to make it clearly understood.' As he had + always been accustomed, in telling his tales, to + indulge expressive pantomime, and to take up anything + which lay handy, calculated to add to the effect, no + surprise was felt at his having prepared pistols. He + began by narrating the loves of a young girl and a + young man. They had both, he said, promised, under the + most solemn oaths, inviolable fidelity. The young man, + whose profession obliged him to travel, once made a + long absence. Whilst he was away, he received a legacy, + and on his return hastened to place it at her feet. But + on presenting himself before her he learned that, in + compliance with the wishes of her family, she had just + married a wealthy merchant. The young man thereupon + took a terrible resolution. 'He purchased a pair of + pistols, like these,' he continued, taking one in each + hand, 'then he assembled his friends in his chamber, + and, after some conversation, placed one under his + chin, in this way, as I do, saying in a joke that it + would be a real pleasure to blow out his brains. And at + the same moment he pulled the trigger.' Here the man + discharged the pistol, and his head was shattered to + pieces. Pieces of the bone and portions of the brain + fell on the horrified spectators. The unfortunate man + had told his own story." + + * * * * * + +We find in the _Evening Post_ the following notice of the citation of Mr. +G. P. R. JAMES in the courts, under the head of "Brown Linen against Law +Calf:" + + "Immediately previous to the sort of intermittent + equinoctial which has recently prevailed, the full + bench of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts, presided + over by Chief Justice Shaw, were at session at Lenox, + in the county of Berkshire. Among the cases that were + brought up for adjudication, was an action of _trespass + quare clausum fregit_, brought by a farmer against a + number of individuals, who in common with many others, + had, at a time last winter, when the public highway was + rendered impassible by ice and snow, made a temporary + road over the farmer's grounds without leave or license + first had and obtained. Mr. Sumner, of Barrington, the + leading counsel of the county, appeared for the + defence, and in enforceing his views, took occasion to + read from Macaulay's late History of England, several + passages to illustrate the state of land communication + in that county, at the time of which he writes. From + that author it appears that upon one occasion, worthy + Mr. Pepys, our friend of the 'naif' diary, while + travelling somewhere (we think in Lincolnshire, but + have not the book before us for reference), got his + '_belle voiture_', as Cardinal Richelieu used to call + his antediluvian vehicle, stuck in the mud so that it + could not be extricated, and Mr. Sumner went on to + argue, that by the common law, Mr. Pepys then was, and + anybody now is, justified, in cases of necessity, in + passing over private domains without becoming liable to + the owner in damages. Mr. Porter, recently District + Attorney, was for the plaintiff, and, in answering that + part of his adversary's argument, to which we have + above alluded, claimed the indulgence of the court to + state, that a certain author had been quoted upon the + other side, who had hardly as yet been recognized as + authority in a court of justice, upon a mere law + question, at least; that such being the case, he + claimed the liberty to read from another writer, the + late historiographer royal of Great Britain, a + gentleman whose statements were certainly entitled to + overrule the others in a question of that sort; and + thereupon Mr. Porter commenced reading the first + chapter of Mr. G. P. R. James's new novel of 'The + Fate,' in which he so indignantly denounces the falsity + of Macaulay's picture of the social condition of + England two centuries ago. This created no little + merriment, both on the bench and among the gentlemen of + the robe, all admitting that it was the first time + within their knowledge, that the black linen and the + brown paper had usurped the place of the consecrated + law calf, before an American tribunal at least." + + * * * * * + +A French critic has just revealed a portrait of the favorite of Lamartine +and numerous other writers on the Revolution--St. Just, from which it +appears that he was the author of a long poem entitled _Orgaut_. The +opinion which the historians have caused the public to form of this man +was, that he was a fanatic--implacable, but sincere--a ruthless minister of +the guillotine, but deeming wholesale slaughter indispensable for securing, +what he conscientiously considered, the welfare of the people. He was, we +might imagine, something like the gloomy inquisitors of old, who thought it +was doing God service to burn heretics at the stake. + + A correspondent of the _Athenaeum_ observes, that "To + justify this opinion, one would have expected to have + found in a poem written by him when the warm and + generous sentiments of youth were in all their + freshness, burning aspirations for what it was the + fashion of his time to call _vertu_, and lavish + protestations of devotedness to his country and the + people. But instead of that, the work is, it appears, + from beginning to end, full of the grossest + obscenity--it is the delirium of a brain maddened with + voluptuousness--it is coarser and more abominable than + the 'Pucelle' of Voltaire, and is not relieved, as that + is, by sparkling wit and graces of style. In a moral + point of view, it is atrocious--in a literary point of + view, wretched. The discovery of such a production will + be a sad blow to the stern fanatics of these days, who + look on the blood-stained men of the Revolution with + admiration and awe--who make them the martyred saints + of their calendar--and whose hope by day and dream by + night is to have the opportunity of imitating them. Of + the whole band St. Just has hitherto been considered + the purest--he has always been accepted as the very + personification of 'virtue' in its most sublime form. + Even the immaculate Maximilien Robespierre himself has + never had the honor of having admitted that he + approached him in moral grandeur. And now, behold! this + 'virtuous' angel is proved to have been a debauched and + loathsome-minded wretch! But, to be sure, that was + before he began cutting off heads, and wholesale + murders on the political scaffold redeem a multitude of + sins." + + * * * * * + +A few days ago the French President received a gift of the most rich +bouquets from the market women of Paris, and at the same time an +application for permission to visit him at the palace. This was granted, +and full three hundred of the flower of the female merchants in fruit and +vegetables of the faubourgs, dressed in their utmost finery, were received +by the officers in attendance, and ushered through the saloons of the +Elysee. + +The London _Times_ correspondent says: + + "After admiring the furniture, paintings, &c., they + were conducted to the gardens, where they enjoyed + themselves for some time. Refreshments were then laid + out in the dining-room, and they were invited to + partake of the President's hospitality. The champagne + was passing round pretty freely when the President + entered. They received him with acclamations of '_Vive + Napoleon!_' The President, after the usual salutations, + took a glass of wine, and proposed the toast, '_A la + sante des dames de la Halle de Paris!_' which was + responded to in a becoming manner; and '_La sante de + Napoleon!_' was in turn proposed by an elderly matron, + and loudly cheered. The ladies were particularly + pleased at finding the bouquets presented yesterday + arranged in the dining-room. Louis Napoleon chatted for + some time with his visitors, and expressed, in warm + terms, the pleasure he felt at seeing them under his + roof. The ladies requested that one of their + companions--the most distinguished for personal + attractions, as for youth--should be allowed to embrace + him in the name of the others. _Such_ a request no man + could hesitate to grant, and the fair one who was + deputed to bestow the general salute advanced, blushing + and trembling, to perform the duty. Louis Napoleon went + through the pleasing ceremony with much credit to + himself, and apparently to the great satisfaction of + those present. In a short time the visitors asked + permission to retire, after again thanking the + President for the honor he did them. Before separating + they united in one last and loud acclamation of '_Vive + Napoleon_.'" + + * * * * * + +JOHNSON J. HOOPER, the author of _Captain Simon Suggs_, and several other +works similar to that famous performance in humor and in the +characteristics of southern life, is editor of _The Chambers Tribune_, +published somewhere in Alabama. Few papers have as much of the quality +which is commonly described by the word "spicy." In a late number we have +an election anecdote which will serve as a specimen. The hero is Colonel A. +Q. Nicks, of Talladega. We quote: + + "The Colonel had incurred, somehow, the enmity of a + certain preacher--one who had once been ejected from + his church and subsequently restored. The parson, + besides, was no favorite with his neighbors. Well, when + Nicks was nominated, parson Slashem 'norated' it + publicly that when Nicks should be elected, his (the + parson's) land would be for sale, and himself ready to + emigrate. Well, the Colonel went round the county a + time or two, and found he was 'bound to go;' and + shortly after arriving at that highly satisfactory + conclusion, espying the parson in a crowd he was + addressing, sung out to him: 'I say, brother Slashem, + begin to fix up your _muniments_--draw your deeds--I am + going to represent these people, _certain_! But before + you leave, let me give you thanks for declaring your + intention as soon as you did; for on that account I am + getting all of your church and the most part of your + neighbors!' The parson has not been heard of since." + + * * * * * + +In a late number of Mr. CHARLES DICKENS'S _Household Words_, there is an +amusing and suggestive paper on Nursery Rhymes, wherein the ferocious +morals embalmed in jog-trot verse are indicated, for the reflective +consideration of all parents. A terrible case is made out against these +lisping moralists: slaughter, cruelty, bigotry, injustice, wanton delight +in terrible accidents and awful punishments for trivial offences, ferocity +of every kind--such a mass of "shocking notions" as would people our +nurseries with demons, were it not for the happy indifference of children +to anything but the rhyme, rhythm, and quaint image. + + * * * * * + +In France, we have the _Univers_ regretting that Luther was not burnt, and +that the church has not still the power to use the stake; and in England we +have the _Rambler_, a journal which is considered the organ of the moderate +party, as distinct from that of the _Tablet_, boldly expressing wishes and +hopes of an even more debatable character. The creed of the king of Naples +is authoritatively declared to be that of every Catholic. In a late number +it is said-- + + "Believe us not, Protestants of England and Ireland, + for an instant, when you see us pouring forth our + liberalisms. When you hear a Catholic orator at some + Catholic assemblage declaring solemnly that 'this is + the most humiliating day in his life, when he is called + upon to defend once more the glorious principle of + religious freedom'--(especially if he says any thing + about the Emancipation Act and the 'toleration' it + _conceded_ to Catholics)--be not too simple in your + credulity. These are brave words, but they mean + nothing; no, nothing more than the promises of a + parliamentary candidate to his constituents on the + hustings. _He is not talking Catholicism, but nonsense + and Protestantism_; and he will no more act on these + notions in different circumstances, than _you_ now act + on them yourselves in your treatment of him. You ask, + if he were lord in the land, and you were in a + minority, if not in numbers yet in power, what would he + do to you? That, we say, would entirely depend upon + circumstances. If it would benefit the cause of + Catholicism, he would tolerate you: if expedient he + would imprison you, banish you, fine you; possibly, _he + might even hang you_. But be assured of one thing: he + would never tolerate you for the sake of the 'glorious + principles of civil and religious liberty.'" + +Again, it is said-- + + "Why are we so anxious to make the church wear the garb + of the world? Why do we stoop, and bow, and cringe + before that enemy whom we are sent to conquer and + _annihilate_? Why are we ashamed of the deeds of our + more consistent forefathers, _who did only what they + were bound to do by the first principles of + Catholicism_?... Shall I foster that damnable doctrine, + that Socinianism, and Calvinism, and Anglicanism, and + Judaism, are not every one of them mortal sins, like + murder and adultery? Shall I lend my countenance to + this unhappy persuasion of my brother, that he is not + flying in the face of Almighty God every day that he + remains a Protestant? Shall I hold out hopes to him + that I will not meddle with his creed if he will not + meddle with mine? Shall I lead him to think that + religion is a matter for private opinion, and tempt him + to forget _that he has no more right to his religious + views than he has to my purse, or my house, or my + life-blood_? No! Catholicism is the most intolerant of + creeds. It is intolerance itself, for it is truth + itself. We might as rationally maintain that a sane man + has a right to believe that two and two do not make + four, as this theory of religious liberty. Its impiety + is only equalled by its absurdity." + +We refer above to the _Univers_, the organ of the Roman Catholic party in +France. The editor of that print, at a dinner recently given for Bishop +Hughes, at the Astor House, was complimented in a toast by our excellent +collector, Maxwell, who, of course, endorses the following choice +paragraph: + + "A heretic," observes the editor of the _Univers_, + "examined and convicted by the church, used to be + delivered over to the secular power, and punished with + death. Nothing has ever appeared to us more natural, or + more necessary. More than 100,000 persons perished in + consequence of the heresy of Wicliff; a still greater + number by that of John Huss; it would not be possible + to calculate the bloodshed caused by the heresy of + Luther, and _it is not yet over_. After three centuries + we are at the eve of a recommencement. The prompt + repression of the disciples of Luther, and a crusade + against Protestantism, would have spared Europe three + centuries of discord and of catastrophes in which + France and civilization may perish. It was under the + influence of such reflections that I wrote the phrase + which has so excited the virtuous indignation of the + Red journals. Here it is:--'For my part, I avow frankly + my regret is not only that they did not sooner burn + John Huss, but that they did not equally burn Luther; + and I regret, further, that there had not been at the + same time some prince sufficiently pious and politic to + have made a crusade against the Protestants.' Well, + this paragraph might have been better penned; but as I + have the happiness to belong to those who care little + about mere forms of expression, I will not revoke it. I + accept it as it is, and with a certain satisfaction at + finding myself faithful to my opinions. That which I + wrote in 1838 I still believe. Let the Red + philanthropists print their declaration in any sort of + type they please, and as often as they please. Let them + add their commentaries, and place all to my account. + The day that I cancel it, they will be justified in + holding the opinion of me which I hold of them." + +Far be it from us to meddle with the quarrels of the theologians--even by +reprinting any attack an adversary makes on the worst of them. We merely +copy these paragraphs from famous defenders of the Catholic Church, as an +act of justice to her, against those slandering Protestants who say she has +changed--she, the infallible and ever consistent! + + * * * * * + +The "leading journal of the world" occasionally indulges in a pleasantry, +as in this example: + + "A surgical operation under the influence of chloroform + has just terminated fatally, to the regret of the + public, to whom the patient was well known. One of the + brown bears in the Zoological Garden suffering from + cataract of the eye, an eminent surgeon and a party of + _gelehrter_ assembled to undertake his cure. Bruin was + tempted to the bars of his den by the offer of some + bread, and then secured by ropes and a muzzle. After a + stout resistance, chloroform was administered. In a + state of insensibility the cataract was removed, and + the bonds untied, but the patient showed no signs of + life! Feathers to the nose, cold buckets of water, and + bleeding produced no effect. Poor Bruin had gone + whither the great tortoise, two ostriches, and the + African lion have preceded him, for the managers of the + Berlin gardens are decidedly unlucky. With the trifling + drawback of the death of the subject, the operation was + skilfully and successfully performed." + + * * * * * + +We find the following anecdote as related by Baron OLDHAUSEN: it conveys an +admirable lesson: + + "Charles XII., of Sweden, condemned a soldier, and + stood at a distance from the place of execution. The + fellow, when he heard this, was in hopes of a pardon, + but being assured that he was mistaken, replied with a + loud voice, 'My tongue is still free, and I will use it + at my pleasure.' He did so, and charged the king, with + much insolence, and as loud as he could speak, with + injustice and barbarity, and appealed to God for + revenge. The king, not hearing him distinctly, inquired + what the soldier had been saying. A general officer, + unwilling to sharpen his resentment against the poor + man, told his majesty he had only repeated with great + earnestness, 'That God loves the merciful, and teaches + the mighty to moderate their anger.' The king was + touched by these words, and sent his pardon to the + criminal. A courtier, however, in an opposite interest, + availed himself of this occasion and repeated to the + king exactly the licentious expressions which the + fellow uttered, adding gravely, that 'men of quality + ought never to misrepresent facts to their sovereign.' + The king for some moments stood pausing, and then + turned to the courtier, saying, with reproving looks, + 'This is the first time I have been betrayed to my + advantage; but the lie of your enemy gave me more + pleasure than your truth has done.'" + + * * * * * + +A report is current in Europe that an expedition is to be sent from France +into the sea of Japan. It is said that it will consist of a frigate, a +corvette, and a steamer, under the orders of a Rear-Admiral who has long +navigated in the Pacific Ocean and the Chinese seas. "This expedition +will", it is added, "be at once military, commercial, and scientific, and +has for object to open to European commerce states which have been closed +against it since the sixteenth century." Notwithstanding the sanction which +the principle involved received a few years ago, from an illustrious +American, we cannot regard the proposed expedition otherwise than as an act +of the most shameless villainy by a nation. The Japanese are a peculiar +race, and our readers who have seen a series of articles on the subject of +their civilization and polity in late numbers of the _Tribune_, will not be +disposed to think the people of Japan inferior to those of France, just +now, in any of the best elements of a state. We, as well as the Japanese +themselves, understand perfectly well that the opening of their ports to +the Europeans and Americans, would be followed by the demoralization and +overthrow of their empire. + + * * * * * + +Mr. CARLYLE, in the following brief composition, of which the original was +shown us a few days ago, furnishes a model for autograph writers. + + "George W. C----, of Philadelphia, wants my autograph, + and here gets it: much good may it do him. + + T. CARLYLE. + + LONDON, _November 2, 1850_." + + * * * * * + +The following on the silence of wives under conjugal infelicity, is as +sententious and as true as any thing in La Bruyere: + + "However much a woman may detest her husband, the + grievance is too irremediable for her to find any + comfort in talking about it; there is never any + consolation in complaining of great troubles--silence + and forgetfulness are the only anodynes. Women have + generally a Spartan fortitude in the matter of + husbands: if they have made an unblessed choice, it is + a secret they instinctively conceal from the world, + cloaking their sufferings under every imaginable color + and pretence. They apparently feel that to blame their + husbands is to blame themselves at second-hand." + + * * * * * + +We published in the _International_ some time ago a sketch, pleasantly +written, of the eccentric Lord Chancellor Thurlow, and his terrible +swearing. The following from the Manchester _Courier_, shows that the great +lawyer has a worthy follower in Baron Platt: + + "At the recent assizes at Liverpool, a stabbing case + from Manchester was heard before Baron Platt, who, in + summing up to the jury, used these words: 'One of the + witnesses tells you that he said to the prisoner, 'If + you use your knife you are a d----d coward;' I say + also,' continued the learned judge, apparently in deep + thought, 'that he was a d----d coward, and any man is a + d----d coward who will use a knife.'" + + * * * * * + +The printers of London are endeavoring to establish, in imitation of the +_Printers' Library_ in New-York, a literary institution to be called "The +Printers' Athenaeum," and have received considerable encouragement from +compositors, and the trades connected with printing, as typefounders, +bookbinders, engravers, letter-press and copper-plate printers, &c., the +members of which are eligible. The object is to combine the social +advantages of a club with the mental improvement of a literary and +scientific institution, and to adapt them for the position and +circumstances of the working classes. All persons engaged in the production +of a newspaper, or book, such as editors, authors, reporters, readers, &c., +although strictly not belonging to the profession, are competent to become +members, and persons not so connected will be permitted to join the society +on their being proposed by a member. It is expected that the Athenaeum will +be opened before the commencement of the ensuing year. + + * * * * * + +A MADRID correspondent writes to one of the London journals: + + "The infant princess to whom the Duchess of Montpensier + has just given birth has received the names of Maria + Amalia Luisa Enriqueta Felipa Antonia Fernanda Cristina + Isabel Adelaida Jesusa Josefa Joaquina Ana Francisca de + Asis Justa Rufina Francisca de Paula Ramona Elena + Carolina Bibiana Polonia Gaspara Melchora Baltasara + Augustina Sabina." + +Doubtless there was an extra charge for the christening. + + + + +Historical Review of the Month. + + +An increasing activity is observable in whatever points to the next +Presidential election, and several eminent persons have recently defined +their relations to the most exciting and important questions to be affected +in that contest. Among others, ex-Vice President Dallas, ex-Secretary of +the Navy Paulding, and Mr. Henry Clay, have written letters on the state of +the nation as respects the slavery question. Meantime, the people of South +Carolina have repudiated the doctrine and policy of secession by electing +only two members in the whole state favorable to their views in the +Convention called for the consideration of that subject; Georgia and +Mississippi have given overwhelming majorities on the same side; and +Pennsylvania appears to have asserted not less unquestionably her +attachment to the Union and the Compromise, in electing Mr. Bigler +governor. + +The affairs of the several states are without special significance except +in the matter of elections, of which we have indicated the general results +as altogether favorable to the Union and the enforcement of the laws of +Congress. Returns, however, are at the time when we go to press so +imperfect, that we attempt no particular details respecting candidates or +majorities. In Pennsylvania and Ohio, as in the Southern States, the +democrats have a perfect ascendency; in Maryland the whigs have been +successful; in California it appears to be doubtful as to the Governor, but +the democrats have a control in the Legislature. + +The most important news from California relates to the movement for +dividing the state, and making that part of it lying south of the +thirty-seventh degree of north latitude a separate commonwealth. If this +project should be carried into effect, slavery would, no doubt, be +introduced into Southern California; but there is not much prospect of its +being successful. A convention of delegates from the southern counties, to +be held at Los Angelos, Santa Barbara, or Monterey, is called for the +purpose of interchanging sentiments on the subject, so that the Legislature +may take the matter into consideration. The accounts from the mining +districts continue to be favorable; improvements are in successful progress +in various gold-bearing districts; and the yield of the precious metal is +such as to reward the enterprise and industry of the miner. San Francisco +and Sacramento have again been disgraced by the conduct of scoundrel bands +usurping the functions of government and putting to death such persons as +were obnoxious to their prejudices or guilty of offences which the law +officers might have punished. + +From the Mormon City at Salt Lake, intelligence is received of continued +prosperity. Mr. Bernheisel, last year agent for the territory in this city +to obtain a library for Utah, is chosen territorial delegate to Congress. + +After a protracted contest for Provisional Bishop of the diocese of +New-York, Dr. Creighton, of Tarrytown, has been elected to that office. He +is a native of this city, and graduated in Columbia College in 1812, +afterwards officiated in Grace Church, was next appointed Rector of St. +Mark's, Bowery, whence he was called to Tarrytown, where he now resides. + +Louis Kossuth, having been set at liberty by the Turkish government, will +very soon arrive in the United States, where extraordinary demonstrations +of respect will be offered to him in several of the principal cities. About +nine months ago Kossuth committed to the care of Mr. Frank Taylor, a young +American visiting Broussa, the MS. of an address to the people of this +country, which was published in a translation, at New-York, on the 18th of +October--having been withheld until that time lest its earlier appearance +should affect injuriously the interests of its author in Europe. The +friends of liberty will rejoice that Kossuth is free, and in a land of +liberty; but it is not improbable that future events will demonstrate, that +the Austrian government was not altogether unreasonable in protesting +against his enlargement. Kossuth and Mazzini are scarcely less terrible to +tyrants, as writers, than as the leaders of armies and the masters of +cabinets. + +Although extraordinary prosperity in a state may sometimes lead to +arrogance and injustice, the position of this country toward several +European powers who intimate an intention of compelling a certain policy on +our part in regard to Spain, must insure a triumphant consideration of the +_Union_, in which we have a strength that may laugh their leagues to scorn. +The details of an arrangement between Spain, France, and Great Britain, are +not yet perfectly understood in the United States, but it is generally +known that some plan has been adopted which will be likely to draw from the +Secretary of State a sequel to his letter to Mr. Hulseman, the Austrian +_charge d'Affaires_, whose experiences were made known a year ago. + +The vessels of the American exploring expedition in search of Sir John +Franklin returned--the _Advance_ on the 30th of September, and the +_Rescue_, which had separated from her on the banks of Newfoundland, a few +days after. It is probable that a full account of this heroic enterprise, +so honorable to its authors and to all engaged in it, will soon be given to +the public, by Dr. Kane, or one of the other officers; and as any such +brief statement as we could present of its history would be unsatisfactory, +we shall not now go further into details than to say no traces of Sir John +Franklin, except such as we have already noticed, were discovered, and that +the crews came home after a year's absence in excellent health. The nearly +simultaneous return of the British expedition has caused considerable +discussion in England. It appears to be felt very generally that it is not +justifiable to abandon the pursuit until the fate of Sir John Franklin has +been demonstrated by actual observation. Such satisfaction is due to +science and to humanity. Proposals are now, we believe, before the +Admiralty, for sending into the Arctic seas one or more steamers, with +which alone the search can be advantageously prosecuted further. + +A New-York ship, the Flying Cloud, made the passage round the Horn to San +Francisco in ninety days--shorter than any voyage on record. Her fastest +day's run was 374 miles, beating the fleetest of Collins's steamers by +fifty miles. In three successive days she made 992 miles. At this rate she +would cross the Atlantic in less than nine days. + +Discouraging accounts have been received respecting the whale fleet in the +North Pacific Ocean. After wintering in the gulf of Anadir, the fleet +attempted to pass into the Arctic Ocean, when it became surrounded with +fields of ice, by which not less than eight vessels are known to have been +destroyed, and it was supposed that upwards of sixty others had experienced +the same fate. Some of the crews of the lost ships reached the main land, +but afterwards got into difficulty with the natives and in consequence many +of them were killed. The whale fishing, during the season, is said to have +been an entire failure, and a number of vessels were on their return to the +northwest coast, in the hope of retrieving their ill fortune. + +Several disastrous "accidents" have recently happened in various parts of +the country. On the 21st September, the steamer James Jackson, exploded +near Shawneetown in Illinois, killing and wounding 35. On the 26th +September, the Brilliant exploded near Bayou Sara, killing a yet larger +number; and many such events of less importance, but probably involving +more or less criminality, have occurred on steamboats and railroads in +various parts of the country. The most destructive fire since the +completion of our last number was one at Buffalo, commencing on the 25th +September, and continuing until 200 buildings, on more than 30 acres, were +destroyed, and an immense number of poor families were made homeless. The +fire extended over the meanest part of the town, but the loss is estimated +at $300,000. For several days a destructive gale prevailed along the +eastern coast, producing an immense loss of life; a large number of dead +bodies were taken from the holds of vessels. Great excitement has prevailed +in Gloucester, Newburyport and other towns, a large portion of whose +populations were exposed to the fury of the storm. Further east, on the +coast of Nova-Scotia, the remains of sixty persons, lost during the storm, +are said to have been buried in one grave. No less than 160 vessels, of all +kinds, are reported to have been wrecked. + +The Grand Jury sitting at Philadelphia have found bills of indictment +against four white men and twenty-seven negroes, for treason, in +participating in the outrage at Christiana, in the state of Pennsylvania. +At Syracuse on the 1st of October an attempt was made to rescue a slave, +but he was captured and his abettors arrested and conveyed to Auburn for +examination. + +The jury in the case of Margaret Garrity, who was tried at Newark for the +murder of a man named Drum, who seduced her under a promise of marriage, +and afterwards deserted her for another, rendered a verdict of not guilty, +on the ground of insanity, on the 13th ult. This disgraceful proceeding had +precedents in New Jersey, and it appears to have excited but little of the +indignation which it deserved. Margaret Garrity murdered her paramour under +extraordinary circumstances, which, doubtless, would have had proper weight +with the pardoning power. It is evidently absurd to say, that she, more +than any murderess, was insane, and the jury were altogether unjustifiable +in rendering a verdict which is unsupported by evidence; and of an +assumption of the authority of the Governor of the State, in setting at +liberty a criminal for whose conduct there appeared to be merely some sort +of extenuation or excuse in the conduct of her victim. It would be as well +to have no juries as juries so ignorant or reckless of their obligations. + +A general council of the once grand confederacy of the Five Nations of +Indians, the Mohawks, Onondagas, Oneidas, Cayugas, Senecas, and +Tuscaroras--was held at Tonawanda on Friday, September 19th, to celebrate +the funeral rites of their last Grand Sachem, John Blacksmith, deceased, +and of electing a Grand Sachem in his place, electing Chiefs, &c. Ely S. +Parker (Do-ne-ha-ga-wa), was proclaimed Grand Sachem of the Six Nations. He +was invested with the silver medal presented by Washington to the +celebrated war-chief Red Jacket, and worn by him until his death. + +The new Canadian Ministry, so far as formed, is as follows: +Inspector-General, Mr. Hincks; President of the Council, Dr. Rolph; +Postmaster-General, Malcolm Cameron; Commissioner of Crown Lands, William +Morris; Attorney-General for Canada West, W. B. Richards; Attorney-General +for Canada East, Mr. Drummond; Provincial Secretary, Mr. Morin. Three +appointments are yet to be made. The government will be eminently liberal. + +A revolution set on foot in Northern Mexico promises to be successful. The +chief causes alleged by the conspirators are the enormous duties upon +imports, and too severe punishment for smuggling, the excessive authority +of the Central Government over the individual States, the quartering of +regular troops upon citizens, the mal-administration of the national +finances, the bad system of military government inherited from the Spanish +establishment, and the want of a system of public education. The insurgents +declare that they lay aside all idea of secession or annexation, yet it is +not impossible that the movement will soon have such an end. The revolution +commenced at Camargo, where the insurgents attacked the Mexicans, and came +off victorious, having taken the town by storm, with a loss on the side of +the Mexicans of 60. The Government troops were intrenched in a church with +artillery. The revolutionists are commanded by Carvajal, who has also with +him two companies of Texans. At our last dates, the 9th of September, they +had taken the town of Reynosa, meeting but little resistance. One +field-piece and a quantity of other arms fell into their hands. General +Canales, the Governor of Tamaulipas, was approaching Metamoras, and General +Avalajos was on the way to meet him, whether as friend or foe is uncertain. +It was supposed that Canales would assume the chief command of the +revolutionists. + +From New Grenada we learn that General Herrara has entirely subdued the +revolt lately undertaken, and that the country is quiet. A revolt has +broken out in Chili (a country remarkable in South America for the +stability of its affairs), and in several towns the troops had declared in +favor of a new man for the Presidency: the disorganizers were sweeping all +before them, and the country was in a most excited condition. From +Montevideo the latest intelligence is so confused that we can arrive at no +definite conclusion, except that the domestic war is prosecuted with +unusual savageness. An insurrection has broken out in the states of San +Salvador and Guatemala. General Carrera, with a force of 1,500 men, had +attacked the enemy in San Salvador, who mustered 4,000 strong, and defeated +them with a loss of four men killed. He then evacuated the country. + +From Great Britain we have no political news of importance. The royal +family were still in the north. The whig politicians appear to be agitating +new schemes of parliamentary reform, and several distinguished persons have +recently made addresses to their constituents. Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton is +before his county as a protectionist candidate for the House of Commons, +with fair prospects. The submarine telegraph to France has been completed. +The great cable which was intended to reach the whole distance proved too +short by half a mile, owing to the irregularity of the line in which it was +laid down. It was pieced out with a coil of wire coated with gutta percha. +This will, however, have to be taken up and supplied with cable. The +connection is complete with France, and messages are sent across with +perfect success. Mr. Lawrence, the American minister, having gone to +Ireland, for the purpose of seeing the scenery of the country, has been +embarrassed with honors; public addresses have been presented to him, +banquets given to him, railway directors and commissioners of harbors have +attended him in his journeys, a steamboat was specially fitted up to carry +him down the Shannon, and in every way such demonstrations of interest and +honor were offered as were suitable for a people's reception of a messenger +from the home of their children. The visit of Mr. Lawrence promises some +happy results in directing attention to projects for a steam communication +directly with the United States. The differences between the government of +Calcutta and the court of Hyderabad, have been arranged for the present +without any actual confiscation of the Nizam's territory. A considerable +sum has been lodged in the hands of the Resident, and security offered for +the partial liquidation of the remainder. Moolraj, the ex-Dewan of Mooltan, +expired on the 11th August, while on his journey to the fortress of +Allahabad, and the Vizier Yar Mohammed Khan, of Herat, died on the 4th of +June. The eldest son of the latter, Seyd Mahommed Khan, has succeeded to +the throne of Herat. Dost Mohammed is resolved to oppose him, and, for that +purpose, has placed his son, Hyder Khan, at the head of a large army, with +orders to invade Herat. The Admiralty have advertised for tenders for a +monthly mail line of screw-steamers to and from England and the west coast +of Africa. The ports to be touched at are Goree, Bathurst, Sierra Leone, +Monrovia (Liberia), Cape Coast Castle, Accra, Whydah Badagry, Lagos, Bonny, +Old Calabar, Cameroons, and Fernando Po. The whole range of the slave coast +will thus be included; and it is understood that the object of the line, +which, in the first instance, of course will carry scarcely any passengers +or letters, is to promote the extinction of that traffic, not only by +cultivating commerce with the natives, but by the rapid and regular +information it will convey from point to point. Of the Caffre war, we have +intelligence by an arrival at Boston direct from the Cape of Good Hope, +later than has been received by way of England. There appeared to be some +prospect of the war being brought to a close; reinforcements of troops had +arrived, and Sir Harry Smith, the Governor, was in excellent spirits. In +the mean time, however, the Caffres and Hottentots continued making sad +havoc on the settlements, and the people were suffering from a lack of +provisions, and cattle and stock were starving to death. Efficient measures +however had in England been taken for their relief. + +From France, in the recess of the Assembly, there is no news of general +importance. The persecution of the press, by which more than one ruler of +that country has heretofore lost his place, is persevered in, and a large +number of editors (including two sons of Victor Hugo) have been imprisoned +and fined. All foreigners intending to reside permanently in Paris, or +exercise any calling there, must henceforth present themselves personally +to the authorities, and obtain permission to remain. This new and stringent +police-regulation is, it is said, to be extended to every department of +France. Such fear of foreigners contrasts strangely with the unsuspicious +welcome which they receive in America and England. The President is +evidently not willing his "subjects" should know what the world says of his +administration. + +The Government of Naples has caused to be published a formal reply to Mr. +Gladstone's letters to Lord Palmerston in respect to its unjustifiable +severity to political prisoners, particularly the ex-minister Poerio. It +mainly consists of an exposure of some inaccuracies of detail on the part +of Mr. Gladstone, such as an exaggeration of the number of political +prisoners at present confined in Naples, the alleged innocence of Poerio, +the unhealthy state of the prisons, &c.; but it does not do away with the +charge of savage severity in the punishment of Poerio and his +fellow-prisoners, which formed the main accusation advanced by Mr. +Gladstone against the Neapolitan Government, and it is not likely in any +considerable degree to affect the opinion of the world on the subject. The +Papal Court has addressed a note to the French Government, complaining of +the toleration, by the latter, of incendiary writings against Italian +states. The note observes that if the French journals were not to publish +these writings, the demagogues would be at a loss for organs of +circulation, because the English newspapers are much less read in Italy. +The Emperor of Austria has been making a tour through his Italian +provinces, in which he has been received with "respectful silence" in +streets deserted by all except the military and ungoverned children. + +From a diplomatic correspondence between the representatives of Austria and +Turkey, in regard to the liberation of Kossuth and his companions, it is +very evident that Austria feels very keenly the discomfiture she has +sustained, and that she will be very likely to resent this disregard of her +wishes, by seeking cause of war with Turkey. She is stirring up rebellion +in the Bosnian provinces, and concentrating her troops upon that frontier, +to take advantage of any contingency that may arise. The authorities in +Hungary have been absurd enough to evince the spleen of the Austrians in +hanging effigies of Kossuth and his associates, condemned for treason _in +contumace_. + +In Portugal vigorous preparations were being made for elections, in which +it was expected that Saldanha's friends would generally be defeated. At the +Cape de Verde Islands a terrible disease, described as a black plague, was +very fatal. + +The differences between the governments of Turkey and Egypt are still +unsettled, and the fate of the Egyptian railroad therefore remains +doubtful. + + + + +Scientific Discoveries and Proceedings of Learned Societies. + + +Some recently received numbers of the _Nordische Biene_ contain interesting +information concerning the organization and labors of the Russian +Geographical Society. This body, like the Geographical and Statistical +Society organized a few weeks since in New-York, is modelled upon the +general plan of the Royal Geographical Society in London. It is, however, +far from being so universal in its aims; in fact, its members confine their +investigations to the Russian empire, and to tribes and countries +contiguous therewith. The annual meeting is held on April 5th. At the last, +two prizes were given; one of these was a gold medal offered by Prince +Constantine, the other a money prize for the best statistical work. The +medal was awarded to Lieutenant-Colonel Buckhardt Lemm, for a series of +astronomical observations, determining the latitude and longitude of some +four hundred places in Russia and the neighboring regions in Asia, as far +as Mesched in Persia. These determinations are of particular value for the +geography of inner Asia. The statistical prize was awarded to a Mr. +Woronoff for a historical and statistical survey of the educational +establishments in the district of St. Petersburg from 1715 to 1828. It is +in fact a history of the development of mental culture in that most +important part of the empire. The annual report, giving a survey of the +Society's doings, was interesting. A special object of attention is the +publication of maps of the separate governments or provinces. The Society +had also caused an expedition to be sent to the Ural, under Colonel +Hoffmann. The triangulation of the country about Mount Ararat had been +completed. A map of Asia Minor had been prepared by Col. Bolotoff, and sent +to Paris to be engraved; a map of the Caspian sea, and the countries +surrounding it, was nearly completed by Mr. Chanykoff; the same savan was +still at work on a map of Asia between 35 deg. and 40 deg. north latitude, and 61 deg. +and 81 deg. east longitude; two astronomers were engaged in that region making +observations to assist in its completion. Another map of Kokand and Bokhara +was also forthcoming, and the Society had employed Messrs Butakoff and +Chanykoff to prepare a complete atlas of Asia between 33 deg. and 56 deg. north +latitude and 65 deg. and 100 deg. east longitude. A Russian nobleman had given +12,000 rubles to pay for making and publishing a Russian translation of +Ritter's geography, but the society had determined not to undertake so +immense a work (it is some 15,000 printed pages), and had determined only +to take up those countries which have an immediate interest for Russia, +using along with Ritter a great body of materials to which he had not +access. These countries are Southern Siberia, Northern China, Turan, +Korassan, Afghanistan and Persia. In Ritter's work these occupy 4,500 +pages. No doubt the labors of the Society will greatly enrich geographical +science. + +The Society have in hand an expedition to the peninsula of Kamschatka, in +which they have been greatly assisted by the contributions of private +persons. They also promise a classification of a vast collection of objects +they have received bearing upon the ethnography of Russia. + + * * * * * + +We learn from the last Number of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ that the +French government has lately made a literary acquisition of no ordinary +interest and value. A French gentleman of the name of Perret has been +engaged for six years in exploring THE CATACOMBS UNDER ROME, and copying, +with the most minute and scrupulous fidelity, the remains of ancient art +which are hidden in those extraordinary chambers. Under the authority of +the papal government, and assisted by M. Savinien Petit, an accomplished +French artist, M. Perret has explored the whole of the sixty catacombs +together with the connecting galleries. Burying himself for five years in +this subterranean city, he has thoroughly examined every part of it, in +spite of difficulties and perils of the gravest character: for example, the +refusal of his guides to accompany him; dangers resulting from the +intricacy of the passages, from the necessity for clearing a way through +galleries choked up with earth which fell in from above almost as fast as +it was removed; hazards arising from the difficulty of damming up streams +of water which ran in upon them from above, and from the foulness of the +air and consequent difficulty of breathing and preserving light in the +lower chambers;--all these, and many other perils, have been overcome by +the honorable perseverance of M. Perret, and he has returned to France with +a collection of drawings which extends to 360 sheets in large folio; of +which 154 sheets contain representations of frescoes, 65 of monuments, 23 +of paintings on glass (medallions inserted in the walls and at the bottoms +of vases) containing 86 subjects, 41 drawings of lamps, vases, rings, and +instruments of martyrdom to the number of more than 100 subjects, and +finally 90 contain copies of more than 500 sepulchral inscriptions. Of the +154 drawings of frescoes two-thirds are inedited, and a considerable number +have been only lately discovered. Amongst the latter are the paintings on +the celebrated wells of Platonia, said to have been the place of interment, +for a certain period, of St. Peter and St. Paul. This spot was ornamented +with frescoes by order of Pope Damasus, about A.D. 365, and has ever since +remained closed up. Upon opening the empty tomb, by permission of the Roman +government, M. Perret discovered fresco paintings representing the Saviour +and the Apostles, and two coffins [tombeaux] of Parian marble. On the +return of M. Perret to France, the minister of the interior (M. Leon +Faucher) entered into treaty with him for the acquisition of his collection +for the nation. The purchase has been arranged, and the necessary amount, +upwards of 7,500_l._, obtained by a special vote of the National Assembly. +The drawings will be published by the French government in a style +commensurate with their high importance, both as works of art and as +invaluable monuments of Christian antiquity. + + * * * * * + +A Dr. JECKER has left the Paris _Academy of Sciences_ $40,000 to found an +annual prize in organic chemistry. + + + + +Recent Deaths. + + +The celebrated Mrs. SHERWOOD, the most popular and universally known female +writer of the last generation, died on the 22d of September, at Twickenham, +in England. She was a daughter of Dr. George Butt, chaplain to George III., +vicar of Kidderminster, and rector of Stanford, in the county of Worcester. +Dr. Butt was the representative of the family of Sir William De Butts, well +known as physician to Henry VIII., and mentioned as such by Shakspeare. +Mary Martha Butt, afterwards Mrs. Sherwood, was born at Stanford, +Worcestershire, on the 6th of May, 1775. In 1803 she married her cousin, +Henry Sherwood, of the 53d regiment of foot. In 1805 she accompanied her +husband to India, where, in consequence of her zealous labors in the cause +of religion amongst the soldiers and natives dwelling around her, Henry +Martyn and the Right Rev. Daniel Corrie, D.D., late Bishop of Madras, +became acquainted with her, and the intimacy which then commenced also +remained unbroken until death. Her principal works were that favorite tale +of _Little Henry and his Bearer_, _The Lady of the Manor_, _The Church +Catechism_, _The Nun_, _Henry Milner_, _The Fairchild Family_, and more +recently, _The Golden Garland of Inestimable Delights_. In some of her +later compositions, she evinced a tendency to the doctrine of the +Universalists, which lessened her popularity. The great number of her books +prevents an enumeration of even the most popular of them. Mrs. Sherwood's +husband, Captain Sherwood, expired, after a most trying illness, at +Twickenham, on the 6th of December, 1849; the fatigue she went through, in +devoted attention to him, and the bereavement she experienced at the +severance by fate of a union of nearly half a century, were the ultimate +causes of her own demise. Though she was of advanced age, her mental +faculties never failed her, and she preserved a religious cheerfulness of +mind to the last. She expired, surrounded by her family, leaving one son, +the Rev. Henry Martyn Sherwood, Rector of Broughton-Hacket, and Vicar of +White Ladies Aston, Worcestershire, and two daughters. The elder daughter +is the wife of a clergyman, and mother of a numerous family. The younger +has always resided with her parent; she has of late years ably assisted in +her mother's writings, and bids fair to sustain well her reputation. She +has been, we are informed, intrusted, by her mother's especial desire, with +the papers containing the records of Mrs. Sherwood's life, which is +intended soon for publication. The editions of Mrs. Sherwood's writings +have been numerous. The best is that of the Harpers, in ten or twelve +volumes. + + * * * * * + +Rev. JAMES H. HOTCHKISS, died at Prattsburgh, Steuben county, New-York, on +September 2d, aged seventy years. He was the author of a _History of the +Churches in Western New-York_, published in a large octavo volume, about +two years ago, and had just preached his half-century sermon. He was the +son of Rev. Beriah Hotchkiss, the pioneer missionary of large sections of +the State of New-York. The son graduated at Williams College, 1800; studied +theology with Dr. Porter, of Catskill, was ordained by an Association, +installed at East Bloomfield in 1802, removed to Prattsburgh in 1809, and +there labored twenty-one years. The _Genesee Evangelist_ gives the +following sketch of his character: + +"He had a mind of a strong, masculine order, well disciplined by various +reading, and remarkably stored with general knowledge. The doctrinal views +of the good old orthodox New England stamp, which he imbibed at first, he +maintained strenuously to the last; and left a distinct impression of them +wherever he had an opportunity to inculcate them. His labors, through the +half-century, were 'abundant,' and indefatigable; and to him, more than to +any other one man probably, is the Genesee country indebted for its present +literary, moral and religious character. Under his ministry there were many +religious revivals, and some signal ones, especially in Prattsburgh. The +years 1819 and 1825 were eminently signalized in this way. He had the +happiness of closing his life in the scenes of his greatest usefulness." + + * * * * * + +BRIGADIER-GENERAL HENRY WHITING, of the Quartermaster's Department, died at +St Louis, Mo., on the 16th of September. He arrived at St Louis, as we +learn from the _Republican_ of the 17th, on Sunday, the 14th, from a tour +of official duty in Texas, being in his usual health. On Tuesday afternoon, +while in his room at the Planter's House, he was, without any premonition +whatever, stricken dead instantaneously. The cause of his death, in all +probability, was an affection of the heart. His remains were taken to +Jefferson Barracks on the 17th, for interment. + +Gen. Whiting, who was among the oldest officers of the army, was a native +of Lancaster, in Massachusetts, a son of Gen. John Whiting, also a native +of that place. He was not only an accomplished officer in the department in +which he has spent a large portion of his life, but he made extensive +scientific and literary attainments, and was a gentleman of great private +worth. In hours stolen from official duties, he was for many years a large +contributor to the literature of the country. His articles which from time +to time appeared in the _North-American Review_, were of an eminently +practical and useful character, and highly creditable to his scholarship +and sound judgment. The biographical sketch of the late President Taylor, +in a recent number, confined chiefly to his military life, and embracing a +graphic description of the extraordinary successes in Mexico, was from Gen. +Whiting's pen. He published a few years ago an important collection of the +_General Orders of Washington_. He was deserving of praise also as a poet +and as a dramatic author. + + * * * * * + +COMMODORE LEWIS WARRINGTON, of the United States navy, died in Washington, +on the 12th October, after a painful illness. He was a native of Virginia, +and was born in November, 1782. From a sketch of his life in the _Herald_, +it appears that he entered the navy on the 6th of January, 1800, and soon +after joined the frigate Chesapeake, then lying at Norfolk. In this ship he +remained on the West India station until May, 1801, when he returned to the +United States and joined the frigate President, under Commodore Dale, and +soon blockaded Tripoli until 1802, when he again returned to the United +States, and joined the frigate New-York, which sailed, and remained on the +Mediterranean station until 1803. On his return from the Mediterranean he +was ordered to the Vixen, and again joined the squadron which had lately +left, where he remained during the attack on the gun-boats and batteries of +Tripoli, in which the Vixen always took part. In November, 1804, he was +made acting lieutenant; and in July, 1805, he joined the brig Siren, a +junior lieutenant. In March, 1806, he joined the Enterprise, as first +lieutenant, and did not return to the United States until July, 1807--an +absence of four years. After his return in 1807 he was ordered to the +command of a gun-boat on the Norfolk station, then under the command of +Commodore Decatur. This was a position calculated to damp the ardor of the +young officer, as it was so far below several he had filled. He, however, +maintained his usual bearing for two years, when he was again ordered to +the Siren as first lieutenant. On the return of this vessel from Europe, +whither she went with dispatches, Lieut. Warrington was ordered to the +Essex, as her first lieutenant, in September of the same year. In the Essex +he cruised on the American coast, and again carried out dispatches for the +government, returning in 1812. He was then ordered to the frigate Congress +as her first lieutenant, and sailed, on the declaration of war, with the +squadron under Commodore Rodgers, to intercept the British West India +fleet, which was only avoided by the latter in consequence of a heavy fog, +which continued for fourteen days. He remained in the Congress until 1813, +when he became first lieutenant of the frigate United States, in which he +remained until his promotion to the rank of master commandant, soon after +which he took command of the sloop-of-war Peacock. While cruising in the +Peacock, in latitude 27 deg. 40 min., he encountered the British +brig-of-war Epervier. His own letter to the Secretary of the Navy, +descriptive of that encounter, is as follows: + + + At Sea, April 29, 1814. + + SIR:--I have the honor to inform you that we have this + morning captured, after an action of forty-two minutes, + his Britannic Majesty's brig Epervier, rating and + mounting eighteen thirty-two pound cannonades, with one + hundred and twenty-eight men, of whom eleven were + killed and fifteen wounded, according to the best + information we could obtain. Among the latter is her + first lieutenant, who has lost an arm, and received a + severe splinter wound in the hip. Not a man in the + Peacock was killed, and only two wounded, neither + dangerously. The fate of the Epervier would have been + decided in much less time, but for the circumstance of + our foreyard having been totally disabled by two + round-shot in the starboard quarter, from her first + broadside, which entirely deprived us of the use of our + fore-topsails, and compelled us to keep the ship large + throughout the remainder of the action. This, with a + few topmast and topgallant backstays cut away, and a + few shot through our sails, is the only injury the + Peacock has sustained. Not a round-shot touched our + hull, and our masts and spars are as sound as ever. + When the enemy struck he had five feet of water in his + hold; his maintopmast was over the side; his mainboom + shot away; his foremast cut nearly away, and tottering; + his forerigging and stays shot away; his bowsprit badly + wounded, and forty-five shot-holes in his hull, twenty + of which were within a foot of his water-line, above + and below. By great exertions we got her in sailing + order just as night came on. In fifteen minutes after + the enemy struck, the Peacock was ready for another + action, in every respect, except the foreyard, which + was sent down, fished, and we had the foresail set + again in forty-five minutes--such was the spirit and + activity of our gallant crew. The Epervier had under + convoy an English hermaphrodite brig, a Russian, and a + Spanish ship, which all hauled their wind, and stood to + the E. N. E. I had determined upon pursuing the former, + but found that it would not be prudent to leave our + prize in her then crippled state, and the more + particularly so as we found she had on board one + hundred and twenty thousand dollars in specie. Every + officer, seaman, and marine did his duty, which is the + highest compliment I can pay them. + + I am, &c., + L. WARRINGTON. + +Capt. Warrington brought his prize safely home, and was received with great +honor, because of his success in the encounter. In the early part of the +year 1815, he sailed in the squadron under Commodore Decatur, for a cruise +in the Indian Ocean. The Peacock and Hornet were obliged to separate in +chasing, and did not again meet until they arrived at Tristan d'Acunha, the +place appointed for rendezvous. After leaving that place, the Peacock met +with a British line-of-battle ship, from which she escaped, and gained the +Straits of Sunda, where she captured four vessels, one of which was a brig +of fourteen guns, belonging to the East India Company's service. From this +vessel Captain Warrington first heard of the ratification of peace. He then +returned to the United States. While in command of the Peacock, Capt. +Warrington captured nineteen vessels, three of which were given up to +prisoners, and sixteen destroyed. + +Since the close of the war, Commodore Warrington has filled many +responsible stations in the service for a long time, having been on +shore-duty for twenty-eight years. He was appointed one of the Board of +Naval Commissioners, and subsequently held the post of chief of the Bureau +of Ordnance in the Navy Department, which post he held at the time of his +death. His whole career of service extended through a period of more than +fifty-one years, during all of which time he was respected, and held as one +of the most prominent officers of the United States navy. At the time of +his death there was but one older officer in service. + + * * * * * + +JOHN KIDD, M.D., of the University of Oxford, died suddenly early in +September. He was formerly Professor of Chemistry, and since 1822 Regius +Professor of Medicine. Dr. Kidd did good service in his time, as his +publications testify, in various departments of mineralogical, chemical, +and geological research, and about ten years ago he put forth some +observations on medical reform. Dr. Kidd was one of the eminent men +selected under the Earl of Bridgewater's will to write one of the +well-known "Bridgewater Treatises." The subject was, _On the Adaptation of +External Nature to the Physical Condition of Man_. Together with the Regius +Professorship of Medicine, to which the mastership of Ewelme Hospital, in +the county of Oxford, is attached, Dr. Kidd held the office of librarian to +the Radcliffe Library. + + * * * * * + +THE EARL OF DONOUGHMORE died on the 12th of September, at Palmerstown +House, county of Dublin, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. He was +lord-lieutenant of the county of Tipperary, and had a seat in the House of +Lords as a British peer with the title of Viscount Hutchinson, of +Knocklofty, but will be better remembered in history as the gallant Colonel +Hutchinson, who was one of the parties implicated in the celebrated escape +of Lavalette, in the year 1815, shortly after the restoration of the +Bourbons. He is succeeded in his extensive estates in the south of Ireland +by Viscount Suirdale, his lordship's son by his first wife, the daughter of +the Lord Mountjoy, who lost his life in the royal service during the Irish +rebellion of 1798. + +WILLIAM NICOL, F.R.S.E., died in Edinburgh on the 2nd of September, in his +eighty-third year. Mr. Nicol commenced his career as assistant to the late +Dr. Moyes, the eminent blind lecturer on natural philosophy. Dr. Moyes, at +his death, bequeathed his apparatus to Mr. Nicol, who then lectured on the +same subject. His contributions to the _Edinburgh Philosophical Journal_ +were various and valuable; the more important being his description of his +successful repetition of Doebereiner's celebrated experiment of igniting +spongy platina by a stream of cold hydrogen gas; and his method of +preparing fossil woods for microscopic investigation, which led to his +discovery of the structural difference between the arucarian and coniferous +woods, by far the most important in fossil botany. But the most valuable +contribution to physical science, with which his name will ever be +associated, was his invention of the single image prism of calcareous spar, +known to the scientific world as Nicol's prism. + + * * * * * + +The Rev. G. G. FREEMAN, the well-known English missionary, died on the 8th +of September at the baths of Homburg, in Germany, of an attack of rheumatic +fever. Mr. Freeman had only a little while before returned home from a +visit to the mission stations in South Africa, and his latest important +labor was the writing of a volume, in which the social, spiritual, and +political condition of South Africa was depicted. Mr. Freeman was +fifty-seven years of age. He was born in London, educated at Hoxton +Academy, and after many years of successful devotion to his profession in +England, he proceeded in 1827 to Madagascar, under the direction of the +London Missionary Society, and for nine years labored there with eminent +energy and success. The share he had in translating the Scriptures, in +preparing school-books, and in superintending the mission schools, cannot +be recited in this brief sketch, but was such as greatly facilitated the +progress of the Christian religion, till, in 1835, the queen proscribed +Christianity, and virtually expelled the missionaries from the island. Mr. +Freeman then went to the Cape of Good Hope, where he became much interested +in South African missions, but the ill health of his wife compelled his +return to England, where he arrived about the end of 1836. New duties and +labors now awaited him; he had to confer with the directors, and to visit +the constituents of the London Missionary Society in all parts of the +kingdom. The want of an Institution for the education of the daughters of +missionaries having been strongly felt, he took a leading part in the +establishment of a school for that purpose in the village of Walthamstow, +where he had become connected with the congregational church. In 1841, the +loss of health having obliged the Rev. William Ellis to relinquish his +official connection with the London Missionary Society, he was appointed +foreign secretary, and appeared at the annual meeting of that year in that +capacity, and shared with Dr. Tidman the labor of reading the report. How +faithfully he fulfilled the duties of that office at home, and at what risk +of health and life he sought, in a late voyage to the Mauritius, and +journey throughout Southern Africa, to inform himself and the Society of +the true state of affairs, both in Madagascar and Caffraria, his +publications will show. + + * * * * * + +JAMES RICHARDSON, the enterprising African traveller, died on the 4th of +March last, at a small village called Ungurutua, six days distant from +Kouka, the capital of Bornou. Early in January, he and the companions of +his mission, Drs. Barth and Overweg, arrived at the immense plain of +Damergou, when, after remaining a few days, they separated, Dr. Barth +proceeding to Kanu, Dr. Overweg to Guber, and Mr. Richardson taking the +direct route to Kouka, by Zinde. There it would seem his strength began to +give way, and before he had arrived twelve days' distance from Kouka, he +became seriously ill, suffering much from the oppressive heat of the sun. +Having reached a large town called Kangarras, he halted three days, and +feeling himself refreshed he renewed his journey. After two days, during +which his weakness greatly increased, he arrived at the Waddy Mallaha. +Leaving this place on the 3d of March, he reached in two hours the village +of Ungurutua, when he became so weak that he was unable to proceed. In the +evening he took a little food and tried to sleep--but became very restless, +and left his tent supported by his servant. He then took some tea and threw +himself again on his bed, but did not sleep. His attendants having made +some coffee, he asked for a cup, but had no strength to hold it. He +repeated several times, "I have no strength;" and after having pronounced +the name of his wife, sighed deeply, and expired without a struggle about +two hours after midnight. Early in the morning, the body wrapped in linen, +and covered with a carpet, was borne to a grave four feet deep, under the +shade of a large tree, close to the village, followed by all the principal +Sheichs and people of the district. + + * * * * * + +Those who have read--and very few persons of middle age in this country +have not read--the interesting and somewhat apocryphal narrative of Captain +Riley's shipwreck on the coast of Africa and long experience of suffering +as a slave among the Arabs, will remember the amiable British Consul of +Mogadore, in Barbary, Mr. WILLIAM WILLSHIRE. While Capt. Riley, Mr. +Robbins, and others of the crew of the "Commerce" (which was the name of +the American ship that was wrecked), were in the midst of the great desert, +in utter helplessness, Mr. Willshire heard of some of them, and came to +their relief with money and provisions, and paid, himself, the price of +their ransom, redeeming them from an otherwise perpetual captivity. He took +the afflicted and worn-out Americans to his own house at Mogadore, made +them, after long suffering and privation, enjoy the luxuries of a bed and +the comforts of a home, his wife and daughters uniting with him to +alleviate their sufferings, and he afterwards supplied them with the +necessary money and provided them the means of a return to their own +country. Riley, in the latter part of his life, settled in Ohio, where the +name of _Willshire_ has been given to the town in which he lived, and we +believe our government made some demonstration of the general feeling of +gratefulness with which the American people regarded Mr. Willshire's noble +conduct in this case. Mr. Willshire was a model for consuls, and was kept +constantly in service by his government. Several years ago he was appointed +to Adrianople, where he died suddenly, at an advanced age, on the 4th of +August. + +The Paris papers announce the death at the age of seventy-six, of M. J. R. +DUBOIS,--director successively of the _Gaite_, the _Porte-Saint-Martin_, +and the _Opera_, under the Restoration,--and author of a great variety of +pieces played in the different theatres of Paris thirty or forty years ago. + +GUSTAV CARLIN, the author of several historical essays, and a novel founded +on Mexican legends, died in Berlin on the 15th of September, aged +sixty-nine. He resided several years in New-York, we believe as a political +correspondent of some German newspaper. + + + + +Ladies' Autumn Fashions. + + +The light dresses of the summer, with unimportant apparent changes, were +retained this year later than usual, but at length the more sober colors +and heavier material of the autumn have taken their places. There are +indications that furs will be much worn this season, and there are a +variety of new patterns. We select-- + +[Illustration] + +I. _The Palatine Royale in Ermine_, for illustration and description. The +palatine royale is a fur victorine of novel form, and it may fairly claim +precedence as being the first article of winter costume prepared in +anticipation of the approaching change of season. The addition of a hood, +which is lined with quilted silk, and bound with a band of ermine, not only +adds to its warmth, but renders it exceedingly convenient for the opera and +theatres. This hood, we may mention, can be fixed on and removed at +pleasure; an obvious advantage, which no lady will fail to appreciate. To +the lower part of the hood is attached a large white silk tassel. We must +direct particular attention to the new fastening attached to the palatine +royale. This fastening is formed of an India-rubber band and steel clasp, +by means of which the palatine will fit comfortably to the throat of any +lady. The band and clasp being in the inside are not visible, and on the +outside there is an elegant fancy ornament of white silk, of the +description which the French call a brandebourg. + +[Illustration] + +II. _A Palatine in Sable_, has the same form and make as that just +described, except that our engraving shows the back of one made of sable +instead of ermine. The hood is lined with brown sable-colored silk, and the +tassel and brandebourg are of silk of the same color. We need scarcely +mention that the color employed for lining the hood, and for the silk +ornaments, is wholly optional, and may be determined by the taste of the +wearer. + +[Illustration] + +The first figure in the above engraving, displays a very handsome _Walking +Dress_. It is of steel-color _poult de soie_, trimmed in a very novel and +elegant style with bouillonnees of ribbon. The ribbon employed for these +bouillonnees is steel color, figured and edged with lilac. The +bouillonnees, which are disposed as side-trimmings on the skirt of the +dress, are set on in rows obliquely, and graduated in length, the lowest +now being about a quarter of a yard long. The corsage is a pardessus of the +same material as the dress; the basque slit up at each side, and the +pardessus edged all round with ribbon bouillonnee. The sleeves are +demi-long, and loose at the ends, and slit up on the outside of the arm. +Loose under-sleeves of muslin, edged with a double frill of needlework. The +pardessus has under-fronts of white cambric or coutil, thus presenting +precisely the effect of a gentleman's waistcoat. This gilet corsage, as it +is termed by the French dressmakers, has recently been gaining rapid favor +among the Parisian belles. That which our illustration represents has a row +of buttons up the front, and a pocket at each side. It is open at the upper +part, showing a chemisette of lace. Bonnet of fancy straw and crinoline in +alternate rows, lined with drawn white silk, and trimmed with white ribbon. +On one side, a white knotted feather. Undertrimming, bouquets of white and +lilac flowers, mixed with white tulle. Over this dress may be worn a rich +India cashmere shawl. + +In the second figure we have an example of the heavy and large plaided +silks, and generally our latest Parisian plates, like this, exhibit the use +of deep fringes. Flounces of ribbon are in vogue to a degree, but are not +likely to be much worn. + +It will be seen by the first figure on this page that the European ladies +are approximating to the styles of gentlemen in the upper parts of their +costume, as American women seem disposed to imitation in the matter of +inexpressibles. Attempts to introduce the style of dress worn by the lower +orders of women in Northern Europe have failed as decidedly in England as +in this country. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The International Monthly, Volume 4, +No. 4, November 1, 1851, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY, NOV 1, 1851 *** + +***** This file should be named 37904.txt or 37904.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/9/0/37904/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci 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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