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diff --git a/43722-8.txt b/43722-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ab66ee3..0000000 --- a/43722-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9910 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 66 -No.406, August 1849, 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/license - - -Title: Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 66 No.406, August 1849 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: September 14, 2013 [EBook #43722] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, AUGUST 1849 *** - - - - -Produced by Brendan OConnor, Richard Tonsing, Jonathan -Ingram and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Library of Early -Journals.) - - - - - - - - - -BLACKWOOD'S - -EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. - -NO. CCCCVI. AUGUST, 1849. VOL. LXVI. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - CHARLES LAMB, 133 - - THE CAXTONS.--PART XV. 151 - - JONATHAN IN AFRICA, 172 - - THE GREEN HAND.--A "SHORT" YARN.--PART III. 183 - - FOR THE LAST PAGE OF "OUR ALBUM," 205 - - THE INSURRECTION IN BADEN, 206 - - LAMARTINE'S REVOLUTION OF 1848, 219 - - DIES BOREALES. NO. III. CHRISTOPHER UNDER CANVASS, 235 - - -EDINBURGH: - - WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SONS, 45, GEORGE STREET; - AND 37, PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON. - -_To whom all communications (post paid) must be addressed._ - -SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM. - -PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH. - -BLACKWOOD'S - -EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. - -NO. CCCCVI. AUGUST, 1849. VOL. LXVI. - - - - -CHARLES LAMB.[1] - - -To Charles Lamb shall be allotted--general assent has already assigned -it to him, and we have no wish to dispute his claim--a quiet, quaint -niche, apart to himself, in some odd nook or corner in the great -temple of English literature. It shall be carved from the solid oak, -and decorated with Gothic tracery; but where Madonnas and angels -ordinarily appear, there shall be all manner of laughing cherubs--one -amongst them disguised as a chimney-_sweep_--with abundance of sly and -humorous devices. Some such niches or stalls may occasionally be seen -in old cathedrals, sharing the eternity of the structure, and drawing -the peculiar regard of the curious and loitering visitor. You are -startled to find a merry device, and a wit by no means too reverential, -side by side with the ideal forms of Catholic piety. You approach to -examine the solemn-looking carving, and find, perhaps, a fox clothed in -priestly raiment--teaching, in his own way, divers lessons of morality -to the bears and geese. Such venerable and Gothic drollery suspends for -a moment, but hardly mars, the serious and sedate feelings which the -rest of the structure, and the other sculptured figures of the place, -are designed to excite. - -[1] _The Works of Charles Lamb._ - -_Final Memorials of Charles Lamb._ By THOMAS NOON TALFOURD. - -Some such peculiar place amongst our literary worthies seems, as we -have said, to be assigned by general consent to Charles Lamb, nor -are we about to gainsay his right to this position. He has all the -genius that could comport with oddity, and all the oddity that could -amalgamate with genius. With a range of thought most singularly -contracted, considering the times in which he lived, and the men by -whom he was surrounded, he has contrived, by a charming subtlety of -observation, and a most felicitous humour, to make us in love even -with that contractedness itself, which in another would be despised, -as evidencing a sluggishness and obtuseness of mind. Perhaps there are -few writers who could be named, of these later days, on whose peculiar -merits there is so little difference of opinion. As a poet, he was, -at all events, inoffensive, and his mediocrity has been pardoned him -in favour of that genius he displayed as the humorous and critical -essayist. The publication of his letters, too, has materially added -to his reputation, and confirmed him as a favourite with all to whom -his lambent and playful wit had already made him known and esteemed. -We are not aware, therefore, that we have anything to dispute, or -essentially to modify, in the verdict passed by popular opinion on this -writer. Yet something may remain to be said to assist in appreciating -and discriminating his peculiar merits as a humorist--something to -point out where praise is due, and something to draw the limits of that -praise. Moreover, his biography, as presented to us by Mr Talfourd, -claims some notice; disclosing, as it does, one of the saddest -tragedies, and one of the noblest acts of heroism, which ever afflicted -and dignified the life of a man of letters. This biography is also -written by one who is himself distinguished in the literary world, who -was an intimate friend of Lamb, and personally acquainted with those -literary characters by whom Lamb had surrounded himself, and who are -here grouped around him. Upon the whole, therefore, the _Life and -Writings of Elia_, though a subject which no longer wears the gloss of -novelty, still invites and may repay attention. - -We hardly know whether to regret it as a disadvantage to us, on the -present occasion, that we never enjoyed the slightest acquaintance with -Charles Lamb, or indeed with any of those literary friends amongst -whom he lived. We never saw this bland humorist; we never heard that -half-provoking, half-pleasing stutter, which awakened anticipation -whilst it delayed enjoyment, and added zest to the witticism which it -threatened to mar, and which it had held back, for a moment, only to -project with the happier impetus. We never had before us, in bodily -presence, that slight, black-coated figure, and those antique and -curiously-gaitered legs, which, we have also been assured, contributed -their part to the irresistible effect of his kindly humour. We never -even knew those who had seen and talked with him. To us he is a purely -historic figure. So, too, of his biographer--which argues ourselves -to be sadly unknown--we have no other knowledge than what runs about -bruited in the world; even his displays of eloquence, forensic or -parliamentary, we have never had an opportunity of hearing; we know him -only by his writings, and by that title we have often heard bestowed -on him, the amiable author of _Ion_;--to which amiability we refer, -because to this we must attribute, we suppose, a large portion of that -too laudatory criticism which, in these volumes, he bestows so lavishly -and diffusely. We cannot, therefore, bring to our subject any of those -vivid reminiscences, anecdotes, or details which personal acquaintance -supplies. But, on the other hand, we have no bias whatever to contend -against, whether of a friendly or hostile description, in respect of -any of the literary characters whom we may have occasion to speak of. -Had they all lived in the reign of good Queen Anne, they could not have -been more remote from our personal sympathies or antipathies. - -It is probably known to most of our readers that when, shortly after -the decease of Charles Lamb, his letters were given to the world with -some biographical notices, there were circumstances which imposed -silence on certain passages of his life, and which obliged the editor -to withhold a certain portion of the letters. That sister, in fact, was -still alive whose lamentable history was so intimately blended with the -career of Lamb, and an allusion to her unfortunate tragedy would have -been cruel in any one, and in an intimate friend utterly impossible. -Serjeant Talfourd had no other course than to leave the gap or hiatus -in the biography, and cover it up and conceal it as well as might be, -from the eyes of such readers as were not better informed from other -sources. Upon the decease of that sister, there no longer existed any -motive for this silence; and, indeed, shortly after this event, the -whole narrative was revealed by a writer in the _British Quarterly -Review_, who had himself waited till then before he permitted himself -to disclose it, and by its disclosure do an act of justice to the moral -character of Lamb. Mr Talfourd was, therefore, called upon to complete -his biographical notice, and also the publication of the letters. This -he did in the two volumes entitled _Final Memorials_, &c. - -As a separate and subsidiary publication became inevitable, and as -probably the exigencies of _the trade_ required that it should be of a -certain bulk and substance, we suppose we must rather commiserate Mr -Talfourd than cast any blame upon him for the manifest difficulty he -has had to fill these two volumes of _Final Memorials_. One of them -would have been sufficient for all that he had to communicate, or that -it was wise to add. Many of the letters of Lamb here printed are such -as he had very properly laid aside, in the first instance, not because -they trenched upon too delicate ground, but because they were wholly -uninteresting. He had very correctly said, in what, for distinction's -sake, we will call _The Life_--"I have thought it better to omit much -of this verbal criticism, which, not very interesting in itself, is -unintelligible without a contemporary reference to the poems which are -its subject."--(P. 12.) Now we cannot, of course, undertake to say that -the letters given us here are precisely those which he speaks of as -being wisely rejected on the former occasion, but we know that there -was the same good reason for this rejection, for they are occupied -with a verbal criticism utterly uninteresting. Surely, what neither -illustrates a man's life, nor adds a tittle to his literary reputation, -ought not to be allowed to encumber for ever, as with a dead weight, -the collected works of an author. The mischief is, that, if materials -of this kind are once published, every succeeding editor finds it -incumbent on him to reprint them, lest his edition should be thought -less perfect than others, and thus there is no getting rid of the -useless and burdensome increment. It is otherwise with another portion -of these two volumes, the sketches of the contemporaries and friends -of Lamb, which Mr Serjeant Talfourd, or any future editor, can either -retrench, omit, or enlarge, at his option. - -In the next edition that is published of the works of Lamb, we hope -the editor may be persuaded altogether to recast his materials. The -biography should be kept apart, and not interspersed piecemeal amongst -the letters. This is an arrangement, the most provoking and irritating -to the reader that could have been devised. Let us have all the -biography at once, and then sit down and enjoy the letters of Lamb. Why -be incessantly bandied from the one to the other? Few of the letters -need any explanation; if they do, the briefest note at the head or at -the foot would be sufficient. Not to add, that, if it is wished to -refer to any event in the biography, one does not know where to look -for it. And, _apropos_ of this matter of reference, it may be just -worth mentioning that the present volume is so divided into _Parts_, -and the parts so paged, that any reference to a passage by the number -of the page is almost useless. The numbers recommence some half-dozen -times in the course of the volume; so that if you are referred to page -50, you may find five of them--you may find page 50 five times over -before you come to the right one. For which reason we shall dispense -ourselves, in respect to this volume, with our usual punctuality of -reference, for the reference must be laboriously minute, and even -then will impose a troublesome search. In the mere and humble task of -editing, the Serjeant has been by no means fortunate. - -Lying about in such confusion as the fractions of the biography do at -present, we shall perhaps be rendering a slight service if we bring -together from the two different publications the leading events of the -life of Lamb. - -"Charles Lamb," says the first publication, "was born on the 18th -February 1775, in Crown-office Row, in the Inner Temple, where he -spent the first seven years of his life." At the age of seven he was -presented to the school of Christ's Hospital, and there remained till -his fifteenth year. His sweetness of disposition rendered him a general -favourite. From one of his schoolfellows we have the following account -of him:--"Lamb," says Mr Le Grice, "was an amiable, gentle boy, very -sensible, and keenly observing, indulged by his schoolfellows and by -his master, on account of his infirmity of speech. His countenance -was mild; his complexion clear brown, with an expression which might -lead you to think that he was of Jewish descent. His eyes were not -each of the same colour--one was hazel, the other had specks of gray -in the iris, mingled as we see red spots in the bloodstone. His step -was _plantigrade_, (Mr Le Grice must be a zoologist--Lamb would have -smiled to hear himself so scientifically described,) which made his -walk slow and peculiar, adding to the staid appearance of his figure. -I never heard his name mentioned without the addition of Charles, -although, as there was no other boy of the name of Lamb, the addition -was unnecessary; but there was an implied kindness in it, and it was -a proof that his gentle manner excited that kindness." Mr Le Grice -adds that, in the sketch Lamb gave in his _Recollections of Christ's -Hospital_, he drew a faithful portrait of himself. "While others were -all fire and play, he stole along with all the self-concentration of a -young monk." He had, in fact, only passed from cloister to cloister, -and, during the holidays, it was in the Temple that he found his home -and his only place of recreation. This cloistering-in of his mind was -the early and constant peculiarity of his life. He would have made an -excellent monk; in those good old times, be it understood, when it -was thought no great scandal if there was a well-supplied cellarage -underneath the cloister. - -After quitting Christ's Hospital, he was employed for some time in the -South Sea House, but on the 5th April 1792 obtained that appointment in -the accountant's office in the East India Company which was his stay -and support, in more senses than one, through life. - -A little anecdote is here introduced, which strikes us as very -characteristic. It reveals the humorist, ready to appreciate and -promote a jest even at his own expense, and at the easy sacrifice of -his own dignity or self-respect: but it reveals something more and -sadder; it seems to betray a broken, melancholy spirit, that was no -longer disposed to contend for its claim to respect from others. "In -the first year of his clerkship," says Mr Le Grice, "Lamb spent the -evening of the 5th November with some of his former schoolfellows, -who, being amused with the particularly large and flapping brim of his -round hat, pinned it up on the sides in the form of a cocked hat. Lamb -made no alteration in it, but walked home in his usual sauntering gait -towards the Temple. As he was going down Ludgate Hill, some gay young -men, who seemed not to have passed the London Tavern without resting, -exclaimed, 'The veritable Guy!--no man of straw!' and with this -exclamation they took him up, making a chair with their arms, carried -him, seated him on a post in St Paul's Churchyard, and there left him. -This story Lamb told so seriously, that the truth of it was never -doubted. He wore his three-cornered hat many evenings, and retained the -name of Guy ever after. Like Nym, he quietly sympathised in the fun, -and seemed to say 'that was the humour of it.'" Some one may suggest -that probably Lamb was himself in the same condition, on this 5th -of November, as the young men "who had not passed the London Tavern -without resting," and that therefore all peculiar significance of the -anecdote, as it bears upon his character and disposition, is entirely -lost. But Lamb relates the story himself, and afterwards, and when -there is no question of sobriety, quietly acquiesces and participates -in the absurd joke played upon himself. - -At this time his most constant companion was one _Jem_ White, who -wrote some imaginary "Letters of John Falstaff." These letters Lamb -went about all his life praising, and causing others to praise, but -seems never to have found any one to share his admiration. As even Mr -Talfourd has not a good word to throw away upon the literary merits of -Jem White, we may safely conclude that Lamb's friendship had in this -instance quite overruled his critical judgment. - -But the associate and friend who really exercised a permanent and -formative influence upon his mind, was a man of a very different -stamp--Samuel Taylor Coleridge. They had been schoolfellows at Christ's -Hospital, and, though no particular intimacy existed at that time, -the circumstance formed a foundation for a future friendship. "While -Coleridge," writes Mr Talfourd, "remained at the university, they met -occasionally on his visits to London; and when he quitted it and came -to town, full of mantling hopes and glorious schemes, Lamb became his -admiring disciple. The scene of these happy meetings was a little -public-house, called the _Salutation and Cat_, in the neighbourhood -of Smithfield, where they used to sup, and remain long after they had -'heard the chimes at midnight.'" - -These suppers at the Salutation and Cat, in Smithfield, seem to carry -back the imagination far beyond the period here alluded to; they -seem to transport us to the times of Oliver Goldsmith, or to take us -across the water into Germany, where poetry and philosophy may still -occasionally find refuge in the beer-shop. They were always remembered -by Lamb as the brightest spots of his life. "I think I hear you again," -he says, writing to Coleridge. "I imagine to myself the little smoky -room at the Salutation and Cat, where we sat together through the -winter nights, beguiling the cares of life with poetry." And in another -place he alludes to "those old suppers at our old inn--when life was -fresh and topics exhaustless--and you first kindled in me, if not -the power, yet the love of poetry, and beauty, and kindliness." It -was in these interviews that the project was started, we believe, of -publishing a volume of poems, the joint production of the two friends. - -But this pleasing project, and all the poetry of life, was for a time -to give place, in the history of Lamb, to a domestic tragedy of the -most afflicting nature. It is here that the Final Memorials take up -the thread of the biography. It was on the 22d September 1796, that -the terrible event took place which cast so perpetual a shade, and -reflected also so constant an honour, on the life of Lamb. He was -living at this time with his father, mother, and sister, in lodgings -in Little Queen Street, Holborn. After being engaged in his taskwork -at the India House, he returned in the evening to amuse his father by -playing cribbage. The old man had sunk into dotage and the miserable -selfishness that so often attends on old age. If his son wished to -discontinue for a time the game at cribbage, and turn to some other -avocation, or the writing of a letter, he would pettishly exclaim,--"If -you don't play cribbage, I don't see the use of your coming home at -all." The mother also was an invalid, and Miss Lamb, we are told, -was worn down to a state of extreme nervous misery, by attention to -needlework by day, and to her mother by night, until the insanity -which had been manifested more than once broke out into frenzy. "It -appeared," says the account extracted from the _Times_, (an account of -the inquest, in which the names of the parties are suppressed,) "that -while the family were preparing for dinner, the young lady seized -a case-knife lying on the table, and in a menacing manner pursued -a little girl, her apprentice, round the room. On the calls of her -infirm mother to forbear, she renounced her first object, and with -loud shrieks approached her parent. The child by her cries quickly -brought up the landlord of the house, but too late. The dreadful scene -presented to him the mother lifeless, pierced to the heart, on a chair, -her daughter yet wildly standing over her with the fatal knife, and -the old man, her father, weeping by her side, himself bleeding at the -forehead from the effects of a severe blow he received from one of the -forks she had been madly hurling about the room." - -The following is the letter which Lamb wrote to Coleridge shortly after -the event. From this it appears that it was he, and not the landlord, -who took the knife from the hand of the lunatic. - -"MY DEAREST FRIEND,--White, or some of my friends, or the public -papers, by _this_ time may have informed you of the terrible calamities -that have fallen on our family. I will only give you the outlines. My -poor, dear, dearest sister, in a fit of insanity, has been the death -of her own mother. I was at hand only time enough to snatch the knife -out of her grasp. She is at present in a madhouse, from whence I fear -she must be removed to an hospital. God has preserved to me my senses. -I eat, and drink, and sleep, and have my judgment, I believe, very -sound. My poor father was slightly wounded, and I am left to take care -of him and my aunt. Mr Norris of the Blue-coat School has been very -kind to us, and we have no other friend; but, thank God, I am very calm -and composed, and able to do the best that remains to do. Write as -religious a letter as possible, but no mention of what is gone and done -with. With me 'the former things are passed away,' and I have something -more to do than to feel. - -"God Almighty have us all in his keeping!--C. LAMB. - -"Mention nothing of poetry; I have destroyed every vestige of past -vanities of that kind. Do as you please; but if you publish, publish -mine (I give free leave) without name or initial, and never send me a -book, I charge you. - -"Your own judgment will convince you not to take any notice of this yet -to your dear wife. You look after your family--I have my reason and -strength left to take care of mine. I charge you, don't think of coming -to see me--write. I will not see you if you come. God Almighty love -you, and all of us."--C. LAMB. - -Miss Lamb was of course placed in an asylum, where, however, she was in -a short time restored to reason. And now occurred the act of life-long -heroism on the part of the brother. As soon as she was recovered, -he petitioned the authorities to resign her to his care; he pledged -himself to be her guardian, her provider, her _keeper_, for all her -days to come. He was at that time paying his addresses to a young lady, -with what hopes, or with what degree of ardour, we are not informed. -But marriage with her, or with any other, was now to be entirely -renounced. He devoted his life, and all his love, to his unhappy -sister, and to the last he fulfilled the obligation he had taken upon -himself without a murmur, and without the least diminution of affection -towards the object of it. - -We have called it an act of heroism; we applaud it, and rejoice that it -stands upon record a complete and accomplished act. There it stands, -not only to relieve the character of Lamb from such littleness as it -may have contracted from certain habits of intemperance, (of which -perhaps more has been said than was necessary;) but it remains there -as an enduring memorial, prompting, to all time, to the like acts -of self-denying kindness, and unshaken generosity of purpose. But, -admiring the act as we do, we must still be permitted to observe, that -there was a degree of imprudence in it which fully justified other -members of the family in their endeavours to dissuade Lamb from his -resolution, and which would have justified the authorities (whoever -they were--and about this matter there seems a singular obscurity, and -a suspicion is created that even in proceedings of this nature much is -done carelessly, informally, uncertainly) in refusing to accede to his -request. Miss Lamb had several relapses into temporary derangement; -and, although she never committed, as far as we are informed, any acts -of violence, this calmness of behaviour, in her seasons of mental -aberration, could not have been calculated on. We confess we should -have shrunk from the responsibility of advising the generous but -perilous course which was adopted with so fortunate a result. - -How sad and fearful a charge Lamb had entailed upon himself, let the -following extract suffice to show. The subject is too painful to be -longer dwelt upon than is necessary. "The constant impendency of -this great sorrow saddened to 'the Lambs' even their holidays, as -the journey which they both regarded as the relief and charm of the -year was frequently followed by a seizure; and, _when they ventured -to take it, a strait-waistcoat, carefully packed up by Miss Lamb -herself, was their constant companion_. Sad experience at last induced -the abandonment of the annual excursion, and Lamb was contented with -walks in and near London during the interval of labour. Miss Lamb -experienced, and full well understood, premonitory symptoms of the -attack, in restlessness, low fever, and the inability to sleep; and, -as gently as possible, prepared her brother for the duty he must soon -perform; and thus, unless he could stave off the terrible separation -till Sunday, obliged him to ask leave of absence from the office as -if for a day's pleasure--a bitter mockery! On one occasion Mr Charles -Lloyd met them slowly pacing together a little footpath in Haxton -Fields, _both weeping bitterly, and found, on joining them, that they -were taking their solemn way to the accustomed asylum_!"[2] - -[2] _Final Memorials_, vol. ii., p. 212. - -It seems that a tendency to lunacy was hereditary in the family, and -Charles Lamb himself had been for a short period deprived of his -reason. - -On this subject Mr Talfourd makes the following excellent remark:--"The -wonder is, that, amidst all the difficulties, the sorrows, and the -excitements of his succeeding forty years, the malady never recurred. -Perhaps the true cause of this remarkable exemption--an exemption the -more remarkable when his afflictions are considered in association with -one single frailty--will be found in the sudden claim made on his moral -and intellectual nature by a terrible exigency, and by his generous -answer to that claim; _so that a life of self-sacrifice was rewarded by -the preservation of unclouded reason_." - -We will not weaken so admirable a remark by repeating it in a worse -phraseology of our own. We wish the Serjeant always wrote in the same -clear, forcible, and unaffected manner. With respect to this seizure -which Lamb, in an early part of his life, had experienced, there is a -reference in one of his letters too curious to pass unnoticed. Writing -to Coleridge, he says--"At some future time I will amuse you with an -account, as full as my memory will permit, of the strange turns my -frenzy took. I look back upon it at times with a gloomy kind of envy, -for, while it lasted, I had many, many hours of pure happiness. Dream -not, Coleridge, of having tasted all the grandeur and wildness of fancy -till you have gone mad! All now seems to me vapid, or comparatively so." - -The residue of Lamb's life is uneventful. The publication of a book--a -journey into Cumberland--his final liberation from office, are the -chief incidents. These it is not necessary to arrange in chronological -order: they can be alluded to as occasion requires. But we will pursue -a little further our notice of Mr Talfourd's biographical labours, that -we may clear our way as we proceed. - -We have seen that Lamb, in the first agony of his grief, rudely -threw aside his poetry, and his scheme of publishing conjointly with -Coleridge. Poetry and schemes of publication are not, however, so -easily dismissed. As his mind subsided into a calmer state, they were -naturally resumed. The literary partnership was extended, and Lloyd -was admitted to associate his labours in the forthcoming volume. "At -length," says Mr Talfourd, "the small volume containing the poems of -Coleridge, Lloyd, and Lamb, was published by Mr Cottle at Bristol. -It excited little attention." We do not wonder at this, if the -lucubrations of Mr Lloyd had any conspicuous place in the volume. How -the other two poets--how Coleridge especially, could have consented -to this literary partnership, with so singularly inept and absurd a -writer, would be past explaining, if it were not for some hint that we -receive that Charles Lloyd was the son of a wealthy banker, and might, -therefore, be the fittest person to transact that part of the business -which occurs between the author and the publisher. Here we have a -striking instance of Mr Talfourd's misplaced amiability of criticism. -"Lloyd," he says, "wrote _pleasing_ verses, and with great facility--a -facility fatal to excellence; but his mind was chiefly remarkable -for _the fine power of analysis which distinguishes his 'London,'_ -and other of his later compositions. In this power of discriminating -and distinguishing--carried to a pitch almost of painfulness--Lloyd -has scarcely been equalled; and his poems, though rugged in point of -versification, will be found, by those who will read them with the calm -attention they require, replete with critical and moral suggestions -of the highest value." Very grateful to Mr Serjeant Talfourd will any -reader feel who shall be induced, by his recommendation, to peruse, or -attempt to peruse, Mr Lloyd's poem of "London!" We were. "Fine power of -analysis!" Why, it is one stream of mud--of theologic mud. "Rugged in -point of versification!" There is no trace of verse, and the style is -an outlandish garb, such as no man has ever seen elsewhere, either in -prose or verse. Poor Lloyd was a lunatic patient!--on him no one would -be severe; but why should an intelligent Serjeant, unless prompted by -a sly malice against all mankind, persuade us to read his execrable -stuff? The following is a fair specimen of the drug, and is, indeed, -taken as the book opened. We add the two last lines of the preceding -stanza, to give all possible help to the elucidation of the one we -quote. The italics are all Mr Lloyd's:-- - - "If you affirm _grace irresistible_, - You must deny all liberty of will. - -142. - - "But you reply, grace irresistible - Our creed admits not. I am sorry for't. - Enough, or not enough, to bind the free will, - Grace must be. Not enough? The dose falls short. - This is of _cause_ the prime condition still - That it be _operative_. Yet divines exhort - Us to deem grace _sole source_ of all salvation, - And if we're damned, blame _but its application_." - -But divinity of this kind, it may be said, though well calculated to -display "the power of discriminating and distinguishing, carried to -a pitch almost of painfulness," is not exactly favourable to flowing -verse. Here is a specimen where a lady is the subject, and the verse -should be smooth then, if ever. - - "I well remember her years, five-and-twenty, - (Ah! now my muse is got into a gallop,) - Longer perhaps! But time sufficient, plenty - Of treasured offices of love to call up. - She was then, as I recollect, quite dainty, - And delicate, and seemed a fair envelope - Of virgin sweetness and angelic goodness; - That fate should treat her with such reckless rudeness!" - -The poor man seems to have had not the least appreciation of the -power of language, so as to distinguish between the ludicrous and -the pathetic. He must have read "Hudibras" with tears, _not_ of -laughter, in his eyes, and hence drawn his notion of tenderness of -diction as well as harmony of verse. The most surprising thing about -Lloyd is, that such a man should have chosen for his literary task to -translate--Alfieri! And although he has performed the task very far -from well, he has accomplished it in a manner that could not have been -anticipated from his original compositions. - -After this specimen of Mr Talfourd's laudatory criticism, we need not -be astonished at any amount of eulogy he bestows on such names as -Hazlitt and others, which really have a certain claim on the respect -of all men. And yet, even after this, we felt some slight surprise at -hearing Mr Talfourd speak of "the splendid reputation" of Mr Harrison -Ainsworth! Would Mr Talfourd _have_ such a reputation, if it were -offered him? Would he not rather have remained in complete obscurity -than be distinguished by such "splendours" as the authorship of _Jack -Sheppard_ would have invested him with? Why should he throw about -this indiscriminate praise, and make his good word of no possible -value? Splendid reputation! Can trash be anything but trash, because -a multitude of the idle and the ignorant, whom it exactly suits, read -and admire? By-and-by they grow ashamed of their idol, when they find -they have him all to themselves, and that sensible people are smiling -at their enthusiasm; they then discard him for some new, untried, and -_unconvicted_ favourite. Such is the natural history of these splendid -reputations. - -The second volume of the "Final Memorials" is in great part occupied -with sketches of the literary friends and companions of Lamb. These Mr -Talfourd introduces by a somewhat bold parallel between the banquets -at the lordly halls of Holland House and the suppers in the dark and -elevated chambers in the Inner Temple, whither Lamb had removed. We are -by no means scandalised at such a comparison. Wit may flow, and wisdom -too, as freely in the garret as in the saloon. To eat off plate, to be -served assiduously by liveried attendants, may not give any more real -zest to colloquial pleasure, to good hearty talking, than to attack -without ceremony "the cold beef flanked with heaps of smoking potatoes, -which Becky has just brought in." Nor do we know that claret in the -flagon of beautifully cut glass, may be a more potent inspiration -of wit than "the foaming pots of porter from the best tap in Fleet -Street." We are not at all astonished that such a parallel should be -drawn; what surprises us is, that, being in the humour to draw such -comparisons, the Sergeant could find only _one_ place in all London -which could be brought into this species of contrast, and of rivalry, -with Holland House. "Two circles of rare social enjoyment, differing as -widely as possible in all external circumstances--_but each superior -in its kind to all others_, were at the same time generously opened to -men of letters." We, who have been admitted to neither, have perhaps -no right to an opinion; but, judging by the bill of fare presented to -us, we shrewdly suspect there were very many circles where we should -have preferred the intellectual repast to that set out in Inner Temple -Lane. We doubt not the Serjeant himself has assembled round his own -table a society that we should greatly more have coveted the pleasure -of joining. We have the name of Godwin, it is true, but Godwin never -opened his mouth;--played whist all the evening. Had he not written -his book? why should he talk? We have Hazlitt,--but by all accounts he -was rarely in a tolerable humour, perpetually raving, with admirable -consistency, in praise of republics and Bonaparte. Coleridge was too -rarely a visitor to be counted in the list; and certain we are that -we should have no delight in hearing Charles Lloyd "reason of fate, -free-will, foreknowledge absolute," to Leigh Hunt. Some actors are -named, of whose conversational powers we know nothing, and presume -nothing very extraordinary. Lamb's "burly jovial brother, the Ajax -Telamon of clerks," and a Captain Burney, of whom we are elsewhere -told that he liked Shakspeare "because he was so much of a gentleman," -promise little on the score of intellectual conversation; neither -should we be particularly anxious to sit opposite a certain M. B., of -whom Lamb said, "M., if dirt were trumps, what hands you would hold!" - -After this singular parallel, we are shown round a gallery of -portraits. First we have George Dyer, who appears to be the counterpart -of our old friend Dominie Sampson. But, indeed, we hold George Dyer -to be a sort of myth, a fabulous person, the creation of Charles -Lamb's imagination, and imposed as a reality on his friends. Such an -absurdity as he is here represented to be could not have been bred, -could not have existed, in these times, and in London. If we are to -credit the stories told of him, his walking in broad day into the canal -at Islington was one of the wisest things he did, or could possibly -have done. Lamb tells him, in the strictest confidence, that the -"Waverley Novels" are the works of Lord Castlereagh, just returned from -the Congress of Sovereigns at Vienna! Off he runs, nor stops till he -reaches Maida Hill, where he deposits his news in the ears of Leigh -Hunt, who, "as a public man," he thinks ought to be possessed of the -great fact. At another time Lamb gravely inquires of him, "Whether it -was true, as was commonly reported, that he was to be made a lord?" "Oh -dear, no! Mr Lamb," he responds with great earnestness, "I could not -think of such a thing: it is not true, I assure you." "I thought not," -replies the wit, "and I contradict it wherever I go; but the government -will not ask your consent--they may raise you to the peerage without -your even knowing it." "I hope not, Mr Lamb; indeed, indeed, I hope -not; it would not suit me at all," repeats our modern Dominie, and goes -away musing on the possibility of strange honours descending, whether -he will or not, upon his brow. It goes to our heart to disturb a good -story, but such a man as the George Dyer here represented never could -have existed. - -We have rather a long account of Godwin, with some remarks not very -satisfactory upon his intellectual character. That Mr Godwin was -taciturn, that he conversed, when he did talk, upon trivial subjects, -and in a small precise manner, and that he was especially fond of -sleeping after dinner--all this we can easily understand. Mr Godwin's -mental activity was absorbed in his authorship, and he was a very -voluminous author. But we cannot so easily understand Mr Talfourd's -explanations, nor why these habits should have any peculiar connexion -with the intellectual qualities of the author of _Caleb Williams_, and -a host of novels, as well as of the _Political Justice_, of the _Life -of Chaucer_, and the _History of the Commonwealth_. Such habits are -rather the result of a man's temperament, and the manner of life which -circumstances have thrown him into, than of his intellectual powers. -Profound metaphysicians have been very vivacious talkers, and light and -humorous writers very taciturn men. Mr Talfourd finds that Godwin had -no imagination, was all abstract reason, and thus accounts for his -having no desire to address his fellowmen but through the press. The -passage is too long to quote, and would be very tedious. We must leave -him in quiet possession of his own theory of the matter. - -It was new to us, and may be to our readers, to hear that Godwin -supported himself "by a shop in Skinner Street, where, under the -auspices of 'Mr J. Godwin & Co.,' the prettiest and wisest books -for children issued, which old-fashioned parents presented to their -children, without suspecting that the graceful lessons of piety and -goodness which charmed away the selfishness of infancy, were published, -and sometimes revised, and now and then written, by a philosopher -whom they would scarcely venture to name!" We admire the good sense -which induced him to adhere to so humble an occupation, if he found it -needful for his support. But what follows is not quite so admirable. -He was a great borrower; or, in the phrase of Mr Talfourd, "he met -the exigencies of business with the trusting simplicity which marked -his course; he asked his friends for aid without scruple, considering -that their means were justly the due of one who toiled in thought for -their inward life, and had little time to provide for his own outward -existence, and took their excuses when offered without doubt or -offence." And then the Serjeant proceeds to relate, in a tone of the -most touching simplicity, his own personal experience upon this matter. -"The very next day after I had been honoured and delighted by an -introduction to him at Lamb's chambers, I was made still more proud and -happy by his appearance at my own on such an errand, which my poverty, -not my will, rendered abortive. After some pleasant chat on indifferent -matters, he carelessly observed that he had a little bill for £150 -falling due on the morrow, _which he had forgotten till that morning_, -and desired the loan of the necessary amount for a few weeks. At first, -in eager hopes of being able thus to oblige one whom I regarded with -admiration akin to awe, I began to consider whether it was possible -for me to raise such a sum; but, alas! a moment's reflection sufficed -to convince me that the hope was vain, and I was obliged, with much -confusion, to assure my distinguished visitor how glad I should have -been to serve him, but that I was only just starting as a special -pleader, was obliged to write for magazines to help me on, and had not -such a sum in the world. 'Oh dear!' said the philosopher, 'I thought -you were a young gentleman of fortune--don't mention it, don't mention -it--I shall do very well elsewhere!' And then, in the most gracious -manner, reverted to our former topics, and sat in my small room for -half-an-hour, as if to convince me that my want of fortune made no -difference in his esteem." How very gracious! The most shameless -borrower coming to raise money from a young gentleman of fortune, to -meet "a little bill which he had forgotten till that morning," would -hardly, on finding his mistake, have made an abrupt departure. He would -have coolly beat a retreat, as the philosopher did. We never hear, by -the way, that he returned "to my small room" at any other time, for -half-an-hour's chat. But how very interesting it is to see the learned -Serjeant, whose briefs have made him acquainted with every trick and -turn of commercial craft, retaining this sweet and pristine simplicity! - -The Serjeant, however, has a style of narrative which, though on the -surface it displays the most good-natured simplicity, slyly insinuates -to the more intelligent reader that he sees quite as far as another, -and is by no means the dupe of his own amiability. Thus, in his -description of Coleridge, (which would be too long a subject to enter -into minutely,) he has the following passage, (perhaps the best in the -description,) which, while it seems to echo to the full the unstinted -applause so common with the admirers of that singular man, gives a -quiet intimation to the reader that he was not altogether so blind as -some of those admirers. "If his entranced hearers often were unable -to perceive the bearings of his argument--too mighty for any grasp -but his own--and sometimes reaching beyond his own--they understood -'a _beauty_ in the words, if not the words;' and a wisdom and a piety -in the illustrations, even when unable to connect them with the idea -which he desired to illustrate." Mr Talfourd reveals here, we suspect, -the true secret of the charm which Coleridge exercised in conversation. -His hearers never seemed to have carried away anything distinct or -serviceable from his long discourses. They understood "a beauty in the -words, if not the words;" they felt a charm like that of listening to -music, and, when the voice ceased, there was perhaps as little distinct -impression left, as if it had really been a beautiful symphony they had -heard. - -There is only one more in this gallery of portraits before which we -shall pause, and that only for a moment, to present a last specimen -of the critical manner of Mr Talfourd. We are sorry the last should -not be the best; and yet, as this sketch is a reprint, in an abridged -form, of an essay affixed to the _Literary Remains of Hazlitt_, it -may be considered as having received a more than usual share of the -author's attention. It is thus that he analyses the mental constitution -of one whom he appears to have studied and greatly admired--William -Hazlitt. "He had as unquenchable a desire for truth as others have -for wealth, or power, or fame: he pursued it with sturdy singleness -of purpose, and enunciated it without favour or fear. But besides -that love of truth, that sincerity in pursuing it, and that boldness -in telling it, he had also a fervent aspiration after the beautiful, -a vivid sense of pleasure, and an _intense consciousness of his own -individual being_, which sometimes produced obstacles to the current -of speculation, by which it was broken into dazzling eddies, or urged -into devious windings. Acute, fervid, vigorous as his mind was, it -wanted _the one great central power of imagination, which brings all -the other faculties into harmonious action, multiplies them into each -other, makes truth visible in the forms of beauty, and substitutes -intellectual vision for proof_. Thus in him truth and beauty held -divided empire. In him the spirit was willing but the flesh was -_strong_, and when these contend it is not difficult to anticipate the -result; 'for the power of beauty shall sooner transform honesty from -what it is into a bawd, than the person of honesty shall transform -beauty into its likeness.' This 'sometime paradox' was vividly -exemplified in Hazlitt's personal history, his conversation, and his -writings."[3] - -[3] Vol. ii., p. 157. - -Are we to gather from this most singular combination of words, that -Hazlitt had a grain too much of sensuality in his composition, which -diverted him from the search after truth? The expression, "the flesh -was strong," and the quotation so curiously introduced from Shakspeare, -seem to point this way. And then, again, are we to understand that -this too much of sensuality was owing to a want of imagination?--that -central power of imagination which is here described in a manner that -no system of metaphysics we have studied enables us in the least to -comprehend. We know something of Schelling's "intellectual intuition" -transcending the ordinary scope of reason. Is this "intellectual -vision, which the imagination substitutes for proof," of the same -family? But indeed it would be idle insincerity to ask such questions. -Sergeant Talfourd knows no more than we do what it means. The simple -truth is, that here, as too frequently elsewhere, he aims at a -certain subtlety of thought, and falls unfortunately upon no thought -whatever--upon mere confusion of thought, which he attempts to hide by -a quantity of somewhat faded phrase and rhetorical diction. - -If we refer to the original essay itself, we shall not be aiding -ourselves or Mr Talfourd. The statement is fuller, and the confusion -greater. In one point it relieves us--it relieves us entirely from -the necessity of too deeply pondering the philosophic import of any -phraseology our critic may adopt, for the phrase is changed merely to -please the ear; and what at first has the air of definition proves -to be merely a poetic colouring. He thus commences his essay: "As an -author, Mr Hazlitt may be contemplated principally in three aspects--as -a moral and political reasoner, as an observer of character and -manners, and as a critic in literature and painting. It is in the -first character only that he should be followed with caution." In the -two others he is, of course, to be followed implicitly. Why he was -not equally perfect as a moral and political reasoner, Mr Talfourd -proceeds to explain. Mr Hazlitt had "a passionate desire for truth," -and also "earnest aspirations for the beautiful." Now, continues our -critic, "the vivid sense of beauty may, indeed, have fit home in the -breast of the searcher after truth, but then he must also be endowed -with the highest of all human faculties--the great mediatory and -interfusing power of imagination, which presides supreme over the -mind, brings all its powers and impulses into harmonious action, and -becomes itself the single organ of all. At its touch, truth becomes -visible in the shape of beauty; the fairest of material things become -the living symbols of airy thought, and the mind apprehends _the finest -affinities of the world of sense and spirit 'in clear dream and solemn -vision.'_" This last expression conveys, we presume, all the meaning, -or no-meaning, of the phrase afterwards adopted--the "intellectual -vision which it substitutes for truth." Both are mere jingle. The rest -of the passage is much the same as it stands in the _Final Memorials_. -Somehow or other Mr Hazlitt is proved to have been defective as a -reasoner, because he wanted imagination!--and imagination was wanted, -not to enlarge his experience of mental phenomena, but to step between -his love of truth and his sense of beauty. Did he ever divulge this -discovery to his friend Hazlitt?--and how did the metaphysician receive -it? - -To one so generous towards others, it would be ungracious to use hard -words. Indeed, to leave before an intelligent reader these specimens of -"fine analysis," and "powers of discriminating and distinguishing," is -quite severe enough punishment. We wish we could expunge them, with a -host of similar ones, not only from our record, but from the works of -the author himself.[4] - -[4] The author of _Ion_ ought not to be held in remembrance for any of -these prosaic blunders he may have committed. - -It is time that we turn from the biography to the writings of -Charles Lamb--to Elia, the gentle humorist. Not that Charles Lamb is -exclusively the humorist: far from it. His verse is, at all events, -sufficient to demonstrate a poetic sensibility, and his prose writings -display a subtlety of analysis and a delicacy of perception which were -not always enlisted in the service of mirth, but which were often -displayed in some refined criticism, or keen observation upon men -and manners. Still it is as a humorist that he has chiefly attracted -the attention of the reading public, and obtained his popularity and -literary _status_. But the coarser lineaments of the humorist are not -to be found in him. His is a gentle, refined, and refining humour, -which never trespasses upon delicacy; which does not excite that common -and almost brutal laughter, so easily raised at what are called the -comic miseries of life--often no comedy to those who have to endure -them. It is a humour which generally attains its end by investing what -is lowly with an unexpected interest, not by degrading what is noble -by allying it with mean and grotesque circumstance, (the miserable art -of parody;) it is a humour, in short, which excites our laughter, not -by stifling all reflection, but by awakening the mind to new trains of -thought, and prompting to odd but kindly sympathies. It is a humour -which a poet might indulge in, which a very nun might smile at, which -a Fenelon would at times prepare himself mildly to admonish, but, on -seeing from how clear a spirit it emanated, would, relaxing his brows -again, let pass unreproved. - -There is a great rage at present for the comic; and, to do justice -to our own times, we think it may be said that wit was never more -abundant--and certainly the pencil was never used with more genuine -humour. But we cannot sympathise with, or much admire, that class of -writers who seem to make the comic their exclusive study, who peer into -everything merely to find matter of jest in it. Everything is no more -comic than everything is solemn, in this mingled world of ours. These -men, reversing the puritanical extravagance, would _improve_ every -incident into the occasion of a laugh. At length one extreme becomes -as tedious as the other. We have, if we may trust to advertisements, -for we never saw the production itself, a _Comic History of -England!_ and, amongst other editions of the learned commentator, -_A Comic Blackstone!_ We shall be threatened some day with a _Comic -Encyclopædia_; or we shall have these comic gentry following the track -round the whole world which Mrs Sommerville has lately taken, in her -charming book on Physical Geography. They will go hopping and grinning -after her, peeping down volcanoes, and punning upon coral reefs, and -finding laughter in all things in this circumnavigable globe. Well, let -them go grinning from pole to pole, and all along the tropics. We can -wish them no worse punishment. - -This exclusive cultivation of the comic must sadly depress the organ of -veneration, and not at all foster any refined feelings of humanity. To -him who is habitually in the mocking vein, it matters little what the -subject, or who the sufferer, so that he has his jest. It is marvellous -the utter recklessness to human feeling these light laughers attain to. -Their seemingly sportive weapon, the "satiric thong" they so gaily use, -is in harder hands than could be found anywhere else out of Smithfield. -Nor is it quite idle to notice in what a direct barefaced manner these -jesters appeal to the coarse untutored malice of our nature. If we -were to analyse the jest, we should sometimes find that we had been -laughing just as wisely as the little untaught urchin, who cannot hold -his sides for "fun," if some infirm old woman, slipping upon the slide -he has made, falls down upon the pavement. The jest only lasts while -reflection is laid asleep. - -In this, as we have already intimated, lies the difference between -the crowd of jesters and Charles Lamb. We quit their uproarious -laughter for his more quiet and pensive humour with somewhat the same -feeling that we leave the noisy, though amusing, highway, for the cool -landscape and the soft greensward. We reflect as we smile; the malice -of our nature is rather laid to rest than called forth; a kindly and -forgiving temper is excited. We rise from his works, if not with any -general truth more vividly impressed, yet prepared, by gentle and -almost imperceptible touches, to be more social in our companionships, -and warmer in our friendships. - -Whether from mental indolence, or from that strong partiality he -contracted towards familiar things, he lived, for a man of education -and intelligence, in a singularly limited circle of thought. In the -stirring times of the first French Revolution, we find him abstracting -himself from the great drama before him, to bury himself in the gossip -of _Burnet's History_. He writes to Manning--"I am reading _Burnet's -own Times_. Quite the prattle of age, and outlived importance.... -Burnet's good old prattle I can bring present to my mind; I can make -the Revolution present to me--the French Revolution, by a converse -perversity in my nature, I fling as far _from_ me." Science appears -never to have interested him, and such topics as political economy -may well be supposed to have been quite foreign to his nature. But -even as a reader of poetry, his taste, or his partialities in his -range of thought, limited him within a narrow circuit. He could make -nothing of Goethe's _Faust_; Shelley was an unknown region to him, -and the best of his productions never excited his attention. To Byron -he was almost equally indifferent. From these he could turn to study -George Withers! and find matter for applause in lines which needed, -indeed, the recommendation of age to give them the least interest. His -personal friendship for Wordsworth and Coleridge led him here out of -that circle of old writers he delighted to dwell amongst; otherwise, we -verily believe, he would have deserted them for Daniell and Quarles. -But perhaps, to one of his mental constitution, it required a certain -concentration to bring his powers into play; and we may owe to this -exclusiveness of taste the admirable fragments of criticism he has -given us on Shakspeare and the elder dramatists. - -In forming our opinion, however, of the tastes and acquirements of -Lamb, we must not forget that we are dealing with a humorist, and that -his testimony against himself cannot be always taken literally. On -some occasions we shall find that he amused himself and his friends -by a merry vein of self-disparagement; he would delight to exaggerate -some deficiency, or perhaps some Cockney taste, in which, perhaps, he -differed from others only in his boldness of avowal. He had not, by all -accounts, what is called an ear for music; but we are not to put faith -in certain witty descriptions he has given of his own obtuseness to -all melodious sounds. We find him, in some of his letters, speaking of -Braham with all the enthusiasm of a young haunter of operas. "I follow -him about," he says, "like a dog." Nothing has given more scandal to -some of the gentle admirers of Lamb, than to find him boldly avowing -his preference of Fleet Street to the mountains of Cumberland. He -claimed no love for the picturesque. Shops, and the throng of men, were -not to be deserted for lakes and waterfalls. It was his to live in -London, and, as a place to _live in_, there was no peculiarity of taste -in preferring it to Cumberland; but when he really paid his visit to -Coleridge at Keswick, he felt the charm fully as much as tourists who -are accustomed to dwell, rather too loudly, upon their raptures. The -letters he wrote, after this visit, from some of which we will quote, -if our space permits us, describe very naturally, unaffectedly, and -vividly, the impressions which are produced on a first acquaintance -with mountainous scenery. - -Indeed we may remark, that no man can properly enter into the character -or the writings of a humorist, who is not prepared both to permit and -to understand certain little departures from truth. We mean, that -playing with the subject where our _convictions_ are not intended to -be seriously affected. Those who must see everything as true or false, -and immediately approve or reject accordingly, who know nothing of that -_punctum indifferens_ on which the humorist, for a moment, takes his -stand, had better leave him and his writings entirely alone. "I like a -smuggler," says Charles Lamb, in one of his essays. Do you, thereupon, -gravely object that a smuggler, living in constant violation of the -laws of the land, ought by no means to be an object of partiality -with any respectable order-loving gentleman? Or do you nod assent and -acquiesce in this approbation of the smuggler? You do neither one nor -the other. You smile and read on. You know very well that Lamb has no -design upon your serious convictions, has no wish whatever that _you_ -should like a smuggler; he merely gives expression to a partiality of -his own, unreasonable if you will, but arising from certain elements in -the smuggler's character, which just then are uppermost in his mind. -A great deal of the art and tact of the humorist lies in bringing out -little truths, and making them stand in the foreground, where greater -truths usually take up their position. Thus, in one of Lamb's papers, -he would prove that a convalescent was in a less enviable condition -than a man downright ill. This is done by heightening the effect of a -subordinate set of circumstances, and losing sight of facts of greater -importance. No error of judgment can really be introduced by this -sportive ratiocination, this mock logic, while it perhaps may be the -means of disclosing many ingenious and subtle observations, to which, -afterwards, you may, if you will, assign their just relative importance. - -It would be a work of supererogation, even if space allowed us, to go -critically over the whole writings of Lamb--his poems, his essays, -and his letters. It is the last alone that we shall venture to pause -upon, or from which we may hope to make any extract not already -familiar to the reader. His poetry, indeed, cannot claim much critical -attention. It is possible, here and there, to find an elegant verse, -or a beautiful expression; there is a gentle, amiable, pleasing tone -throughout it; but, upon the whole, it is without force, has nothing to -recommend it of deep thought or strong passion. His tragedy of _John -Woodville_ is a tame imitation of the manner of the old dramatists--of -their manner when engaged in their subordinate and preparatory scenes. -For there is no attempt at tragic passion. We read the piece asking -ourselves when the play is to begin, and while still asking the -question, find ourselves brought to its conclusion. If the poems are -read by few, the _Essays of Elia_ have been perused by all. Who is not -familiar with what is now a historic fact--the discovery of roast pig -in China? This, and many other touches of humour, it would be useless -here to repeat. His letters, as being latest published, seem alone to -call for any especial observations, and from these we shall cull a few -extracts to enliven our own critical labours. - -What first strikes a reader, on the perusal of the letters, is their -remarkable similarity in style to the essays. Some of them, indeed, -were afterwards converted into essays, and that more by adding to -them than altering their structure. That style, which at first seems -extremely artificial, was, in fact, natural in Lamb. He had formed for -himself a manner, chiefly by the study of our classical essayists, -and of still older writers, from which it would have been an effort -in him to depart. With whatever ease, therefore, or rapidity, he may -have written his letters, it was impossible that they should bear -the impress of freedom. His style was essentially a lettered style, -partaking little of the conversational tone of his own day. They could -obtain the case of finished compositions, not of genuine letters. For -this, if for no other reason, they can never be brought into comparison -with those charming spontaneous effusions of humour which flowed from -Cowper, in his letters to his old friend Hill, and his cousin, Lady -Hesketh. They are charming productions, however, and the best of his -letters will take rank, we think, with the best of his essays, in the -public estimation. - -We must first quote from a letter to Manning, after his visits to -the lakes, to rescue his character in the eyes of the lovers of the -picturesque from the imputation of being utterly indifferent to the -higher beauties of nature. - - "Coleridge received us with all the hospitality in the world. He - dwells upon a small hill by the side of Keswick, in a comfortable - house, quite enveloped on all sides by a net of mountains: great - floundering bears and monsters they seemed, all couchant and - asleep. We got in in the evening, travelling in a post-chaise from - Penrith, in the midst of a gorgeous sunshine, which transmuted all - the mountains into colours, purple, &c., &c. We thought we had - got into fairyland. But that went off (and it never came again; - while we stayed we had no more fine sunsets), and we entered - Coleridge's comfortable study just in the dusk, when the mountains - were all dark with clouds on their heads. Such an impression I - never received from objects of sight before, nor do I suppose that - I can ever again. Glorious creatures, fine old fellows--Skiddaw, - &c.--I never shall forget ye, how ye lay about that night like - an entrenchment--gone to bed, as it seemed for the night, but - promising that ye were to be seen in the morning.... We have - clambered up to the top of Skiddaw; and I have waded up the bed - of Lodore. In fine, I have satisfied myself that there is such a - thing as tourists call _romantic_, which I very much suspected - before; they make such a sputtering about it.... Oh! its fine - black head, and the bleak air atop of it, with the prospects of - mountains about and about, making you giddy. It was a day that - will stand out like a mountain, I am sure, in my life." - -Of Mr Manning we are told little or nothing, though he seems to have -been one of the very dearest friends of Lamb. His best letters are -written to Manning--the drollest, and some of the most affecting. The -following was written to dissuade him from some scheme of oriental -travel. Manning was, at the time, at Paris:-- - - "_Feb. 19, 1803._ - - "MY DEAR MANNING,--The general scope of your letter afforded no - indications of insanity; but some particular points raised a - scruple. For God's sake, don't think any more of 'Independent - Tartary.' What are you to do among such Ethiopians? Read Sir John - Mandeville's travels to cure you, or come over to England. There - is a Tartar-man now exhibiting at Exeter Change. Come and talk - with him, and hear what he says first. Indeed, he is no favourable - specimen of his countrymen! Some say they are cannibals; and then - conceive a Tartar fellow _eating_ my friend, and adding the _cool - malignity_ of mustard and vinegar! I am afraid 'tis the reading - of Chaucer has misled you; his foolish stories about Cambuscan, - and the ring and the horse of brass. Believe me, there are no such - things. These are all tales--a horse of brass never flew, and a - king's daughter never talked with birds. The Tartars really are - a cold, insipid, smoutchy set. You'll be sadly moped (if you - are not eaten) amongst them. Pray try and cure yourself. Shave - yourself oftener. Eat no saffron; for saffron eaters contract a - terrible Tartar-like yellow. Shave _the upper lip_. Go about like - a European. Read no books of voyages, (they are nothing but lies;) - only now and then a romance, to keep the fancy _under_. Above - all, don't go to any sights of _wild beasts_. _That has been your - ruin._" - -And when Manning really departed on his voyage to China, he writes to -him in the following mingled strains of humour and of feeling. Being -obliged to omit a great deal, it would only be unsightly to mark every -instance where a sentence has been dropt. The italics, we must remark, -are not ours. If Lamb's, they show how naturally, even in writing to -his most intimate friend, he fell into the feelings of the author:-- - - "_May 10, 1806._ - - "... Be sure, if you see any of those people whose heads do - grow beneath their shoulders, that you make a draught of them. - It will be very curious. Oh! Manning, I am serious to sinking - almost, when I think that all those evenings which you have made - so pleasant are gone, perhaps for ever. Four years, you talk of, - may be ten--and you may come back and find such alterations! Some - circumstance may grow up to you or to me, that may be a bar to the - return of any such intimacy. I dare say all this is hum! and that - all will come back; but, indeed, we die many deaths before we die, - and I am almost sick to think that such a hold I had of you is - gone." - - "_Dec. 5, 1806._ - - "Manning, your letter dated Hottentots, August the--what was it? - came to hand. I can scarce hope that mine will have the same - luck. China--Canton--bless us! how it strains the imagination, - and makes it ache. It will be a point of conscience to send you - none but bran-new news (the latest edition), which will but grow - the better, like oranges, for a sea voyage. Oh that you should be - so many hemispheres off--if I speak incorrectly you can correct - me--why, the simplest death or marriage that takes place here must - be important to you as news in the old Bastile." - -He then tells him of the acceptance of his farce--_Mr H._; which farce, -by the way, was produced, and failed, Lamb turning against his own -production, and joining the audience in hissing it off the stage. It -certainly deserved its fate. - - "Now, you'd like to know the subject. The title is, 'Mr H.' - No more; how simple, how taking! A great H sprawling over the - play-bill, and attracting eyes at every corner. The story is, a - coxcomb appearing at Bath, vastly rich--all the ladies dying for - him--all bursting to know who he is; but he goes by no other name - than Mr H.--a curiosity like that of the dames of Strasburg about - the man with the great nose. But I won't tell you any more about - it. Yes, I will; but I can't give you any idea how I have done it. - I'll just tell you that, after much vehement admiration, when his - true name comes out, 'Hogsflesh,' all the women shun him, avoid - him, and not one can be found to change her name for him; that's - the idea--how flat it is here--but how whimsical in the farce! And - only think how hard upon me it is, that the ship is despatched - to-morrow, and my triumph cannot be ascertained till the Wednesday - after. But all China will ring of it by-and-by. Do you find, in - all this stuff I have written, anything like those feelings which - one should send my old adventuring friend that is gone to wander - among Tartars, and may never come again? I don't; but your going - away, and all about you, is a threadbare topic. I have worn it - out with thinking. It has come to me when I have been dull with - anything, till my sadness has seemed more to have come from it - than to have introduced it. I want you, you don't know how much; - but if I had you here, in my European garret, we should but talk - over such stuff as I have written. - - "Good Heavens! what a bit only I've got left! How shall I squeeze - all I know into this morsel! Coleridge is come home, and is going - to turn lecturer on taste at the Royal Institution. How the paper - grows less and less! In less than two minutes I shall cease to - talk to you, and you may rave to the great Wall of China.--N.B. Is - there such a wall? Is it as big as Old London Wall by Bedlam? Have - you met with a friend of mine, named Ball, at Canton? If you are - acquainted, remember me kindly to him." - -But we should be driven into as hard straits as Lamb, at the close of -his epistle, if we, should attempt, in the small space that remains to -us, to give any fair idea of the various "humours" and interests, of -many kinds, of these letters. We pass at once to those that illustrate -the last important incident of his life, his retirement from office. It -is thus he describes his manumission, and the sort of troubled delight -it brought with it, to Wordsworth:-- - - "_6th April, 1825._ - - "Here am I then, after thirty-three years' slavery, sitting in my - own room, at eleven o'clock this finest of all April mornings, a - freed man, with £441 a-year for the remainder of my life, live I - as long as John Dennis, who outlived his annuity and starved at - ninety. - - "I came home FOR EVER on Tuesday of last week. The - incomprehensibleness of my condition overwhelmed me. It was - like passing from life into eternity. Every year to be as long - as three; _i. e._, to have three times as much real time--time - that is my own in it! I wandered about thinking I was happy, but - feeling I was not. But that tumultuousness is passing off, and I - begin to understand the nature of the gift." - -And to Bernard Barton he writes: - - "My spirits are so tumultuary with the novelty of my recent - emancipation, that I have scarce steadiness of hand, much more of - mind, to compose a letter. I am free, Bernard Barton--free as air! - - 'The little bird, that wings the sky, - Knows no such liberty.' - - I was set free on Tuesday in last week at four o'clock. I came - home for ever! - - "I have been describing my feelings, as well as I can, to - Wordsworth, and care not to repeat. Take it briefly, that for a - few days I was painfully oppressed by so mighty a change, but it - is becoming daily more natural to me. I went and sat among them - all, at my old thirty-three years' desk yester morning; and deuce - take me, if I had not yearnings at leaving all my old pen-and-ink - fellows, merry sociable lads, at leaving them in the lurch--fag, - fag, fag! The comparison of my own superior felicity gave me - anything but pleasure. - - "B. B., I would not serve another seven years for seven hundred - thousand pounds! I have got £440 net for life, with a provision - for Mary if she survives me. I will live another fifty years." - -But to live without any steady compulsory occupation requires an -apprenticeship as much as any other mode of life. An idle man ought -to be born and bred to the profession. With Lamb, literature could be -nothing but an amusement, and for a mere amusement literature is far -too laborious. It cannot, indeed, serve long as an amusement except -when it is adopted also as a labour. He was destined, therefore, to -make the humiliating discovery, which so many have made before him, -that one may have too much time, as well as too little, at one's own -disposal. Writing to the same Bernard Barton, a year or two afterwards, -he says:-- - - "What I can do, and over-do, is to walk; but deadly long are - the days, these summer all-day days, with but a half-hour's - candle-light and no fire-light. I do not write, tell your kind - inquisitive Eliza, and can hardly read. 'Tis cold work authorship, - without something to puff one into fashion.... I assure you _no - work_ is worse than _over-work_. The mind preys on itself, the - most unwholesome food. I bragged, formerly, that I could not have - too much time. I have a surfeit; with few years to come, the days - are wearisome. But weariness is not eternal. Something will shine - out to take the load off that crushes me, which is at present - intolerable. I have killed an hour or two in this poor scrawl. - Well; I shall write merrier anon. 'Tis the present copy of my - countenance I send, and to complain is a little to alleviate." - -He had taken a house at Enfield, but the cares of housekeeping were -found to be burdensome to Miss Lamb, and they took up their abode as -boarders in the house of a neighbour. To this circumstance he alludes -in the following extract from a letter to Wordsworth, which is the last -we shall make, and with which we shall bid farewell to our subject. -It will be found to be not the least remarkable amongst the letters -of Lamb, and contains one passage, we think, the boldest piece of -extravagance that ever humorist ventured upon with success. It just -escapes!--and, indeed, it rather takes away our breath at its boldness -than prompts to merriment. - - "_January 2, 1831._ - - "And is it a year since we parted from you at the steps of - Edmonton stage? There are not now the years that there used to - be. The tale of the dwindled age of men, reported of successional - mankind, is true of the same man only. We do not live a year - in a year now. 'Tis a _punctum stans_. The seasons pass with - indifference. Spring cheers not, nor winter heightens our gloom; - autumn hath foregone its moralities. Let the sullen nothing - pass. Suffice it, that after sad spirits, prolonged through many - of its months, we have cast our skins; have taken a farewell of - the pompous, troublesome trifle, called housekeeping, and are - settled down into poor boarders and lodgers at next door, the - Baucis and Baucida of dull Enfield. Here we have nothing to do - with our victuals but to eat them; with the garden but to see it - grow; with the tax-gatherer but to hear him knock; with the maid - but to hear her scolded. Scot and lot, butcher, baker, are things - unknown to us, save as spectators of the pageant. We are fed we - know not how; quieted--confiding ravens. Yet in the self-condemned - obliviousness, in the stagnation, some molesting yearnings of - life, not quite killed, rise, prompting me that there was a - London, and that I was of that old Jerusalem. In dreams I am in - Fleet Market, but I wake and cry to sleep again. I die hard, a - stubborn Eloisa in this detestable Paraclete. What have I gained - by health? Intolerable dulness. What by early hours and moderate - meals? A total blank. Oh! let no native Londoner imagine that - health, and rest, and innocent occupation, interchange of converse - sweet, and recreative study, can make the country anything better - than altogether odious and detestable. _A garden was the primitive - prison, till man, with Promethean felicity and boldness, luckily - sinned himself out of it._" - -Any further summary than what we have already given, of the literary -character of Lamb, would be only tedious. He is one who will be -generally _liked_, who with a smaller class will be greatly admired, -and who will never excite hostile criticism, unless his injudicious -friends shall elevate him to a higher pedestal than is due to him, or -than he is manifestly fit to occupy. Such is the cold and calm verdict -with which criticism must dismiss him. But those who have thoroughly -enjoyed the essays of Elia and the letters of Lamb, will feel a warmer, -a more partial affection than Criticism knows well how to express: -she becomes somewhat impatient of her own enforced gravity; she would -willingly throw away those scales with which, like Justice, we suppose, -she is symbolically supplied, and, embracing the man as he is, laugh -and be pleased with the rest of the world, without further thought of -the matter. - - - - -THE CAXTONS.--PART XV. - -CHAPTER LXXXIV. - - -"Please, sir, be this note for you?" asked the waiter. - -"For me--yes; it is my name." - -I did not recognise the handwriting, and yet the note was from one -whose writing I had often seen. But formerly the writing was cramped, -stiff, perpendicular, (a feigned hand, though I guessed not it was -feigned;) now it was hasty, irregular, impatient--scarce a letter -formed, scarce a word that seemed finished--and yet strangely legible -withal, as the handwriting of a bold man almost always is. I opened the -note listlessly, and read-- - -"I have watched for you all the morning. I saw her go. Well!--I did -not throw myself under the hoofs of the horses. I write this in a -public-house, not far. Will you follow the bearer, and see once again -the outcast whom all the rest of the world will shun?" - -Though I did not recognise the hand, there could be no doubt who was -the writer. - -"The boy wants to know if there's an answer," said the waiter. - -I nodded, took up my hat, and left the room. A ragged boy was standing -in the yard, and scarcely six words passed between us, before I was -following him through a narrow lane that faced the inn, and terminated -in a turnstile. Here the boy paused, and, making me a sign to go on, -went back his way whistling. I passed the turnstile, and found myself -in a green field, with a row of stunted willows hanging over a narrow -rill. I looked round, and saw Vivian (as I intend still to call him) -half kneeling, and seemingly intent upon some object in the grass. - -My eye followed his mechanically. A young unfledged bird, that had -left the nest too soon, stood, all still and alone, on the bare short -sward--its beak open as for food, its gaze fixed on us with a wistful -stare. Methought there was something in the forlorn bird that softened -me more to the forlorner youth, of whom it seemed a type. - -"Now," said Vivian, speaking half to himself, half to me, "did the bird -fall from the nest, or leave the nest at its own wild whim? The parent -does not protect it. Mind, I say not it is the parent's fault--perhaps -the fault is all with the wanderer. But, look you, though the parent is -not here, the foe is!--yonder, see!" - -And the young man pointed to a large brindled cat, that, kept back from -its prey by our unwelcome neighbourhood, still remained watchful, a few -paces off, stirring its tail gently backwards and forwards, and with -that stealthy look in its round eyes, dulled by the sun--half fierce, -half frightened--which belongs to its tribe, when man comes between the -devourer and the victim. - -"I do see," said I, "but a passing footstep has saved the bird!" - -"Stop!" said Vivian, laying my hand on his own, and with his old bitter -smile on his lip--"stop! do you think it mercy to save the bird? What -from? and what for? From a natural enemy--from a short pang and a quick -death? Fie!--is not that better than slow starvation? or, if you take -more heed of it, than the prison-bars of a cage? You cannot restore the -nest, you cannot recall the parent. Be wiser in your mercy: leave the -bird to its gentlest fate!" - -I looked hard on Vivian; the lip had lost the bitter smile. He rose and -turned away. I sought to take up the poor bird, but it did not know its -friends, and ran from me, chirping piteously--ran towards the very jaws -of the grim enemy. I was only just in time to scare away the beast, -which sprang up a tree, and glared down through the hanging boughs. -Then I followed the bird, and, as I followed, I heard, not knowing, at -first whence the sound came, a short, quick, tremulous note. Was it -near? was it far?--from the earth? in the sky? Poor parent-bird!--like -parent-love, it seemed now far and now near; now on earth, now in sky! - -And at last, quick and sudden, as if born of the space, lo! the little -wings hovered over me! - -The young bird halted, and I also. "Come," said I, "ye have found each -other at last--settle it between you!" - -I went back to the outcast. - - -CHAPTER LXXXV. - -PISISTRATUS.--How came you to know we had stayed in the town? - -VIVIAN.--Do you think I could remain where you left me? I wandered -out--wandered hither. Passing at dawn through yon streets, I saw the -ostlers loitering by the gates of the yard, overheard them talk, and so -knew you were all at the inn--all! (_He sighed heavily._) - -PISISTRATUS.--Your poor father is very ill! O cousin, how could you -fling from you so much love! - -VIVIAN.--Love!--his!--my father's! - -PISISTRATUS.--Do you really not believe, then, that your father loved -you? - -VIVIAN.--If I had believed it, I had never left him! All the gold of -the Indies had never bribed me to leave my mother! - -PISISTRATUS.--This is indeed a strange misconception of yours. If we -can remove it, all may be well yet. Need there now be any secrets -between us? (_persuasively._) Sit down, and tell me all, cousin. - -After some hesitation, Vivian complied; and by the clearing of his -brow, and the very tone of his voice, I felt sure that he was no -longer seeking to disguise the truth. But, as I afterwards learned -the father's tale as well as now the son's, so, instead of repeating -Vivian's words, which--not by design, but by the twist of a mind -habitually wrong--distorted the facts, I will state what appears to me -the real case, as between the parties so unhappily opposed. Reader, -pardon me if the recital be tedious. And if thou thinkest that I bear -not hard enough on the erring hero of the story, remember that he who -recites judges as Austin's son must judge of Roland's. - - -CHAPTER LXXXVI. - -VIVIAN. - -AT THE ENTRANCE OF LIFE SITS--THE MOTHER. - -It was during the war in Spain that a severe wound, and the fever which -ensued, detained Roland at the house of a Spanish widow. His hostess -had once been rich; but her fortune had been ruined in the general -calamities of the country. She had an only daughter, who assisted to -nurse and tend the wounded Englishman; and when the time approached -for Roland's departure, the frank grief of the young Ramouna betrayed -the impression that the guest had made upon her affections. Much of -gratitude, and something, it might be, of an exquisite sense of honour, -aided, in Roland's breast, the charm naturally produced by the beauty -of his young nurse, and the knightly compassion he felt for her ruined -fortunes and desolate condition. - -In one of those hasty impulses common to a generous nature--and which -too often fatally vindicate the rank of Prudence amidst the tutelary -Powers of Life--Roland committed the error of marriage with a girl of -whose connexions he knew nothing, and of whose nature little more than -its warm spontaneous susceptibility. In a few days subsequent to these -rash nuptials, Roland rejoined the march of the army; nor was he able -to return to Spain till after the crowning victory of Waterloo. - -Maimed by the loss of a limb, and with the scars of many a noble wound -still fresh, Roland then hastened to a home the dreams of which had -soothed the bed of pain, and now replaced the earlier visions of -renown. During his absence a son had been born to him--a son whom he -might rear to take the place he had left in his country's service; to -renew, in some future fields, a career that had failed the romance -of his own antique and chivalrous ambition. As soon as that news had -reached him, his care had been to provide an English nurse for the -infant--so that, with the first sounds of the mother's endearments, the -child might yet hear a voice from the father's land. A female relation -of Bolt's had settled in Spain, and was induced to undertake this -duty. Natural as this appointment was to a man so devotedly English, -it displeased his wild and passionate Ramouna. She had that mother's -jealousy, strongest in minds uneducated; she had also that peculiar -pride which belongs to her country-people, of every rank and condition; -the jealousy and the pride were both wounded by the sight of the -English nurse at the child's cradle. - -That Roland, on regaining his Spanish hearth, should be disappointed -in his expectations of the happiness awaiting him there, was the -inevitable condition of such a marriage; since, not the less for his -military bluntness, Roland had that refinement of feeling, perhaps -over-fastidious, which belongs to all natures essentially poetic; and -as the first illusions of love died away, there could have been little -indeed congenial to his stately temper in one divided from him by an -utter absence of education, and by the strong but nameless distinctions -of national views and manners. The disappointment probably, however, -went deeper than that which usually attends an ill-assorted union; -for, instead of bringing his wife to his old tower, (an expatriation -which she would doubtless have resisted to the utmost,) he accepted, -maimed as he was, not very long after his return to Spain, the offer -of a military post under Ferdinand. The Cavalier doctrines and intense -loyalty of Roland attached him, without reflection, to the service of -a throne which the English arms had contributed to establish; while -the extreme unpopularity of the Constitutional Party in Spain, and -the stigma of irreligion fixed to it by the priests, aided to foster -Roland's belief that he was supporting a beloved king against the -professors of those revolutionary and Jacobinical doctrines, which -to him were the very atheism of politics. The experience of a few -years in the service of a bigot so contemptible as Ferdinand, whose -highest object of patriotism was the restoration of the Inquisition, -added another disappointment to those which had already embittered the -life of a man who had seen in the grand hero of Cervantes no follies -to satirise, but high virtues to imitate. Poor Quixote himself--he -came mournfully back to his La Mancha, with no other reward for his -knight-errantry than a decoration which he disdained to place beside -his simple Waterloo medal, and a grade for which he would have blushed -to resign his more modest, but more honourable English dignity. - -But, still weaving hopes, the sanguine man returned to his Penates. His -child now had grown from infancy into boyhood--the child would pass -naturally into his care. Delightful occupation!--At the thought, Home -smiled again. - -Now, behold the most pernicious circumstance in this ill-omened -connexion. - -The father of Ramouna had been one of that strange and mysterious -race which presents in Spain so many features distinct from the -characteristics of its kindred tribes in more civilised lands. -The Gitáno, or gipsy of Spain, is not the mere vagrant we see on -our commons and roadsides. Retaining, indeed, much of his lawless -principles and predatory inclinations, he lives often in towns, -exercises various callings, and not unfrequently becomes rich. A -wealthy Gitáno had married a Spanish woman;[5] Roland's wife had been -the offspring of this marriage. The Gitáno had died while Ramouna -was yet extremely young, and her childhood had been free from the -influences of her paternal kindred. But, though her mother, retaining -her own religion, had brought up Ramouna in the same faith, pure from -the godless creed of the Gitáno--and, at her husband's death, had -separated herself wholly from his tribe--still she had lost caste with -her own kin and people. And while struggling to regain it, the fortune, -which made her sole chance of success in that attempt, was swept away, -so that she had remained apart and solitary, and could bring no friends -to cheer the solitude of Ramouna during Roland's absence. But, while my -uncle was still in the service of Ferdinand, the widow died; and then -the only relatives who came round Ramouna were her father's kindred. -They had not ventured to claim affinity while her mother lived; and -they did so now, by attentions and caresses to her son. This opened -to them at once Ramouna's heart and doors. Meanwhile, the English -nurse--who, in spite of all that could render her abode odious to her, -had, from strong love to her charge, stoutly maintained her post--died, -a few weeks after Ramouna's mother, and no healthful influence remained -to counteract those baneful ones to which the heir of the honest old -Caxtons was subjected. But Roland returned home in a humour to be -pleased with all things. Joyously he clasped his wife to his breast, -and thought, with self-reproach, that he had forborne too little, and -exacted too much--he would be wiser now. Delightedly he acknowledged -the beauty, the intelligence, and manly bearing of the boy, who played -with his sword-knot, and ran off with his pistols as a prize. - -[5] A Spaniard very rarely indeed marries a Gitána or female gipsy. But -occasionally (observes Mr Borrow) a wealthy Gitáno marries a Spanish -female. - -The news of the Englishman's arrival at first kept the lawless kinsfolk -from the house; but they were fond of the boy, and the boy of them, and -interviews between him and these wild comrades, if stolen, were not -less frequent. Gradually Roland's eyes became opened. As, in habitual -intercourse, the boy abandoned the reserve which awe and cunning at -first imposed, Roland was inexpressibly shocked at the bold principles -his son affected, and at his utter incapacity even to comprehend that -plain honesty and that frank honour which, to the English soldier, -seemed ideas innate and heaven-planted. Soon afterwards, Roland found -that a system of plunder was carried on in his household, and tracked -it to the connivance of the wife and the agency of the son, for the -benefit of lazy bravos and dissolute vagrants. A more patient man than -Roland might well have been exasperated--a more wary man confounded, -by this discovery. He took the natural step--perhaps insisting on it -too summarily--perhaps not allowing enough for the uncultured mind and -lively passions of his wife: he ordered her instantly to prepare to -accompany him from the place, and to give up all communication with her -kindred. - -A vehement refusal ensued; but Roland was not a man to give up such -a point, and at length a false submission, and a feigned repentance -soothed his resentment and obtained his pardon. They moved several -miles from the place; but where they moved, there, some at least, and -those the worst, of the baleful brood, stealthily followed. Whatever -Ramouna's earlier love for Roland had been, it had evidently long -ceased in the thorough want of sympathy between them, and in that -absence which, if it renews a strong affection, destroys an affection -already weakened. But the mother and son adored each other with all -the strength of their strong, wild natures. Even under ordinary -circumstances, the father's influence over a boy yet in childhood is -exerted in vain, if the mother lend herself to baffle it. And in this -miserable position, what chance had the blunt, stern, honest Roland -(separated from his son during the most ductile years of infancy) -against the ascendency of a mother who humoured all the faults, and -gratified all the wishes, of her darling? - -In his despair, Roland let fall the threat that, if thus thwarted, it -would become his duty to withdraw his son from the mother. This threat -instantly hardened both hearts against him. The wife represented Roland -to the boy as a tyrant, as an enemy--as one who had destroyed all the -happiness they had before enjoyed in each other--as one whose severity -showed that he hated his own child; and the boy believed her. In his -own house a firm union was formed against Roland, and protected by the -cunning which is the force of the weak against the strong. - -In spite of all, Roland could never forget the tenderness with which -the young nurse had watched over the wounded man, nor the love--genuine -for the hour, though not drawn from the feelings which withstand the -wear and tear of life--that lips so beautiful had pledged him in the -bygone days. These thoughts must have come perpetually between his -feelings and his judgment, to embitter still more his position--to -harass still more his heart. And if, by the strength of that sense -of duty which made the force of his character, he could have strung -himself to the fulfilment of the threat, humanity, at all events, -compelled him to delay it--his wife promised to be again a mother. -Blanche was born. How could he take the infant from the mother's -breast, or abandon the daughter to the fatal influences from which -only, by so violent an effort, he could free the son? - -No wonder, poor Roland! that those deep furrows contracted thy bold -front, and thy hair grew gray before its time! - -Fortunately, perhaps, for all parties, Roland's wife died while Blanche -was still an infant. She was taken ill of a fever--she died delirious, -clasping her boy to her breast, and praying the saints to protect him -from his cruel father. How often that deathbed haunted the son, and -justified his belief that there was no parent's love in the heart -which was now his sole shelter from the world, and the "pelting of its -pitiless rain." Again I say, poor Roland!--for I know that, in that -harsh, unloving disrupture of such solemn ties, thy large generous -heart forgot its wrongs; again didst thou see tender eyes bending over -the wounded stranger--again hear low murmurs breathe the warm weakness -which the women of the south deem it no shame to own. And now did it -all end in those ravings of hate, and in that glazing gaze of terror! - - -CHAPTER LXXXVII. - -THE PRECEPTOR. - -Roland removed to France, and fixed his abode in the environs of Paris. -He placed Blanche at a convent in the immediate neighbourhood, going -to see her daily, and gave himself up to the education of his son. The -boy was apt to learn; but to unlearn was here the arduous task--and -for that task it would have needed either the passionless experience, -the exquisite forbearance of a practised teacher, or the love, and -confidence, and yielding heart of a believing pupil. Roland felt that -he was not the man to be the teacher, and that his son's heart remained -obstinately closed to him. He looked round, and found at the other -side of Paris what seemed a suitable preceptor--a young Frenchman of -some distinction in letters, more especially in science, with all -a Frenchman's eloquence of talk, full of high-sounding sentiments, -that pleased the romantic enthusiasm of the Captain; so Roland, with -sanguine hopes, confided his son to this man's care. The boy's natural -quickness mastered readily all that pleased his taste; he learned to -speak and write French with rare felicity and precision. His tenacious -memory, and those flexile organs in which the talent for languages -is placed, served, with the help of an English master, to revive his -earlier knowledge of his father's tongue, and to enable him to speak -it with fluent correctness--though there was always in his accent -something which had struck me as strange; but, not suspecting it to -be foreign, I had thought it a theatrical affectation. He did not go -far into science--little farther, perhaps, than a smattering of French -mathematics; but he acquired a remarkable facility and promptitude in -calculation. He devoured eagerly the light reading thrown in his way, -and picked up thence that kind of knowledge which novels and plays -afford, for good or evil, according as the novel or the play elevates -the understanding and ennobles the passions, or merely corrupts the -fancy, and lowers the standard of human nature. But of all that Roland -desired him to be taught, the son remained as ignorant as before. Among -the other misfortunes of this ominous marriage, Roland's wife had -possessed all the superstitions of a Roman Catholic Spaniard, and with -these the boy had unconsciously intermingled doctrines far more dreary, -imbibed from the dark paganism of the Gitános. - -Roland had sought a Protestant for his son's tutor. The preceptor was -nominally a Protestant--a biting derider of all superstitions indeed! -He was such a Protestant as some defender of Voltaire's religion says -the Great Wit would have been had he lived in a Protestant country. The -Frenchman laughed the boy out of his superstitions, to leave behind -them the sneering scepticism of the _Encyclopédie_, without those -redeeming ethics on which all sects of philosophy are agreed, but -which, unhappily, it requires a philosopher to comprehend. - -This preceptor was doubtless not aware of the mischief he was doing; -and for the rest, he taught his pupil after his own system--a mild and -plausible one, very much like the system we at home are recommended -to adopt--"Teach the understanding, all else will follow;" "Learn -to read _something_, and it will all come right;" "Follow the bias -of the pupil's mind; thus you develop genius, not thwart it." Mind, -Understanding, Genius--fine things! But, to educate the whole man, -you must educate something more than these. Not for want of mind, -understanding, genius, have Borgias and Neros left their names as -monuments of horror to mankind. Where, in all this teaching, was one -lesson to warm the heart and guide the soul? - -O mother mine! that the boy had stood by thy knee, and heard from thy -lips, why life was given us, in what life shall end, and how heaven -stands open to us night and day! O father mine! that thou hadst been -his preceptor, not in book-learning, but the heart's simple wisdom! Oh! -that he had learned from thee, in parables closed with practice, the -happiness of self-sacrifice, and how "good deeds should repair the bad!" - -It was the misfortune of this boy, with his daring and his beauty, that -there was in his exterior and his manner that which attracted indulgent -interest, and a sort of compassionate admiration. The Frenchman liked -him--believed his story--thought him ill-treated by that hard-visaged -English soldier. All English people were so disagreeable, particularly -English soldiers; and the Captain once mortally offended the Frenchman, -by calling Vilainton _un grand homme_, and denying, with brutal -indignation, that the English had poisoned Napoleon! So, instead of -teaching the son to love and revere his father, the Frenchman shrugged -his shoulders when the boy broke into some unfilial complaint, and -at most said, "_Mais, cher enfant, ton père est Anglais--c'est tout -dire_." Meanwhile, as the child sprang rapidly into precocious youth, -he was permitted a liberty in his hours of leisure, of which he availed -himself with all the zest of his early habits and adventurous temper. -He formed acquaintances among the loose young haunters of cafés, -and spendthrifts of that capital--the wits! He became an excellent -swordsman and pistol-shot--adroit in all games in which skill helps -fortune. He learned betimes to furnish himself with money, by the cards -and the billiard-balls. - -But, delighted with the easy home he had obtained, he took care to -school his features, and smooth his manner, in his father's visits--to -make the most of what he had learned of less ignoble knowledge, and, -with his characteristic imitativeness, to cite the finest sentiments he -had found in his plays and novels. What father is not credulous? Roland -believed, and wept tears of joy. And now he thought the time was come -to take back the boy--to return with a worthy heir to the old Tower. -He thanked and blest the tutor--he took the son. But, under pretence -that he had yet some things to master, whether in book knowledge or -manly accomplishments, the youth begged his father, at all events, -not yet to return to England--to let him attend his tutor daily for -some months. Roland consented, moved from his old quarters, and took -a lodging for both in the same suburb as that in which the teacher -resided. But soon, when they were under one roof, the boy's habitual -tastes, and his repugnance to all paternal authority, were betrayed. -To do my unhappy cousin justice, (such as that justice is,) though -he had the cunning for a short disguise, he had not the hypocrisy to -maintain systematic deceit. He could play a part for a while, from an -exulting joy in his own address; but he could not wear a mask with the -patience of cold-blooded dissimulation. Why enter into painful details, -so easily divined by the intelligent reader? The faults of the son -were precisely those to which Roland would be least indulgent. To the -ordinary scrapes of high-spirited boyhood, no father, I am sure, would -have been more lenient; but to anything that seemed low, petty--that -grated on him as gentleman and soldier--there, not for worlds would -I have braved the darkness of his frown, and the woe that spoke like -scorn in his voice. And when, after all warning and prohibition were -in vain, Roland found his son, in the middle of the night, in a resort -of gamblers and sharpers, carrying all before him with his cue, in the -full flush of triumph, and a great heap of five-franc pieces before -him--you may conceive with what wrath the proud, hasty, passionate man, -drove out, cane in hand, the obscene associates, flinging after them -the son's ill-gotten gains; and with what resentful humiliation the -son was compelled to follow the father home. Then Roland took the boy -to England, but not to the old Tower; that hearth of his ancestors was -still too sacred for the footsteps of the vagrant heir! - - -CHAPTER LXXXVIII. - -THE HEARTH WITHOUT TRUST, AND THE WORLD WITHOUT A GUIDE. - -And then, vainly grasping at every argument his blunt sense could -suggest--then talked Roland much and grandly of the duties men -owed--even if they threw off all love to their father--still to their -father's name; and then his pride, always so lively, grew irritable and -harsh, and seemed, no doubt, to the perverted ears of the son, unlovely -and unloving. And that pride, without serving one purpose of good, did -yet more mischief; for the youth caught the disease, but in a wrong -way. And he said to himself,-- - -"Ho! then my father is a great man, with all these ancestors and big -words! And he has lands and a castle--and yet how miserably we live, -and how he stints me! But if he has cause for pride in all these dead -men, why, so have I. And are these lodgings, these appurtenances, fit -for the 'gentleman' he says I am?" - -Even in England, the gipsy blood broke out as before; and the -youth found vagrant associates, heaven knows how or where; and -strange-looking forms, gaudily shabby, and disreputably smart, were -seen lurking in the corner of the street, or peering in at the window, -slinking off if they saw Roland--and Roland could not stoop to be a -spy. And the son's heart grew harder and harder against his father, -and his father's face now never smiled on him. Then bills came in, -and duns knocked at the door. Bills and duns to a man who shrunk from -the thought of a debt, as an ermine from a spot on its hide! And the -son's short answer to remonstrance was,--"Am I not a gentleman?--these -are the things gentlemen require." Then perhaps Roland remembered the -experiment of his French friend, and left his bureau unlocked, and -said, "Ruin me if you will, but no debts. There is money in those -drawers--they are unlocked." That trust would for ever have cured -of extravagance a youth with a high and delicate sense of honour: -the pupil of the Gitános did not understand the trust; he thought it -conveyed a natural though ungracious permission to take out what he -wanted--and he took! To Roland this seemed a theft, and a theft of the -coarsest kind: but when he so said, the son started indignant, and saw -in that which had been so touching an appeal to his honour, but a trap -to decoy him into disgrace. In short, neither could understand the -other. Roland forbade his son to stir from the house; and the young man -the same night let himself out, and stole forth into the wide world, to -enjoy or defy it in his own wild way. - -It would be tedious to follow him through his various adventures and -experiments on fortune, (even if I knew them all, which I do not.) And -now, putting altogether aside his right name, which he had voluntarily -abandoned, and not embarrassing the reader with the earlier aliases -assumed, I shall give to my unfortunate kinsman the name by which I -first knew him, and continue to do so, until--heaven grant the time -may come!--having first redeemed, he may reclaim, his own. It was in -joining a set of strolling players that Vivian became acquainted with -Peacock; and that worthy, who had many strings to his bow, soon grew -aware of Vivian's extraordinary skill with the cue, and saw therein -a better mode of making their joint fortunes than the boards of an -itinerant Thespis furnished to either. Vivian listened to him, and -it was while their intimacy was most fresh that I met them on the -highroad. That chance meeting produced (if I may be allowed to believe -his assurance) a strong, and, for the moment, a salutary effect upon -Vivian. The comparative innocence and freshness of a boy's mind were -new to him; the elastic healthful spirits with which those gifts were -accompanied startled him, by the contrast to his own forced gaiety and -secret gloom. And this boy was his own cousin! - -Coming afterwards to London, he adventured inquiry at the hotel in -the Strand at which I had given my address; learned where we were; -and, passing one night in the street, saw my uncle at the window--to -recognise and to fly from him. Having then some money at his disposal, -he broke off abruptly from the set into which he had been thrown. He -resolved to return to France--he would try for a more respectable mode -of existence. He had not found happiness in that liberty he had won, -nor room for the ambition that began to gnaw him, in those pursuits -from which his father had vainly warned him. His most reputable friend -was his old tutor; he would go to him. He went; but the tutor was now -married, and was himself a father, and that made a wonderful alteration -in his practical ethics. It was no longer moral to aid the son in -rebellion to his father. Vivian evinced his usual sarcastic haughtiness -at the reception he met, and was requested civilly to leave the house. -Then again he flung himself on his wits at Paris. But there were plenty -of wits there sharper than his own. He got into some quarrel with the -police--not indeed for any dishonest practices of his own, but from an -unwary acquaintance with others less scrupulous, and deemed it prudent -to quit France. Thus had I met him again, forlorn and ragged, in the -streets of London. - -Meanwhile Roland, after the first vain search, had yielded to the -indignation and disgust that had long rankled within him. His son had -thrown off his authority, because it preserved him from dishonour. His -ideas of discipline were stern, and patience had been wellnigh crushed -out of his heart. He thought he could bear to resign his son to his -fate--to disown him, and to say, "I have no more a son." It was in this -mood that he had first visited our house. But when, on that memorable -night in which he had narrated to his thrilling listeners the dark -tale of a fellow-sufferer's woe and crime--betraying in the tale, to -my father's quick sympathy, his own sorrow and passion--it did not -need much of his gentler brother's subtle art to learn or guess the -whole, nor much of Austin's mild persuasion to convince Roland that he -had not yet exhausted all efforts to track the wanderer and reclaim -the erring child. Then he had gone to London--then he had sought every -spot which the outcast would probably haunt--then had he saved and -pinched from his own necessities, to have wherewithal to enter theatres -and gaming-houses, and fee the agencies of police; then had he seen -the form for which he had watched and pined, in the street below -his window, and cried in a joyous delusion, "He repents!" One day a -letter reached my uncle, through his banker's, from the French tutor, -(who knew of no other means of tracing Roland but through the house -by which his salary had been paid,) informing him of his son's visit. -Roland started instantly for Paris. Arriving there, he could only learn -of his son through the police, and from them only learn that he had -been seen in the company of accomplished swindlers, who were already -in the hands of justice; but that the youth himself, whom there was -nothing to criminate, had been suffered to quit Paris, and had taken, -it was supposed, the road to England. Then at last the poor Captain's -stout heart gave way. His son the companion of swindlers!--could he be -sure that he was not their accomplice? If not yet, how small the step -between companionship and participation! He took the child left him -still from the convent, returned to England, and arrived there to be -seized with fever and delirium--apparently on the same day (or a day -before that on which) the son had dropped shelterless and penniless on -the stones of London. - - -CHAPTER LXXXIX. - -THE ATTEMPT TO BUILD A TEMPLE TO FORTUNE OUT OF THE RUINS OF HOME. - -"But," said Vivian, pursuing his tale, "but when you came to my aid, -not knowing me--when you relieved me--when from your own lips, for -the first time, I heard words that praised me, and for qualities that -implied I might yet be 'worth much.'--Ah! (he added mournfully,) I -remember the very words--a new light broke upon me--struggling and dim, -but light still. The ambition with which I had sought the truckling -Frenchman revived, and took worthier and more definite form. I would -lift myself above the mire, make a name, rise in life!" - -Vivian's head drooped, but he raised it quickly, and laughed--his -low mocking laugh. What follows of his tale may be told succinctly. -Retaining his bitter feelings towards his father, he resolved to -continue his incognito--he gave himself a name likely to mislead -conjecture, if I conversed of him to my family, since he knew that -Roland was aware that a Colonel Vivian had been afflicted by a runaway -son--and, indeed, the talk upon that subject had first put the notion -of flight into his own head. He caught at the idea of becoming known to -Trevanion; but he saw reasons to forbid his being indebted to me for -the introduction--to forbid my knowing where he was: sooner or later, -that knowledge could scarcely fail to end in the discovery of his real -name. Fortunately, as he deemed, for the plans he began to meditate, -we were all leaving London--he should have the stage to himself. And -then boldly he resolved upon what he regarded as the master scheme of -life--viz., to obtain a small pecuniary independence, and to emancipate -himself formally and entirely from his father's control. Aware of poor -Roland's chivalrous reverence for his name, firmly persuaded that -Roland had no love for the son, but only the dread that the son might -disgrace him, he determined to avail himself of his father's prejudices -in order to effect his purpose. - -He wrote a short letter to Roland, (that letter which had given the -poor man so sanguine a joy--that letter after reading which he had said -to Blanche, "Pray for me,") stating simply, that he wished to see his -father; and naming a tavern in the city for the meeting. - -The interview took place. And when Roland, love and forgiveness in -his heart--but (who shall blame him?) dignity on his brow, and rebuke -in his eye--approached, ready at a word to fling himself on the boy's -breast, Vivian, seeing only the outer signs, and interpreting them by -his own sentiments--recoiled; folded his arms on his bosom, and said -coldly, "Spare me reproach, sir--it is unavailing. I seek you only to -propose that you shall save your name, and resign your son." - -Then, intent perhaps but to gain his object, the unhappy youth -declared his fixed determination never to live with his father, never -to acquiesce in his authority, resolutely to pursue his own career, -whatever that career might be, explaining none of the circumstances -that appeared most in his disfavour--rather, perhaps, thinking that, -the worse his father judged of him, the more chance he had to achieve -his purpose. "All I ask of you," he said, "is this: Give me the least -you can afford to preserve me from the temptation to rob, or the -necessity to starve; and I, in my turn, promise never to molest you in -life--never to degrade you in my death; whatever my misdeeds, they will -never reflect on yourself, for you shall never recognise the misdoer! -The name you prize so highly shall be spared." Sickened and revolted, -Roland attempted no argument--there was that in the son's cold manner -which shut out hope, and against which his pride rose indignant. A -meeker man might have remonstrated, implored, and wept--that was not in -Roland's nature. He had but the choice of three evils, to say to his -son: "Fool, I command thee to follow me;" or say, "Wretch, since thou -wouldst cast me off as a stranger, as a stranger I say to thee--Go, -starve or rob, as thou wilt!" or lastly, to bow his proud head, stunned -by the blow, and say, "Thou refusest me the obedience of the son, thou -demandest to be as the dead to me. I can control thee not from vice, -I can guide thee not to virtue. Thou wouldst sell me the name I have -inherited stainless, and have as stainless borne. Be it so!--Name thy -price!" - -And something like this last was the father's choice. - -He listened, and was long silent; and then he said slowly, "Pause -before you decide." - -"I have paused long--my decision is made! this is the last time we -meet. I see before me now the way to fortune, fairly, honourably; you -can aid me in it only in the way I have said. Reject me now, and the -option may never come again to either!" - -And then Roland said to himself, "I have spared and saved for this son; -what care I for aught else than enough to live without debt, creep -into a corner, and await the grave! And the more I can give, why the -better chance that he will abjure the vile associate and the desperate -course." And so, out of that small income, Roland surrendered to the -rebel child more than the half. - -Vivian was not aware of his father's fortune--he did not suppose the -sum of two hundred pounds a-year was an allowance so disproportioned -to Roland's means--yet when it was named, even he was struck by the -generosity of one to whom he himself had given the right to say, "I -take thee at thy word; 'just enough not to starve!'" - -But then that hateful cynicism which, caught from bad men and evil -books, he called "knowledge of the world," made him think, "it is not -for me, it is only for his name;" and he said aloud, "I accept these -terms, sir; here is the address of a solicitor with whom yours can -settle them. Farewell for ever." - -At those last words Roland started, and stretched out his arms vaguely -like a blind man. But Vivian had already thrown open the window, (the -room was on the ground floor) and sprang upon the sill. "Farewell," he -repeated: "tell the world I am dead." - -He leapt into the street, and the father drew in the outstretched arms, -smote his heart, and said--"Well, then, my task in the world of man is -over! I will back to the old ruin--the wreck to the wrecks--and the -sight of tombs I have at least rescued from dishonour shall comfort me -for all!" - - -CHAPTER XC. - -THE RESULTS--PERVERTED AMBITION--SELFISH PASSION--THE INTELLECT -DISTORTED BY THE CROOKEDNESS OF THE HEART. - -Vivian's schemes thus prospered. He had an income that permitted him -the outward appearances of a gentleman--an independence modest indeed, -but independence still. We were all gone from London. One letter to -me, with the postmark of the town near which Colonel Vivian lived, -sufficed to confirm my belief in his parentage, and in his return to -his friends. He then presented himself to Trevanion as the young man -whose pen I had employed in the member's service; and knowing that -I had never mentioned his name to Trevanion--for without Vivian's -permission I should not, considering his apparent trust in me, have -deemed myself authorised to do so--he took that of Gower, which he -selected haphazard from an old Court Guide, as having the advantage in -common with most names borne by the higher nobility of England, viz., -of not being confined, as the ancient names of untitled gentlemen -usually are, to the members of a single family. And when, with his -usual adaptability and suppleness, he had contrived to lay aside, or -smooth over, whatever in his manners would be calculated to displease -Trevanion, and had succeeded in exciting the interest which that -generous statesman always conceived for ability, he owned candidly, one -day, in the presence of Lady Ellinor--for his experience had taught him -the comparative ease with which the sympathy of woman is enlisted in -anything that appeals to the imagination, or seems out of the ordinary -beat of life--that he had reasons for concealing his connexions for -the present--that he had cause to believe I suspected what they were, -and, from mistaken regard for his welfare, might acquaint his relations -with his whereabouts. He therefore begged Trevanion, if the latter had -occasion to write to me, not to mention him. This promise Trevanion -gave, though reluctantly; for the confidence volunteered to him seemed -to exact the promise; but as he detested mystery of all kinds, the -avowal might have been fatal to any farther acquaintance; and under -auspices so doubtful, there would have been no chance of his obtaining -that intimacy in Trevanion's house which he desired to establish, but -for an accident which at once opened that house to him almost as a home. - -Vivian had always treasured a lock of his mother's hair, cut off on her -deathbed; and when he was at his French tutor's, his first pocket-money -had been devoted to the purchase of a locket, on which he had caused to -be inscribed his own name and his mother's. Through all his wanderings -he had worn this relic; and in the direst pangs of want, no hunger had -been keen enough to induce him to part with it. Now, one morning the -ribbon that suspended the locket gave way, and his eye resting on the -names inscribed on the gold, he thought, in his own vague sense of -right, imperfect as it was, that his compact with his father obliged -him to have the names erased. He took it to a jeweller in Piccadilly -for that purpose, and gave the requisite order, not taking notice of -a lady in the further part of the shop. The locket was still on the -counter after Vivian had left, when the lady coming forward observed -it, and saw the names on the surface. She had been struck by the -peculiar tone of the voice, which she had heard before; and that very -day Mr Gower received a note from Lady Ellinor Trevanion, requesting -to see him. Much wondering, he went. Presenting him with the locket, -she said smiling, "There is only one gentleman in the world who calls -himself _De_ Caxton, unless it be his son. Ah! I see now why you wished -to conceal yourself from my friend Pisistratus. But how is this? can -you have any difference with your father? Confide in me, or it is my -duty to write to him." - -Even Vivian's powers of dissimulation abandoned him, thus taken by -surprise. He saw no alternative but to trust Lady Ellinor with his -secret, and implore her to respect it. And then he spoke bitterly -of his father's dislike to him, and his own resolution to prove the -injustice of that dislike by the position he would himself establish -in the world. At present, his father believed him dead, and perhaps -was not ill-pleased to think so. He would not dispel that belief till -he could redeem any boyish errors, and force his family to be proud to -acknowledge him. - -Though Lady Ellinor was slow to believe that Roland could dislike his -son, she could yet readily believe that he was harsh and choleric, with -a soldier's high notions of discipline; the young man's story moved -her, his determination pleased her own high spirit;--always with a -touch of romance in her, and always sympathising with each desire of -ambition--she entered into Vivian's aspirations with an alacrity that -surprised himself. She was charmed with the idea of ministering to the -son's fortunes, and ultimately reconciling him to the father,--through -her own agency;--it would atone for any fault of which Roland could -accuse herself in the old time. - -She undertook to impart the secret to Trevanion, for she would have no -secrets from him, and to secure his acquiescence in its concealment -from all others. - -And here I must a little digress from the chronological course of my -explanatory narrative, to inform the reader that, when Lady Ellinor -had her interview with Roland, she had been repelled by the sternness -of his manner from divulging Vivian's secret. But on her first -attempt to sound or conciliate him, she had begun with some eulogies -on Trevanion's new friend and assistant, Mr Gower, and had awakened -Roland's suspicions of that person's identity with his son--suspicions -which had given him a terrible interest in our joint deliverance of -Miss Trevanion. But so heroically had the poor soldier sought to resist -his own fears, that on the way he shrank to put to me the questions -that might paralyse the energies which, whatever the answer, were then -so much needed. "For," said he to my father, "I felt the blood surging -to my temples; and if I had said to Pisistratus, 'Describe this man,' -and by his description I had recognised my son, and dreaded lest I -might be too late to arrest him from so treacherous a crime, my brain -would have given way;--and so I did not dare!" - -I return to the thread of my story. From the time that Vivian confided -in Lady Ellinor, the way was cleared to his most ambitious hopes; and -though his acquisitions were not sufficiently scholastic and various to -permit Trevanion to select him as a secretary, yet, short of sleeping -at the house, he was little less intimate there than I had been. - -Among Vivian's schemes of advancement, that of winning the hand and -heart of the great heiress had not been one of the least sanguine. -This hope was annulled when, not long after his intimacy at her -father's house, she became engaged to young Lord Castleton. But he -could not see Miss Trevanion with impunity--(alas! who, with a heart -yet free, could be insensible to attractions so winning?) He permitted -the love--such love as his wild, half-educated, half-savage nature -acknowledged--to creep into his soul--to master it; but he felt no -hope, cherished no scheme while the young lord lived. With the death -of her betrothed, Fanny was free; _then_ he began to hope--not yet to -scheme. Accidentally he encountered Peacock. Partly from the levity -that accompanied a false good-nature that was constitutional with -him, partly from a vague idea that the man might be useful, Vivian -established his quondam associate in the service of Trevanion. Peacock -soon gained the secret of Vivian's love for Fanny, and, dazzled by the -advantages that a marriage with Miss Trevanion would confer on his -patron, and might reflect on himself, and delighted at an occasion to -exercise his dramatic accomplishments on the stage of real life, he -soon practised the lesson that the theatres had taught him--viz: to -make a sub-intrigue between maid and valet serve the schemes and insure -the success of the lover. If Vivian had some opportunities to imply his -admiration, Miss Trevanion gave him none to plead his cause. But the -softness of her nature, and that graceful kindness which surrounded -her like an atmosphere, emanating unconsciously from a girl's harmless -desire to please, tended to deceive him. His own personal gifts were -so rare, and, in his wandering life, the effect they had produced -had so increased his reliance on them, that he thought he wanted but -the fair opportunity to woo in order to win. In this state of mental -intoxication, Trevanion, having provided for his Scotch secretary, took -him to Lord N----'s. His hostess was one of those middle-aged ladies of -fashion, who like to patronise and bring forward young men, accepting -gratitude for condescension, as a homage to beauty. She was struck by -Vivian's exterior, and that 'picturesque' in look and in manner which -belonged to him. Naturally garrulous and indiscreet, she was unreserved -to a pupil whom she conceived the whim to make '_au fait_ to society.' -Thus she talked to him, among other topics in fashion, of Miss -Trevanion, and expressed her belief that the present Lord Castleton had -always admired her; but it was only on his accession to the marquisate -that he had made up his mind to marry, or, from his knowledge of Lady -Ellinor's ambition, thought that the Marquis of Castleton might achieve -the prize which would have been refused to Sir Sedley Beaudesert. Then, -to corroborate the predictions she hazarded, she repeated, perhaps -with exaggeration, some passages from Lord Castleton's replies to her -own suggestions on the subject. Vivian's alarm became fatally excited; -unregulated passions easily obscured a reason so long perverted, and a -conscience so habitually dulled. There is an instinct in all intense -affection, (whether it be corrupt or pure,) that usually makes its -jealousy prophetic. Thus, from the first, out of all the brilliant -idlers round Fanny Trevanion, my jealousy had pre-eminently fastened on -Sir Sedley Beaudesert, though, to all seeming, without a cause. From -the same instinct, Vivian had conceived the same vague jealousy--a -jealousy, in his instance, coupled with a deep dislike to his supposed -rival, who had wounded his self-love. For the marquis, though to be -haughty or ill-bred was impossible to the blandness of his nature, -had never shown to Vivian the genial courtesies he had lavished upon -me, and kept politely aloof from his acquaintance--while Vivian's -personal vanity had been wounded by that drawing-room effect, which the -proverbial winner of all hearts produced without an effort--an effect -that threw into the shade the youth, and the beauty (more striking, but -infinitely less prepossessing) of the adventurous rival. Thus animosity -to Lord Castleton conspired with Vivian's passion for Fanny, to rouse -all that was worst by nature and by rearing, in this audacious and -turbulent spirit. - -His confidant, Peacock, suggested from his stage experience the -outlines of a plot, to which Vivian's astuter intellect instantly gave -tangibility and colouring. Peacock had already found Miss Trevanion's -waiting-woman ripe for any measure that might secure himself as her -husband, and a provision for life as a reward. Two or three letters -between them settled the preliminary engagements. A friend of the -ex-comedian's had lately taken an inn on the North road, and might be -relied upon. At that inn it was settled that Vivian should meet Miss -Trevanion, whom Peacock, by the aid of the abigail, engaged to lure -there. The sole difficulty that then remained would, to most men, have -seemed the greatest--viz., the consent of Miss Trevanion to a Scotch -marriage. But Vivian hoped all things from his own eloquence, art, and -passion; and by an inconsistency, however strange, still not unnatural -in the twists of so crooked an intellect, he thought that, by insisting -on the intention of her parents to sacrifice her youth to the very man -of whose attractions he was most jealous--by the picture of disparity -of years, by the caricature of his rival's foibles and frivolities, -by the commonplaces of "beauty bartered for ambition," &c., he might -enlist her fears of the alternative on the side of the choice urged -upon her. The plan proceeded, the time came: Peacock pretended the -excuse of a sick relation to leave Trevanion; and Vivian, a day before, -on pretence of visiting the picturesque scenes in the neighbourhood, -obtained leave of absence. Thus the plot went on to its catastrophe. - -"And I need not ask," said I, trying in vain to conceal my indignation, -"how Miss Trevanion received your monstrous proposition!" - -Vivian's pale cheek grew paler, but he made no reply. - -"And if we had not arrived, what would you have done? Oh, dare you look -into the gulf of infamy you have escaped!" - -"I cannot, and I will not bear this!" exclaimed Vivian, starting -up. "I have laid my heart bare before you, and it is ungenerous and -unmanly thus to press upon its wounds. You can moralise, you can speak -coldly--but I--I loved!" - -"And do you think," I burst forth--"do you think that I did not love -too!--love longer than you have done; better than you have done; gone -through sharper struggles, darker days, more sleepless nights than -you,--and yet--" - -Vivian caught hold of me. - -"Hush!" he cried; "is this indeed true! I thought you might have had -some faint and fleeting fancy for Miss Trevanion, but that you curbed -and conquered it at once. Oh no; it was impossible to have loved -really, and to have surrendered all chance as you did!--have left the -house, have fled from her presence! No--no, that was not love!" - -"It _was_ love! and I pray Heaven to grant that, one day, you may -know how little your affection sprang from those feelings which make -true love sublime as honour, and meek as is religion! Oh cousin, -cousin!--with those rare gifts, what you might have been! what, if -you will pass through repentance, and cling to atonement--what, I -dare hope, you may yet be! Talk not now of your love; I talk not of -mine! Love is a thing gone from the lives of both. Go back to earlier -thoughts, to heavier wrongs!--your father--that noble heart which you -have so wantonly lacerated, that much-enduring love which you have so -little comprehended!" - -Then with all the warmth of emotion I hurried on--showed him the true -nature of honour and of Roland (for the names were one!)--showed him -the watch, the hope, the manly anguish I had witnessed, and wept--I, -not his son--to see; showed him the poverty and privation to which -the father, even at the last, had condemned himself, so that the son -might have no excuse for the sins that Want whispers to the weak. -This, and much more, and I suppose with the pathos that belongs to -all earnestness, I enforced, sentence after sentence--yielding to no -interruption, over-mastering all dissent; driving in the truth, nail -after nail, as it were, into the obdurate heart, that I constrained and -grappled to. And at last, the dark, bitter, cynical nature gave way, -and the young man fell sobbing at my feet, and cried aloud, "Spare me, -spare me!--I see it all now! Wretch that I have been!" - - -CHAPTER XCI. - -On leaving Vivian, I did not presume to promise him Roland's immediate -pardon. I did not urge him to attempt to see his father. I felt the -time was not come for either pardon or interview. I contented myself -with the victory I had already gained. I judged it right that thought, -solitude, and suffering should imprint more deeply the lesson, and -prepare the way to the steadfast resolution of reform. I left him -seated by the stream, and with the promise to inform him at the small -hostelry, where he took up his lodging, how Roland struggled through -his illness. - -On returning to the inn, I was uneasy to see how long a time had -elapsed since I had left my uncle. But on coming into his room, to -my surprise and relief I found him up and dressed, and with a serene -though fatigued expression of countenance. He asked me no questions -where I had been--perhaps from sympathy with my feelings in parting -with Miss Trevanion--perhaps from conjecture that the indulgence of -those feelings had not wholly engrossed my time. - -But he said simply, "I think I understood from you that you had sent -for Austin--is it so?" - -"Yes, sir; but I named * * * * *, as the nearest point to the Tower, -for the place of meeting." - -"Then let us go hence forthwith--nay, I shall be better for the change. -And here, there must be curiosity, conjecture--torture!" said he, -locking his hands tightly together. "Order the horses at once!" - -I left the room, accordingly; and while they were getting ready the -horses, I ran to the place where I had left Vivian. He was still there, -in the same attitude, covering his face with his hands, as if to -shut out the sun. I told him hastily of Roland's improvement, of our -approaching departure, and asked him an address in London at which I -could find him. He gave me as his direction the same lodging at which I -had so often visited him. "If there be no vacancy there for me," said -he, "I shall leave word where I am to be found. But I would gladly be -where I was, before--" He did not finish the sentence. I pressed his -hand and left him. - - -CHAPTER XCII. - -Some days have elapsed; we are in London, my father with us; and Roland -has permitted Austin to tell me his tale, and received through Austin -all that Vivian's narrative to me suggested, whether in extenuation -of the past, or in hope of redemption in the future. And Austin has -inexpressibly soothed his brother. And Roland's ordinary roughness has -gone, and his looks are meek, and his voice low. But he talks little, -and smiles never. He asks me no questions; does not to _me_ name his -son, nor recur to the voyage to Australia, nor ask 'why it is put off,' -nor interest himself as before in preparations for it--he has no heart -for anything. - -The voyage _is_ put off till the next vessel sails, and I have -seen Vivian twice or thrice, and the result of the interviews has -disappointed and depressed me. It seems to me that much of the previous -effect I had produced is already obliterated. At the very sight of -the great Babel--the evidence of the ease, the luxury, the wealth, -the pomp, the strife, the penury, the famine, and the rags, which the -focus of civilisation, in the disparities of old societies, inevitably -gathers together--the fierce combative disposition seemed to awaken -again; the perverted ambition, the hostility to the world; the wrath, -the scorn; the war with man, and the rebellious murmur against Heaven. -There was still the one redeeming point of repentance for his wrongs to -his father--his heart was still softened there; and, attendant on that -softness, I hailed a principle more like that of honour than I had yet -recognised in Vivian. He cancelled the agreement which had assured him -of a provision at the cost of his father's comforts. "At least, there," -he said, "I will injure him no more!" - -But while, on this point, repentance seemed genuine, it was not so -with regard to his conduct towards Miss Trevanion. His gipsy nurture, -his loose associates, his extravagant French romances, his theatrical -mode of looking upon love intrigues and stage plots, seemed all to rise -between his intelligence and the due sense of the fraud and treachery -he had practised. He seemed to feel more shame at the exposure than at -the guilt; more despair at the failure of success than gratitude at -escape from crime. In a word, the nature of a whole life was not to be -remodelled at once--at least by an artificer so unskilled as I. - -After one of these interviews, I stole into the room where Austin sat -with Roland, and, watching a seasonable moment when Roland, shaking off -a reverie, opened his Bible, and sat down to it, with each muscle in -his face set, as I had seen it before, into iron resolution, I beckoned -my father from the room. - -PISISTRATUS.--I have again seen my cousin. I cannot make the way I -wish. My dear father, you must see him. - -MR CAXTON.--I!--yes, assuredly, if I can be of any service. But will he -listen to me? - -PISISTRATUS.--I think so. A young man will often respect in his elder, -what he will resent as a presumption in his contemporary. - -MR CAXTON.--It maybe so: (_then, more thoughtfully,_) but you describe -this strange boy's mind as a wreck!--in what part of the mouldering -timbers can I fix the grappling-hook? Here, it seems that most of the -supports on which we can best rely, when we would save another, fail -us. Religion, honour, the associations of childhood, the bonds of -home, filial obedience--even the intelligence of self-interest, in the -philosophical sense of the word. And I, too!--a mere book-man! My dear -son!--I despair! - -PISISTRATUS.--No, you do not despair--no, you must succeed; for, if you -do not, what is to become of Uncle Roland? Do you not see his heart is -fast breaking? - -MR CAXTON.--Get me my hat; I will go. I will save this Ishmael--I will -not leave him till he is saved! - -PISISTRATUS (_some minutes after, as they are walking towards Vivian's -lodgings._)--You ask me what support you are to cling to! A strong and -a good one, sir. - -MR CAXTON.--Ay, what is that? - -PISISTRATUS.--Affection! There is a nature capable of strong affection -at the core of this wild heart! He could love his mother; tears gush to -his eyes at her name--he would have starved rather than part with the -memorial of that love. It was his belief in his father's indifference -or dislike that hardened and embruted him--it is only when he hears how -that father loved him, that I now melt his pride and curb his passions. -You have affection to deal with!--do you despair now? - -My father turned on me those eyes so inexpressibly benign and mild, and -replied softly, "No!" - -We reached the house; and my father said, as we knocked at the door, -"If he is at home, leave me. This is a hard study to which you have set -me; I must work at it alone." Vivian was at home, and the door closed -on his visitor. My father stayed some hours. - -On returning home, to my great surprise I found Trevanion with my -uncle. He had found us out--no easy matter, I should think. But a good -impulse in Trevanion was not of that feeble kind which turns home at -the sight of a difficulty. He had come to London on purpose to see and -to thank us. - -I did not think there had been so much of delicacy--of what I may -call the "beauty of kindness"--in a man whom incessant business had -rendered ordinarily blunt and abrupt. I hardly recognised the impatient -Trevanion in the soothing, tender, subtle respect that rather implied -than spoke gratitude, and sought to insinuate what he owed to the -unhappy father, without touching on his wrongs from the son. But of -this kindness--which showed how Trevanion's high nature of gentleman -raised him aloof from that coarseness of thought which those absorbed -wholly in practical affairs often contract--of this kindness, so noble -and so touching, Roland seemed scarcely aware. He sat by the embers of -the neglected fire, his hands grasping the arms of his elbow-chair, -his head drooping on his bosom; and only by a deep hectic flush on -his dark cheek could you have seen that he distinguished between an -ordinary visitor and the man whose child he had helped to save. This -minister of state--this high member of the elect, at whose gift are -places, peerages, gold sticks, and ribbons--has nothing at his command -for the bruised spirit of the half-pay soldier. Before that poverty, -that grief, and that pride, the King's Counsellor was powerless. Only -when Trevanion rose to depart, something like a sense of the soothing -intention which the visit implied seemed to rouse the repose of the old -man, and to break the ice at its surface; for he followed Trevanion -to the door, took both his hands, pressed them, then turned away, and -resumed his seat. Trevanion beckoned to me, and I followed him down -stairs, and into a little parlour which was unoccupied. - -After some remarks upon Roland, full of deep and considerate feeling, -and one quick, hurried reference to the son--to the effect that his -guilty attempt would never be known by the world--Trevanion then -addressed himself to me with a warmth and urgency that took me by -surprise. "After what has passed," he exclaimed, "I cannot suffer -you to leave England thus. Let me not feel with you, as with your -uncle, that there is nothing by which I can repay--no, I will not so -put it. Stay and serve your country at home: it is my prayer--it is -Ellinor's. Out of all at my disposal, it will go hard but what I shall -find something to suit you." And then, hurrying on, Trevanion spoke -flatteringly of my pretensions, in right of birth and capabilities, -to honourable employment, and placed before me a picture of public -life--its prizes and distinctions--which, for the moment at least, -made my heart beat loud and my breath come quick. But still, even -then, I felt (was it an unreasonable pride?) that there was something -that jarred, something that humbled, in the thought of holding all my -fortunes as a dependency on the father of the woman I loved, but might -not aspire to;--something even of personal degradation in the mere -feeling that I was thus to be repaid for a service, and recompensed for -a loss. But these were not reasons I could advance; and, indeed, so for -the time did Trevanion's generosity and eloquence overpower me, that I -could only falter out my thanks, and my promise that I would consider -and let him know. - -With that promise he was forced to content himself; he told me to -direct to him at his favourite country-seat, whither he was going that -day, and so left me. I looked round the humble parlour of the mean -lodging-house, and Trevanion's words came again before me like a flash -of golden light. I stole into the open air, and wandered through the -crowded streets, agitated and disturbed. - - -CHAPTER XCIII. - -Several days elapsed--and of each day my father spent a considerable -part at Vivian's lodgings. But he maintained a reserve as to his -success, begged me not to question him, and to refrain also for the -present from visiting my cousin. My uncle guessed or knew his brother's -mission; for I observed that, whenever Austin went noiseless away, his -eye brightened, and the colour rose in a hectic flush to his cheek. At -last my father came to me one morning, his carpet-bag in his hand, and -said, "I am going away for a week or two. Keep Roland company till I -return." - -"Going with _him_?" - -"With him." - -"That is a good sign." - -"I hope so; that is all I can say now." - -The week had not quite passed when I received from my father the -letter I am about to place before the reader; and you may judge how -earnestly his soul must have been in the task it had volunteered, if -you observe how little, comparatively speaking, the letter contains of -the subtleties and pedantries (may the last word be pardoned, for it is -scarcely a just one) which ordinarily left my father a scholar even in -the midst of his emotions. He seemed here to have abandoned his books, -to have put the human heart before the eyes of his pupil, and said, -"Read, and _un_learn!" - - -TO PISISTRATUS CAXTON. - - "MY DEAR SON,--It were needless to tell you all the earlier - difficulties I have had to encounter with my charge, nor to repeat - all the means which, acting on your suggestion, (a correct one,) - I have employed to arouse feelings long dormant and confused, and - allay others, long prematurely active, and terribly distinct. The - evil was simply this: here was the intelligence of a man in all - that is evil--and the ignorance of an infant in all that is good. - In matters merely worldly, what wonderful acumen! in the plain - principles of right and wrong, what gross and stolid obtuseness! - At one time, I am straining all my poor wit to grapple in an - encounter on the knottiest mysteries of social life; at another, - I am guiding reluctant fingers over the horn-book of the most - obvious morals. Here hieroglyphics, and there pot-hooks! But as - long as there is affection in a man, why, there is Nature to begin - with! To get rid of all the rubbish laid upon her, clear back the - way to that Nature, and start afresh--that is one's only chance. - - "Well, by degrees I won my way, waiting patiently till the bosom, - pleased with the relief, disgorged itself of all 'its perilous - stuff,'--not chiding--not even remonstrating, seeming almost to - sympathise, till I got him Socratically to disprove himself. When - I saw that he no longer feared me--that my company had become - a relief to him--I proposed an excursion, and did not tell him - whither. - - "Avoiding as much as possible the main north road, (for I did not - wish, as you may suppose, to set fire to a train of associations - that might blow us up to the dog-star,) and, where that - avoidance was not possible, travelling by night, I got him into - the neighbourhood of the old Tower. I would not admit him under - its roof. But you know the little inn, three miles off the trout - stream?--we made our abode there. - - "Well, I have taken him into the village, preserving his - incognito. I have entered with him into cottages, and turned the - talk upon Roland. You know how your uncle is adored; you know - what anecdotes of his bold, warm-hearted youth once, and now of - his kind and charitable age, would spring up from the garrulous - lips of gratitude! I made him see with his own eyes, hear with his - own ears, how all who knew Roland loved and honoured him--except - his son. Then I took him round the ruins--(still not suffering - him to enter the house,) for those ruins are the key to Roland's - character--seeing them, one sees the pathos in his poor foible - of family pride. There, you distinguish it from the insolent - boasts of the prosperous, and feel that it is little more than the - pious reverence to the dead--'the tender culture of the tomb.' - We sat down on heaps of mouldering stone, and it was there that - I explained to him what Roland was in youth, and what he had - dreamed that a son would be to him. I showed him the graves of his - ancestors, and explained to him why they were sacred in Roland's - eyes! I had gained a great way, when he longed to enter the home - that should have been his; and I could make him pause of his own - accord, and say, 'No, I must first be worthy of it.' Then you - would have smiled--sly satirist that you are--to have heard me - impressing upon this acute, sharp-witted youth, all that we plain - folk understand by the name of HOME--its perfect trust and truth, - its simple holiness, its exquisite happiness--being to the world - what conscience is to the human mind. And after that, I brought - in his sister, whom till then he had scarcely named--for whom he - scarcely seemed to care--brought her in to aid the father, and - endear the home. 'And you know,' said I, 'that if Roland were to - die, it would be a brother's duty to supply his place; to shield - her innocence--to protect her name! A good name is something, - then. Your father was not so wrong to prize it. You would like - yours to be that which your sister would be proud to own!' - - "While we were talking, Blanche suddenly came to the spot, and - rushed to my arms. She looked on him as a stranger; but I saw his - knees tremble. And then she was about to put her hand in his--but - I drew her back. Was I cruel? He thought so. But when I dismissed - her, I replied to his reproach, 'Your sister is a part of Home. - If you think yourself worthy of either, go and claim both; I will - not object.'--'She has my mother's eyes,' said he, and walked - away. I left him to muse amidst the ruins, while I went in to see - your poor mother, and relieve her fears about Roland, and make her - understand why I could not yet return _home_. - - "This brief sight of his sister has sunk deep into him. But I now - approach what seems to me the great difficulty of the whole. He is - fully anxious to redeem his name--to regain his home. So far so - well. But he cannot yet see ambition, except with hard, worldly - eyes. He still fancies that all he has to do is to get money and - power, and some of those empty prizes in the Great Lottery, which - we often win more easily by our sins than our virtues. (Here - follows a long passage from Seneca, omitted as superfluous.) He - does not yet even understand me--or, if he does, he fancies me - a mere bookworm indeed, when I imply that he might be poor, and - obscure, at the bottom of fortune's wheel, and yet be one we - should be proud of! He supposes that, to redeem his name, he has - only got to lacker it. Don't think me merely the fond father, when - I add my hope that I shall use you to advantage here. I mean to - talk to him to-morrow, as we return to London, of you, and of your - ambition: you shall hear the result. - - "At this moment, (it is past midnight,) I hear his step in the - room above me. The window-sash aloft opens--for the third time; - would to Heaven he could read the true astrology of the stars! - There they are--bright, luminous, benignant. And I seeking to - chain this wandering comet into the harmonies of heaven! Better - task than that of astrologers, and astronomers to boot! Who among - them can 'loosen the band of Orion?'--but who amongst us may not - be permitted by God to have sway over the action and orbit of the - human soul? - - "Your ever affectionate father, - - A. C." - -Two days after the receipt of this letter, came the following; and -though I would fain suppress those references to myself which must be -ascribed to a father's partiality, yet it is so needful to retain them -in connexion with Vivian, that I have no choice but to leave the tender -flatteries to the indulgence of the kind. - - "MY DEAR SON,--I was not too sanguine as to the effect that your - simple story would produce upon your cousin. Without implying any - contrast to his own conduct, I described that scene in which you - threw yourself upon our sympathy, in the struggle between love and - duty, and asked for our counsel and support; when Roland gave you - his blunt advice to tell all to Trevanion; and when, amidst such - sorrow as the heart in youth seems scarcely large enough to hold, - you caught at truth impulsively, and the truth bore you safe from - the shipwreck. I recounted your silent and manly struggles--your - resolution not to suffer the egotism of passion to unfit you for - the aims and ends of that spiritual probation which we call LIFE. - I showed you as you were, still thoughtful for us, interested in - our interests--smiling on us, that we might not guess that you - wept in secret! Oh, my son--my son! do not think that, in those - times, I did not feel and pray for you! And while he was melted by - my own emotion, I turned from your love to your ambition. I made - him see that you, too, had known the restlessness which belongs to - young ardent natures; that you, too, had your dreams of fortune, - and aspirations for success. But I painted that ambition in its - true colours: it was not the desire of a selfish intellect, to be - in yourself a somebody--a something--raised a step or two in the - social ladder, for the pleasure of looking down on those at the - foot, but the warmer yearning of a generous heart; your ambition - was to repair your father's losses--minister to your father's very - foible, in _his_ idle desire of fame--supply to your uncle what he - had lost in his natural heir--link your success to useful objects, - your interests to those of your kind, your reward to the proud and - grateful smiles of those you loved. That was thine ambition, O - my tender Anachronism! And when, as I closed the sketch, I said, - 'Pardon me: you know not what delight a father feels, when, while - sending a son away from him into the world, he can speak and think - thus of him! But this, you see, is not your kind of ambition. Let - us talk of making money, and driving a coach-and-four through this - villanous world,'--your cousin sank into a profound reverie, and - when he woke from it, it was like the waking of the earth after a - night in spring--the bare trees had put forth buds! - - "And, some time after, he startled me by a prayer that I would - permit him, with his father's consent, to accompany you to - Australia. The only answer I have given him as yet, has been in - the form of a question: 'Ask yourself if I ought? I cannot wish - Pisistratus to be other than he is; and unless you agree with him - in all his principles and objects, ought I to incur the risk that - you should give him your knowledge of the world, and inoculate him - with your ambition?' He was struck, and had the candour to attempt - no reply. - - "Now, Pisistratus, the doubt I expressed to him is the doubt - I feel. For, indeed, it is only by home-truths, not refining - arguments, that I can deal with this unscholastic Scythian, who, - fresh from the Steppes, comes to puzzle me in the Portico. - - "On the one hand, what is to become of him in the Old World? At - his age, and with his energies, it would be impossible to cage him - with us in the Cumberland ruins; weariness and discontent would - undo all we could do. He has no resource in books--and I fear - never will have! But to send him forth into one of the overcrowded - professions--to place him amidst all those 'disparities of social - life,' on the rough stones of which he is perpetually grinding - his heart--turn him adrift amongst all the temptations to which he - is most prone--this is a trial which, I fear, will be too sharp - for a conversion so incomplete. In the New World, no doubt, his - energies would find a safer field; and even the adventurous and - desultory habits of his childhood might there be put to healthful - account. Those complaints of the disparities of the civilised - world, find, I suspect, an easier if a bluffer reply from the - political economist than the Stoic philosopher. 'You don't like - them, you find it hard to submit to them,' says the political - economist; 'but they are the laws of a civilised state, and you - can't alter them. Wiser men than you have tried to alter them, - and never succeeded, though they turned the earth topsy-turvy! - Very well; but the world is wide--go into a state that is not so - civilised. The disparities of the Old World vanish amidst the - New! Emigration is the reply of Nature to the rebellious cry - against Art.' Thus would say the political economist: and, alas, - even in your case, my son, I found no reply to the reasonings! I - acknowledge, then, that Australia might open the best safety-valve - to your cousin's discontent and desires; but I acknowledge also a - counter-truth, which is this--'It is not permitted to an honest - man to corrupt himself for the sake of others.' That is almost the - only maxim of Jean Jacques to which I can cheerfully subscribe! Do - you feel quite strong enough to resist all the influences which a - companionship of this kind may subject you to--strong enough to - bear his burthen as well as your own--strong enough, also--ay, and - alert and vigilant enough--to prevent those influences harming - the others, whom you have undertaken to guide, and whose lots are - confided to you? Pause well, and consider maturely, for this must - not depend upon a generous impulse. I think that your cousin would - now pass under your charge, with a sincere desire for reform; - but between sincere desire and steadfast performance there is a - long and dreary interval--even to the best of us. Were it not for - Roland, and had I one grain less confidence in you, I could not - entertain the thought of laying on your young shoulders so great a - responsibility. But every new responsibility to an earliest nature - is a new prop to virtue;--and all I now ask of you is--to remember - that it _is_ a solemn and serious charge, not to be undertaken - without the most deliberate gauge and measure of the strength with - which it is to be borne. - - "In two days we shall be in London.--Yours, my Anachronism, - anxiously and fondly, - - A. C." - -I was in my own room while I read this letter, and I had just finished -it when, as I looked up, I saw Roland standing opposite to me. "It is -from Austin," said he; then he paused a moment, and added in a tone -that seemed quite humble, "May I see it?--and dare I?" I placed the -letter in his hands, and retired a few paces, that he might not think I -watched his countenance while he read it. And I was only aware that he -had come to the end by a heavy, anxious, but not despondent sigh. Then -I turned, and our eyes met, and there was something in Roland's look, -inquiring--and as it were imploring. I interpreted it at once. - -"Oh, yes, uncle," I said, smiling; "I have reflected, and I have no -fear of the result. Before my father wrote, what he now suggests had -become my secret wish. As for our other companions, their simple -natures would defy all such sophistries as--but he is already half -cured of those. Let him come with me, and when he returns he shall be -worthy of a place in your heart, beside his sister Blanche. I feel, I -promise it--do not fear for me! Such a change will be a talisman to -myself. I will shun every error that I might otherwise commit, so that -he may have no example to entice him to err." - -I know that in youth, and the superstition of first love, we are -credulously inclined to believe that love, and the possession of the -beloved, are the only happiness. But when my uncle folded me in his -arms, and called me the hope of his age, and stay of his house--the -music of my father's praise still ringing on my heart--I do affirm that -I knew a greater and a prouder bliss than if Trevanion had placed -Fanny's hand in mine, and said, "She is yours." - -And now the die was cast--the decision made. It was with no regret -that I wrote to Trevanion to decline his offers. Nor was the sacrifice -so great--even putting aside the natural pride which had before -inclined to it--as it may seem to some; for, restless though I was, -I had laboured to constrain myself to other views of life than those -which close the vistas of ambition with images of the terrestrial -deities--Power and Rank. Had I not been behind the scenes, noted all -of joy and of peace that the pursuit of power had cost Trevanion, and -seen how little of happiness rank gave even to one of the polished -habits and graceful attributes of Lord Castleton? Yet each nature -seemed fitted so well--the first for power, the last for rank! It is -marvellous with what liberality Providence atones for the partial -dispensations of Fortune. Independence, or the vigorous pursuit of it; -affection, with its hopes and its rewards; a life only rendered by art -more susceptible to nature--in which the physical enjoyments are pure -and healthful--in which the moral faculties expand harmoniously with -the intellectual--and the heart is at peace with the mind: is this a -mean lot for ambition to desire--and is it so far out of human reach? -"Know thyself," said the old philosophy. "Improve thyself," saith -the new. The great object of the Sojourner in Time is not to waste -all his passions and gifts on the things external that he must leave -behind--that which he cultivates within is all that he can carry into -the Eternal Progress. We are here but as schoolboys, whose life begins -where school ends; and the battles we fought with our rivals, and the -toys that we shared with our playmates, and the names that we carved, -high or low, on the wall, above our desks--will they so much bestead us -hereafter? As new facts crowd upon us, can they more than pass through -the memory with a smile or a sigh? Look back to thy school days, and -answer. - - -CHAPTER XCIV. - -Two weeks, since the date of the preceding chapter, have passed; we -have slept our last, for long years to come, on the English soil. It is -night; and Vivian has been admitted to an interview with his father. -They have been together alone an hour and more, and I and my father -will not disturb them. But the clock strikes--the hour is late--the -ship sails to-night--we should be on board. And as we two stand below, -the door opens in the room above, and a heavy step descends the stairs; -the father is leaning on the son's arm. You should see how timidly the -son guides the halting step. And now, as the light gleams on their -faces, there are tears on Vivian's cheek; but the face of Roland seems -calm and happy. Happy! when about to be separated, perhaps for ever, -from his son? Yes, happy! because he has found a son for the first -time; and is not thinking of years and absence, and the chance of -death--but thankful for the Divine mercy, and cherishing celestial -hope. If ye wonder why Roland is happy in such an hour, how vainly have -I sought to make him breathe, and live, and move before you! - - * * * * * - -We are on board; our luggage all went first. I had had time, with the -help of a carpenter, to knock up cabins for Vivian, Guy Bolding, and -myself in the hold. For, thinking we could not too soon lay aside the -pretensions of Europe--"_de_-fine-gentlemanise" ourselves, as Trevanion -recommended--we had engaged steerage passage, to the great humouring of -our finances. We had, too, the luxury to be by ourselves, and our own -Cumberland folks were round us, as our friends and servants both. - -We are on board, and have looked our last on those we are to leave, -and we stand on deck leaning on each other. We are on board, and the -lights, near and far, shine from the vast city; and the stars are on -high, bright and clear, as for the first mariners of old. Strange -noises, rough voices, and crackling cords, and here and there the sobs -of women, mingling with the oaths of men. Now the swing and heave of -the vessel--the dreary sense of exile that comes when the ship fairly -moves over the waters. And still we stood, and looked, and listened; -silent, and leaning on each other. - -Night deepened, the city vanished--not a gleam from its myriad lights! -The river widened and widened. How cold comes the wind!--is that a -gale from the sea? The stars grow faint--the moon has sunk. And now, -how desolate look the waters in the comfortless gray of dawn! Then we -shivered and looked at each other, and muttered something that was not -the thought deepest at our hearts, and crept into our berths--feeling -sure it was not for sleep. And sleep came on us soft and kind. The -ocean lulled the exiles as on a mother's breast. - - - - -JONATHAN IN AFRICA.[6] - - -A new school of novelists is evidently springing up on the western -shores of the Atlantic. The pioneers are already in the field--and -the main body, we suppose, will shortly follow. The style of these -innovators seems a compound imitation of _Gulliver_, _Munchausen_, -_The Arabian Nights_, and _Robinson Crusoe_; the ingredients being -mixed in capricious proportions, well stirred, seasoned with Yankee -bulls and scraps of sea-slang, and served hot--sometimes plain, at -others with a _hors d'oeuvre_ of puffs. We know not how such queer -ragouts affect the public palate; but we are inclined to prefer dishes -of an older fashion. Mr Herman Melville, of New York and the Pacific -Ocean, common sailor, first introduced the new-fangled kickshaw. This -young gentleman has most completely disappointed us. Two or three -years ago, he published two small volumes of sea-faring adventure and -island-rambles, of which we thought more highly than of any first -appearance of the kind we for a long time had witnessed. In the pages -of Maga, where praise is never lightly or lavishly bestowed, we said as -much; and were glad to hope that Typee and Omoo were but an earnest of -even better things. And, therefore, sadly were we disgusted on perusal -of a rubbishing rhapsody, entitled _Mardi, and a Voyage Thither_. -We sat down to it with glee and self-gratulation, and through about -half a volume we got on pleasantly enough. The author was afloat; and -although we found little that would bear comparison with the fine vein -of nautical fun and characteristic delineation which we had enjoyed -on board the Little Jule, and afterwards at Tahiti, yet there was -interest--strong interest at times; and a scene on board a deserted -vessel was particularly exciting,--replete with power of a peculiar -and uncommon kind. But this proved a mere flash in the pan--the ascent -of the rocket which was soon to fall as a stick. An outlandish young -female, one Miss Yillah, makes her first appearance: Taji, the hero and -narrator of the yarn, reaches a cluster of fabulous islands, where the -jealous queen Hautia opens a floral correspondence with him: where the -plumed and turbaned Yoomy sings indifferent doggerel; and Philosopher -Babbalanja unceasingly doth prose; and the Begum of Pimminee holds -drawing-rooms, which are attended by the Fanfums, and the Diddledees, -and the Fiddlefies, and a host of other insular magnates, with names -equally elegant, euphonious, and significant. Why, what trash is -all this!--mingled, too, with attempts at a Rabelaisian vein, and -with strainings at smartness--the style of the whole being affected, -pedantic, and wearisome exceedingly. We are reminded, by certain parts -of _Mardi_, of Foote's nonsense about the nameless lady who "went into -the garden to cut a cabbage-leaf to make an apple-pie;" and at whose -wedding the Joblilies, and the Picninnies, and the Great Panjandrum, -danced till the gunpowder ran out at their boot-heels. Foote wrote his -absurd paragraph, we believe, to try a friend's memory; Mr Melville -has evidently written his unintelligible novel to try the public's -patience. Of three things we are certain, namely, that the Panjandrum -story is quite as easy to understand as _Mardi_; that it is much more -diverting; and, the chief advantage of all, an infinite deal shorter. - -[6] _Kaloolah, or Journeyinqs to the Djébel Kumri: an Autobiography of -Jonathan Romer._ Edited by W. S. MAYO, M.D. London: 1849. - -_Mardi_, which we dismissed from our mind when we closed it with a yawn -a day or two after its publication, has been recalled to our memory -by another book, also proceeding from America, although published in -London; and which, like Mr Melville's romance, blends the real and -the possible with the ideal and the fantastic. _Kaloolah_ (Heaven -help these Yankee nomenclators) professes to be the autobiography of -Jonathan Romer, a young Nantucket sailor, to whose narrative, during -his absence in the interior of Africa, one of his countrymen, Dr W. -S. Mayo, obligingly acts as editor. Most readers will probably be -of opinion that the American M.D. might claim a nearer interest in -the literary bantling--the first-born, we apprehend, of his own pen -and imagination. But our business is with the book, and not with the -author, whose name, whether Romer or Mayo, is as yet unknown to fame, -but who need not despair of achieving reputation. _Kaloolah_ combines -with certain faults, which may presently be indicated, some very -excellent qualities, and has several chapters, whereof any one contains -more real good stuff, and ingenuity, and amusement, than the whole of -the second and third volumes of _Mardi_, reduced to a concentrated -essence. Besides, it is manifest that the two books must be viewed -and judged differently--one as a first, and by no means unpromising -attempt; the other, as the backsliding performance of a man who has -proved himself capable of far better things. - -Before commencing his own story, young Jonathan Romer introduces us to -his ancestors, and asserts his right to a life of adventure. "Descended -on both sides of the house from some of the earliest settlers of -Nantucket, and more or less intimately related to the Coffins, the -Folgers, the Macys, and the Starbucks of that adventurous population, -it would seem that I had a natural right to a roving disposition, and -to a life of peril, privation, and vicissitude. Nearly all the male -members of my family, for several generations, have been followers -of the sea: some of them in the calm and peaceful employment of the -merchant-service; others, and by far the greater number, in the more -dangerous pursuit of the ocean monster." After relating some of the -feats of his family, and glancing at his own childhood, which gave -early indications of the bold and restless spirit that animated him at -a mature period, Jonathan presents himself to his readers at the age of -eighteen--a stalwart stripling and idle student; the best rider, shot, -swimmer, and leaper for many miles around, with little taste for books, -and a very decided one for rambling in the woods with rifle and rod. At -this time the academy, of which he had for four years been an inmate, -is nearly broken up by what is called "a revival of religion;" in other -words, a violent fit of fanatical enthusiasm, provoked and fed by -Baptist and Methodist preachers. Pupils and teachers alike go mad with -fervent zeal, classes are at an end, unceasing prayer is substituted -for study, and Jonathan, who ls one of the few unregenerated, walks -into the forest, and knocks the head off a partridge with a rifle-ball. -The bird is picked up, and the excellence of the aim applauded by an -old trapper and hunter, Joe Downs by name, well known along the shores -of the Rackett and Grass rivers, in the northern and uninhabited part -of the state of New York. Joe is not the wild, semi-Indian trapper of -the south and west, whom Sealsfield and Ruxton have so graphically -sketched; there is as much difference between the two characters as -between a sailor in the coasting trade and a Pacific Ocean beachcomber. -There is nothing of the half-horse, half-alligator style about Joe, -whose manner is so mild, and his coat so decent, that he has been taken -for a country parson. He despises the Redskins, sets no value on their -scalps, and would not shed their blood, except in self-defence. How he -had once been thus compelled to do so, he relates to Jonathan in the -course of their first conversation. - - "It was the way towards Tupper's lake. There had been a light - fall of snow, and I was scouting round, when I happened to make a - circumbendibus, and came across my own track, and there I saw the - marks of an Indian's foot right on my trail. Thinks I, that is - kind of queer; the fellow must have been following me; howsomever - I'll try him, and make sure; so I made another large circle, and - again struck my own track, and there was the tarnal Indian's foot - again. Says I, this won't do; I must find out what this customer - wants, and how he'll have it. So I stopped short, and soon got - sight of him; he knew that I saw him, so he came along up, in the - most friendly manner you can think. But I didn't like his looks; - he was altogether too darned glad to see me. He had no gun, but he - had an almighty long-handled tomahawk, and a lot of skins and real - traps. Thinks I, may be, old fellow, your gun has burst, or you've - pawned it for rum, and you can't raise skins enough to redeem it, - and you want mine, and perhaps you'll get it. - - "At last I grew kind of nervous; I knew the fellow would hatchet - me if I gave him a chance, and yet I didn't want to shoot him - right down just on suspicion. But I thought, if I let him cut my - throat first, it would be too late to shoot him afterwards. So I - concluded that the best way would be to give him a chance to play - his hand; and if so be he'd lead the wrong card, why I should - have a right to take the trick. Just then, at the right time, a - partridge flew into a clump that stood five or six rods off. So I - kind of 'noeuvred round a little. I drew out my ramrod, as if to - feel whether the ball in my rifle was well down; but instead of - returning it again, I kept it in my hand, and, without letting the - vagabond see me, I got out a handful of powder. I then sauntered - off to the bush, shot the partridge, and in an instant passed my - hand over the muzzle of my rifle, and dropped the powder in. I - picked up the bird, and then just took and run my ramrod right - down upon the powder. Now, he thought, was his chance before I - loaded my gun again. He came towards me with his hatchet in his - hand. I saw that he was determined to act wicked, and began to - back off; he still came on. I lowered my rifle, and told him to - keep away. He raised his tomahawk, gave one yell, and bounded - right at me. When he was just about three or four feet from the - muzzle, I fired. You never see a fellow jump so. He kicked his - heels up in the air, and came down plump on his head, dead as - Julius Cæsar. He never winked; the ramrod--a good, hard, tough - piece of hickory--had gone clean through him, and stuck out about - two feet from his back. Served him right; didn't it?" - -The old trapper urges Jonathan to accompany him on an expedition into -the woods, promising, as an inducement, to put him "right alongside -the biggest catamount he has ever seen," and to let him fight it -out, with rifle, hatchet, and knife, without making or meddling in -the contest. He also pledges himself to show him a fishpond, "where -the youngest infants, of a genteel pickerelto family, weigh at least -three pounds." Such inducements are irresistible. Jonathan packs up a -brace of blankets and his shooting and fishing fixings, and goes off -in the canoe with Joe Downs on a pleasant up-stream cruise, enlivened -by a succession of beautiful scenery, and by the varied and original -conversation of his companion. On their way they fell in with a party -of Indians, amongst them one Blacksnake, a brother of the gentleman -whom Joe had spitted on his ramrod. He suspects Joe of having shot his -kinsman, and Joe strongly suspects him of having already attempted to -revenge his death. - - "'I was leaning out of the second story doorway of Jones's shop - one day,' said Joe, 'looking across the river, when, whizz, a - rifle bullet came and buried itself in the doorpost. I hain't - the least doubt that that very identical Blacksnake sent it. - Thank God, his aim was not as his will! He's a bad chap. Why, I - really believe it was he who murdered my old friend Dan White - the trapper. If I only knew it was the fact, I wish I may be - stuck, forked end uppermost, in a coon hole, if I wouldn't send a - ball through his painted old braincase, this 'ere very identical - minute. Darn your skin!' energetically growled Joe, shaking his - fist at the distant canoe." - -It would have saved Mr Downs some trouble and suffering if he had -yielded to the impulse, and expended half-an-ounce of lead upon -Blacksnake, who, about a week later, sneaks up, with two companions, -to the trapper's pine-log fire, and shoots the unfortunate Joe, but -is shot down himself, the very next moment, by Jonathan Romer, whose -double-barrel settles two of the murderers, and then descends with -crushing force upon the cranium of the third. Joe not being dead, -although very badly wounded, his young companion conveys him to a cave, -whose hidden entrance the trapper had revealed to him the previous day, -and there tends him till he is able to bear removal. With his committal -to the hands of a village surgeon, Mr Romer's backwoods adventures -terminate, a source of regret to the reader, since they are more lively -and attractive than some subsequent portions of the book, evidently -deemed by the author more interesting and important, and therefore -dwelt upon at greater length. Indeed it is our opinion that the author -of _Kaloolah_ is mistaken, as young authors constantly are, in the real -scope and nature of his own abilities, and that he would shine much -more in a novel of backwoods life, or nautical adventure, than in the -mixed style he has selected for his first attempt, which is a sort of -mosaic, distinguished rather for variety and vividness of colour than -for harmony and regularity of design. - -Jonathan reaches home in time to receive the last adieu of his mother, -a worthy but eccentric old lady, who had fitted out her son, on his -departure for school, with a winding-sheet, amongst other necessaries, -that he might be buried decently should he die far from his friends, -and that he might be reminded of his mortality as often as he emptied -his trunk. It was a curious conceit, but, as Jonathan observes, she -was from Nantucket, and they are all queer people there, and filial -affection induced him long to preserve the shroud. Mrs Romer dead, her -son applies to the study of surgery, gets himself into trouble by a -body-snatching exploit, has to levant to New York, and there, finding -he is still in danger from the friends of the disinterred corpse, who -have set the police upon his track, ships himself on board the fine -fore-topsail schooner, "Lively Anne," bound for the Western Islands, -and commanded by Captain Coffin, an old shipmate of his father's. -In this smart little craft, he sees some country and more water, -until, upon the voyage from the Azores to Malaga, a white squall or a -waterspout--which of the two he could never ascertain--capsizes the -schooner and dashes him senseless down the hatchway, whence he was just -emerging, in alarm at the sudden uproar on deck. On recovering himself, -he finds the vessel dismasted, the deck swept of all its fixtures, and -the captain and crew missing. Doubtless they had been hurled into the -waves by the same terrible force that had shattered the bulwarks and -carried away boats, casks, and galley. The horizon was now clear, not a -sail was in sight, and Jonathan Romer was alone on a helpless wreck in -the middle of the wide ocean. But he was a man of resource and mettle, -whom it was hard to discourage or intimidate; and finding the schooner -made no water, he righted her as well as he could, and resigned himself -to float at the will of the wind until he should meet a rescuing -sail. This did not occur for some weeks, during which he floated -past Teneriffe in the night, within hail of fishermen, who would not -approach him for fear of the quarantine laws. At last, sitting over his -solitary dinner, he perceived a ship heading up for the schooner. - - "As she came on, I had full time to note all her beautiful - proportions. She was small, apparently not above 300 tons, - and had a peculiarly trim and clipper-like look. Her bright - copper, flashing occasionally in the sunlight, showed that she - was in light sailing trim; whilst from the cut of her sails, - the symmetrical arrangement of her spars and rigging, and her - quarter-boats, I concluded she must be a man-of-war. Passing me - about half a mile astern, she stood on for a little distance, - then, hoisting the bilious-looking flag of Spain, she tacked - and ran for me, backing her main-topsail within twenty yards of - my larboard beam. Her quarter-boat was immediately lowered, and - half-a-dozen fellows, in red caps and flannel shirts, jumped into - it, followed by an officer in a blue velvet jacket, with a strip - of gold lace upon his shoulders, and a broad-brimmed straw hat - upon his head. I ran below, stuffed all the money that I had in - gold--about a thousand dollars--into my pockets, and got upon - deck again just as the boat touched the side." - -The precaution was a good one: the saucy Bonito, Pedro Garbez master, -was bound from Cuba to the coast of Africa, with a cut-throat crew -and an empty slave-deck. Owing to an accident, she had sailed without -a surgeon, and Romer was well received and treated so soon as his -profession was known. When he discovered the ship's character, he would -gladly have left her, but means were wanting, for the Bonito loved not -intercourse with passing craft, and touched nowhere until she reached -her destination--Cabenda Bay, on the western coast of Africa. There -being no slaves at Cabenda, it was resolved to run a few miles up the -Congo river. - - "We at length reached Loonbee, and anchored off the town, which is - the chief market or slave-depot for Embomma. It consists of about - a hundred huts of palm-leaves, with two or three block-houses, - where the slaves are confined. About two hundred slaves were - already collected, and more were on their way down the river, and - from different towns in the interior. After presents for the King - of Embomma, and for the Mafooka (a sort of chief of the board of - slave-trade,) and other officials, had been made, and a deal of - brandy drunk, we landed, and in company with several Fukas, or - native merchants, and two or three Portuguese, went to take a - look at the slaves. Each dealer paraded his gang for inspection, - and loudly dilated upon their respective qualities. They were all - entirely naked, and of all ages, sexes, and conditions, and all - had an air of stolid indifference, varied only in some of them by - an expression of surprise and fear at sight of the white men." - -In one of these unfortunate groups of dingy humanity, Romer was struck -by the appearance of a young girl, whose features widely differed -from the usual African stamp, and whose complexion, amongst a white -population, would not have been deemed too dark for a brunette. Her -gracefully curling hair contrasted with the woolly polls of her -companions; her eyes were large and expressive, and her form elegant, -but then emaciated by fatigue and ill-treatment. This is Kaloolah. -On inquiry of the slave-dealer, a great burly negro, wielding a long -thong of plaited buffalo hide, Romer learned that she is of a far -distant nation, called the Gerboo Blanda, who dwell in stone houses on -an extensive plain. The slave-dealer knows them only by report, and -Kaloolah and her brother, who is near at hand, are the first specimens -he has seen of this remote tribe. He had bought her two months' journey -off, and then she had already come a long distance. And now that he had -got them to the coast, he esteems them of small value compared to the -full-blooded blacks; for Kaloolah has pined herself away to a shadow, -and her brother, Enphadde, is bent upon suicide, and cannot be trusted -with unfettered hands; so that for thirty dollars Romer buys them both. -The Bonito having been driven out to sea by the approach of a British -cruiser, he passes some days on shore with his new purchases; during -which time, with a rapidity bordering on the miraculous, he acquires -sufficient of their language, and they of his, to carry on a sort of -piebald conversation, to learn the history of these pale Africans, and -some particulars of their mysterious country. - - "The Gerboo Blanda, I found, was a name given to their country by - the Jagas, that its true name was Framazugda, and that the people - were called Framazugs. That it was situated at a great distance - in the interior, in a direction west by north, and that it was - surrounded by negro and savage nations, through whom a trade was - carried on with people at the north-west and east, none of whom, - however, were ever seen at Framazugda, as the trade had to pass - through a number of hands. Enphadde represented the country to - be of considerable extent, consisting mostly of a lofty plateau - or elevated plain, and exceedingly populous, containing numerous - large cities, surrounded by high walls, and filled with houses of - stone. Several large streams and lakes watered the soil, which, - according to his account, was closely cultivated, and produced - in abundance the greatest variety of trees, fruits, flowers, - and grain. Over this country ruled Selha Shounsé, the father of - Enphadde and Kaloolah, as king. It was in going from the capital - to one of the royal gardens that their escort was attacked by - a party of blacks from the lowlands, the attendants killed or - dispersed, and the young prince and princess carried off." - -Thirty dollars could hardly be deemed a heavy price for the son and -daughter of the great Shounsé, and Jonathan was well pleased with his -bargain, although it was not yet clear how he should realise a profit; -but meanwhile it was something to be the proprietor of their royal -highnesses of Framazugda; something too to gaze into Kaloolah's bright -black eyes, and listen to her dulcet tones, as she warbled one of her -country's ditties about the Fultul, a sweet-scented lily flourishing -beside the rivulets of her native mountains. The verses, by the bye, -are not to be commended in Mr Romer's version; they perhaps sounded -better in the original Framazug, and when issuing from the sweet lips -of Kaloolah. - -Instead of a week, the Bonito was month absent, having been caught in -a calm. Captain Pedro Garbez promised the Virgin Mary the value of a -young negro in wax-lights for a capful of wind, but in vain; and he was -fain to tear the hair from his head with impatience. Meanwhile Jonathan -had caught a fever in the swamps of Congo, and Kaloolah had made his -chicken-broth, and tended him tenderly, and restored him to health, -although he was still so altered in appearance that Garbez knew him not -when he mounted the side of the slaver. All speed was now made to buy -and ship a cargo. The account of the latter process is interesting, -and, we have no doubt, perfectly authentic; for although the author of -_Kaloolah_ has chosen to interlard, and perhaps deteriorate his book by -strange stories of imaginary countries, animals, flowers, &c., it is -not difficult to distinguish between his fact and his fiction, and to -recognise the internal evidence of veracity and personal observation. -A short extract may here with propriety be made, for the benefit of -anti-slavery philanthropists. - - "The first slaves that came on board were taken below the - berth-deck, and arranged upon a temporary slave-deck placed over - the water-casks, and at a distance of not more than three feet and - a half from the deck overhead.... The slaves were arranged in four - ranks. When lying down, the heads of the two outer ranks touched - the sides of the ship, their feet pointing inboard or athwart the - vessel. They, of course, occupied a space fore and aft the ship, - of about six feet on either side, or twelve feet of the whole - breadth. At the feet of the outside rank came the heads of the - inner row. They took up a space of six feet more on either side, - or together twelve feet. There was still left a space running up - and down the centre of the deck, two or three feet in breadth; - along this were stretched single slaves, between the feet of the - two inner rows, so that, when all were lying down, almost every - square foot of the deck was covered with a mass of human flesh. - Not the slightest space was allowed between the individuals of - the ranks, but the whole were packed as closely as they could be, - each slave having just room enough to stretch himself out flat - upon his back, and no more. In this way about two hundred and - fifty were crowded upon the slave-deck, and as many more upon the - berth-deck. Horrible as this may seem, it was nothing compared - to the 'packing' generally practised by slavers. Captain Garbez - boasted that he had tried both systems, tight packing and loose - packing, thoroughly, and found the latter the best. - - "'If you call this loose packing,' I replied, 'have the goodness - to explain what you mean by tight packing?' - - "'Why, tight packing consists in making a row sit with their legs - stretched apart, and then another row is placed between their - legs, and so on, until the whole deck is filled. In the one case - each slave has as much room as he can cover lying; in the other - only as much room as he can occupy sitting. With tight packing - this craft ought to stow fifteen hundred.'" - -The Bonito was not above three hundred tons. Such are the blessings for -which the negroes are indebted to the tender-mercied emancipators who -have ruined our West Indian colonies. - - "'When it comes to closing the hatches,' (in the event of a - gale) said Captain Pedro, 'it is all up with the voyage. You can - hardly save enough to pay expenses. They die like leeches in a - thunderstorm. I was once in a little schooner with three hundred - on board, and we were compelled to lie-to for three days. It was - the worst sea I ever saw, and came near swamping us several times. - We lost two hundred and fifty slaves in that gale. We couldn't - get at the dead ones to throw them overboard very handily, and so - those that didn't die from want of air were killed by the rolling - and tumbling about of the corpses. Of the living ones some had - their limbs broken, and every one had the flesh of his leg worn to - the bone, by the shackle irons.' - - "'Good God! and you still pursue the horrible trade?' - - "'Certainly; why not? Despite of accidents the trade is - profitable, and, for the cruelty of it, no one is to blame except - the English. Were it not for them, large and roomy vessels would - be employed, and it would be an object to bring the slaves - over with every comfort, and in as good condition as possible. - Now, every consideration must be sacrificed to the one great - object--escape from capture by the British cruisers.' - - "I had no wish to reply to the captain's argument. One might as - well reply to a defence of blasphemy or murder. Giddy, faint, - and sick, I turned with loathing from the fiends in human guise, - and sought the more genial companionship of the inmates of my - state-room." - -These were Kaloolah and Enphadde. To conceal the beauty of the former, -perilous amidst the lawless crew of the slaver, Jonathan had marked -her face with caustic, producing black spots which had the appearance -of disease. This temporary disfigurement secured her from licentious -outrage, but not from harsh treatment. Monte, second captain of -the Bonito, was an ex-pirate, whose vessel had been destroyed by -Yankee cruisers. To spite Romer, whom he detested as an American, he -threatened to send Kaloolah and her brother amongst the slaves, and -took every opportunity of abusing them. Chapter xxi. passes wholly on -board the slaver, and is excellent of its kind. The Bonito is chased -by a man-of-war, but escapes. At daybreak, whilst lying in his berth, -Romer hears a bustle on deck, followed by shrill cries and plunges in -the water. The following is good:-- - - "I jumped from my berth and stepped out upon deck. A dense fog - brooded upon the surface of the ocean, and closely enveloped the - ship--standing up on either side, like huge perpendicular walls - of granite, and leaving a comparatively clear space--the area of - the deck and the height of the main-topmast crosstrees. Inboard, - the sight ranged nearly free fore-and-aft the ship, but seaward no - eye could penetrate, more than a yard or two, the solid-looking - barrier of vapour. A man standing on the taffrail might have seen - the catheads the whole length of the deck, whilst at the same - time, behind him, the end of the spanker boom, projecting over - the water, was lost in the mist. I looked up at the perpendicular - walls and the lofty arch overhead with feelings of awe, and, I may - add, fear. Cursed, indeed, must be our craft, when the genius of - the mist so carefully avoided the pollution of actual contact. His - rolling legions were close around us, but vapoury horse and misty - foot shrank back affrighted from the horrors of our blood-stained - decks." - -The phenomenon was doubtless attributable to the hot air generated in -the crowded 'tween-decks. The cries and plashings that had startled -Jonathan were soon explained. Virulent ophthalmia raged on board, and -Monte was drowning the blind, whose value of course departed with their -eyesight. A blind slave was "an encumbrance, an unsaleable article, -a useless expense. Pitch him overboard! Twenty-five to-day, and a -dozen more to-morrow!" But retribution was at hand, threatened, at -least, by a British brig-of-war, which appeared when the fog cleared, -at about a mile and a half to windward. During the chase, Monte, -casually jostled by Kaloolah, struck her to the deck, and a furious -scuffle ensued between him and Jonathan, who at last, seeing some of -the crew approaching, knife in hand, leaped overboard, dragging his -antagonist with him, and followed by Enphadde and Kaloolah. After a -deep dive, during which Monte's tenacious grasp was at last relaxed, -the intrepid Jonathan regained the surface, where he and his friends -and enemy easily supported themselves till picked up by the brig. The -swift slaver escaped. Monte was put in irons, Romer and his Framazugdan -friends were made much of by Captain Halsey and the officers of her -Majesty's brig Flyaway, and landed in the picturesque but pestilent -shores of Sierra Leone. Then Kaloolah and her brother propose to seek -their way homewards, and Jonathan takes ship for Liverpool. Previously -to his departure, there are some love passages between the Yankee and -the Princess of Framazugda. These are not particularly successful. -Sentiment is not Dr Mayo's _forte_: he is much happier in scenes of -bustle and adventure--when urging his weary dromedary across boundless -tracts of sand, or waging deadly combat with the fierce inmates of -African jungles. His book will delight Mr Van Amburgh. There is a duel -between a lion and a boa that we make no doubt of seeing dramatised -at Astley's, as soon as a serpent can be tamed sufficiently for the -performance. That Dr Mayo's lions are of the very first magnitude, the -following description shows:--"His body was hardly less in size than -that of a dray-horse; his paw as large as the foot of an elephant; -while his head!--what can be said of such a head? Concentrate the -fury, the power, the capacity, and the disposition for evil of a dozen -thunderstorms into a round globe about two feet in diameter, and one -would then be able to get an idea of the terrible expression of that -head and face, enveloped and set off as it was by the dark framework -of bristling mane!" This pleasing quadruped, disturbed in its forest -solitude by the advent of Jonathan and the fair Kaloolah, who have -wandered, lover-like, to some distance from their bivouac, at once -prepares to breakfast upon them. Jonathan had imprudently laid down -his gun to pluck wild honeysuckles for his mistress, when the lion, -stepping in, cuts him off from his weapon. Suddenly "the light figure -of Kaloolah rushed past me: 'Fly, fly, Jon'than!' she wildly exclaimed, -as she dashed forward directly towards the lion. Quick as thought, I -divined her purpose, and sprang after her, grasping her dress, and -pulling her forcibly back, almost from within those formidable jaws. -The astonished animal gave several jumps sideways and backwards, -and stopped, crouching to the ground, and growling and lashing his -sides with renewed fury. It was clearly taken aback by our unexpected -charge upon him, but yet was not to be frightened into abandoning his -prey. His mouth was made up for us, and there could be no doubt, if -his motions _were_ a little slow, that he considered us as good as -gorged." Pulling back Kaloolah, and drawing his knife, Romer awaits, -with desperate determination, the monster's terrible onslaught, when -an unexpected ally arrives to the rescue. "It seemed as if one of the -gigantic creepers I have mentioned had suddenly quitted the canopy -above, and, endowed with life and a huge pair of widely distended -jaws, had darted with the rapidity of lightning upon the crouching -beast. There was a tremendous shaking of the treetops, and a confused -wrestling and jumping and whirling over and about, amid a cloud of -upturned roots and earth and leaves, accompanied with the most terrific -roars and groans. As I looked again, vision grew more distinct. -An immense body, gleaming with purple, green, and gold, appeared -convoluted around the majestic branches overhead, and, stretching down, -was turned two or three times around the struggling lion, whose head -and neck were almost concealed from sight within the cavity of a pair -of jaws still more capacious than his own." A full-grown boa, whose -length is estimated by Mr Romer at about a hundred feet, (much less -than many he subsequently saw, but still "a very respectable-sized -snake,") had dropped a few fathoms of coil from the gigantic tree -around which he was twined, and enveloped the lion, who soon was -crushed to death in the scaly embrace. Jonathan makes no doubt that the -serpent was about to swallow his victim whole, according to the custom -of his kind; and it is certainly to be regretted that the entreaties -of Kaloolah, combined with the "strong sickly odour" diffused by the -boa, prevented his remaining to witness a process of deglutition which, -considering the dimensions of the morsel to be swallowed, could not -have been otherwise than curious. - -Wrecked a second time, Romer again reaches the coast of Africa, in -company with an old sailor named Jack Thompson. They fall into the -hands of the Bedouins, and suffer much ill treatment, an account of -which, and of various adventures and escapes, occupy many chapters, -and would have borne a little curtailment. Romer is wandering about -with a tribe, upon whom he has passed himself off as an Arab from a -distant region, when he is compelled to join in an attack on a caravan. -Kaloolah is amongst the prisoners. She has been captured by a party of -slave-hunters, and is on her way to Morocco, where her master hopes -her beauty will fetch a good price from the Emperor Muley Abderrahman. -In the partition of the spoil, she falls to the share of an old Arab, -who is ill satisfied with the acquisition. "He was extremely chagrined -at the turn of fortune which threatened to throw into the wrangling -elements of his domestic felicity a feminine superfluity--or, as he -expressed it, 'another tongue in his tent.' - -"'Bismillah!' he exclaimed; 'God is great, but this is a small thing! -She is not a man; she is not a black--she cannot work; but won't she -eat and talk! They all eat and talk. I take a club sometimes, and knock -them down; beat them; break their bones; but they still eat and talk! -God's will be done! but it is too much to put such a thing upon me for -my share! She is good for nothing: I cannot sell her.'" - -The grumbling old Bedouin did sell her, however, to Jonathan, for -three or four cotton shirts. Flight now becomes necessary, for Hassan, -son of the chief of the tribe, seeks Jonathan's life, and Mrs Ali, -the chief's wife, persecutes him with her misplaced affection, and is -spiteful to Kaloolah, whom she looks upon as the chief obstacle to its -requital. Upon this head our Yankee is rather good: "Respect for the -sex," he says, "and a sentiment of gentlemanly delicacy, which the -reader will appreciate, prevents me from dwelling upon the story at -length. It was wrong, undoubtedly, in Seffora to love any other than -her old, rugose-faced, white-bearded husband; but it is not for me to -blame her. One thing, however, in her conduct can hardly be excused. -True, I might have treated her affection with more tenderness; I might -have nursed the gentle flowers of passion, instead of turning away -from their fragrance; I might have responded to that 'yearning of the -soul for sympathy'--have relieved, with the food of love, 'the mighty -hunger of the heart;' but all this, and more that I might have done, -but did not do, gave her no right to throw stones at Kaloolah." To -avoid the pelting and other disagreeables, the lovers take themselves -off in the night-time, mounted on _heiries_--camels of a peculiar -breed and excellence, famed in the desert for endurance and speed. On -their road they pick up, in a Moorish village, an Irish renegade; at -some salt-works, they find Jack Thompson working as a slave; and soon -afterwards their party is increased to five persons, by the addition -of Hassan, a runaway negro. With this motley tail, Mr Romer pushes -on in the direction of Framazugda. Here the editor very judiciously -epitomises six long chapters in as many pages; and, immediately after -this compressed portion, there begins what may be strictly termed the -fabulous, or almost the supernatural part of the book. Previously to -this there have been not a few rather startling incidents, but now -the author throws the rein on the neck of his imagination, and scours -away into the realms of the extravagant; still striving, however, -by circumstantial detail, to give an appearance of probability to -his astounding and ingenious inventions. Some of the descriptions of -scenery and savage life in the wilderness are vivid and striking, and -show power which might be better applied. Of the fabulous animals, the -following account of an amiable reptile, peculiar to central Africa, -will serve as a sufficient specimen of Yankee natural history:-- - - "It is an amphibious polypus. If the reader will conceive a large - cart-wheel, the _hub_ will represent the body of the animal, and - the spokes the long arms, about the size and shape of a full-grown - kangaroo's tail, and twenty in number, that project from it. When - the animal moves upon land, it stiffens these radii, and rolls - over upon the points like a wheel without a felloe. These arms - have also _the capability of a lateral prehensile contraction in - curves, perpendicular to its plane of revolution_, and enable - the animal to grasp its prey, and draw it into its voracious - mouth. It attacks the largest animals, and even man itself; - but, if dangerous upon land, it is still more formidable in the - water, where it has been known to attack and kill an alligator. - This horrible monster is known by the name of the Sempersough - or 'snake-star,' and is more dreaded than any other animal of - Framazugda, inasmuch as the natives have no way of destroying it, - except by catching it when young, in cane traps sunk in the water, - and baited with hippopotamus cubs(!) Fortunately it is not very - prolific; and its increase is further prevented by the furious - contests that these animals have among themselves. Sometimes - twenty or thirty will grasp each other with their long arms, - and twist themselves up into a hard and intricate knot. In this - situation they remain, hugging and gnawing each other to death; - and never relaxing their grasp until their arms are so firmly - intertwined that, when life is extinct, and the huge mass floats, - they cannot be separated. The natives now draw the ball ashore, - cut it up with axes, and make it into a compost for their land." - (!!) - -Is Dr Mayo addicted to heavy suppers? We can just fancy an unfortunate -individual, after a midnight meal on a shield of brawn and a -Brobdingnagian crab, which he has omitted to qualify by a subsequent -series of stiff tumblers, sinking into an uneasy slumber, and being -rolled over by such an incubus as this vivacious waggon-wheel. -Doubtless there is a possibility of a man dieting himself into this -style of writing, whereof a short specimen may excite a smile, but -whose frequent recurrence is necessarily wearisome, and which obviously -escapes criticism. But the author of _Kaloolah_ is not contented with -brute monstrosities. He chronicles reports that reach his hero's ears, -of nations of human monsters, with teeth filed to a sharp point (no -uncommon practice amongst certain negro tribes,) with tusks projecting -like those of a wild boar, and with pendant lips that continually -drop blood. All this is childish enough; but Jack Thompson, who is a -dry dog, caps these astounding fictions with a cannibal yarn from the -Southern Hemisphere. - - "'I've been among the New Zealanders,' quoth Jack, 'and there - they use each other for fresh grub, as regular as boiled duff in - a man-of-war's mess. They used to eat their fathers and mothers, - when they got too old to take care of themselves; but now they've - got to be more civilised, and so they only eat rickety children, - and slaves, and enemies taken in battle.' - - "'A decided instance of the progress of improvement, and march of - mind,' said I. - - "'Well, I believe that is what the missionaries call it,' replied - Jack; 'but it's a bad thing for the old folks. They don't take - to the new fashion--they are in favour of the good old custom. I - never see'd the thing myself; but Bill Brown, a messmate of mine - once, told me that, when he was at the Bay of Islands, he see'd a - great many poor old souls going about with tears in their eyes, - trying to get somebody to eat them. One of them came off to the - ship, and told them that he couldn't find rest in the stomachs of - any of his kindred, and wanted to know if the crew wouldn't take - him in. The skipper told him he was on monstrous short allowance, - but he couldn't accommodate him. The poor old fellow, Bill - said, looked as though his heart would break. There were plenty - of sharks round the ship, and the skipper advised him to jump - overboard; but he couldn't bear the idea of being eaten raw.'" - -The great audacity of Dr Mayo's fictions preclude surprise at the -boldness of his tropes and similes. The tails of his lions lash the -ground "with a sound like the falling of clods upon a coffin;" their -roar is like the boom of a thirty-two pounder, shaking the trees, and -rattling the boulders in the bed of the river. Of course, allowance -must be made for the vein of humorous rhodomontade peculiar to certain -American writers, and into which Dr Mayo sometimes unconsciously -glides, and, at others, voluntarily indulges. His description of the -conjuring tricks of the Framazugdan jugglers comes under the latter -head. - - "Some of them were truly wonderful, as, for instance, turning a - man into a tree bearing fruit, and with monkeys skipping about in - the branches; and another case, where the chief juggler apparently - swallowed five men, ten boys, and a jackass, threw them all up - again, turned himself inside out, blew himself up like a balloon, - and, exploding with a loud report, disappeared in a puff of - luminous vapour. I could not but admire the skill with which the - tricks were performed, although I was too much of a Yankee to be - much astonished at anything in the _Hey, Presto!_ line." - -A countryman of Mr Jefferson Davis is not expected to feel surprise at -anything in the way of sleight of hand, or "double shuffle;" and there -was probably nothing more startling to the senses in the evaporation -of King Shounsé's conjuror, than in the natural self-extinction of the -Mississippian debt. It is only a pity that Jonathan Romer did not carry -his smart fellow-citizen to the country of the _Pholdefoos_, a class -of enthusiasts who devote their lives to a search for the germs of -moral, religious, and political truth. Mr Davis would have felt rather -out of his element at first, but could not have failed ultimately to -have benefited by his sojourn amongst these singular savages. - -On coming in sight of her father's capital, Kaloolah is overcome -with emotion, and sinks weeping into her brother's arms. "I felt," -says Jonathan, "that this was a situation in which even the most -sympathising lover would be _de trop_. There were thronging -associations which I could not share, vibrating memories to which my -voice was not attuned, bonds of affection which all-powerful love might -transcend, and even disrupt, but whose precise nature it could not -assume. There are some lovers who are jealous of such things--fellows -who like to wholly monopolise a woman, and who are constantly on the -watch, seizing and appropriating her every look, thought, and feeling, -with somewhat of the same notion of an exclusive right, as that with -which they pocket a tooth-pick. I am not of that turn. The female heart -is as curiously and as variously stocked as a country dry-goods store. -A man may be perhaps allowed to select out, for his own exclusive use, -some of the heavier articles, such as sheetings, shirtings, flannels, -trace-chains, hobby-horses, and goose-yokes; but that is no reason why -the neighbours should be at once cut off from their accustomed supply -of small-wares." - -We venture to calculate that it takes a full-blooded Yankee to write -in this strain, which, reminds us, remotely, it is true, of some of Mr -Samuel Slick's eccentric fancies. Dr Mayo has considerable versatility -of pen; he dashes at everything, from the ultra-grotesque to the -hyper-sentimental, from the wildest fable to the most substantial -matter-of-fact; and if not particularly successful in some styles, in -others he really makes what schoolboys call "a very good offer." But -the taste of the day is by no means for extravaganza travels, after the -fashion of Gulliver, but without the brilliant and searching satire -that lurks in Lilliput and Laputa. Mr Herman Melville might have known -that much; although we have heard say that certain keen critics have -caught glimpses in his _Mardi_ of a hidden meaning--one, however, which -the most penetrating have hitherto been unable to unravel. We advise -Dr Mayo to start afresh, with a better scheme. Instead of torturing -his inventive faculties to produce rotatory dragons, wingless birds, -(propelled through the air by valves in their heads,) and countries -where courtiers, like Auriol in the ring at Franconi's, do public -homage by standing on their hands; let him seek his inspiration in real -life, as it exists in the wilder regions of the vast continent of which -he is a native. A man who has strayed so far, and seen so much, can -hardly be at a loss. The slaver's surgeon, the inmate of the Bedouin's -tent, the bold explorer of the deadly swamps of Congo, had surely -rambled nearer home before a restless fancy lured him to such distant -and dangerous latitudes. Or are we too bold in assuming that the wilds -and forests of Western America have echoed to the crack of his rifle, -and that the West Indian seas have borne the furrow of his vessel's -prow? It is in such scenes we would gladly find him, when next he risks -himself in print: beneath the shade of the live oak or on the rolling -prairie, or where the black flag, with the skeleton emblem, floats from -the masthead. He has worked out his crotchet of an imaginary white -nation in the heart of Africa, carrying it through with laborious -minuteness, and with results hardly equal to the pains bestowed: let -him now turn from the ideal to the real, and may our next meeting be -on the Spanish main under rover's bunting, or west of the clearings, -where the bison roams and the Redskin prowls, and the stragglers from -civilisation have but begun to show themselves. - - - - -THE GREEN HAND.[7] - -A "SHORT" YARN.--PART III. - - -The evening after that in which the commander of the Gloucester -Indiaman introduced his adventures, nearly the same party met on the -poop to hear them continued. - -"Well then," began Captain Collins, leaning back against a stanchion of -the quarter-rail, with folded arms, legs crossed, and his eyes fixed on -the weather-leech of the mizen-topsail to collect his thoughts;--"well -then, try to fancy the Seringapatam in chase of the Gloucester; and if -I _do_ use a few extra sea-terms, I consider the ladies good enough -sailors for them already. At any rate, just throw a glance aloft now -and then, and our good old lady will explain herself; to her own sex, -she's as good as a dictionary without words!" - -[7] See No. CCCCI., March 1849. - -The second day out we had the wind more from seaward, which broke up -the haze into bales of cloud, and away they went rolling in for the -Bay of Biscay; with a longer wave and darker water, and the big old -Indiaman surged over it as easily as might be, the blue breeze gushing -right into her main-tack through the heave of the following seas, and -the tail of the trade-wind flying high above her trucks in shreds and -patches. Things got more ship-shape on deck; anchor-flukes brought -inboard on the head-rail, and cables stowed away--the very best sign -you can have of being clear of the land. The first officer, as they -called him, was a good-looking fellow, that thought no small-beer of -himself, with his glossy blue jacket and Company's buttons, white -trowsers, and a gold thread round his cap: he had it stuck askew to -show how his hair was brushed, and changed his boots every time he came -on deck. Still he looked like a sailor, if but for the East India brown -on his face, and there was no mistake about his knowing how to set a -sail, trim yards, or put the ship about; so that the stiff old skipper -left a great deal to him, besides trusting in him for a first-rate -navigator that had learned headwork at a naval school. The crew were to -be seen all mustering before tea-time in the dog-watch, with their feet -just seen under the foot mat of the fore-course, like actors behind a -playhouse curtain: men that I warrant you had seen every country under -heaven amongst them, as private as possible, and ready to enjoy their -pots of tea upon the forecastle, as well as their talk. - -The old judge evidently fought shy of company, and perhaps meant to -have his own mess-table under the poop as long as the voyage lasted: -scarcely any of the ladies had apparently got their sea-qualms over -yet, and, for all I knew, _she_ might not be on board at all; or, if -she were, her father seemed quite Turk enough to keep her boxed up -with jalousie-blinds, Calcutta fashion, and give her a walk in the -middle watch, with the poop tabooed till morning! The jolly, red-faced -indigo-planter was the only one that tried to get up anything like -spirit at the table; indeed, he would have scraped acquaintance with -me if I had been in a mood for it: all I did was to say 'Yes' and -'No,' and to take wine with him. "Poor fellow!" said he, turning to -three or four of the cadets, that stuck by him like pilot-fish to -an old shark, "he's thinking of his mother at home, I daresay." The -fools thought this was meant as a joke, and began to laugh. "Why, you -unfledged griffins you," said the planter, "what d'ye see to nicker -at, like so many jackals in a trap? D'ye suppose one thinks the less -of a man for having a heart to be sick in, as well as a stomach--eh?" -"Oh, don't speak of it, Mr Rollock!" said one. "Come, come, old boy!" -said another, with a white mustache on his lip, "'twon't do for you -to go the sentimental, you know!" "Capsize my main-spanker, 'tis too -funny, though!" put in a fellow who wore a glazed hat on deck, and -put down all the ropes with numbers on paper, as soon as he had done -being sick. The planter leant back in his chair, looked at them coolly, -and burst out a-laughing. "Catch me ever 'going home' again!" said -he. "Of all the absurd occasions for impudence with the egg-shell -on its head coming out, hang me if these fifteen thousand miles of -infernal sea-water ain't the worst! India for ever!--that's the place -to _try_ a man! He's either sobered or gets room to work there; and -just wait, my fine fellows, till I see _you_ on the Custom-house -_Bunda_ at Bombay, or setting off up country--you're all of you the -very food for _sircars_ and _coolies_! That quiet lad there, now, soft -as he looks,--I can tell by his eye he won't be long a griff--He'll -do something! I tell you what, as soon as he's tasted a mango-fish, -he'll _understand_ the country! Why, sir!" said he again, smacking his -lips, "'tis worth the voyage of itself--you begin a new existence, so -to speak! I'll be bound all this lot o' water don't contain one single -mango-fish! Remember, boys, I promised you all a regular blow-out of -mango-fish, and _florican_ with bread sauce, whenever you can get -across to Chuckbully Factory!" "Blow good breeze, then; blow away -the main jib!" said the nautical young gentleman; "I'll join you, -old fellow!" "Not the best way to bring it about, though!" said the -indigo-planter, good-naturedly, not knowing but there _was_ such a sail -on the ship. - -The yellow setting sun was striking over the starboard quarter-boat, -and the Bay of Biscay lay broad down to leeward for a view--a couple of -large craft, with all studding-sails set before the wind, making for -land, far enough off to bring their canvass in a piece, and begin to -look blue with the air--one like a milkwoman with pitchers and a hoop; -the other like a girl carrying a big bucketful of water, and leaning -the opposite way to steady herself. There was one far to north-east, -too, no more than a white speck in the gray sky; and the land-cloud -went up over it into so many sea-lions' heads, all looking out of their -manes. The children clapped their hands and laughed; and the ladies -talked about the vessels, and thought they saw land--Spain or the -Pyrenees, perhaps. However, it wasn't long before my American friend -Snout caught sight of me in the midst of his meditations, as he turned -bolt round on his toes to hurry aft again. "The fact is, mister," said -he, "_I'm_ riled a little at _the_ 'tarnation pride of you Britishers. -There now," said he, pointing at the blaze of the sun to westward, with -his chin, "there's _a_ consolation! I calculate the sun's just over -Noo-York, which I expect to give you old country folks considerable -pain!" - -"No doubt!" said I, with a sigh, "one can't help thinking of a banker -run off with ever so much English gold!" "You're a sensible chap, you -are. It's _a_ right-down asylum _for_ oppressed Eur_o_pains, that -can't be denied." "And Africans too," I put in. "Indy, now," said he, -"I reckon there's a sight of dollars made in that country--you don't -s'pose I'm goin' out there for nothing? We'll just take it out o' your -hands yet, mister. I don't ought to let you into the scheme till I know -you better, you see; but I expect to want a sort o' company got up -before we land. There's one of your nabobs, now, came into the ship at -Possmouth with a whole tail of niggers-dressed-up ----." "And a lady -with him, I think?" said I, as coolly as I could.--"I'll somehow open -on that chap about British tyranny, I guess, after gettin' a little -knowledge out of him. We'd just _rise_ the niggurs, if they had _not_ -such a right-down cur'ous _my_-thullogy--but I tell you now, mister, -that's one of the very p'ints I expect to meet. Miss'naries won't -do it so slick off in two thousand years, I kinder think, as this -indentical specoolation will in _ten_,--besides payin' like Peruvain -mines, which the miss'nary line don't. I'm a regoolar Down-easter, ye -see--kinder piercin' into a subject, like our nation in gin'ral--and -the whull schim hangs together a little, I calculate, mister?" "So I -should think, Mr Snout, indeed," I said. Here the American gave another -chuckle, and turned to again on his walk, double quick, till you'd -have thought the whole length of the poop shook: when who should I see -with the tail of my eye, but my friend the _Kitmagar_ salaaming to -Mr Snout, by the break of the quarterdeck. The Yankee seemed rather -taken aback at first, and didn't know what to make of him. "S'laam, -sah'b," said the dark servant, with an impudent look, and loud enough -for me to hear, as I stepped from aft,--"Judge sahib i-send genteeman -salaam--say too much hivvy boot he got--all same as _Illimphant_! -S'pose master not so much loud walk, _this_ side?" "_Well!_" broke out -the American, looking at the Bengalee's flat turban and mustache, as if -he were too great a curiosity to be angry with, then, turning on his -heel to proceed with his walk, "Now, mister," said he to me, "that's -what I call an incalculable imp_u_dent black--but he's the first I -ever saw with hair on his lip, it's a fact!" "Master not _mind_?" said -the Kitmagar, raising his key next time Mr Snout wheeled round. "Judge -sahib burra burra buhadoorkea!--ver' great man!" "D---- niggur!" said -Mr Snout, tramping away aft; "there's your British regoolations, I say, -young man! niggurs bààing on the quarterdeck, and free-born citizens -put off it!" "_Bhote khoob_, mistree!" squeaked out the native again; -"burra judge sahib not i-sleep apter he dine?--ver_i_ well--I tell the -sahib, passiger mistree moor stamp-i-stamp all the moor I can say!" -So off he went to report in the poop-cabin. A little after, up shot a -head wrapped in a yellow bandanna, just on the level of the poop-deck, -looking through the breast-rail; and the next thing I saw was the -great East Indian himself, with a broad-flapped Manilla hat over -this top-gear, and a red-flowered dressing-gown, standing beside the -binnacle with Captain Williamson. "What the deuce, Captain Williamson!" -said the judge, with an angry glance up to the poop, "cannot I close -my eyelids after dinner for one instant--in my own private apartments, -sir--for this hideous noise! Who the deuce _is_ that person there--eh, -eh?" "He's an American gentleman, I believe, Sir Charles," replied -the captain. "_Believe_, sir!" said the judge, "you ought to _know_ -every individual, I think, Captain Williamson, whom you admitted into -this vessel! I expressly stipulated for quiet, sir--I understood that -no suspicious or exceptionable persons should travel in the same -conveyance with _my_ suwarry. I'd have taken the whole ship, sir!" -"I've no more to do than tell him the regulations aboard, Sir Charles," -said the captain, "and the annoyance will cease." "_Tell_ him, indeed!" -said the judge, a little more good-humouredly, "why, captain, the man -looks like a sea-pirate! You should have taken only such raw griffins -as that young lad on the other side. Ho, kitmagar!" "Maharaj?" said the -footman, bowing down to the deck. "_Slippers lao!_" "Jee, khodabund," -answered the native, and immediately after he reappeared from the -round-house door, with a pair of turned-up yellow slippers. "Take -them up with my salaam to that gentleman there," said Sir Charles, in -Hindostance, "and ask him to use them." "Hullo!," sung out Mr Snout, -on being hove-to by the kitmagar, with one hand on his breast and the -other holding the slippers, "this won't do! You'd better not _rile_ me -again, you cussed niggur you--out o' my way!" There they went at it -along the poop together, Mr Snout striding right forward with his long -legs, and the kitmagar hopping backward out of his way, as he tried to -make himself understood; till, all at once, the poor fellow lost his -balance at the ladder-head, and over he went with a smash fit to have -broken his neck, if the captain's broad back hadn't fortunately been -there to receive it. The rage of Sir Charles at this was quite beyond -joking; nothing else would satisfy him but the unlucky Yankee's being -shoved off the poop by main force, and taken below--the one stamping -and roaring like an old buffalo, and the other testifying against all -"aristocratycal _ty_ranny." - -At eight bells, again, I found it a fine breezy night, the two upper -mates walking the weather quarterdeck in blue-water style, six steps -and a look to windward, then a wheel round, and, now and then, a glance -into the binnacle. I went aft and leant over the Seringapatam's lee -quarter, looking at the white backwash running aft from her bows, in -green sparks, into the smooth alongside, and the surge coming round -her counter to meet it. Everything was set aloft that could draw, even -to a starboard main-topmast-stunsail; the high Indiaman being lighter -than if homeward-bound, and the breeze strong abeam, she had a good -heel-over to port: but she went easily through the water, and it was -only at the other side you heard it rattling both ways along the bends. -The shadow of her went far to leeward, except where a gleam came on -the top of a wave or two between the sails and under their foot. Just -below the sheer of the hull aft it was as dark as night, though now -and then the light from a port struck on it and went in again; but -every time she sank, the bight of her wake from astern swelled up away -round the counter, with its black side as smooth as a looking-glass. I -kept peering into it, and expecting to see my own face, while all the -time I was very naturally thinking of one quite different, and felt -uneasy till I should actually see her. "Confound it!" I thought, "were -it only a house, one might walk round and round it till he found out -the window!" I fancied her bewitching face through the garden door, -as clearly as if I saw it in the dark head of the swell; but I'd have -given more only to hear that imp of a cockatoo scream once--whereas -there was nothing but the water working up into the rudder-case; the -pintles creaking, and the tiller-ropes cheeping as they traversed; -and the long welter of the sea when the ship eased down, with the -surgeon and his friends walking about and laughing up to windward. -From that, again, I ran on putting things together, till, in fact, -Jacobs's notion of a shipwreck seemed by far the best. No doubt Jacobs -and Westwood, with a few others, would be saved, while I didn't even -object much to the old nabob himself, for respectability's sake, and to -spare crape. But, by Jove, wouldn't one bring him to his bearings soon -enough there! Every sailor gets hold of this notion some night-watch -or other, leaning over the side, with pretty creatures aboard he can -scarce speak to otherwise; and I was coiling it down so fast myself, -at the moment, that I had just begun to pitch into the nabob about our -all being Adam's sons and daughters, under a knot of green palm-trees, -at the door of a wooden house, half thatched with leaves, when I was -brought up with a round turn by seeing a light shining through the -hazy bull's-eye in the deck where I stood. No doubt the sweet girl I -had been thinking of was actually there, and going to bed! I stretched -over the quarter, but the heavy mouldings were in the way of seeing -more than the green bars of the after window--all turned edgeways to -the water, where the gallery hung out like a corner turret from the -ship's side. Now and then, however, when she careened a little more -than ordinary, and the smooth lee swell went heaping up opposite, I -could notice the light through the venetians from the state-room come -out upon the dark water in broad bright lines, like the grate across -a fire, then disappearing in a ripple, till it was gone again, or -somebody's shadow moved inside. It was the only lighted window in the -gallery, and I looked every time it came as if I could see in; when -at last, you may fancy my satisfaction, as, all of a sudden, one long -slow heave-over of the ship showed me the whole bright opening of -the port, squared out of her shadow, where it shone upon the glassy -round of the swell. 'Twas as plain as from a mirror in a closet,--the -lighted gallery window with its frame swung in, a bit of the deck-roof -I was standing on, and two female figures at the window--mere dark -shapes against the lamp. I almost started back at the notion of their -seeing me, but away lengthened the light on the breast of the swell, -and it sank slowly down into a black hollow, as the Indiaman eased up -to windward. Minute by minute, quite breathless, did I watch for such -another chance; but next time she leant over as much, the port had -been closed, and all was dark; although those few moments were enough -to send the heart into my mouth with sheer delight. The figure I had -seen holding with one hand by the portsill, and apparently keeping up -her dress with the other, as if she were looking down steadily on the -heave of the sea below--it couldn't be mistaken. The line of her head, -neck, and shoulders, came out more certain than if they hadn't been -filled up with nothing but a black shadow; it was just Lota Hyde's, as -she sat in the ball-room amongst the crowd, I'd have bet the Victory to -a bumboat on it: only her hair hung loose on one side, while the girl -behind seemed to be dressing the other, for it was turned back, so that -I saw clear past her cheek and neck to where the lamp was, and her ear -gleamed to the light. For one moment nothing could be plainer, than the -glimpse old Davy Jones gave me by one of his tricks; but the old fellow -was quite as decorous in his way as a chamberblind, and swallowed his -pretty little bit of blab as quickly as if it had been a mermaid caught -at her morning toilet. Whenever I found there was to be no more of it -for the night, the best thing to calm one's feelings was to light a -cigar and walk out the watch; but I took care it should rather be over -the nabob's head than his daughter's, and went up to the weather side, -where there was nobody else by this time, wishing her the sweetest of -dreams, and not doubting I should see her next day. - -I daresay I should have walked out the first watch, and the second too, -if Westwood hadn't come up beside me before he turned in. - -"Why, you look like the officer of the watch, Ned!" said my friend, -after taking a glance, round at the night. "Yes--what?--a--a--I don't -think so," stammered I, not knowing what he said, or at least the -meaning of it, though certainly it was not so deep. "I hope not though, -Tom!" said I again, "'tis the very thing I don't want to look like!" -"You seem bent on keeping it up, and coming the innocent, at any -rate," said he; "I really didn't know you the first time I saw you in -the cuddy." "Why, man, you never saw our theatricals in the dear old -Iris, on the African station! I was our best female actor of tragedy -there, and _did_ Desdemona so well that the black cook who stood for -Othello, actually cried. He said, 'Nobody but 'ee dibble umself go -forsmudder missee Dasdemoner!'" "I daresay," said Westwood; "but what -is the need for it _now_, even if _you_ could serve as a blind for me?" -"My dear fellow!" said I, "not at all--you've kept it up very well so -far--just go on." "Keep it up, Ned?" inquired he, "what do you mean? -I've done nothing except keep quiet, from mere want of spirits." "So -much the better," I said; "I never saw a man look more like a prophet -in the wilderness; it doesn't cost you the least trouble--why you'd -have done for Hamlet in the Iris, if for nothing else! After all, -though, a missionary don't wear blue pilot-cloth trousers, nor tie his -neckerchief as you do, Tom. You must bend a white neckcloth to-morrow -morning! I'm quite serious, Westwood, I assure you," continued I. -"Just think of the suspicious look of two navy men being aboard an -_Indiaman_, nobody knows how! Why, the first frigate we speak, or port -we touch at, they'd hand one or both of us over at once--which I, for -my part, shouldn't at all like!" "Indeed, Collins," said Tom, turning -round, "I really cannot understand _why_ you went out in her! It -distresses me to think that here you've got yourself into this scrape -on my account! At least you'll put back in the first home-bound ship -we----" - -"Oh!" exclaimed I, blushing a little in the dark though, both at -Westwood's simplicity and my not wishing to tell him my secret -yet--"I'm tired of shore--I _want_ to see India again--I'm thinking of -going into the _army_, curse it!" "The _army_, indeed!" said Westwood, -laughing for the first time, "and you midshipman all over. No--no--that -won't do! I see your drift, you can't deceive _me_! You're a true -friend, Ned,--to stand by an old schoolmate so!" "No, Tom!" said I; -"'tis yourself has too kind a heart, and more of a sailor's, all fair -and above-board, than I can manage! I _won't_ humbug _you_, at any -rate--I tell you I've got a scheme of my own, and you'll know more of -it soon." Tom whistled; however I went on to tell him, "The long and -the short of it is, Westwood, you'll bring both of us by the head if -you don't keep up the missionary." "Missionary!" repeated he; "you -don't mean to say you and Neville intended all that long toggery you -supplied my kit with, for me to sail under _missionary_ colours? I -tell you what, Ned, it's not a character I like to cut jokes upon, -much less to sham!" "Jokes!" said I; "there's no joking about it; 'tis -serious enough." "Why," said Westwood, "_now_ I know the reason of a -person like a clergyman sighting me through his spectacles for half an -hour together, these two evenings below! This very afternoon he called -me his brother, and began asking me all manner of questions which I -could no more answer than the cook's mate." "Clergyman be hanged!" -said I, "you must steer clear of him, Tom--take care you don't bowse -up your jib too much within hail of him! Mind, I gave your name, both -to the head-steward and the skipper, as the Reverend Mr Thomas, going -back to Bombay." "The devil you did!" "Why there was nothing else for -it, Westwood," I said, "when you were beyond thinking for yourself. All -you've got to do with that solemn chap in the spectacles, is just to -look as wise as possible, and let him know you belong to the _Church_. -And as for shamming, you needn't sham a bit--_taketoit_ my dear -fellow, if that will do you good!" I said this in joke, but Westwood -seemed to ponder on it for a minute or two. "Indeed, Collins," said he -gravely, "I _do_ think you're right. What do we sailors do, but give -up everything in life for a mere schoolboy notion, and keep turning -up salt water for years together like the old monks did the ground; -only they grew corn and apples for their pains, and we have nothing -but ever so many dull watches and wild cruises ashore to remember! -How many sailors have turned preachers and missionaries, just because -something, by accident as it were, taught them to put to account what -you can't help feeling now and then in the very _look_ of the sea? What -does it mean in the Scriptures, Ned, about 'seeing the wonders of the -Lord in the deep?'" As Westwood said this, both of us stopped on the -taffrail, and, somehow or other, a touch of I didn't well know _what_ -went through me. I held my breath, with his hand on my arm, just at the -sight I had seen a thousand times--the white wake running broad away -astern, with a mark in the middle as if it had been torn, on to the -green yeast of the waves, then right to their black crests plunging in -the dark. It was midnight ahead, and the clouds risen aloft over where -I had been looking half all hour before; but the long ragged split -to westward was opened up, and a clear glaring glance of the sky, as -pale as death, shot through it on the horizon. "I can't be sorry for -having gone to sea," said Westwood again; "but isn't it a better thing -to leave home and friends, as those men do, for the sake of carrying -the gospel to the heathen?" As soon as we wheeled round, with the ship -before us, leaning over and mounting to the heave, and her spread of -canvass looming out on the dark, my thoughts righted. "Well," said I, -"it may be all very well for some--every one to his rope; but, for my -part, I think if a man hadn't been made for the sea, he couldn't have -built a ship, and where would your missionaries be _then_? You're older -than I am, Westwood, or I'd say you let some of your notions run away -with you, like a Yankee ship with her short-handed crew!" "Oh, Ned," -said he, "of all places in the world for one's actions coming back on -him the sea is the worst, especially when you're an idler, and have -nothing to do but count the sails, or listen to the passengers' feet -on deck. These two days, now, I've thought more than I ever did in my -life. I can't get that man's death out of my head; every time, the sea -flashes round me as I come from below, I think of him--it seems to me -he is lying yet by the side of the Channel. I can't help having the -notion he perhaps _fired in the air_!" "'Twas a base lie!" said I; "If -_he_ weren't _there_, you wouldn't be here, I call tell you, Westwood." -"I don't know how I shall ever drag through this voyage," continued he. -"If there were a French gunboat to cut out to-morrow morning, or if we -were only to have a calm some day in sight of a Spanish slaver,--'tis -nothing but a jogging old Indiaman though! I shall never more see the -flag over my head with pride--every prospect I had was in the service!" - -Next morning was fine, and promised to be hot; the ship still with a -sidewind from near south-west, which 'twas easy to see had slackened -since midnight with a pour of rain, the sails being all wet, and coats -hung to dry in the fore-rigging; she was going little more than five or -six knots headway. The water was bluer, lifting in long waves, scarce -a speck of foam except about the ship; but instead of having broke -up with the sun, or sunk below the level, the long white clouds were -risen high to leeward, wandering away at the top and facing us steady -below out of the sky, a pretty sure sign they had more to do. However, -the Indiaman was all alive from stem to stern: decks drying as clean -as a table; hens and ducks clucking in the coops at their food; pigs -grunting; stewards and cabin-boys going fore and aft, below and above, -and the men from aloft coming slowly down for breakfast, with an eye -into the galley funnel. Most of the passengers were upon deck, in knots -all along the poop-nettings, to look out for Corvo and Flores, the -westernmost of the Azores, which we had passed before daybreak. - -"I say, Fawd!" said the warlike cadet with the mustache, all of a -sudden yawning and stretching himself, as if he'd been struck with the -thing himself, "Cussed dull this vessel already, ain't it?" "Blast me, -no, you fellow!" said Ford, the nautical man--"that's because you're -not interested in the ocean--the sea--as I am! You should study the -_craft_, Bob, my boy! I'll teach you to go aloft. I only wish it would -blow harder--not a mere capful of wind, you know, but a tempest!" "By -Jove! Fawd," said the other, "_how_ we _shall_ enjoy India--even that -breakfast with old Rollock! By the bye, ain't breakfast ready yet?" -These two fellows, for my part, I took for a joint-model, just trying -to hit a mid-helm betwixt them, else I couldn't have got through it: -accordingly they both patronised me. "Haw, Cawlins!" said one, nodding -to me. "Is that you, my boy?" said the other; "now you're a fellow -_never_ would make a sailor!" "I daresay not," I said, gravely, "if -they have all to commence as horse-marines." "Now, such ignorance!" -said Ford; "marines don't ride horses, Collins, you fellow!--how d'you -think they could be _fed_ at sea--eh?" "Well--now--that didn't occur -to me!" said I, in the cadet key. "Fawd, my boy, you--demmee--you -know too much--you're quite a sea-cook!" "Oh, now! But I'm afraid, -Winterton, I never shall land ashore in India--I _am_ tempted to -go into the navy instead." "I say, Mr Ford," put in a fat unlicked -cub of a tea-middy, grinning as he listened, "I've put you up to a -few _rises_ aboard, but I don't think I told you we've got a dozen -or so of _donkeys_[8] below in the steerage?" "Donkeys!--no?" said -the griffin. "Yes," replied the midshipman; "they kick like blazes, -though, if they get loose in a gale--why mine, now, would knock a hole -through the side in no time--I'll show you them for a glass of grog, -Mr Ford." "Done!" and away they went. "That fool, Fawd, you know, -Cawlins, makes one sick with his stuff; I declare he chews little -bits of tobacco in our room till he vomits as much as before," said -Winterton. "I tell you what, Cawlins, you're a sensible man--I'll let -you into a secret! What do you think--there's the deucedest pretty girl -in the vessel, we've none of us seen except myself; I caught a sight -of her this very mawning. She don't visit the cuddy at all; papa's -proud, you pusseeve--a nabob in short!" "Oh, dear!" said I. "Yes, I -do assure you, quite a bew-ty! What's to be done?--we absolutely must -meet her--eh, Cawlins?" Here I mused a bit. "Oh!" said I, looking up -again, "shall we send a deputation, do you think?" "Or get up a ball, -Cawlins?--Hallo, what's this?" said he, leaning over the breast-rail -to look at a stout lady who was lugging a chubby little boy of three -or four, half-dressed, up the poop-stair, while her careful husband -and a couple of daughters blocked it up above. "See, Tommy, dear!" -said she, "look at the _land_--the nice, land, you know, Tommy." "Come -away, my love," said her spouse, "else you won't see it." Tommy, -however, hung back manfully. "Tommy don't want wook at _yand_," sang -out he, kicking the deck; "it all such 'mell of a sheep, ma; me wook -at 'at man wis _gate feel_. Fare other _feel_, man? Oh, fat a ugwy -man!" The honest tar at the wheel pulled up his shirt, and looked -terribly cut at this plain remark on his phiz, which certainly wasn't -the most beautiful; meanwhile he had the leech of the main to'gallant -sail shaking. "Mind your helm, there," sung out the second mate from -the capstan. "My good man," said the lady, "will you be so kind as to -show us the land?" "Ay, ay, sir," growled he, putting up his weather -spokes; "sorry I carn't, ma'am--please not to speak to the man at the -wheel." Jacobs was coiling down the ropes on a carronade close by, and -stepped forward: "Beg your ladyship's pardon," said he, "but if ye'll -give me charge o' the youngster till you goes on the poop--why, I've -got a babby at home myself." The stout lady handed him over, and Jacobs -managed the little chap wonderfully. This was the first time Tommy had -been on deck since leaving home, and he couldn't see over the high -bulwarks, so he fancied it was a house he was in. "Oh, suts big _tees, -man_!" shouted he, clapping his hands as soon as he noticed the sails -and rigging aloft; "suts warge birds in a _tees_!" "Ay, ay, my little -man," answered Jacobs, "that's the wonderfowl _tree_! Did ye ever -hear Jack and the Bean-stalk, Tommy?" "Oh, 'ess, to be soo, _man_!" -said Tommy, scornfully, as if he should think he had. "Well, little -un," said Jacobs, "that's it, ye see. It grows up every night afore -Jack's door--and them's Jack an' his brothers a-comin' down out on -the wonderfowl country aloft, with fruits in their hands." The little -fellow was delighted, and for going aloft at once. "Ye must wait a bit, -Tommy, my lad, till you're bigger," said Jacobs; "here I'll show you -the country, though;" so he lifted the boy up to let him see the bright -blue sea lying high away round the sky. In place of crying, as he would -have done otherwise, Tommy stared with pleasure, and finished by vowing -to get as soon big as possible, Jacobs advising him to eat always as -hard as he had been doing hitherto. - -[8] Sea slang for sailors' chests. - -This morning the breakfast party was in high spirits: Mr Finch, the -chief officer, rigged up to the nines in white trowsers and Company's -jacket, laying himself out to please the young ladies, with whom he -began to be a regular hero. He was as blustering as a young lion, and -as salt-tongued as a Channel pilot to the men; but with the ladies, on -the poop or in the cabin, he was always twisting his sea-talk into fine -language, like what you see in books, as if the real thing weren't good -enough. He rubbed his hands at hearing the mate on deck singing out -over the skylight to trim yards, and gave a look along to the captain. -"You must understand, ladies," said the mate, "this is what we mariners -call the 'ladies' wind!'" "Oh delightful!" "Oh _so_ nice!" "You sailors -_are_ so polite!" exclaimed the young ladies--"then does it actually -_belong_ to us?" "Why it's a _Trade_ wind, Miss Fortescue!" said Ford -the nautical cadet, venturing to put in a word; but the ladies paid -no attention to him, and the chief mate gave him a look of contempt. -"You see, ladies, the reason is," said the mate, in a flourishing way, -"because it's so regular, and as gentle as--as--why it wafts your bark -into the region of, you see,--the--" "The 'Doldrums,'" put in the -third mate, who was a brinier individual by far, and a true seaman, -but wished to pay his compliments too, between his mouthfuls. "At any -rate," Finch went on, "it's congenial, I may say, to the feelings of -the fair--you need never touch her braces from one day to another. I -just wish, Miss Fortescue, you'd allow me the felicity of letting you -see how to put the ship about!" "A _soldier_ might put her in stays, -miss," said the third mate again, encouragingly, "and out of 'em again; -she's a remarkable easy craft, owing to her----" "Confound it! Mr -Rickett," said the first mate, turning round to his unlucky inferior, -"you're a sight too coarse for talking to ladies. Well the captain -didn't hear you!" Rickett looked dumbfoundered, not knowing what was -wrong; the old ladies frowned; the young ones either blushed or put -their handkerchiefs to their mouths, and some took the occasion for -walking off. - -The weather began to have a different turn already by the time we got -up--the clouds banking to leeward, the sea dusky under them, and the -air-line between rather bluish. Two or three lazy gulls in our wake -began to look alive, and show themselves, and a whole black shoal of -porpoises went tumbling and rolling across the bows for half an hour, -till down they dived of a sudden, head-foremost, one after another in -the same spot, like so many sheep through a gap. - -My gentleman-mate was to be seen everywhere about the decks, and active -enough, I must say: the next minute he was amongst two or three young -ladies aft, as polite as a dancing-master, showing them everything -in board and out, as if nobody knew it except himself. Here a young -girl, one of Master Tommy's sisters, came skipping aft, half in a -fright. "Oh, Miss Fortescue!" cried she, "just think!--I peeped over -into a nasty black hole there, with a ladder in it, and saw ever so -many common sailors hung up in bags from the ceiling. Oh, what do you -think, one of them actually kissed his hand to me!" "Only one of the -watch below awake, Miss," said the mate; "impertinent swab!--I only -wish I knew which it was." "Poor fellows!" said the young ladies; -"pray, don't be harsh to them--but what have they been doing?" "Oh, -nothing," said he, with a laugh, "but swing in their hammocks since -eight bells." "Then are they so lazy as to dislike getting up to such -delightful-looking occupations?" "Why, ma'am," said the mate, staring -a little, "they've been on deck last night two watches, of four hours -each, I must say that for them." "Dear me!" broke out the ladies; and -on this the chief officer took occasion to launch out again concerning -"the weary vigils," as he called them, "which we mariners have to keep, -far distant from land, without a smile from the eyes of the fair to -bless us! But, however, the very thought of it gives courage to the -sailor's manly heart, to disregard the billows' fearful rage, and reef -topsails in the tempest's angry height!" Thought I, "he'd much better -do it before." However, the young ladies didn't seem to see that, -evidently looking upon the mate as the very pink of seamen; and he -actually set a second lower stud-sail, to show them how fast she could -walk. - -"D'ye know, sir," put in the third mate, coming from forward, "I'm -in doubt it's going to be rather a sneezer, sir, if ye look round -the larboard stuns'ls." Sure enough, if our fine gentleman had had -time, amidst his politeness, just to cast an eye beyond his spread -of cloth, he would have noticed the clouds gathered all in a lump to -north-eastward, one shooting into another--the breast of them lowering -down to the horizon, and getting the same colour as the waves, till -it bulked out bodily in the middle. You'd have fancied the belly of -it scarce half a mile off from the white yard-arms, and the hollow of -it twenty--coming as stealthily as a ghost, that walks without feet -after you, its face to yours, and the skirt of its winding-sheet in -"kingdom come" all the while. I went up on the poop, and away behind -the spanker I could see the sun gleam for one minute right on the eye -of stray cloud risen to nor'-west, with two short streaks of red, -purple, and yellow together--what is called a "wind-gall;" then it was -gone. The American was talking away with jovial old Rollock and Ford, -who began to look wise, and think there was mischief brewing in the -weather. "Mind your helm there, sirrah!" sung out the mate, walking -aft to the wheel, as everything aloft fluttered. "She won't lie her -course, sir!" said the man. "All aback for'ud!" hailed the men at work -on the bowsprit; and hard at it went all hands, trimming yards over -and over again; the wind freshening fast, stunsails flapping, booms -bending, and the whole spread of canvass in a cumber, to teach the mate -not to be in such a hurry with his infernal merchantman's side-wings -next time. The last stunsail he hauled down caught full aback before -the wheel could keep her away quick enough; the sheet of it hitched -foul at the boom-end, and crack through went the boom itself, with a -smash that made the ladies think it a case of shipwreck commencing. The -loose scud was flying fast out from behind the top of the clouds, and -spreading away overhead, as if it would catch us on the other side; -while the clouds themselves broke up slowly to both hands, and the -north-east breeze came sweeping along right into the three topsails, -the wind one way and the sea another. As she rounded away steadying -before it, you felt the masts shake in her till the topsails blew out -full; she gave one sudden bolt up with her stern, like an old jackass -striking behind, which capsized three or four passengers in a heap; and -next minute she was surging along through the wide heave of the water -as gallantly as heart could wish, driving a wave under her bows that -swung back under the forechains on both sides, with two boys running up -the rigging far aloft on each mast to stow the royals. The next thing -I looked at was poor Ford's nautical hat lifting alongside on the top -of a wave, as if it were being handed up to him; but no sooner seen, -than it was down in the hollow a quarter of a mile off, a couple of -white gulls making snatches at it and one another, and hanging over -it again with a doubtful sort of a scream. Still the wind was as yet -nothing to speak of when once aft; the sea was getting up slowly, and -the Indiaman's easy roll over it made every one cheerful, in spite of -the shifts they were put to for getting below. When the bell struck for -dinner, the sun was pretty clear, away on our starboard bow; the waves -to south-westward glittered as they rose; one side of the ship shone -bright to the leech of the mainto'gallant-sail, and we left the second -mate hauling down the jibs for want of use for them. - -The splendid pace she went at was plain, below in the cuddy, to -everybody; you felt her shoving the long seas aside with the force of -a thousand horses in one, then sweep they came after her, her stern -lifted, she rolled round, and made a floating rush ahead. In the middle -of it all, something darkened the half-open skylight, where I perceived -the Scotch second-mate's twisted nose and red whiskers, as he squinted -down with one eye aloft, and disappeared again; after which I heard -them clue up to'gallant-sails. Still she was driving through it rather -too bodily to let the seas rise under her; you _heard_ the wind hum of -the main-topsail, and sing through betwixt it and the main-course, the -scud flying over the skysail-mast truck, which I could see from below. -The second mate looked in once more, caught the first officer's eye -with a glance aloft, and the gallant mate left attending to the ladies -to go on deck. Down went the skylight frame, and somebody carefully -threw a tarpaulin over it, so that there was only the light from the -port-windows, by which a dozen faces turned still whiter. - -The moment I shoved my head out of the booby-hatch, I saw it was -like to turn out a regular gale from nor'-east. Both courses brailed -close-up, and blowing out like rows of big-bladders; the three -topsail-yards down on the caps to reef, their canvass swelling and -thundering on the stays like so many mad elephants breaking loose; the -wild sky ahead of us staring right through in triumph, as it were, and -the wind roaring from aft in her bare rigging; while a crowd of men -in each top were laying out along the foot-ropes to both yard-arms. -Below, they were singing out at the reef-tackles, the idlers tailing on -behind from the cook to the cabin-boys, a mate to each gang, and the -first officer with his hands to his mouth before the wheel, shouting -"Bear a hand!--d'ye hear!--two reefs!" It did one's heart good, and I -entered into the spirit of it, almost forgiving Finch his fine puppy -lingo, when I saw him take it so coolly, standing like a seaman, and -sending his bull's voice right up with the wind into the bellies of -the topsails--so I e'en fell-to myself, and dragged with the steward -upon the mizen reef-tackle till it was chock up. There we were, running -dead before it, the huge waves swelling long and dark after us out -of the mist, then the tops of them scattered into spray; the glaring -white yards swayed slowly over aloft, each dotted with ten or a dozen -sturdy figures, that leant over with the reef-points in their hands, -waiting till the men at the _earings_ gave the word; and Jacobs's face, -as he looked round to do so--hanging on heaven knows what at one of -the ends--was as distinct as possible against the gray scud miles off, -and sixty feet above the water. A middy, without his cap, and his hair -blowing out, stood holding on in the main-top to quicken them; the -first mate waved his hand for the helmsman to "luff a little." The -ship's head was rounding slowly up as she rose on a big blue swell, -that caught a wild gleam on it from westward, when I happened to glance -towards the wheel. I could scarcely trust my eyes--in fact it had never -been less in my mind since coming aboard than at that very point--but -outside one of the round-house doors, which was half open, a few feet -from the bulwark I leant over--of all moments in the day, _there_ stood -Lota Hyde herself at last! Speak of faces!--why, I hadn't even power -to turn farther round, and if I was half out of breath before, what -with the wind and with pulling my share, I was breathless now--all my -notions of her never came up to the look of her face at that instant! -She just half stopped, as it were, at sight of the state of things, -her hands letting go of the large shawl, and her hair streaming from -under a straw hat tied down with a ribbon--her lips parted betwixt -dread and bewilderment, and her eyes wandering round till they settled -a-gazing straight at the scene ahead, in pure delight. I actually -looked away aloft from her again, to catch what it was she seemed to -see that could be so beautiful!--the second reef just made fast, men -crowding in to run down and hoist away with the rest, till, as they -tailed along decks, the three shortened topsails rose faster up against -the scud, and their hearty roaring chorus was as loud as the gale. -"Keep her away, my lad!" said the mate, with another wave of his hand; -the topsails swelled fair before it, and the Indiaman gave a plunge -right through the next sea, rising easily to it, heave after heave. -The setting sun struck two or three misty spokes of his wheel through -a cloud, that made a big wave here and there glitter; the ship's white -yards caught some of it, and a row of broad backs, with their feet -stretching the foot-rope as they stowed the foresail, shone bright out, -red, blue, and striped, upon the hollow of the yellow fore-topsail, in -the midst of the gale; while just under the bowsprit you saw her black -figure-head, with his white turban, and his hand to his breast, giving -a cool salaam now and then to the spray from her bows. At that moment, -though, Lota Hyde's eye was the brightest thing I could find--all the -blue gone out of the waves was in it. As for her seeing myself, I -hadn't had space to think of it yet, when all of a sudden I noticed -her glance light for the first time, as it were, on the mate, who was -standing all the while with his back to her, on the same plank of the -quarterdeck. "Down main-course!" he sung out, putting one hand in his -jacket-pocket; "down both tacks--that's it, my men--down with it!"--and -out it flapped, slapping fiercely as they dragged it by main force into -the bulwark-cleats, till it swelled steady above the main-stay, and the -old ship sprang forward faster than before, with a wild wash of the -Atlantic past her sides. "Another hand to the wheel, here!" said the -first officer. He took a look aloft, leaning to the rise of her bows, -then to windward as she rolled; everything looked trim and weatherly, -so he stepped to the binnacle, where the lamp was ready lighted, and it -just struck me what a smart, good-looking fellow the mate was, with his -sun-burnt face; and when he went to work, straight-forward, no notion -of showing off. "Confound it, though!" thought I of a sudden, seeing -_her_ eyes fixed on him again, and then to seaward. "Mr Macleod," said -he to the second mate, "send below the watch, if you please. This -breeze is first-rate, though!" When he turned round, he noticed Miss -Hyde, started, and took off his cap with a fine bow. "I beg pardon, -ma'am," said he, "a trifle of wind we have! I hope, Miss Hyde, it -hasn't troubled you in the round-house?" What Miss Hyde might have said -I don't know, but her shawl caught a gust out of the spanker, though -she was in the lee of the high poop; it blew over her head, and then -loose--I sprang forward--but the mate had hold of it, and put it over -her again. The young lady smiled politely to the mate, and gave a cold -glance of surprise, as I thought, at me. I felt, that moment, I could -have knocked the mate down and died happy. "Why, sir," said he, with a -cool half sneer, "I fancied none of you gentlemen would have favoured -us this capful of wind--plenty of air there is on deck, though." It -just flashed through my mind what sort of rig I was in--I looked over -my infernal 'long-shore toggery, and no wonder she didn't recollect me -at all! "_Curse_ this confounded folly!" muttered I, and made a dart to -run up the poop-steps, where the breeze took me slap aback, just as the -judge himself opened the larboard door. "Why, Violet!" exclaimed he, -surprised at seeing his daughter, "are you exposing yourself to this -disagreeable--I declare a perfect _storm_!" "But see, papa!" said she, -taking hold of his arm, "how changed the sea is!--and the ship!--just -look where the sun was!" "Get in--get in, do!" kept on her father; -"you can see all that again in some finer place; you should have had -a servant with you, at least, Violet." "I shall come out oftener -than I thought, papa, I can tell you!" said she, in an arch sort of -way, before she disappeared. The mate touched his cap to the judge, -who asked where the captain was. "'Gad sir," said the judge crossly, -"the floor resembles an earthquake--every piece of furniture swings, -sir; 'tis well enough for sleeping, but my family find it impossible -to dine. If this _oolta-poolta_ continues in my apartments, I must -speak to Captain Williamson about it! He must manage to get into some -other part of the sea, where it is less rough," saying which he swayed -himself in and shut the door. I still kept thinking and picturing _her_ -face--Lota Hyde's--when she noticed the mate. After all, any one that -knew tack from bowline might reef topsails in a fair wind; but a girl -like _that_ would make more count of a man knowing how to manage wind -and sea, than of the Duke on his horse at Waterloo beating Bonaparte; -and as for talk, he would jaw away the whole voyage, no doubt, about -moonlight and the ocean, and your genteel fancy mariners! "By George, -though!" thought I, "if the mate's a better man than me, hang me--it's -all right; but burn my wig if I don't go and turn a Hindoo fakeer, with -my one arm stuck up in the air till I die! Go it, old lady!" said I, as -I glanced over the side before going below for the night, "roll away, -only shake something or other to _do_ out of the pace you're going at!" - -The next morning, when Westwood and I went on deck, there was still -a long sea running after us. However, by noon the sun came sifting -through aloft, the breeze got warm, the decks were dry as a bone, -and one just saw the large dark-blue swells lift up alongside with a -shower of spray, between the seams of the bulwarks. By six o'clock, -again, it was got pretty dusk ahead, and I strolled forward right to -the heel of the bowsprit, with Westwood, looking down through her -head-boards into the heap of white foam that washed up among the -woodwork every time she plunged. One knot of the men were sitting with -their legs over the break of the top-gallant forecastle, swinging as -she rolled--laughing, roaring, and singing as loud as they could bawl, -since the wind carried it all forward out of the officers' hearing. I -was rather surprised to see and hear that Jacobs's friends, Bill Dykes -and Tom, were there: the rogues were taking back their savage to the -Andaman Isles again, I suppose. "Well, my lads," said Tom, a regular -sample of the man-o'-war's-man: "this is what I calls balling it off! -That mate knows how to make her go, any how!" "We'll soon be into -tropical regents, I consider!" remarked Bill, who made a point of never -using sea-phrases except ashore, when he came out double salt, to make -up for his gentility afloat. "Hum," grumbled a big ugly fellow, the -same so flattered at the wheel by little Tommy, "I doesn't like your -fair winds! I'll tell you what, mates, we'll be havin' it puff more -from east'ard ere third watch." "What's the odds, Harry, old ship?" -said Tom, "a fair wind still!" "I say, my lads," exclaimed Tom again, -looking along toward the poop, "yonder's the ould naboob squinting out -of the round-house doors!--what's he after now, I wonder?" On stooping -down, accordingly, I could see the judge's face with the binnacle-light -shining on it, as he swayed to and fro in the doorway, seemingly in -a passion at something or other. "Why," said Bill, "I consider he -can't altogether circumstand the shindy as this here roll kicks up -inside of his blessed paliss!" "Nabob, does ye call him!" said Harry, -sulkily; "I'll tell you what, 'mates, he ben't nothin' but a reg'lar -bloody ould tyrant! T'other mornin' there, I just chances to brush -against him as I kiles up a rope, says he '_Fellow!_' an' says he to -the skipper, 'I'd take it kind,' says he, 'if ye'd horder them commin -sailors for to pay more contention alongside o' _my_ legs, Captin -Willumsen!' Why, do the old beggar not think as a feller ben't a _man_ -as well as hisself, with his _commin sailors_, an' be blowed to him!" -"Well though, Harry, old ship," said Tom, "an't that daurter of his'n -a jewel! I say, 'mates, she's all rounded into the head, and a clear -run from aft, like a corvette model! My eye, that hair of hers is worth -gold; I'd go down on the deck to please her, d'ye see!" "No doubt," -says Bill, "she's what I call a exact sparkler!" "Well, I doesn't -know," said Harry. "Last vy'ge but one we'd got one aboard, a'most -beautifuller--half as high again, an' twice her beam--I'm not sure but -_she_--" "All my eye, messmates!" broke in Tom; "that one were built -for _stowing_, ye see, bo', like yer cargo lumpers. Now, this here -young gal minds me o' no other blessed thing but the Nymph corvette's -figure-head--and that warn't her match, neither! She don't look down -upon a sailor, I can tell ye; there I see her t'other morning-watch a -talkin' to Jacobs yonder, as pleasant and cheery as----Hullo, there's -the captain comed out o' the naboob's cabin, and speaking with the mate -by the compass,--blessed if they an't agoin' to alter her course!" - -"Send aft here to the braces!" sung out the first officer to the -boatswain. "Blow me, shipmates, that's yeer naboob now, I'll bet a -week's grog," growled Harry; "ship's course as fair as a handspike -through a grummet; couldn't bring the wind more aft; b--t my eyes, the -sea's comin' to be bought and sold!" Whatever it might be _for_, in -came the starboard yard-arms till she lay over a little; down studding -and top-gallant sails, as neither of them could stand it except from -aft; and off went the old ship rising high athwart the seas, her head -sou'-south-east, and one streak of broken yellow light, low down to -westward on her lee quarter. It was beginning to blow harder, too, and -by eight bells it was "Reef topsails, single reef!" The waves played -slap on her weather side, the heavy sprays came showering over her -bulwarks forward, and the forecastle planks were far from being so -comfortable for a snooze as the night before. As soon as the wheel was -relieved, and the other watch below, the "ugly man" and his companions -returned. "Mates," said he, solemnly, planting his back against the -bitts, "I've sailed this five-and-twenty year before the mast, an' I -never yet seed the likes o' _that_! Take my say for it, we're _on_ a -wind now, but afore next mornin' we'll be close-hauled, beating up -against it." "Well," said another, "she leaks a deal in the eyes of her -below; in that case, Harry, _your_ watch as slings in the fore-peak'll -be all afloat by that time." "What day did this here craft sail on, I -asks?" said the sailmaker gravely. "Why, a Thursday night, old ship," -replied several eagerly. "No," went on the sailmaker; "you counts -sea-fashion, shipmates; but till ye're clear o' the pilot, ye know, its -land fashion ye ought for to go by. 'Twas a _Friday_ by that 'ere said -reckoning, shipmates." "No! so it was though," said the rest--"it don't -_look_ well." "Howsomedever I'm not goin' to come for to go and be a -croaker," continued the sailmaker in a voice like a ghost's. "Well, -luck or no luck, 'mates," grumbled big Harry, "if so be them larboard -bowlines is hauled taut by the morning watch, blow me if I don't be -upsides with that 'ere bloody ould naboob--that's all." - -Next morning, after all, it was easy to feel the ship had really been -hauled close on a wind. When we went up, the weather was clearing, -though with a strongish gale from eastward, a heavy sea running, on -which the Indiaman strained and creaked as she rose, rolling slowly -to windward with her three double-reefed topsails strained full, then -pitched head into it, as a cloud of foam and spray flew over her -weather bow. It was quite early, the decks lately washed down, and the -Indian judge walking the weather quarterdeck as grave and comfortable -as if it was all right. The captain was with him, and two mates to -leeward. "Sail O!" hailed a man on the foreyard. "Where away?" sung -out the mate of the watch. "Broad abeam!" The captain went up to the -poop, and I stood on the foremost carronade near the main rigging, -where I could just see her now and then white against the blue haze -between the hollows of the waves, as the Indiaman lifted. "There she -is!" said I, thinking it was Westwood that stopped behind me; it was -the judge, however, and as soon as I got down he stepped up, holding on -with one hand to a backstay. The ship was rising after a pitch, every -bulkhead and timber in her creaking, when all of a sudden I felt by -my feet what all sailors feel the same way--she was coming up in the -wind too fast to mount with the next wave, and a regular _comber_ it -was going to be. I looked to the wheel--there was big Harry himself -with a grin on his face, and his eye on Sir Charles, as he coolly gave -her half a weather-spoke more, and then whirled it back again to meet -her. "For heaven's sake, look out, sir!" exclaimed I. "Why so I do," -said the judge, rather good-naturedly. "'Zounds! what's--" You felt -the whole ship stop creaking for a moment, as she hung with the last -wave--"Hold on!" shouted a mid--she gave a dull quiver from stem to -stern, and I fairly pulled the judge close into the bulwark, just as -smash, like thunder, came a tremendous green sea over us, three in -one, washing down into the lee scuppers. The old gentleman staggered -up, dripping like a poodle, and unable to see--one heard the water -trickling through the skylights, and stepping away down stairs like -a fellow with iron heels; while there was the sailor at the wheel -grinding down his spokes in right earnest, looking aloft at the shaking -fore-topsail, and the Indiaman seemingly doubtful whether to fall -off or broach-to. Up she rose again, however, and drove round with -her Turk-head in the air, then dip through the spray as gallantly as -ever. "Send that lubber from the wheel, Mr Macleod!" said the captain -angrily, when he came down, "he nearly broached the ship to just now!" -The "ugly man" put on a double-gloomy face, and grumbled something -about her "steering wild;" but the knowing squint he gave Jacobs, who -relieved him, was enough to show me he was one of the best helmsmen -aboard. As for the judge, he hadn't the least notion it was anything -more than a natural mischance, owing to exposing himself. He eyed the -bulwark as if he couldn't understand how any wave was able to rise over -it, while the captain was apologising, and hoping he wouldn't be the -worse. "Eh, young gentleman!" said Sir Charles of a sudden, turning -round to me, after a glance from the weather side to the lee one, "now -I observe the circumstances, the probability is I should have had -myself severely injured on the opposite side there, had it not been -for your presence of mind, sir--eh?" Here I made a bow, and looked as -modest as I could. "I perceive you are wet, young gentleman," said he -again; "you'd better change your dress--eh?" "Thank you, sir!" I said; -and as he walked off quite drenched to his cabin, with the captain, I -heard him remark it was "wonderfully intelligent in a mere griffin." - -However, the wind soon got down to a fine top-gallant breeze; less -of a sea on, the clouds sunk in a long gray bank to leeward, and the -strange sail plain abeam of us--a large ship steering seemingly more -off the wind than the Seringapatam, with top-gallant-sails set--you -could just see the heads of her courses, and her black lower-yards, -when both of us rose together. Our first officer was all alive at the -sight; the reefs were out of our topsails already, and he soon had -us ploughing along under ordinary canvass, though still hugging the -wind. In a short time the stranger appeared to take the challenge, for -he slanted his yards, clapped on royals, and hauled down a stunsail, -heading our course, till he was one body of white cloth on the horizon. -For a while we seemed to gain on her; but after dinner, there was the -other ship's hull up on our lee-bow, rising her white streak out of the -water steadily, and just lifting at times on the long blue seas: she -was fore-reaching on us, as plain as could be. The mate gave a stamp -on the deck, and kept her away a little to set a stunsail. "Why," said -I to Westwood, "he'll fall to leeward of himself!" "She's too much _by -the head_, Collins," said Westwood; "that's it!" "Hasn't he the sense -to take the fore-course off her?" said I, "instead of packing more -_on_! Why, that craft weathers on us like a schooner--I wish you and -I had the Indiaman for an hour or two, Tom!" It wasn't an hour before -we could see the very waves splashing up under her black weather-side, -and over her high bows, as she slanted right through it and rose to -windward again, standing up to cross our course--a fine frigate-built -Indiaman, sharper stemmed than her kind in ordinary, and square in her -spread; one yardarm just looking over the other as they ranged aloft, -and all signs of a weatherly craft. "That's the Duke o' Bedford!" said -a sailor at the braces to his companions, "all oak planks, and not a -splinter of teak in _her_! No chance!" Out flew the British colours -from her mizen-peak, and next the Company's striped ensign at her -fore-royal-mast head, as a signal to speak. However, the Seringapatam -only answered by showing her colours, and held on. All of a sudden the -other Indiaman was seen slowly falling off before the wind, as if in -scorn at such rude manners, and sure of passing us if she chose. For a -moment the red sunset glanced through betwixt all three of her masts, -every rope as fine as wire; then the canvass swung broad against it, -blood-red from the sun, and she showed us her quarter-gallery, with a -glimpse of her stern-windows glittering,--you even made out the crowd -of passengers and soldiers on her poop, and a man or two going up her -rigging. The sea beyond her lay as blue as blue could be, what with -the crimson streak that came zig-zag on both sides of her shadow, and -gleamed along the smooth troughs, taking a crest or two to dance on by -the way; and what with the rough of it near at hand, where the tops of -the dark waves ran hither and thither in broad white flakes, we surging -heavily over them. - -In a few minutes more the sun was not only down, but the clouds banked -up to westward, of a deep purple; and almost at once you saw nothing -of the other ship, except when a stray streak somehow or other caught -her rising, or her mast-heads came across a pale line in the clouds. -The breeze got pleasanter as the night went on, and the Seringapatam -rattled away in fine style, careening to it by herself. - -Well, you know, nothing could be better for a good understanding and -high spirits amongst us than a fast course, fine weather, and entering -the tropics. As for the tropics, if you have only a roomy ship and a -good run of wind, as we had, in those latitudes everything outside of -you seems almost to have double the stuff in it that air and water -have in other places; while _inside_ of one, again, one felt twice the -life he had before, and everybody else came out _newer_ a good deal -than on the parlour rug at home. As the days got each hotter than the -last, and the sea bluer and bluer, we began to think better of the -heavy old Seringapatam's pace, teak though she was, and her sole good -point right before the wind. Every night she lighted her binnacle -sooner, till deuce the bit of twilight there was, and the dark sky came -down on us like the extinguisher over a candle. However, the looks of -things round and aloft made full amends for it, as long as we held the -"Trades;" old Neptune shifting his scenes there so quickly, that nobody -missed getting weather and air, more than he could help, were it only -a sight of how the Indiaman got on, without trouble to any living soul -save the man at the wheel, as one long, big, bright wave shoved her to -another, and the slower they rose the more business she seemed to do -of herself. By the time they had furbished her up at their leisure, -the Seringapatam had a queer Eastern style, too, throughout; with her -grass mattings and husky _coir_ chafing-gear, the yellow varnish about -her, and her three topsails of country-canvass, cut narrow towards the -head--bamboo stunsail booms, and spare bits of bamboo always ready for -everything; besides the bilious-like gold-coloured patches here and -there in the rest of her sails, and the outlandish figure-head, that -made you sometimes think there might be twenty thousand of them under -the bows, dancing away with her like Juggernaut's travelling pagoda. -The decks were lively enough to look at; the men working quietly by -twos and threes about the bulwarks all day long, and pairs of them -to be made out at different points aloft, yarning away comfortably -together, as the one passed the ball for the other's serving-mallet, -with now a glance at the horizon, and now a grin at the passengers -below, or a cautious squint at the top of the mate's cap. White -awnings triced over poop and quarterdeck, the cover of the waist -hammock-netting clean scrubbed, and the big shady main-course half -brailed-up, rustling and bulging above the boats and booms amidships; -every hatchway and door with a round funnel of a wind-sail swelling -into it, and their bellies moving like so many boa-constrictors come -down from aloft, and going in to catch cadets. You saw the bright white -sky dazzling along under the awning-cheeks, that glared on it like -snow; and the open quarterdeck ports let in so many squares of shifting -blue light, with a draught of air into the hot carronade muzzles, -that seemed to gasp for it with their red tompions stuck out like -tongues. The very look of the lifting blue water on the shady side was -refreshing, and the brighter the light got, _it_ grew the darker blue. -You listened for every cool splash of it on the bends, and every rustle -of the canvass aloft; and instead of thinking, as the landsmen did, of -green leaves and a lazy nook for shelter, why, to my fancy there's a -deuced sigh more satisfaction in good _dark blue_, with a spray over -the cat-head to show you're going, and with somewhat to go for! For -want of better, one would have given his ears to jump in head-foremost, -and have a first-rate bathe--the very sea itself kept rising up -alongside to make an easy dive for one, and sinking into little round -troughs again, where the surges would have sprinkled over your head. -Now and then a bigger wave than ordinary would go swelling up, and out -sprang a whole glittering shower of flying-fish, freckling the dark -side with drops, and went flittering over into the next, or skimming -the crests out of sight into a hollow. The writers and cadets were in -high feather at knowing they were in the same latitude as India, and -appeared in all sorts of straw hats, white trousers, and white jackets. -Ford had left off talking of going aloft for a while, to flourish about -his swimming--when he looked over with the surgeon into the smooth of -a hollow, and saw something big and green, like all immense cucumber, -floating along within a fathom or two of the ship, deep down in the -blue water. While the griffin asked what it was, a little ripple broke -above, a wet black horn came right out of it, and two devilish round -eyes glared up at us ahead of it, as we leant over the quarter, set -wide in a broad black snout, shaped like a gravedigger's shovel; then -it sank away into the next wave. Ford shivered, in spite of the heat. -"The devil?" inquired one of the writers, coolly, to the surgeon. "Not -just him," said the Scotchman; "it's only the first _shark_!" - -The young ladies, in their white dresses, now made you think of angels -gliding about: as to the only one I had an eye for, by this time it -wasn't of not seeing her often enough I had to complain, as she seemed -to delight in nothing else but being somewhere or other upon deck; -first one part of the ship, then another, as if to see how different -the look-out could be made, or to watch something in the waves or -the horizon. Instead of sitting with a needle or a book, like the -rest, with the corner of one eye toward the gentlemen, or talking and -giggling away at no allowance, she would be noticing a man aloft as if -she were there herself, or trying to see past a sail, as if she fancied -there was something strange on the other side of it. The rest of the -girls appeared shy of her at first, no doubt on account of the Judge's -separate quarters and his grandee style; next, they made acquaintance, -she speaking and smiling just as if she had known them before; then, -again, most of them seemingly got jealous because the cadets squinted -after her; while old Rollock said Miss Hyde would be the beauty on -Chowringee Course, and the first officer was eternally pointing out -things to her, like a showman at a fair. However, she seemed not to -mind it at all, either way: those that did talk to her would scarce -hear her answer ere they lost her, and there she was, looking quietly -down by herself into the ripples alongside; a minute after, she would -be half-playing with little Tommy, and making companions of Tommy's -young sisters, to see the sheep, the pigs, and the cow, or feed the -poultry. As for the handsome "first officer," when he caught occasion -for his politeness, she took it graciously enough, and listened to -all he said; till, of a sudden, a smile would break over her face, -and she seemed to me to put him off as easy as a duchess--on the -score, it might be, of the Judge's looking for her off the poop, or -something else of the kind. 'Twas the more curious how much at home -she seemed amongst the men at work, when she chanced to go "forward" -with Tommy and his sisters, as they skipped hither and thither: the -rough, blue-shirted fellows took the quids out of their cheeks as soon -as they saw the party coming from aft, and began to smirk, shoving the -tar-buckets and ropes aside. One forenoon, an old lady under the poop -awning, where she and her daughter were sewing together at a bright -strip of needlework, asked me to hold her woollen yarns for her as -she balled them off--being the red coat for a sepoy killing a tiger, -which her daughter was making in yellow. I couldn't well refuse, -seeing that amongst the ladies I was reckoned a mild, quiet young man. -Even in these days, I must say I had a good deal of that look, and at -home they used always to call me "quiet Ned." My mother, good soul, -never would believe I broke windows, killed cats, or fought, and the -mystery to her always is _why_ the neighbours had a spite at me; for -if I had been a wild boy, she said, or as noisy as little Brown next -door, why she wouldn't have objected to my going to sea!--that noisy -little Brown, by the bye, is a fat banker. So in I had to stick my -thumbs at arms'-length, and stoop down to the old lady, the more with -a will since I guessed what they were talking of. "Well though, Kate," -continued the old lady, winding away at the thread, "you cannot deny -her to be a charming creature, my love?" "Oh, if you mean _pretty_!" -said the girl, "I don't _want_ to deny it--not _I_, ma'am!--why should -I, indeed?" "Pity she's a little light-headed," said her mother in a -musing way. "_Affected_, you mean, mother!" said Miss Fortescue, "and -haughty." "Do you know, Kate," replied the old lady, sighing, "I fear -she'll soon _go_ in India!" "_Go?_" said the daughter sharply. "Yes; -she won't stand the hot season as I did--these flighty girls never do. -Poor thing! she certainly hasn't _your_ stamina now, my love!" Here -Miss Fortescue bit her lip, tossed her head, and was saying that wasn't -what she cared about, though in fact she looked ready to cry; when just -at the moment I saw Lota Hyde herself half above the little gallery -stair, gazing straight at me, for the first time, too; a curious kind -of half-smile on her face, as I stood with my paws out, the old lady -jerking the yarn off my wrists, and I staring right over her big bonnet -at the sky astern of the awning, pretending not to listen. All at -once my mouth fell, and before she could turn her face away from the -funny countenance I no doubt put on, I saw her cheek rosy and her eyes -sparkle with laughter, instead of seeming like one to die soon. For my -part I couldn't stand it at all, so I just bolted sheer round and made -three strides to the poop ladder, as dignified as was possible with -ever so many plies of red yarn foul of my wrists, and a big red ball -hopping after me when I'd vanished, like a fellow running from a hot -shot! I daresay they thought on the poop I'd had a stroke of the sun on -my brain; but till next day I kept clear of the passengers, and took to -swigging off stiff nor'-westers of grog, as long as Westwood would let -me. - -Next evening, when the cuddy dinner was scarce over, I went up to the -poop, where there was no one to be seen; the sun just setting on our -starboard-quarter in a golden blaze that stretched overhead, with -flakes of it melting, as 'twere, all over the sky to port, and dropping -in it like threads of oil in water; the ship with a light breeze aft, -and stunsails packed large upon her, running almost due for the Line. -The waves to westward were like liquid light, and the eddies round our -counter came glittering out, the whole spread of her mizen and main -canvass shining like gold cloth against the fore: then 'twas but the -royals and skysails brighter than ever, as the big round sun dipped -down with a red streak or two, and the red waterline, against his -hot old face. Every blue surge between had a clear green edge about -its crest, the hollows turning themselves inside out from deep purple -into bright blue, and outside in again,--and the whole rim of the -sea grew out cool and clear away from the ship's taffrail. A pair of -sharp-headed dolphins that had kept alongside for the last few minutes, -swimming near the surface, turned tail round, the moment I put my nose -over the bulwark, and shot off like two streaks of a rainbow after the -flying-fish. I was just wondering where Lota Hyde could be, this time, -when on a sudden I observed little Tommy poke his curly head out of the -booby-hatch, peeping cautiously round; seeing nobody, however, save -the man at the wheel, who was looking over his shoulder at the sun, -the small rogue made a bolt out of the companion, and scampered aft -under the awning to the Judge's starboard door, with nothing on but his -nightshirt. There he commenced kicking and shoving with his bare feet -and arms, till the door flew open, and over went Tommy on his nose, -singing out in fine style. The next thing I heard was a laugh like the -sound of a silver bell; and just as the boy's sister ran up in a fright -lest he had gone overboard, Violet Hyde came out leading the little -chap wrapped in a long shawl that trailed astern of him, herself with -a straw bonnet barely thrown upon her head. "Tommy says you put him -to bed too soon, Jane!" said she smiling. "Iss!" said Master Thomas, -stoutly, "go 'way, Dzane!" "You hadn't bid me good-night--wasn't that -it, Tom? But oh! _what_ a sea!" exclaimed she, catching sight of it -under the awning. The little fellow wanted to see it too, so the young -lady lifted him up in her arms, no small weight I daresay, and they -both looked over the bulwark: the whole sky far out of the awning to -westward being spotted with orange scales, turning almost scarlet, -faster than the dusk from both ends could close in; the clear greenish -tint of it above the openings of the canvass, going up into fathomless -blue overhead, the horizon purple, and one or two still, black clouds -tipped with vermilion against the far sky--while the Indiaman stole -along, scarce plashing under her bends. Every now and then you heard a -whizz and a flutter, as the flying-fish broke out of a bigger surge, -sometimes just missing the ship's side: at last two or three fell over -the mizen chains, and pop came one all of a sudden right into the white -breast of Miss Hyde's dress inside her scarf, where only the wings -kept it from disappearing. She started, Jane screamed, but the little -boy coolly pulled it out, commencing to overhaul it in great delight. -"Oh fat a funny ickoo bird!" shouted he, "it's fell down out of 'ese -t'ees!" looking aloft. "No, no," said Miss Hyde, laughing, as she drew -her shoulders together with a shiver, "birds' noses don't drop water! -'Twill die if you don't put it in again, Tommy--'tis a fish!" "A fish!" -said he, opening his eyes wider, and smacking his lips, "yes, Tommy -eat it for my beckfust!" However the young lady took it out of his -hand and dropped it overboard; on which the small ogre went off rather -discontented, and kissed her more as a favour than otherwise. It was -almost dark already, the water shining up in the ship's wake, and the -stars coming out aloft; so I was left wondering at the impudence of -flying-fish, and the blessings of being a fat little imp in a frock and -trousers, compared with this puzzle of a "traverse," betwixt _being_ a -third lieutenant and hailing for a "griffin." - -The night following, after a sultry hot day, the wind had varied a -good deal, and the ship was running almost close-hauled on a warm -south-easterly breeze, with somewhat of a swell in the water. Early in -the first watch there was a heavy shower, after which I went on deck, -leaving Westwood at his book. The half-moon was just getting down to -leeward, clear of a ragged dark cloud, and a long space of faint white -light spread away on the horizon, behind the sheets of the sails hauled -aft; so that you just saw a sort of a glimmer under them, on the black -heave of the swell between. Every time she rolled to leeward on it, a -gleam of the moonshine slipped inside the shadow of her high bulwarks, -from one wet carronade to another, and went glistening over the moist -decks, and among the boats and booms, that looked like some big brute -or other lying stretched out on his paws, till you saw the men's faces -on the forecastle as if they were so many mutineers skulking in the -dark before they rushed aft: then up she righted again, and all was -dark inboard. The awnings were off, and the gruff third mate creaking -slowly to and fro in his soaked shoes; the Judge stood talking with the -captain before one of the round-house doors; directly after I noticed -a young lady's figure in a white dress close by the mizen-rigging, -apparently intent on the sea to leeward. "Well, now or never!" thought -I, stepping over in the shadow of the main-sheet. I heard her draw a -long breath: and then, without turning her head at the sound of my -foot, "I wonder if there is anything so strange in India," exclaimed -she; "_is_ there now?" "No, by----, no, madam!" said I, starting, and -watching as the huge cloud grew darker, with a rusty stain in it, while -three or four broad-backed swells, one beyond the other, rose up black -against the setting moon, as if they'd plunge right into her. Miss Hyde -turned round, with one hand on the bulwark to steady herself, and half -looked at me. "I thought--" said she; "where is papa?--I thought my -father--" I begged pardon for intruding, but next minute she appeared -to have forgotten it, and said, in a musing sort of way, partly to -herself, partly to me--"I seem to _remember_ it all--as if I just saw -that black wave--and--that monstrous cloud--over again! Oh! really that -is the _very_ same top it had _then_--see!" "Yes," said I, leaning -forward, with a notion I _had_ seen it before, though heaven knew -when. "Did you ever read about Columbus and Vasco da Gama?" asked she, -though directly afterwards her features broke into a laughing smile as -she caught sight of mine--at the thought, I suppose, of my ridiculous -figure the last time she saw me. "No, never," said I; "but look to -windward, ma'am; 'tis coming on a squall again. For heaven's sake, Miss -Hyde, go in! We're to have another shower, and that pretty thick. I -wonder the mate don't stow the royals." "What do you mean?" said she, -turning. "Why are you alarmed, sir? I see nothing particular." The -sea was coming over, in a smooth, round-backed swell, out of a dirty, -thick jumble of a sky, with a pitchblack line behind--what Ford would -have called "wild" by daylight; but the young lady's eye naturally saw -no more in it than a dark night. Here the Judge came over from the -binnacle, giving me a nod, as much as to say he recollected me. "I am -afraid, sir," said I, "if you don't make haste, you'll get wet." "How!" -said Sir Charles, "'tis an exceedingly pleasant night, I think, after -such a deuced hot day. They don't know how to cool rooms here--this -perpetual wood retains heat till midnight, sir! That detestable -pitch precludes walking--the sea absolutely glares like tin. _Why_ -do you suppose so now--eh, young gentleman?" said he again, turning -back, all of a sudden, with his daughter on his arm. "Why--why--why, -Sir Charles," said I, hesitating betwixt sham innocence and scarce -knowing what reason to give; "why, I just think--that is to say, -it's my feeling, you see." "Ah, ah, I _do_ see," replied the Judge, -good-humouredly; "but you shouldn't ape the sailor, my good fellow, -as I fancy you do a little. I don't particularly admire the class, -but they always have grounds for what they say in their profession, -frequently even acute. At your aunt's, Lady Somers's, now, Violet, who -was naturally so surrounded by naval officers, what I had to object to -was, not their want of intelligence, but their forwardness. Eh! eh! -who--what is _that_?" exclaimed he suddenly, looking straight up into -the dark, as five or six large drops fell on his face out of it. All -at once you heard a long sigh, as it were, in the canvass aloft, a -clap like two or three carronades fired off, as all the sails together -went in to the masts--then a hum in the air far and near--and whish! -rush! came the rain in sheets and bucketfuls off the edge of a cloud -over our very heads, plashing and washing about the deck with coils -of rope; ship rolling without a breath of wind in her sails; sails -flapping out and in; the rain pouring down ten times faster than the -scupper-holes would let it out, and smoking gray in the dark hollow of -the swells, that sank under the force of it. The first officer came on -deck, roaring in the hubbub to clue up and furl the royals before the -wind came again. It got pitch-dark, you couldn't see your hand before -you, and we had all lost mark of each other, as the men came shoving in -between us. However I knew whereabouts Miss Hyde was, so I felt along -the larboard rigging till I found a backstay clasped in her hands, -and the soaked sleeve of her muslin dress, while she leant back on a -carronade, to keep from being jerked down in the water that washed up -over her feet with every roll, full of ropes and a capstan-bar or two. -Without saying a word, I took up Lota in my arms, and carried her aft -in spite of the roll and confusion, steering for the glimmer of the -binnacle, till I got her inside one of their own cabins, where there -was a lamp swinging about, and laid her on a sofa. I felt somehow or -other, as I went, that the sweet creature hadn't fainted, though all -the while as still as death; accordingly I made off again at once to -find the Judge, who, no doubt, was calling for his daughter, with a -poor chance of being heard. In a minute or two more the rain was over; -it was light enough to make out the horizon, as the belt of foam came -broadening out of it; the ship gave two or three wild bounds, the wheel -jolting and creaking: up swelled the black waves again over one side, -the topsails flapped full as the squall rushed roaring into them, and -away she rose; then tore into it like a scared horse, shaking her head -and throwing the snow-white foam into her forechains. 'Twas as much as -three men could do to grind down her wheel, leaning and grinning to it; -you saw just the Indiaman herself, scarce so far forward as the booms, -and the broad swell mounting with her out of the dark, as she slowly -squared yards before it, taking in to'gallant-sails while she did so, -with her topsail-yards lowered on the caps. However, the look of it was -worse than its force, else the swell wouldn't have risen so fast, as -every sailor knew; and by two bells of the mid-watch she was bowling -under all, as easy as before, the mate of the watch setting a stunsail. - -When I went down, shaking myself like a Newfoundland, Westwood was -swinging in his cot with a book turned to the lamp, reading _Don -Quixote_ in Spanish. "Bless me, Ned!" said he, "you seem to like -it! paying fair and weathering it too!" "Only a little adventure, -Westwood!" said I, laughing. "Why, here have I been enjoying better -adventures than we seem likely to have," said he, "without stirring a -hand, except for the wild swings you gave me from deck. Here's _Don -Quixote_--" "Don Quixote be hanged!" said I: "I'd rather wear ship in -a gale, myself, than all the humbug that never happened--_out_ of an -infernal play-book. What's the use of _thinking_ you see service, when -you don't? After all, you couldn't _expect_ much till we've crossed the -Line--nothing like the tropics, or the Cape, for thickening a plot, -Tom. Then there's the Mozambique, you know!" "Well, we'll see," said -Westwood, lazily, and half asleep. - -The whole next day would have been weary enough in itself, as not a -single glimpse of the fair Lota could I catch; and the weather, between -the little puffs of air and squalls we had, was fit to have melted poor -Ford to the bone, but for the rain. However, that day was sufficient, -by fits and starts, to bring us up to the Line; and, before crossing -it, which we did by six o'clock in one of the black squalls, half of -the passengers had been pretty well ducked by Neptune and his gang, -besides. Rare fun we had of it for three or four hours on end; the -cadets and writers showing fight in a body, the Yankee being regularly -keelhauled, tarred, and feathered, though I believe he had crossed the -Line twice by land; while the Scotch surgeon was found out, in spite -of his caution, never to have been lower than the West Indies--so he -got double ration. A word to Jacobs took Westwood Scot-free; but, -for my own part, wishing of course to blind the officers, I let the -men stick the tar-brush in my mouth the first word I spoke, and was -shaved like the mischief, not to speak of plumping afterwards behind -the studding-sail curtain into three feet of water, where I absolutely -saved Ford from drowning, he being as sick as a dog. - -Late at night, the breeze held and freshened; and, being Saturday -night, the gentlemen in the cuddy kept it uproariously after their -troubles, drinking and singing songs, Tom Little's and your sentimental -affairs; till, being a bit flushed myself, I was on the point of giving -them one of Dibdin's, when I thought better of it, and went on deck -instead. The mate was there, however, and his red-whiskered Scotch -sub with the twisted snout, leaning on the capstan with their noses -together. The night was dark, and the ship made a good noise through -the water; so "hang it!" thought I, "somehow or other I'll have out a -stave of 'Black-eyed Susan' at the top of my pipe, though overboard -I go for it!" There was an old spare topsail-yard slung alongside to -larboard, as far as the quarter-boat, and I went up to the poop to -get over and sit on it; especially when I found Ford's friend, the -fat midshipman, was in the boat itself, "caulking"[9] his watch out, -as he did every night in a fresh place. I was no sooner there, again, -than I saw a light in the aftermost gallery window, and took it in -my head if I sung _there_, why, in place of being afraid there was -some one under her casement, that and the wind and water together -would put her to sleep, if she was the worse of last night--in fact I -may say I was a little "_slewed_"[10] at the time. How to get there, -though, was the matter, it being rather nice practice to sling over -an Indiaman's quarter-gallery, bulging out from her steep counter: -accordingly, first I took the end of a coil round the mizen-shrouds, -and made a bowline-knot to creep down the stern-mouldings with, and -then swing free by help of a guide-line to boot. Just before letting -go of the taffrail, another fancy struck me, to hitch the guide-line -to the trigger of the life-buoy that hung ready for use; not that I'd -the notion of saving myself if I went overboard, but just because of -the good joke of a fellow slipping his own life-buoy, and then cruising -away with a light at his masthead back to the Line. 'Twas curious--but -when I was "two or three cloths in the wind," far from growing stupid, -I used always to get a sort of cunning that would have made me try and -cheat a purser; so away I lowered myself till the rope was taut, when -I slipped easy enough round the counter, below the window. Every time -she rolled, out I swung, and in again, till I steadied with my feet, -slacking off the other line from one hand. Then I began to give voice -like old Boreas himself, with a sort of a notion, at each shove I got, -how I was rocking the Indiaman like a big cradle, as Jacobs did his -baby. All at once, I felt the rope was _giving_ off the belaying-pin, -till I came down with a jolt under the window below; only singing the -louder, as it was half open, and I could just look in. With every wash -of the waves, the water, a couple of fathoms under my feet, blazed -up like fire, and the wake ran boiling out from the black stern by -the rudder, like the iron out of a furnace: now and then there came a -sulky flare of dumb lightning to leeward, and showed the black swell -out of the dark for miles. I fancied I didn't care for the water, but -I began to think 'twas rather uncomfortable the notion of sousing into -such an infernally flame-looking stream: I was actually in a fright -at being boiled, and not able to swim. So I dropped chorus to haul -myself up; when of a sudden, by the lamp inside the state-room, I saw -Winterton and Ford come reeling in, one after the other, as drunk -as lords. Winterton swayed about quietly on his legs for a minute, -and then looked gravely at Ford, as if he'd got a dreadful secret to -make known. "Ford!" said he. "Ay," said Ford, feeling to haul off his -trousers,--"ay--avast you--blub-lub-lubber!" "I say, Ford!" said the -cadet again, in a melancholy way, fit to melt a marlinspike, and then -fell to cry--Ford all the time pulling off his trousers, with a cigar -in his mouth, till he got on a chest, and contrived to flounder into -his cot with his coat on. After that he stretched over to put the lamp -out, carefully enough; but he let fall his cigar, and one leg of his -nankeen trousers hung out of the cot, just scraping the deck every time -he swung. I watched, accordingly, holding on by the sill, till I saw -a spark catch in the stuff--and there it was, swinging slowly away in -the dark, with a fiery ring creeping round the leg of the trousers, -ready to blow into a flame as soon as it had a clear swing. No doubt -the fool would come down safe enough himself with his cot; but I knew -Winterton kept powder in the cabin sufficient to blow up the deck -above, where that sweet girl was sleeping at the moment. "Confound -it!" I thought, quite cooled by the sight, "the sooner I get on deck -the better!" However, you may fancy my thoughts when I heard men at -the taffrail, hauling on the spanker-boom guys, so I held on till -they'd go forward again: suddenly the mate's voice sung out to know -"what lubber had belayed the slack of a topsail-clueline _here_?" Down -I went with the word, as the rope was thrown off, with just time to -save myself by a clutch of the portsill at arm's-length--where, heaven -knew, I couldn't keep long. The mate looked over and caught sight -of my face, by a flicker of the summer lightning, as I was slipping -down: I gave him one curse as loud as I could hail, and let go the -moulding--"Man overboard!" shouted he, and the men after him: however -I wasn't altogether overboard yet, for I felt the other part of the -rope bring me up with a jerk and a swing right under the quarter-boat, -where I clung like a cat. How to get on deck again, without being seen, -was the question, and anxious enough I was at thought of the burning -train inside; when out jumped some one over my head: I heard a splash -in the water, and saw a fellow's face go sinking into the bright wake -astern, while the boat itself was coming down over me from the davits. -I still had the guide-line from the life-buoy round my wrist, and one -moment's thought was enough to make me give it a furious tug, when -away I sprang clear into the eddies. The first thing I saw at coming -up was the ships' lighted stern-windows driving to leeward, then the -life-buoy flaring and dipping on a swell, and a bare head, with two -hands, sinking a few feet off. I made for him at once, and held him up -by the hair as I struck out for the buoy. A couple of minutes after, -the men in the boat had hold of us and it; the ship came sheering round -to the wind, and we were very shortly aboard again. "Confound it, -Simm, what took you overboard, man?" asked the mid in the boat at his -dripping messmate, the fat reefer. "Oh, bother!" said he, "if you must -know--why, I mistook the quarter-boats; I thought 'twas the _other_ -I was in, when you kicked up that shindy! Now I remember, though, -there was too much _rain_ in it for comfort!" "Well, youngster," -said Tom, the man-o'-war'sman, "this here gentleman saved your life, -anyhow!" "Why, mate," whispered Bill, "'tis the wery same greenhorn we -puckalowed so to-day! Didn't he jump sharp over, too?" "Pull! for your -lives, my lads!" said I, looking up at Ford's window; and the moment we -got on deck, below I ran into the state-room, and cut Ford down by the -heels, with the tinder hanging from him, and one leg of his trousers -half gone. As for the poor reefer, a pretty blowing-up he got; the men -swore I had jumped overboard after him, and the mate would have it -that, instead of sleeping, he wanted to get into the Judge's cabins; -especially when next day Sir Charles was in a rage at his daughter -being disturbed by some sailor or other singing outside. - -[9] Sleeping on deck. - -[10] Anglicè--_not_ sober. - - - - -FOR THE LAST PAGE OF "OUR ALBUM." - - - At length our pens must find repose! - With verse, or with poetic prose, - Filled is each nook; - And these poor little rhymes must close - Our pleasant book! - - Its every page is filled at last! - When on these leaves my eyes I cast, - Dull thoughts to cheer, - How many memories of the past - Seem written here! - - Those who behold a river run - Bright glittering in the noonday sun, - See not its source; - And few can know whence has begun - Its giddy course! - - And thus the feelings that gave rise - To many a verse that meets their eyes - How few can tell! - Yet for those feelings gone, I prize - And love it well! - - Some stanzas were composed to grace - An hour of pleasure,--some to chase - Sad care away; - And some to help on time's slow pace - Which would delay! - - In some, we trace affection's tone - To friends then kind,--now colder grown - By force or art: - In some, the shade of hopes, now gone, - Then, next the heart! - - Such fancies with each line I weave, - And thus our book I cannot leave - Without a sigh! - Fond recollections make me grieve - To lay it by! - - How other hands, perchance, than mine, - A fairer wreath for it might twine, - 'Twere vain to tell; - I can but say, in one brief line, - Dear Book, Farewell! - - - - -THE INSURRECTION IN BADEN. - -(TO THE EDITOR OF BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.) - - -SIR,--I chanced to be at Heidelberg at the outbreak of the late -revolutionary movement, and remained there, or in the neighbourhood, -during its entire duration. It occurs to me that a brief narrative of -the leading events of that period of confusion and anarchy, from the -pen of one who was not only an eyewitness of all that passed, but who, -from long residence in this part of Germany, has a pretty intimate -acquaintance with the real condition and feelings of the people, may -prove suitable to the pages, and not uninteresting to the readers, of -_Blackwood's Magazine_. - -At a public meeting held at Offenburg, in the duchy of Baden, on -the 13th of May 1849, and which was attended by many of the most -violent members of the German republican party, it was resolved that -the constitution voted by the national assembly at Frankfort should -be acknowledged; that Brentano and Peter should be charged with the -formation of a new ministry; that Struve, and all other political -offenders, should be forthwith set at liberty; that the selection of -officers for the army should be left to the choice of the privates; and -lastly, that the movement in the Palatinate (Rhenish Bavaria) should be -fully supported by the government of Baden. - -For the information of those who have not closely followed the late -course of events in Germany, it may be necessary to mention, that early -in the month of May a revolutionary movement, the avowed object of -which was to force the King to acknowledge the constitution drawn up -by the parliament at Frankfort, had broken out in Rhenish Bavaria. A -provisional government had been formed, the public money seized, forced -contributions levied, and the entire Palatinate declared independent of -Bavaria. The leaders of the insurrection had been joined by a portion -of discontented military; and, in an incredibly short space of time, -the whole province, with the exception of the fortresses of Germersheim -and Landau, had fallen into their hands. - -Although the declared motive of the Offenburg assembly was to support -this movement, and thus oblige the reigning princes to bow to the -decrees of the central parliament, there is little doubt that a -long-formed and widely-extended conspiracy existed, the object of which -was to proclaim a republic throughout Germany. The meeting in question -was attended by upwards of twenty thousand persons, many of whom were -soldiers, seduced by promises of increased pay, and of the future -right to elect their officers. Money was plentifully distributed; and -towards evening the mob, mad with drink and excitement, returned, -howling revolutionary songs, to their homes. At the very time this -was going on, a mutiny in the garrison of Rastadt had placed that -fortress in the power of about four thousand soldiers, many of them raw -recruits. This extraordinary event, apparently the result of a drunken -quarrel, was shrewdly suspected to be part of a deep-laid scheme for -supporting the movement, which was expected to follow the next day's -meeting at Offenburg. If such were the hopes of the leaders, they were -not disappointed; the train was laid, and wanted but a spark to fire -it. The result of the Offenburg meeting was known at Carlsruhe by six -o'clock in the evening of the day of its occurrence; and on the same -evening, some riotous soldiers having been placed in confinement, their -comrades insisted on their release. In vain did the officers, headed by -Prince Frederick, (the Grand-duke's second son,) endeavour to appease -them; they were grossly insulted, and the prince received a sabre cut -on the head. It is thought by many persons that if, at this time, -energetic measures had been taken, the whole movement might have been -crushed. - -But with citizens timid or lukewarm, and soldiers the greater number of -whom were in open mutiny, it is difficult to say where the repressive -power was to have been found. Be this as it may, the barracks were -demolished, the stores broken open and robbed; and by eleven o'clock -that night the ducal family, and as many of the ministers and -attendants as could find the means of evasion, were in full flight. -With arms supplied by the plunder of the barracks, the mob next -attacked the arsenal, which was under the protection of the national -guard. A squadron of dragoons who came to assist the latter were fired -on by both parties, and the captain, a promising young officer, was -killed on the spot. The dragoons, seeing their efforts to support the -citizens thus misinterpreted, retired, and left the arsenal to its fate. - -Early next morning, a provisional government, headed by Brentano and -Fickler, was proclaimed, to which all people were summoned to swear -obedience; and, absurdly enough, the very men, soldiers and citizens, -who the day before had, with the acquiescence of the duke, taken an -oath of allegiance to the empire, now swore to be faithful to the new -order of things. The news of the outbreak spread like wildfire. It -was received with particular exultation in the towns of Mannheim and -Heidelberg; in the latter of which a very republican spirit prevailed, -and where, at the first call, the national guard assembled, eager to -display their valour--in words. It was not long before their mettle -was put to the proof. The Duke, who had taken refuge in the fortress -of Germersheim, had been escorted in his flight by about three hundred -dragoons, with sixteen pieces of artillery. These brave fellows, who -had remained faithful to their sovereign, attempted, after leaving -him in safety, to make their way to Frankfort. As every inch of the -country they had to traverse was in open revolt, the circumstance -was soon known at Heidelberg, where, late in the evening, the tocsin -rang, to summon the peasants from the neighbouring villages, and the -_générale_ beat through the streets to call the citizens to arms, in -order that parties might be sent out to intercept the soldiers. It -would be difficult to describe the panic that prevailed in Heidelberg -at the first sound of this terrible drum. The most ridiculous and -contradictory reports were circulated. That some great danger was -at hand, all agreed; and the story generally credited was, that the -peasants of the Odenwald were coming down, ten thousand strong, -to plunder the town. When the real cause of the disturbance was -discovered, it may be doubted whether, to many, the case appeared much -mended; for, besides the disinclination a set of peaceable tradesmen -might feel to attack a body of dragoons, backed by sixteen pieces -of artillery, many of those who were summoned from their beds were -secretly opposed to the cause they were called upon to serve. But there -was no remedy; and, amidst the tears and shrieks of women, the ringing -of bells, and beating of drums, the first detachment marched off. No -sooner did they arrive at the supposed scene of action, than, seized -with a sudden panic, caused by a row of trees which, in the dark, they -mistook for the enemy in battle array, they faced about, and fairly ran -for it till they found themselves once more in Heidelberg. - -The consequences were more serious to some of the members of a second -party, despatched to Ladenburg. In the middle of the night, the sentry -posted on the bridge mistook the trotting of some stray donkey for a -charge of dragoons, and firing his rifle, without farther deliberation -he threw himself over the bridge, breaking a thigh and a couple of ribs -in the fall. The others stood their ground; but it is well known that -several of the party were laid up next day with _nerven feber_, (a sort -of low typhus,) brought on by the fear and agitation they had undergone. - -These facts are merely mentioned to show that, had the government, at -the commencement of the outbreak, made the slightest show of firmness, -they would not have met with the resistance which they afterwards found. - -The dragoons, after dodging about for two days and nights, worn out -with fatigue and hunger, at length allowed themselves to be captured -near the frontiers of Würtemberg. It seems that the soldiers positively -refused to make use of their arms after the Duke's flight, which, -indeed, is the only way of accounting for three hundred mounted -dragoons, with sixteen pieces of artillery fully supplied with -ammunition, falling into the hands of as many peasants, who would -undoubtedly have fled at the first shot fired. - -Whilst these events passed, the reins of government at Carlsruhe -had been seized by Brentano, Peter, Fickler, and Goegg--the latter -a convicted felon. Struve and Blind, condemned to eight years' -imprisonment for their rebellion the year before, were released, and, -with their friends, took a prominent part in the formation of the new -ministry. The war department was given to a Lieutenant Eichfeld, who, -by the way, had some time previously quitted the service, on account -of a duel in which he displayed the white feather. His first measure -was to order the whole body of soldiers, now entirely deprived of their -officers, to select others from the ranks. The choice was just what -might have been expected; and instances occurred in which recruits of -three weeks' standing passed at once to the rank of captain and major. -All discipline was soon at an end. The army, consisting of 17,000 -men, was placed under the command of Lieutenant Sigel, a young man of -twenty-two, whose sole claims to preferment seem to have been, that he -was compromised in Struve's abortive attempt at Friburg, and had since -contributed a number of articles, violently abusive of the government, -to some low revolutionary newspapers. Headquarters were established at -Heidelberg, where Sigel, accompanied by Eichfeld, arrived on the 19th -of May. - -The pecuniary affairs of the insurgents were in the most flourishing -condition. Seven millions of florins (about £560,000) were found in the -war-chest, besides two and a half millions of paper-money, and large -sums belonging to other departments of the ministry. Their stock of -arms consisted of seventy thousand muskets, without reckoning those -of the national guard and military. Thus equipped and supplied, they -would have been able, with a little drill, and if properly commanded, -to make a long stand against the regular forces sent against them. By -this time, too, the country was fast filling with political refugees -of all shades of opinion. Italians, Swiss, Poles, and French were -daily pouring in; and the well-known Metternich, of Mayence celebrity, -who had not been heard of since his flight from the barricades at -Frankfort, again turned up as commander of a free corps. A sketch of -his costume will give a pretty fair idea of that adopted by all those -who wished to distinguish themselves as ultra-liberals. He wore a -white broad-brimmed felt hat, turned up on one side, with a large red -feather; a blue _kittel_ or smock-frock; a long cavalry sabre swung -from his belt, in which were stuck a pair of ponderous horse pistols; -troopers' boots, reaching to the middle of the thigh, were garnished -with enormous spurs, and across his breast flamed a crimson scarf, the -badge of the red republican. - -In order to extend the revolt, and to place Baden in a state of -defence before the governments should recover from their panic, the -most energetic measures were taken. A decree was issued for arming the -whole male population, from eighteen to thirty years of age; and as in -many instances the peasantry proved refractory, a tax of fifty florins -per day was laid on all recusants, who, when discovered, were taken -by force to join the army. Raveaux, Trutschler, Erbe, and Fröbel, the -latter that friend of Robert Blum, who so narrowly escaped the cord -when his companion was shot,--made their appearance at Carlsruhe. They -issued a violent proclamation against the King of Prussia, and, the -better to disguise their real object, called on all Germany to arm in -defence of the parliament at Frankfort, and the provisional government -of Baden. Every artifice, no matter how disreputable, that could serve -the cause, was unscrupulously resorted to. It was officially announced -that Würtemberg and Hesse-Darmstadt were only waiting a favourable -opportunity to join the movement; and to further this object, a -public meeting (which it was hoped would bring forth the same fruits -at Darmstadt, as that of Offenburg had produced at Carlsruhe) was -called by the radicals of the Odenwald. It took place at Laudenbach, -a village situated about three miles within the Hessian frontier, -and was attended by upwards of six thousand armed peasants, and by -three or four thousand of the Baden free corps. The authorities were, -however, on the alert; and after a fruitless summons to the insurgents -to quit the territory, the military were called out. Before orders to -fire were given, the civil commissary, desirous to avoid effusion of -blood, advanced alone towards the crowd, endeavouring to persuade them -to retire peaceably. He was barbarously murdered; and the sight of his -dead body so incensed the Hessian soldiers, that they rushed forward -without waiting for the word of command, and with one volley put the -whole mob of insurgents to flight. - -The spirit displayed on this occasion probably saved the country -from a bloody civil war; for had the revolutionary movement passed -the frontiers of Baden, at that moment the flame would doubtless -have spread to Würtemberg, and thence not improbably to the whole of -Germany, with the exception perhaps of Prussia. - -To counteract the very unsatisfactory effect of the meeting at -Laudenbach, it was resolved, by a council held at Carlsruhe, that a -bold stroke should be struck. The Hessians, hitherto unsupported by -other troops, could not command anything like the numerical force of -Baden, and Sigel received orders to cross the frontier with all his -disposable troops. Four battalions of the line, with about six thousand -volunteers, were reviewed at Heidelberg before taking the field. They -were indeed a motley crew! The soldiers, who had helped themselves from -the stores at Carlsruhe to whatever best suited their fancy, appeared -on parade equipped accordingly. Shakos, helmets, caps, greatcoats, -frocks, full-dress and undress uniforms, all figured in the same ranks. -The so-called officers, in particular, cut a pitiful figure. If the -smart uniform and epaulette could have disguised the clownish recruit, -who had perhaps figured but a few weeks in the ranks, the license of -his conduct would soon have betrayed him; for officers and privates, -arm in arm, and excessively drunk, might constantly be seen reeling -through the streets. The free corps, unwilling to be outdone by the -regulars, indulged in all sorts of theatrical dresses, yellow and red -boots being in great favour; whilst one fellow, claiming no lower rank -than that of colonel, actually rode about in a blouse and white cotton -drawers, with Hessian boots and large gold tassels. - -As it was strongly suspected that the soldiers placed little confidence -in their new leaders, and the free corps, many of whom were serving -against their own wishes, seemed equally unwilling to risk their lives -under such commanders as Metternich and Bönin, (a watchmaker from -Wiesbaden,) all sorts of artifices were resorted to, to encourage -both regulars and irregulars. Their whole force might amount to -thirty thousand men; but, by marches and countermarches, similar to -those by which, in a theatre, a few dozen of soldiers are made to -represent thousands, they so dazzled the eyes of the ignorant, that -it was believed their army numbered nearly a hundred thousand men. -The cavalry, in particular, which were quartered in Heidelberg, were -marched out and in again five times in as many days--at each appearance -being hailed as a fresh regiment. Soothsayers and prophets were also -consulted, and interpreted divers passages in holy writ as foretelling -the defeat of the Prussians, and the success of the "Army of Freedom." -But the trick which, no doubt, had the greatest influence on the minds -of the poor duped people was a forged declaration, purporting to be one -put forth by the Hessian troops, professing their intention of throwing -down their arms on the approach of their "German brothers." - -On the 28th of May, the insurgents, ten thousand in number, crossed the -frontier of Hesse-Darmstadt. The Hessians, with three battalions of -infantry, a couple of six-pounders, and a squadron of light cavalry, -waited their approach; and having withdrawn their outposts, (a movement -interpreted into a flight by the opposite party,) they suddenly opened -a severe fire on the advancing columns--driving them back to Weinheim, -with a loss of upwards of fifty killed and wounded. The affair -commenced at four o'clock in the afternoon, and by ten at night the -whole insurgent force arrived pell-mell at Heidelberg. Officers and -dragoons led the van, followed by artillery, infantry, baggage-waggons, -and free corps, mingled together in the utmost disorder. They had run -from Weinheim, a distance of twelve miles, in three hours--driven by -their fears only; for the Hessians, too weak to take advantage of their -victory, and content with driving them from their own territory, waited -for reinforcements before attempting farther hostilities. - -This check was a sad damper to the ardour of the insurgents. It was -necessary to find some one on whom to fix the blame; and as the -dragoons were known to be unfavourable to the new order of things, the -official account of the affair stated that the enemy would have been -thoroughly beaten, had the cavalry charged when ordered so to do. - -This was the only action fought under Sigel's generalship--as a -specimen of which it may be mentioned that the _band_ of the Guards was -sent into action at the head of the regiment, and lost five men by the -first volley fired. Whatever the reason, Sigel was removed from his -functions next day, and Eichfeld, disgusted with such an opening to the -campaign, changed his place of minister of war for a colonelcy in the -Guards; and, pocketing a month's pay, took himself quietly off, and has -never been heard of since. - -As it was now evident there could be no hopes of the Hessians joining -the movement, the tactics were changed, and the most violent abuse -was lavished on them by the organs of the provisional government. The -vilest calumnies were resorted to, to exasperate the Baden troops -against them, such as that they tortured and massacred their prisoners, -&c. - -Sigel had succeeded Eichfeld as minister of war; and as it was -tolerably clear that they possessed no general fit to lead their army -to the field, Meiroslawski was invited to take the command. A large sum -of money was sent to him in Paris, and, while waiting his arrival, it -was determined to act strictly on the defensive. With this object the -whole line of the Neckar, from Mannheim to Eberbach and Mosbach, was -strongly fortified; and the regular troops were withdrawn from Rastadt, -and concentrated on the Hessian frontier. - -At length the Polish adventurer, whose arrival had been so impatiently -expected, made his appearance at Heidelberg. Meiroslawski, a native of -the grand-duchy of Posen, began his career as a cadet in the Prussian -service. In the Polish revolution of 1832 he played an active part, -and was deeply implicated in the plot concocted at Cracow in 1846, -which brought such dreadful calamities on the unfortunate inhabitants -of Gallicia. For the second time he took refuge in France, and only -returned to his native country to join the outbreak at Posen in 1848. -There he contrived to get himself into a Prussian prison, from which, -however, he was after a time released. He next led the ranks of the -Sicilian insurgents; and on the submission of the island to the -Neapolitan troops, had scarcely time to gain his old asylum, France, -before he was called on to aid the revolutionists of Baden. He is a man -of about forty years of age, of middle height, slightly built, and, so -long as he is on foot, of military carriage and appearance; but seen on -horseback, riding like a postilion rather than a soldier, the effect -is not so good. His eyes are large and expressive, his nose aquiline, -and the lower part of his face covered with a large sandy beard, which -descends to the middle of his breast. Sixty of the Duke's horses, -left in the stables at Carlsruhe, were sent to mount him and his -aides-de-camp. Poles, Swiss, desperadoes of every description, received -commissions, and were attached to the staff, the members of which, -when assembled, were not unlike a group of masqueraders. Accidents, -such as stumbling over their own sabres or their comrades' spurs, were -of common occurrence. Sometimes a horse and his rider would be seen -rolling over together; for, excepting one gentleman, whose rank I could -not learn, but who had figured as rider at an equestrian circus that -had attended the fair, none of the party looked as if they had ever -mounted a horse before. - -The first step taken by the government, after Meiroslawski's arrival, -was to make a formal treaty of alliance with the provisional government -of Rhenish Bavaria, in pursuance of one of whose provisions a plentiful -supply of artillery was sent from the fortress of Rastadt, to furnish -the army in that part of the country. That the two governments were -in constant communication with Ledru Rollin and his friends, is now -an authenticated fact, as well as that their chief hopes of success -were built on the assistance they expected to receive from Paris. So -confidently did they anticipate the overthrow, by the Montagne party, -of the present order of things in France, that on the very morning the -attempt took place in Paris, placards were posted up in Carlsruhe, -Mannheim, and Heidelberg, announcing that the citadel of Strasburg -was in the hands of the democrats, who were hastening with a hundred -thousand men to the assistance of their friends in Baden. - -Until the arrival of Meiroslawski, Brentano had refused to put in -execution the rigorous measures urged on him by Struve and his party; -but things were now conducted differently. Numbers of persons were cast -into prison without any formal accusation. One clergyman in particular, -thrown into a miserable dungeon, and kept for weeks in solitary -confinement, entirely lost his senses, and, on the arrival of his -liberators, the Prussians, had to be taken to a lunatic asylum, where -he still remains. The whole country was declared to be under martial -law, and notice was given that anybody expressing dissatisfaction with -the government would be severely punished. No person whom the malice or -ignorance of the mob might choose to consider a spy was safe: many of -the principal shops in the towns were closed, the proprietors having -sent off or concealed their goods, and fled the country. Persons known -to be inimical to the government were punished for their opinions by -contributions being levied on their property, or soldiers billeted in -their houses. Count Obendorf, who has a chateau in the vicinity of -Heidelberg, had no less than seven hundred and twenty men quartered -on him at one time. Complaint was unavailing; tyranny and terrorism -reigned throughout the land. - -In order to give the semblance of legality to their proceedings, the -elections for a new chamber commenced. It will readily be imagined -that none but the friends of those in power presented themselves -as candidates: the deputies were therefore, without exception, the -intimates or supporters of Brentano & Co. The first act of the new -assembly was to dissolve the _Landes-auschuss_, or provisional -government, as being too numerous a body to act with the required -vigour; and a dictatorial triumvirate, composed of Brentano, Peter, and -Goegg, was appointed in its stead. - -By this time serious dissensions had broken out among the leading -members of the democratic party. Brentano had quarrelled with Struve, -who was resolved on nothing less than the proclamation of the red -republic. Finding his friends at Carlsruhe opposed to this attempt, -he called a public meeting at Mannheim. Here again his efforts were -unsuccessful, the soldiers especially being opposed to his doctrines. -As the Würtemberg deputies had always figured among the most violent -of the left, or republican party, at Frankfort, and late events had -given rise to the idea that the people of that country were disposed -to support the movement in Baden, Fickler was sent to Stuttgart, with -a considerable sum of money to corrupt the soldiers; and in full -expectation of the success of his mission, billets were made out for -three thousand men, who, it was stated, were to arrive in the evening -at Heidelberg. Disappointment ensued. The Würtembergers, satisfied with -having forced from their king a promise to accept the constitution -in support of which the Badeners professed to be fighting, were not -inclined to bring further trouble and confusion into their country, -and Fickler was thrown into prison. This untoward event, had the Baden -revolution lasted much longer, was to have produced a terrible war -between the two countries. The Würtemberg minister, however, laughed -at the insurgent government's absurd and impotent threats, and Fickler -still remains in confinement. - -The first week after Meiroslawski's arrival was taken up with -preparations for opening the campaign on a grand scale. Upwards of -fifty thousand men were collected on the Hessian frontiers, from -which side it was expected that the enemy would make their attack. -At the same time, the Hessians having been reinforced by troops from -Mecklenburg, Nassau, Hesse-Cassel, and Prussia, prepared to take the -field in earnest. Whilst the first division of the army, under the -command of the Prince of Prussia and General Hirschfeld, entered the -Palatinate between Kreutznach and Saarbrucken, and advanced to the -relief of Germersheim and Landau; Meiroslawski was held in check by -continual feints, made along the whole line of the Neckar. On the 15th -of June, a battalion of Mecklenburgers, with a squadron of Hessian -light cavalry, and a couple of guns, advanced from Weinheim as far as -Ladenburg. The village was taken at the point of the bayonet; but, -ignorant of the immense force of the insurgents, or perhaps from -undervaluing their courage, the troops allowed themselves to be almost -surrounded by the enemy. With great difficulty they succeeded in -regaining their old position; while the major who commanded the party, -and ten privates, were left in the hands of the rebels. The loss on -both sides was considerable, but was in some degree compensated to the -Imperial troops, by two companies of the Baden Guards passing over to -them. This slight success was boasted of by Meiroslawski as a splendid -victory, in the following bulletin:-- - - "HEADQUARTERS, HEIDELBERG, - _16th June 1849_. - - "Our operations against the advancing enemy have been crowned with - success. Yesterday, our brave army was simultaneously attacked on - all sides. - - "In Rhenish Bavaria the Prussians were driven back with great - loss. At Ladenburg, Colonel Sigel engaged the enemy, who had - advanced in front; while a column, under the command of the - valiant Oborski, attacked them in rear. The enemy was defeated on - all points, and driven back in the greatest confusion. - - "It is only to be regretted that want of cavalry prevented our - following and completely annihilating them. - - "Many prisoners were made, and their loss in arms, ammunition, and - baggage, all of which fell into our hands, was considerable. - - "Inhabitants of Heidelberg, fear nothing for the future. Continue - to provide the intrepid army under my command with necessaries for - continuing the campaign so gloriously commenced, and I will answer - for the result. Strict obedience to my orders is all I require - from you, to prevent the enemy from overrunning the country. - - "In commemoration of the victory of yesterday, so gloriously - obtained, the town of Heidelberg will be illuminated. The lights - will be left burning till daybreak, and the beer-houses will - remain open the whole night. - - "(Signed) LOUIS MEIROSLAWSKI, - General-in-Chief of the Army." - -This bombastic effusion was followed by several others equally false -and ridiculous. The Prussians had advanced as far as Ludwigshafen, -opposite Mannheim, without encountering any serious resistance. The -insurgent army in the Pfalz, numbering about twelve thousand men, -under the command of the Polish General Sznayda, had abandoned their -intrenchments almost without striking a blow, and, with the provisional -government, fled to Knielingen, from whence they crossed the Rhine -into Baden. The only serious impediment encountered by the Prussians -was at Ludwigshafen, which suffered immense damage from the heavy and -constant bombardment kept up from batteries erected at the opposite -town of Mannheim. The railway station was burned to the ground, and -the value of property destroyed in the store-houses alone has been -calculated at two millions of florins, (£170,000.) On the 17th, Landau -and Germersheim were relieved; and the Prince of Prussia, with his -whole force concentrated before the latter fortress, prepared to cross -the Rhine under the protection of its guns. - -Having thus fully accomplished the first part of his arduous -undertaking, by re-establishing order in the Pfalz, the Prince of -Prussia prepared to effect a junction with the second and third -divisions of the army, under the command of General Von Gröben, and -Peucker, the former of whom had again advanced to Ladenburg, on the -right bank of the Neckar. Meiroslawski, in the mean time, remained -totally inactive from the 15th to the 20th inst. Upwards of fifty -thousand men had been reviewed by him in Heidelberg and its vicinity; -besides this, the twelve thousand Bavarian insurgents, under the -command of Sznayda, were in the neighbourhood of Bruchsal; and with -such a force, anything like a determined resistance would have -compelled the Prussians to purchase victory by a heavy loss. Whatever -may be his reputation for talent, Meiroslawski showed but little skill -as a general during his short command in Baden. Instead of opposing the -crossing of the Rhine by the Prussians, which, with so large a force, -and fifty-four pieces of well-served artillery, he might easily have -done, the Prince of Prussia, with a division of fifteen thousand men, -was allowed to obtain a secure footing in his rear, almost unopposed. - -From this moment the position of the insurgents became critical in -the extreme. The line of the Neckar was occupied on the right bank -by the second and third divisions of the army, comprising upwards of -thirty thousand men. Although hitherto held in check by the strong -intrenchments that had been thrown up, they might still advance in -front; whilst the high road to Rastadt was effectually cut off by the -Prince of Prussia, whose headquarters were now at Phillipsburg. - -The Rhine had been crossed by the Prussians on the 20th, and on -the evening of that day Meiroslawski, for the first time, showed a -disposition to move from his comfortable quarters at the Prince Carl -hotel in Heidelberg. Collecting all his force, (with the exception of -three or four thousand men, who were left in the intrenchments before -Ladenburg and on the line of the Neckar,) he left Heidelberg "to -drive the Prussians," as he announced, "into the Rhine," and effect a -junction with Sznayda's corps in the neighbourhood of Carlsruhe. The -plan was a bold one; but Meiroslawski ought to have known better than -to attempt its execution with the undisciplined force he commanded. He, -however, appears to have entertained no doubt of the result; for the -commissariat, baggage, and even the military chest were sent forward, -he himself following in a carriage and four. - -Early on the morning of the 21st the action commenced, and Meiroslawski -found to his cost that six thousand well-disciplined Prussians were -more than a match for his whole army. At ten o'clock on the same -morning a proclamation was issued at Heidelberg by Struve, stating -"that the Prussians were beaten on all points, that their retreat to -the Rhine was cut off, and that ten thousand prisoners would be sent -to Heidelberg in the evening. The loss on the side of the "Army of -Freedom" was eight slightly hurt, and two severely wounded--no killed!" - -In spite of the obvious absurdity of this proclamation, most of the -townspeople believed it; and it was not till two o'clock in the -afternoon that their eyes were opened to the deception practised on -them, by the arrival of between thirty and forty cart-loads of wounded -insurgents. Before nightfall, upwards of three hundred suffering -wretches filled the hospitals. Crowds of fugitives flocked into the -town, and every appearance of discipline was at an end. It seems that, -on the approach of the enemy, the Prussian advanced guard, composed -of one battalion only, retired till they drew the insurgents into the -very centre of their line, which lay concealed in the neighbourhood of -Wagheusel. This movement was interpreted into a flight by Meiroslawski; -a halt was called; and whilst he was refreshing himself at a roadside -inn, and his troops were in imagination swallowing dozens of Prussians -with every fresh glass of beer, they suddenly found themselves almost -surrounded by the royal forces. At the very first volley fired by the -Prussians, many of the Baden heroes threw down their arms, and took -to their heels; the artillery and baggage waggons, which were most -unaccountably in advance, faced about, and drove through the ranks at -full speed, overthrowing and crushing whole companies of insurgents. -The panic soon became general: dragoons, infantry, baggage-waggons, and -artillery, got mingled together in the most inextricable confusion, and -those who could, fled to the woods for safety. The approach of night -prevented the Prince of Prussia from following up his victory, but he -established his headquarters at Langenbruken, within nine miles of the -town. - -Whilst the hopes of the insurgents received a deathblow in this -quarter, General Peucker had pushed with his division through the -Odenwald, and, after some insignificant skirmishing at Hirschhorn, -crossed the Neckar in the vicinity of Zwingenberg, with the intention -of advancing on Sinsheim, and cutting off the retreat of the rebels -in that direction. Von Gröben, who, on account of the bridges at -Ladenburg, Mannheim, and Heidelberg, being undermined, was unwilling to -cross the Neckar, sent a small reconnoitring party over the hills, and, -to the great consternation of the inhabitants, the Prussians suddenly -made their appearance on the heights above the village of Neuenheim, -thus commanding the town of Heidelberg. Four hundred of the foreign -legion immediately sallied over the bridge, and, posting themselves -in some houses on that side of the river, kept up a desperate firing, -though the enemy were too far above their heads for their bullets to -take effect. The Prussians for some time looked on with indifference, -but, before retiring, they gave the insurgents a taste of what their -newly-invented[11] _zund-nadel_ muskets could accomplish. Out of four -shots fired, at a distance of full fifteen hundred yards, two took -effect; the one killing an insurgent on the bridge, and the other -wounding one of the free corps in the town. - -[11] The advantages of this new invention (of which the Prussians have -now 50,000 in use) are the increased rapidity of loading, extent of -range, and precision of aim. A thoroughly drilled soldier can fire -from eight to ten rounds in a minute, whilst with a common percussion -gun three times is considered good practice. Neither ramrod nor cap -is required; the cartridge, which is placed in the gun by opening the -breech, contains a fulminating powder, which is pierced by the simple -action of pulling the trigger; and the charge of powder being ignited -in front, instead of from behind, (as in the common musket,) the entire -force of powder is exploded at once. The barrels are rifled, and -_spitz_ or pointed bullets are used. - -To return to Meiroslawski's army. After those who had been fortunate -enough to reach Heidelberg had taken a few hours' rest and refreshment, -the entire mass moved off in the direction of Sinsheim, their only -hope of escape being to pass that town before the arrival of General -Peucker's division. Thousands had thrown away their arms and fled; -and most of the soldiers, anxious to escape another collision with -the Prussians, threw off their uniforms and concealed themselves in -the woods. One-half of the rebels were disbanded, or had been taken -prisoners; and Meiroslawski, with the remnant, made all speed to quit -the town. Every horse in the neighbourhood was put into requisition -to aid them in their flight, and the whole gang of civil authorities, -headed by Struve and his wife in a carriage, (well filled with -plunder,) followed the great body of fugitives. The intrenchments at -Ladenburg, &c., were abandoned, and by 7 o'clock on the evening of -the 22d, the town of Heidelberg was once more left to the peaceable -possession of its terrified inhabitants. The foreign legion, composed -of Poles, Italians, Swiss, French--in short, the refuse of all -nations--were the last to leave; nor did they do so, till they had -helped themselves to whatever they could conveniently carry off: -indeed, the near vicinity of the Prussians alone prevented the complete -plunder of the town. During the night, the better disposed citizens -removed the powder that undermined the bridge, and a deputation was -sent to inform General von Gröben that he could advance without -impediment. At 4 o'clock on the morning of the 23d, to the great joy of -every respectable inhabitant of Heidelberg, he made his entry into the -town. Mannheim had also been taken possession of without firing a shot, -and the communication between the first and second divisions of the -royal army was now open. - -After leaving Heidelberg, Meiroslawski succeeded in once more uniting -about fifteen thousand of the fugitives under his banner. General -Peucker's attempt to intercept him at Sinsheim had failed, the -insurgent general having reached it two hours before him. Taking to -the hills, he got out in rear of the Prince of Prussia's division, -and joined his force to that of Sznayda, which was before Carlsruhe. -Robbery and plunder marked the entire line of march. Wine and -provisions that could not be carried off, were wantonly destroyed, and -the inhabitants of the villages traversed by this undisciplined horde, -will long have reason to remember the passage of the self-styled "Army -of Freedom." - -At Upsdal, Durlach, and Bruchsal, the rebels made a more energetic -resistance than they had yet done; and it was not without a hard -struggle, and great loss on both sides, that the Prince of Prussia, -at the head of the three divisions off his army, (now united, and -numbering upwards of forty thousand men,) entered Carlsruhe on the -25th of June. On the approach of the Prussians, the provisional -government, the members of the chamber, and the civil authorities of -every description, having emptied the treasury, and carried off all the -public money on which they could lay their hands, made their escape -to join the remains of the Rump parliament, who, since they had been -kicked out of Würtemberg, had established themselves at Freiburg. - -After a rest of two days in the capital of Baden, the Prussian army was -again put in motion to attack the insurgents, now strongly intrenched -along the valley of the Murg, the narrowest part of the duchy. Owing -to the numerous and well-served artillery of the insurgents, it was -not without severe fighting, and great sacrifice of life, that they -were driven from their positions. Another disorderly flight succeeded; -and by the 30th of the month, the Prussians were in quiet possession -of Baden-Baden, Oos, Offenburg, and Kebl, besides having completely -surrounded Rastadt, and cut off every hope of retreat from that -fortress. The remainder of Meiroslawski's force was entirely dispersed, -the greater number being captured, or escaping in small parties into -France or Switzerland. A few hundreds only remained in Freiburg, under -the command of Sigel. Meiroslawski took refuge in Basle, having held -the command of the Baden forces exactly three weeks; and Brentano, -after having remained just long enough to be abused and threatened by -his own party, made his escape with most of the other revolutionary -leaders into Switzerland, from which he issued the following -justification of his conduct. As the document contains a tolerably -faithful sketch of the revolution, with the opinion of one who may -certainly be considered as an unprejudiced judge, we give it in full:-- - - "TO THE PEOPLE OF BADEN. - - "Fellow-citizens! Before leaving the town of Freiburg and the - duchy of Baden, on the night of the 28th June, I informed the - president of the constitutional assembly that it was my intention - to justify my conduct towards the people of Baden, but not towards - an assembly that had treated me with outrage. If I did not do - this at the time I left the country for which I have acted all - through with a clear conscience, and from which I was driven by a - tyrannical and selfish party, it was because I wished to see what - this party would say against the absent. To-day I have seen their - accusation, and no longer delay my defence, in order that you may - judge whether I have merited the title of traitor; or whether the - people's cause--the cause of freedom, for which your sons, your - brothers, have bled--can prosper in the hands of men who only seek - to hide personal cowardice by barbarity, mental incapacity by - lies, and low selfishness by hypocrisy. - - "Fellow-citizens! Since the month of February I have strained - every nerve in the cause of freedom. Since the month of February, - I have sacrificed my own affairs to the defence of persecuted - republicans. I have willingly stood up for all who claimed my - assistance; and let any say if I have been reimbursed one kreutzer - of the hundreds I have expended. Fellow-citizens! I am loath - to call to mind the sacrifices I have made; but a handful of - men are shameless enough to call me traitor; a handful of men, - partly those in whose defence I disinterestedly strained every - nerve, would have me brought to 'well-deserved punishment:' these - men, whose sole merit consists in tending to bring discredit - on freedom's cause, through their incapacity, barbarity, and - terrorism; and whose unheard-of extravagance has brought us to the - brink of ruin. - - "I did not return home after Fickler's trial. The exertion I - had used in his defence had injured my health, and I went for - medical advice to Baden-Baden. On the 14th of May, I was fetched - from my bed; but, in spite of bodily weakness, I was unwilling - to remain behind. I wished to see the cause of freedom free from - all dirty machinations, I wished to prevent the holy cause from - falling into disrepute through disgraceful traffic; I wished to - keep order, and to protect life and property. For some time I was - enabled to effect this: I endeavoured to prevent injustice of all - kinds, and in every place, and whenever I was called on; I strove - to protect the innocent against force, and to prove that even the - complete overthrow of the government could be accomplished without - allowing anarchy to reign in its stead. - - "Fellow-citizens! However my conduct as a revolutionist may be - judged, I have a clear conscience. Not a deed of injustice can be - laid to my door: not a kreutzer of your money have I allowed to - be squandered, not a heller has gone into my pocket! But this I - must say, you will be astonished, if ever you see the accounts, to - find how your money has been wasted, and how few there were who - sacrificed anything to the holy cause of the people, and how many - took care to be well paid out of the national coffers for every - service rendered. - - "No sooner had the revolution broken out than hundreds of - adventurers swarmed into the land, with boasts of having suffered - in freedom's cause: they claimed their reward in hard cash from - your coffers. There was no crossing the streets of Carlsruhe - for the crowds of uniformed, sabre-carrying clerks; and whilst - this herd of idlers revelled on your money, your half-famished - sons were exposing their breasts to the bullets of the enemy in - freedom's cause. But whoever set himself to oppose this order of - things was proclaimed to be a mean and narrow-minded citizen; - whoever showed a disinclination to persecute his political - adversary _à la Windischgratz_, was a _réactionnaire_ or a traitor. - - "At the head of this party was Struve, the man whose part I took - before the tribunal at Freiburg--not as a legal adviser, but as - a friend; the man whose absurd plan for giving the ministers - salaries of six thousand florins; of sending ambassadors to Rome - and Venice, and agents to St. Petersburg and Hungary, I overruled; - the man whose endeavour to give every situation to which a good - salary was attached to foreign adventurers, was effectually - opposed by me. This man, despised for his personal cowardice, - whose dismissal from the provisional government was demanded by - the entire army--this man, instead of supporting and strengthening - the government as he promised, tried, because his ambitious - views found no encouragement, and with the assistance of foreign - adventurers, to overthrow me; and when I showed him the force that - was drawn up ready to oppose him, he took refuge in base lies, and - had not even sufficient courage to go home, till I, whom he had - just tried to overthrow, protected him with my own body to his - house. - - "The people had chosen between us, for at the elections he had - been first thrown out, and he only obtained three thousand votes - as a substitute, whilst I had been elected by seven thousand - voices. - - "I had placed all my hopes in the Constitutional Assembly. I - thought that men elected by the free choice of the people would - duly support my honest endeavours. I was mistaken. An assembly, - the majority of whose members were mere ranters, totally incapable - of fulfilling the task imposed on them, and who sought to conceal - their ignorance by proposing revolutionary measures--which were - carried one day, to be revoked as impracticable the next--was the - result of the election. That I should prove a thorn in the sides - of such men was clear; and as it was not in their power to get - rid of me, they sought to make me a powerless tool, by creating a - three-headed dictatorship, with the evident intention of making - use of my name, whilst holding me in check by the other two - dictators. Although such a situation might be undignified, still, - from love of the cause, I determined to accept it. I scarcely ever - saw my colleagues in Carlsruhe, as they found it more agreeable to - run after the army. No reports from the seat of war ever reached - me; and yet the assembly demanded from me, as being the only - one present, accounts of what I had received no report of. All - responsibility was thrown on my shoulders. If the minister of war - neglected to supply the army with arms or ammunition, the fault - was mine; if the minister of finance wanted money, I was to blame; - and if the army was beaten, my want of energy was the cause of it! - - "Thus was I abandoned at Carlsruhe in the last most dangerous - days, and left with a set of deputies who, for the most part, - had not even sufficient courage to sleep in the capital. My - co-dictators found it more convenient to play the easier part - of mock heroes with the army. Thousands can bear witness that I - shrunk from no work, however trivial; but I can prove to most - of these pot-valiant heroes, that they put off the most urgent - motions as 'not pressing,' whilst they clung to others that were - of no importance, merely because they carried them out of all - danger at the national expense. - - "In Offenburg we were joined by the newly-elected member - Gustavus Struve, who immediately demanded my dismissal from the - government. On being told that this was impossible, he next wished - me to be taken from the dictatorship, and to be given one of the - minister's places. He talked of the want of energy displayed by - the government, called it little better than treason, and tried - to learn from my friends what plans I intended to adopt. He - demanded that the fugitives from the Pfalz should be placed in - office, though, God knows, we owed them nothing. Indignant at such - conduct, I took no part in the secret council held at Freiburg, - although I informed several of the deputies of my intention to - resign, unless I received full satisfaction for the machinations - of Struve. - - "The first public meeting of the assembly took place on the - evening of the 28th June, when Struve brought forward the - following motion:-- - - "'That every effort at negotiation with the enemy be considered - and punished as high treason.' Considering what had before taken - place, I could not do less than oppose the motion, which I did on - the grounds that, as such negotiations could only proceed from - the government, the motion was tantamount to a vote of want of - confidence. In spite of this declaration on my part, the motion - was carried by twenty-eight against fifteen votes, and the contest - between Struve and Brentano was decided in favour of the former. - Although some few of the deputies declared their vote not to - imply want of confidence, the assembly did not, in that capacity, - express such an opinion. If they did, I call on them to produce - the notes of such a resolution having been carried; and if they - fail to do so, I brand them with the name of infamous liars. After - this, I did what all honourable men would have done--I resigned. - Who, I ask, was to prevent my doing so; and why am I to be branded - with the name of traitor? I laugh those fools to scorn who imagine - they could prevent freedom of action in a man who, having been - shamefully ill-used, chose to withdraw from public life. - - "I do not fear inquiry, and demand from the national assembly that - the result of their investigation be made public, as it can only - terminate in victory for me and destruction to my adversaries. Why - did this same assembly keep secret the fact that, on the 28th of - June, they decided to send me a deputation the next morning, in - order to beg I would remain in power--I the traitor, I who was to - be brought to 'well-merited punishment!' It was easy to foresee - the personal danger I was exposed to if I refused, and I therefore - preferred seeking quiet and repose in Switzerland, to enjoying the - rags of freedom emitted under Struve's dictatorship in Baden. - - "I am to be called to account! My acts are open to the world. No - money ever came under my superintendence--this was taken care - of by men who had been employed in the department for years. - My salary as head of the government was three florins per day, - and I have paid all travelling expenses out of my own pocket. - But if those are to be called to account who had charge of the - public money, and became my enemies because I would not have it - squandered, then, people of Baden! you will open your eyes with - astonishment; then, brave combatants, you will learn that, whilst - you fasted, others feasted! - - "The people of Baden will not be thankful for a 'Struve - government,' but they will have to support it; and over the grave - of freedom, over the graves of their children, will they learn to - know those who were their friends and those who only sought for - self-aggrandisement and tyranny! - - "And when the time comes that the people are in want of me - again, my ear will not be deaf to the call! But I will never - serve a government of tyrants, who can only keep in power by - adopting measures that we have learned to despise, as worthy of a - Windischgratz or a Wrangel! - - "Fellow-citizens! I have not entered into details. I have only - drawn a general sketch, which it will require time to fill up. - Accused of treason by the princes, accused of treason by the - deputies of Freiburg, I leave you to decide whether I have merited - the title. - - "_Feuerthalen bei Schaffhausen, - 1 July, 1849._ - - "LOUIS BRENTANO." - -At this time of writing, Rastadt still remains in possession of two -or three thousand insurgents; but, almost without provisions, and -deprived of all hopes of assistance, the fortress may be daily expected -to surrender. Such is the termination of an insurrection of seven -weeks' duration, which is calculated to have cost the country thirty -millions of florins and four thousand lives. There is no denying that, -at one time, it assumed a most formidable aspect; and had the people of -Würtemberg given it the support its leaders confidently expected from -them, it might, aided by the discontent that undoubtedly prevails in -many other parts of Germany, long have baffled the efforts of Prussia -to put it down. Yet there are few persons, even among those who -witnessed the outbreak from its commencement, who can tell what was the -object of its promoters, unless plunder and personal aggrandisement be -assigned as their incentives. Their professed motive was to support -the union of Germany in one empire; but, as the Grand-duke of Baden -had already taken the oath to obey and defend the constitution framed -at Frankfort, there was not the slightest pretext for upsetting his -government. It is certain that the republicans played a most active -part in the affair--their intention no doubt being, as soon as they -found themselves victorious under the banner of the empire, to hoist -a democratic flag of their own. Many who were not inclined to go so -far, joined them upon doubts of the fair intentions of the Germanic -princes towards their subjects. Some were perhaps glad of any sort -of change, other turbulent spirits were anxious for a row, but, from -first to last, none seem to have had any clearly defined object, or -anything to offer in extenuation of such waste of blood and treasure. -The next striking circumstance is the evident incapacity of the chiefs, -civil and military. Throughout the affair, we do not see one proof of -superior talent, or a single act of daring courage. The only useful -reflection it affords is one that is perhaps worthy the attention of -the rulers of Germany. Last year, Struve's attempt to revolutionise the -country was principally supported by ignorant peasants, mad students, -and a few ultra-liberals and republicans, and it was in great measure -put down by the soldiers of Baden. This year, a great proportion of the -citizens in the principal towns were openly in favour of the movement, -and nearly the whole Baden army joined the revolt. - - HEIDELBERG, _15th July 1849_. - - - - -LAMARTINE'S REVOLUTION OF 1848. - - -So completely was the ordinary framework of European society broken up -in France by the Revolution of 1789, that the leaders of every great -political movement, since that time, have sprung from an entirely -different class of society from what they were before that event. The -old territorial noblesse no longer appear as the leaders in action, -or the rulers of thought. The time has gone by when an Admiral de -Coligny, or a Henry of Béarn, stood forth as the chiefs of the Reformed -movement; a Duc d'Orleans no longer heads the defection of the nobles -from the throne, or a Mirabeau rouse a resistance to the mandates of -the sovereign. Not only the powers of the sword, not only the political -lead of the people, but the direction of their thoughts, has passed -from the old nobility. The confiscation of their property has destroyed -their consequence, the dispersion of their families ruined their -influence. Neither collectively nor individually can they now lead -the people. The revolution of 1830, begun by Thiers and the writers -in the _National_ newspaper, was carried out by Lafitte the great -banker. That of 1848, springing from the columns of the _Réforme_ and -the _Démocratie Pacifique_, soon fell under the lead of M. Marrast the -journalist, and M. Lamartine the romancer and poet. And now the latter -of these authors has come forth, not only as the leader but as the -historian of the movement. Like Cæsar, he appears as the annalist of -his own exploits: like him, he no doubt flatters himself he can say, "I -came, I saw, I conquered." - -The reason is, that mankind cannot exist even for a day but under -the lead of a few. Self-government is the dream of the enthusiast, -the vision of the inexperienced: oligarchy is the history of man. In -vain are institutions popularised, nobles destroyed, masses elevated, -education diffused, self-government established: all that will not -alter the character of man; it will not qualify the multitude for -self-direction; it will not obviate that first of necessities to -mankind--_the necessity of being governed_. What is the first act of -every assembly of men associated together for any purpose, social, -political, or charitable? To nominate a committee by whom their common -affairs are to be regulated. What is the first act of that committee? -To nominate a sub-committee of two or three, in whom the direction -of affairs is practically to be vested. Begin, if you please, with -universal suffrage: call six millions of electors to the poll, as -in France at this time, or four millions, as in America--the sway -of two or three, ultimately of one, is not the less inevitable. Not -only does the huge mass ultimately fall under the direction of one -or two leading characters, but from the very first it is swayed by -their impulsion. The millions repeat the thoughts of two or three -journals, they elaborate the ideas of two or three men. What is the -origin of the whole free-trade principles which have totally altered -the policy, and probably shortened the existence, of the British -empire? The ideas of Adam Smith, nurtured in the solitude of Kirkaldy. -Would you learn what are the opinions generally prevalent in the -urban circles in England, in whom political power is practically -vested, on Wednesday or Thursday? Read the leading articles of the -_Times_ on Monday or Tuesday. The more men are educated, the more that -instruction is diffused, the more widely that journals are read, the -more vehement the political excitement that prevails, the more is the -sway of this oligarchy established, for the greater is the aptitude -of the general mind to receive the impulse communicated to it by the -leaders of thought. The nation, in such circumstances, becomes a vast -electric-machine, which vibrates with the slightest movement of the -central battery. - -Lamartine, as an author, can never be mentioned without the highest -respect. The impress of genius is to be seen in all his works: nature -has marked him for one of the leaders of thought. A mind naturally -ardent and enthusiastic, has been nurtured by travel, enriched by -reflection, chastened by suffering. His descriptive powers are of -the very highest order. We have already done justice, and not more -than justice, to the extreme beauty of his descriptions of Oriental -scenery.[12] They are the finest in the French, second to none in -the English language. His mind is essentially poetical. Many of his -effusions in verse are touching and beautiful, though they do not -possess the exquisite grace and delicate expression of Beranger. But -his prose is poetry itself: so deeply is his mind imbued with poetical -images--so sensitive is his taste to the grand and the beautiful--so -enthusiastic is his admiration of the elevated, whether in nature or -art, that he cannot treat even an ordinary subject without tinging it -with the colours of romance. - -[12] See _Blackwood's Magazine_, vol. lvi., p. 657. - -From this peculiar texture of Lamartine's mind arises both the -excellences and defects of his historical compositions. He has all the -romantic and poetical, but few of the intellectual qualities of an -historian. Eminently dramatic in his description of event, powerful -in the delineation of character, elevated in feeling, generous in -sentiment, lofty in speculation--he is yet destitute of the sober -judgment and rational views which are the only solid foundation for -either general utility or durable fame in historical composition. He -has the conceptions of genius and the fire of poetry in his narrative, -but little good sense, and still less of practical acquaintance with -mankind. That is his great defect, and it is a defect so serious that -it will probably, in the end, deprive his historical works of the place -in general estimation to which, from the beauty of their composition -and the rich veins of romance with which they abound, they are justly -entitled. These imaginative qualities are invaluable additions to the -sterling qualities of truth, judgment, and trust-worthiness; but they -can never supply their place. They are the colouring of history; they -give infinite grace to its composition; they deck it out with all the -charms of light and shade: but they can never make up for the want of -accurate drawing from nature, and a faithful delineation of objects as -they really exist in the world around us. Nay, an undue preponderance -of the imaginative qualities in an historian, if not accompanied by a -scrupulous regard to truth, tends rather to lessen the weight due to -his narrative, by inspiring a constant dread that he is either passing -off imaginary scenes for real events, or colouring reality so highly -that it is little better than fiction. This is more especially the case -with a writer such as Lamartine, whose thoughts are so vivid and style -so poetical, that, even when he is describing events in themselves -perfectly true, his narrative is so embellished that it assumes the -character of romance, and is distrusted from a suspicion that it is a -mere creation of the imagination. - -In addition to this, there is a capital deficiency in Lamartine's -historical works, for which no qualities of style or power of -composition, how brilliant soever, can compensate; and which, if not -supplied in some future editions, will go far to deprive them of all -credit or authority with future times. This is the _entire want of -all authorities or references_, either at the bottom, of the page or -at the end of the work. In the eight volumes of the _History of the -Girondists_, and the four on the _Revolution of 1848_, now before us, -we do not recollect ever having met with a single reference or footnote -containing a quotation from any state paper, speech, or official -document. It is impossible to overestimate the magnitude of this -defect; and it is astonishing how so able and well-informed a writer -as Lamartine should have fallen into it. Does he suppose that the -world are to take everything he says off his hand, without reference -or examination; or imagine that the brilliant and attractive graces -of his style do not increase the necessity for such authorities, from -the constant suspicion they beget that they have been drawn from the -store of his imagination, not the archives of history? No brilliancy of -description, no richness of colouring, no amount of dramatic power, can -make up for a want of the one thing needful--trust in the TRUTH of the -narrative. Observe children: every one knows how passionately fond they -are of having stories told them, and how much they prefer them to any -of the ordinary pastimes suited to their years. How often, however, do -you hear them say, _But is it all true?_ It is by making them believe -that fiction is the narrative of real event that the principal interest -is communicated to the story. Where the annals of event are coloured as -Lamartine knows how to colour them, they become more attractive than -any romance. The great success of his _History of the Girondists_, -and of Macaulay's _History of England_, is a sufficient proof of -this. But still the question will recur to men and women, as well as -children--"But is it all true?" And truth in his hands wears so much -the air of romance, that he would do well, by all possible adjuncts, to -convey the impression that it is in every respect founded in reality. - -There is no work which has been published in France, of late years, -which has met with anything like the success which his _History of the -Girondists_ has had. We have heard that fifty thousand copies of it -were sold in the first year. Beyond all doubt, it had a material effect -in producing the Revolution of 1848, and precipitating Louis Philippe -from the throne. It was thus popular, from the same cause which -attracts boys to narratives of shipwrecks, or crowds to representations -of woe on the theatre--deep interest in tragic events. He represented -the heroes of the first great convulsion in such attractive colours, -that men, and still more women, were not only fascinated by the -narrative and deeply interested in the characters, but inspired by a -desire to plunge into similar scenes of excitement themselves--just -as boys become sailors from reading terrific tales of shipwreck, or -soldiers, from stories of perils in the deadly breach. In his hands, -vice equally with virtue, weakness with resolution, became attractive. -He communicated the deepest interest to Robespierre himself, who is the -real hero of his story, as Satan is of the _Paradise Lost_. He drew -no veil over the weakness, the irresolution, the personal ambition -of the Girondists, so fatal in their consequences to the cause of -freedom in France, and through it to that of liberty over the whole -world; but he contrived to make them interesting notwithstanding their -faults--nay, in consequence of those very faults. He borrowed from -romance, where it has been long understood and successfully practised, -especially in France, the dangerous secret of making characters of -_imperfect goodness_ the real heroes of his tale. He knew that none of -the leading characters at Paris were Sir Charles Grandisons; and he -knew that, if they had been so, their adventures would have excited, -comparatively speaking, very little interest. But he knew that many -of them were political Lovelaces; and he knew well that it is by such -characters that in public, equally as private life, the weakness of the -world is fascinated, and their feelings enchained. And it is in the -deep interest which his genius has communicated to really worthless -characters, and the brilliant colours in which he has clothed the most -sinister and selfish enterprises, that the real danger of his work -consists, and the secret of the terrible consequences with which its -publication was followed is to be found. - -In truth, however, the real cause of those terrible consequences lies -deeper, and a fault of a more fundamental kind than any glossing over -the frailties of historical characters has at once rendered his work -so popular and its consequences so tremendous. Rely upon it, truth -and reason, all-powerful and even victorious in the end, are never -a match for sophistry and passion in the outset. When you hear of a -philosophical historical work going through half-a-dozen editions in -six months, or selling fifty thousand copies in a year, you may be -sure that there is a large intermixture of error, misrepresentation, -and one-sidedness in its composition. The cause is, that truth and -reason are in general distasteful in the outset to the human mind; and -it is by slow degrees, and the force of experience alone, that their -ascendency is established. What attracts, in the first instance, in -thought, independent of the charms of eloquence and the graces of -composition--which of course are indispensable to great success--is -_coincidence with the tendency and aspirations of general thought_. -But so prone to error and delusion is the human mind, from its -inherent character and original texture, that it is a hundred to one -that general thought at any one time, especially if it is one of -considerable excitement or vehement feeling, is founded in error. And -thus it often happens, that the works which have the most unbounded -success at their first publication, and for a considerable time after, -are precisely those which contain the largest portion of error, and -are likely, when reduced into practice, to have the most fatal effects -upon the best interests of the species. Witness the works of Rousseau -and Voltaire in France, to whose influence the first revolution is -mainly to be ascribed; those of Lamartine, Victor Hugo, and Eugene Sue, -who have been chiefly instrumental in bringing about the still more -widespread convulsions of our times. - -The fundamental principle of Lamartine's political philosophy, and -which we regard as his grand error, and the cause at once of his -success in the outset and his failure in the end, is the principle -of the general innocence and perfectibility of human nature. It is -this principle, so directly repugnant to the fundamental doctrines -of Christianity, that it may be regarded as literally speaking the -"banner-cry of hell," which is at the bottom of the whole revolutionary -maxims; and it is so flattering to the hopes, and agreeable to the -weakness of human nature, that it can scarcely ever fail, when brought -forward with earnestness and enforced by eloquence, to captivate the -great majority of mankind. Rousseau proclaimed it in the loudest -terms in all his works; it was the great secret of his success. -According to him, man was born innocent, and with dispositions only -to virtue: all his vices arose from the absurdity of the teachers -who tortured his youth, all his sufferings from the tyranny of the -rulers who oppressed his manhood. Lamartine, taught by the crimes, -persuaded by the sufferings of the first Revolution, has modified this -principle without abandoning its main doctrines, and thus succeeded -in rendering it more practically dangerous, because less repugnant to -the common sense and general experience of mankind. His principle is, -that _démagogie_ is always selfish and dangerous; _démocratie_ always -safe and elevating. The ascendency of a few ambitious or worthless -leaders precipitates the masses, when they first rise against their -oppressors, into acts of violence, which throw a stain upon the cause -of freedom, and often retard for a season its advance. But that advance -is inevitable: it is only suspended for a time by the reaction against -bloodshed; and in the progressive elevation of the millions of mankind -to general intelligence, and the direction of affairs, he sees the -practical development of the doctrines of the gospel, and the only -secure foundation for general felicity. He is no friend to the extreme -doctrines of the Socialists and Communists, and is a stanch supporter -of the rights of property--and the most important of all rights, those -of marriage and family. But he sees in the sway of the multitude the -only real basis of general happiness, and the only security against the -inroads of selfishness; and he regards the advances towards this grand -consummation as being certain and irresistible as the advance of the -tide upon the sand, or the progress from night to morning. In this way -he hopes to reconcile the grand doctrine of human perfectibility with -the universal failure of all attempts at its practical establishment; -and continues to dream of the irresistible and blessed march of -democracy, while recounting alike the weakness of the Girondists, -and the crimes of the Jacobins--the woful result of the Revolution -of 1789--and the still more rapid and signal failure of that which -convulsed the world sixty years afterwards. - -The simple answer to all these absurdities and errors, productive of -such disastrous consequences when reduced into practice, is this--"The -heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked."--"There -is none that doeth good, no, not one." It is from this _universal_ and -inevitable tendency to wickedness, that the practical impossibility -of establishing democratic institutions, without utter ruin to the -best interests of society, arises. You seek in vain to escape from -the consequences of this universal corruption, by committing power to -a multitude of individuals, or extinguishing the government of a few -in the sway of numbers. The multitude are themselves as bad by nature -as the few, and, for the discharge of the political duties with which -they are intrusted, incomparably worse; for, in their case, numbers -annihilate responsibility without conferring wisdom, and the contagion -of common opinions inflames passion without strengthening reason. In -the government of a few, capacity is generally looked for, because it -is felt to be beneficial by the depositaries of power; but in that -of numbers it is as commonly rejected, because it excites general -jealousy, without the prospect of individual benefit. Democratic -communities are ruined, no one knows how, or by whom. It is impossible -to find any one who is responsible for whatever is done. The ostensible -leaders are driven forward by an unseen power, which they are incapable -alike of regulating or withstanding: the real leaders--the directors of -thought--are unseen and irresponsible. If disasters occur, they ascribe -them to the incapacity of the statesmen at the head of affairs: they -relieve themselves of responsibility, by alleging, with truth, the -irresistible influence of an unknown power. No one is trained to the -duties of statesmanship, because no one knows who is to be a statesman. -Ignorance, presumption, and ambition, generally mount to the head of -affairs: the wheel of fortune, or the favour of a multitude incapable -of judging of the subject, determines everything. The only effectual -security against spoliation by the rulers of men, the dread of being -spoliated themselves, is lost when these rulers are men who are not -worth spoliating. Durable interest in the fortunes of the community is -no longer felt, when durable tenure of power is known to be impossible. -The only motive which remains is, that of making the most of a tenure -of power which is universally known to be as short-lived as it is -precarious; and prolonging it as long as possible, by bending, in every -instance, to the passions or fantasies of the multitude, nominally -vested with supreme power, really entirely guided by a few insolvent -and ambitious demagogues-- - - "Ces petits souverains qu'il fait pour un année, - Voyant d'un temps si court leur puissance bornée, - Des plus heureux desseins font avorter le fruit, - De peur de le laiser à celui qui le suit; - Comme ils ont peu de part aux biens dont ils ordonnent, - Dans le champs du public largement ils moissonnent; - Assurés que chacun leur pardonne aisément, - Espérant à son tour un pareil traitement; - Le pire des états, c'est l'état populaire."[13] - -[13] CORNEILLE, _Cinna_, Act ii., scene 1. - -Lamartine, regarding the march of democracy as universal and -inevitable, is noways disconcerted by the uniform failure of all -attempts in old communities to establish it, or the dreadful -catastrophes to which they have invariably led. These are merely the -breaking of the waves of the advancing tide; but the rise of the -flood is not the less progressive and inevitable. He would do well to -consider, however, whether there is not a limit to human suffering; -whether successive generations will consent to immolate themselves -and their children for no other motive than that of advancing an -abstract principle, or vindicating privileges for the people fatal to -their best interests; and whether resisted attempts, and failures at -the establishment of republican institutions, will not, in the end, -lead to _a lasting_ apathy and despair in the public mind. Certain -it is, that this was the fate of popular institutions in Greece, in -Rome, and modern Italy: all of which fell under the yoke of servitude, -from a settled conviction, founded on experience, that anything was -preferable to the tempests of anarchy. Symptoms, and those too of the -most unequivocal kind, may be observed of a similar disposition in the -great majority, at least of the rural population, both in France and -England. The election of Prince Louis Napoleon by four millions out of -six millions of electors, in the former country--the quiet despair -with which measures of the most ruinous kind to general industry are -submitted to in the latter, are so many proofs of this disposition. -The bayonets of Changarnier, the devastating measures of free trade -and a restricted currency, are submitted to in both countries, because -anything is better than shaking the foundations of government. - -In treating of the causes which have led to the revolution of 1848, -Lamartine imputes a great deal too much, in our estimation, to -individual men or shades of opinion, and too little to general causes, -and the ruinous effects of the first great convulsion. He ascribes it -to the personal unpopularity of M. Guizot, the selfish and corrupt -system of government which the king had established, and the discontent -at the national risks incurred by France for the interests only of -the Orleans dynasty, in the Montpensier alliance. This tendency -arises partly from the constitution of Lamartine's mind, which is -poetical and dramatic rather than philosophical; and partly from the -disinclination felt by all intelligent liberal writers to ascribe the -failure of their measures to their natural and inevitable effects, -rather than the errors or crimes of individual men. In this respect, -doubtless, he is more consistent and intelligible than M. Thiers, -who, in his _History of the French Revolution_, ascribes the whole -calamities which occurred to the _inevitable march of events_ in such -convulsions--forgetting that he could not in any other way so severely -condemn his own principles, and that it is little for the interest of -men to embrace a cause which, in that view, necessarily and inevitably -leads to ruin. Lamartine, in running into the opposite extreme, and -ascribing everything to the misconduct and errors of individual men, -is more consistent, because he saves the principle. But he is not the -less in error. The general discontent to which he ascribes so much, the -universal selfishness and corruption which he justly considers as so -alarming, were themselves the result of previous events: they were the -effects, not the causes, of political change. And without disputing the -influence, to a certain extent, of the individual men to whose agency -he ascribes everything, it may safely be affirmed that there are four -causes of paramount importance which concurred in bringing about the -late French revolution; and which will for a very long period, perhaps -for ever, prevent the establishment of anything like real freedom in -that country. - -The first of these is the universal disruption of all the old bonds -of society, which took place in the first Revolution, and the general -fretting against all restraint, human or divine, which arose from -the ruin of religion and confusion of morals which then took place. -These evils have only been partially remedied by the re-establishment -of the Christian faith over the whole realm, and the sway which it -has undoubtedly acquired in the rural districts. The active and -energetic inhabitants of the great towns still continue influenced by -the Revolutionary passions, the strongest of which is the thirst for -present enjoyment, and the impatience of any restraint, whether from -the influence of conscience or the authority of law. This distinctly -appears from the licentious style of the novels which have now for a -quarter of a century issued from the press of Paris, and which is in -general such that, though very frequently read in England, it is very -seldom, especially by women, that this reading is admitted. The drama, -that mirror of the public mind, is another indication of the general -prevalence of the same licentious feeling: it is for the most part -such, that few even of the least tight-laced English ladies can sit -out the representation. The irreligion, or rather _general oblivion -of religion_, which commonly prevails in the towns, is a part, though -doubtless a most important part, of this universal disposition: -Christianity is abjured or forgotten, not because it is disbelieved, -but because it is disagreeable. Men do not give themselves the trouble -to inquire whether it is true or false; they simply give it the go-by, -and pass quietly on the other side, because it imposes a restraint, -to them insupportable, on their passions. Dispositions of this sort -are the true feeders of revolution, because they generate at once its -convulsions in like manner, as passions which require gratification, -poverty which demands food, and activity which pines for employment. -Foreign war or domestic convulsion are the only alternatives which, -in such a state of society, remain to government. Napoleon tried the -first, and he brought the Cossacks to Paris; Louis Philippe strove -to become the Napoleon of peace, but he succeeded only in being the -pioneer of revolution. - -The great and durable interests of society, which the indulgence of -such passions inevitably ruins, are the barrier which, in ordinary -circumstances, is opposed to these disorders; and it is this influence -which has so long prevented any serious outbreak of anarchy in Great -Britain. But the immense extent of the confiscation of landed property -during the first Revolution, and the total ruin of commercial and -movable wealth, from the events of the maritime war, and the effects -of the enormous issue of assignats, has prevented the construction of -this barrier in anything like sufficient strength to withstand the -forces which pressed against it. Nine-tenths of the realised wealth of -the country was destroyed during the convulsion; what remained was for -the most part concentrated in the hands of a few bankers and moneyed -men, who aimed at cheapening everything, and depressing industry, in -order to augment the value of their metallic riches. The influence -of the natural leaders of the producing class, the great proprietors -of land, was at an end, for they were almost all destroyed. The six -millions of separate landed proprietors, who had come in their place, -had scarcely any influence in the state; for the great majority of -them were too poor to pay 200 francs a-year (£8) direct taxes--the -necessary condition towards an admission into the electoral body--and -as individuals they were in too humble circumstances to have any -influence in the state. The returns of the "_Impôt foncière_," or -land-tax, showed that above four millions of this immense body had -properties varying from £2 to £10 a-year each--not more than is enjoyed -by an Irish bogtrotter. In these circumstances, not only was the -steadying influence of property in general unfelt in the state, but the -property which did make itself felt was of a disturbing rather than a -pacifying tendency; for it was that of bankers and money-lenders, whose -interests, being those of consumers, not producers, went to support -measures calculated to depress industry rather than elevate it, and -thereby augment rather than diminish the distress which, from these -causes, soon came to press so severely upon the urban population. - -These causes were the necessary results of the dreadful waste of -property, and ruin of industry, which had taken place during the first -Revolution. The multitude of little proprietors with which France was -overspread, could furnish nothing to the metropolis but an endless -succession of robust hands to compete with its industry, and starving -mouths to share its resources. What could the six millions of French -landowners, the majority of them at the plough, afford to lay aside -for the luxuries of Paris? Nothing. You might as well expect the -West-End shopkeepers of London to be sustained by the starving western -Highlanders of Scotland, or the famished crowds of Irish cottars. The -natural flow of the wealth of the land to the capital of the kingdom, -which invariably sets in when agricultural property is unequally -distributed, and a considerable part of it is vested in the hands of -territorial magnates, was at once stopped when it became divided among -a multitude of persons, not one of whom could afford to travel ten -miles from home, or to buy anything but a rustic dress and a blouse to -cover it. At least sixty millions sterling, out of the eighty millions -which constitute the net territorial produce of France, was turned -aside from Paris, and spent entirely in the purchase of the coarsest -manufactures or rude subsistence in the provinces. The metropolis came -to depend mainly on the expenditure of foreigners, or of the civil -and military employés of government. This woful defalcation in its -resources occurred at a time, too, when the influx of needy adventurers -from the country was daily increasing, from the impossibility of -earning a livelihood, amidst the desperate competition of its squalid -landowners, and the decline of agriculture, which necessarily resulted -from their inability to adopt any of its improvements. Thus the -condition of the working classes in Paris went on getting constantly -worse, during the whole reign of Louis Philippe; and it was only in -consequence of the vast influx of foreigners, which the maintenance -of peace and the attractions of the court occasioned, that they were -not reduced many years before to the despair and misery which at once -occasioned and followed the last revolution. - -Amidst a population excited to discontent by these causes, another -circumstance has operated with peculiar force, which we do not -recollect to have seen hitherto noticed in disquisitions on this -subject--this is the prodigious number of _natural children_ and -foundlings at Paris. It is well known that ever since the close of the -first Revolution the number of illegitimate births in Paris has borne a -very great proportion to the legitimate; they are generally as 10,000 -to 18,000 or 19,000. For a long time past, every third child seen -in the streets of Paris has been a bastard. Hitherto this important -feature of society has been considered with reference to the state of -morality in regard to the relation of the sexes which it indicates; -but attend to its social and political effects. These bastards do -not always remain children; they grow up to be men and women. The -foundlings of Paris, already sufficiently numerous, are swelled by a -vast concourse of a similar class over all France, who flock, when -they have the means of transport, to the capital as the common sewer -of the commonwealth. There are at present about 1,050,000 souls in the -French metropolis. Suppose that a third of these are natural children, -there are then 350,000 persons, most of them foundlings of illegitimate -birth, in that capital. Taking a fourth of them as capable of bearing -arms, we have 85,000 _bastards constantly ready to fight in Paris_. - -Consider only the inevitable results of such a state of things in an -old and luxurious metropolis, teeming with indigence, abounding with -temptation, overflowing with stimulants to the passions. The _enfant -trouvé_ of Paris, when grown up, becomes a _gamin de Paris_, just as -naturally and inevitably as a chrysalis becomes a butterfly. He has -obtained enough of instruction to enable him to imbibe temptation, and -not enough to enable him to combat it. He has in general received the -rudiments of education: he can read the novels of Victor Hugo, Eugene -Sue, and George Sand; he can study daily the _Réforme_ or _National_, -or _Démocratie Pacifique_. He looks upon political strife as a game -at hazard, in which the winning party obtain wealth and honour, -mistresses, fortunes, and enjoyments. As to religion, he has never -heard of it, except as a curious relic of the olden time, sometimes -very effective on the opera stage; as to industry, he knows not what -it is; as to self-control, he regards it as downright folly where -self-indulgence is practicable. The most powerful restraints on the -passions of men--parents, children, property--are to him unknown. He -knows not to whom he owes his birth; his offspring are as strange to -him as his parents, for they, like him, are consigned to the Foundling -Hospital: he has nothing in the world he can call his own, except -a pair of stout arms to aid in the formation of barricades, and a -dauntless heart ready at any moment to accept the hazard of death -or pleasure. Hanging midway, as it were, between the past and the -future, he has inherited nothing from the former but its vices, he will -transmit nothing to the latter but its passions. Whoever considers the -inevitable results of eighty or ninety thousand men in the prime of -life actuated by these dispositions, associating with an equal number -of women of the same class, affected by the same misfortune in their -birth, and influenced by the same passions, constantly existing in a -state of indigence and destitution in the heart of Paris, will have no -difficulty in accounting for the extraordinary difficulty which, for -the last half century, has been experienced in governing France, and -will probably despair of ever succeeding in it but by force of arms. - -We hear nothing of these facts from Lamartine, whose mind is -essentially dramatic, and who represents revolutions, as he evidently -considers them, as the work of individual men, working upon the -inevitable march of society towards extreme republican institutions. -He gives us no statistics; he never refers to general causes, -except the universal progress towards democracy, which he regards -as irresistible. Least of all is he alive to the ruinous effects of -the first great disruption of the bonds of society which naturally -followed the Revolution of 1789, or disposed to regard the subsequent -convulsions, as what they really are--the inevitable result and just -punishment of the enormous sins of the Revolution. And--mark-worthy -circumstance!--these consequences are the obvious result of the great -crimes committed in its course; the confiscation of property which it -occasioned, the overthrow of religion and morals with which it was -attended. They have fallen with peculiar severity upon Paris, the -centre of the revolutionary faction, and the focus from which all its -iniquities emanated, and where the blood of its noblest victims was -shed. And if revolutions such as we have witnessed or read of in that -country are indeed inevitable, and part of the mysterious system of -Providence in the regulation of human affairs, we can regard them as -nothing but a realisation of that general tendency to evil which is so -clearly foretold in prophecy, and indications of the advent of those -disastrous times which are to be closed by the second coming of the -Messiah. - -We have all heard of the mingled treachery and irresolution--treachery -in the national guard, irresolution in the royal family--which brought -about the revolution which Lamartine has so eloquently described. It -is evident, even from his account--which, it may be supposed, is not -unduly hostile to the popular side--that it was the bar-sinister in -its birth which proved fatal, in the decisive moment, to the Throne -of the Barricades; and that the revolution might with ease have been -suppressed, if any other power had been called to combat it but that -which owed its existence to a similar convulsion. - - "The King was lost in thought, while the tocsin was sounding, on - the means by which it might yet be possible to calm the people, - and restrain the revolution, in which he persisted in seeing - nothing but a riot. The abdication of his external-political - system, personified in M. Guizot, M. Duchatel, and the majority of - the Chambers entirely devoted to his interests, appeared to him - to amount to more than the renunciation of his crown; it was the - abandonment of his thoughts, of his wisdom, of the prestige of his - infallibility in the eyes of Europe, of his family, of his people. - To yield a throne to adverse fortune, is little to a great mind. - To yield his renown and authority to triumphant adverse opinion - and implacable history, is the most painful effort which can be - required of a man, for it at once destroys and humbles him. But - the King was not one of those hardy characters who enjoy, with - _sang-froid_, the destruction of a people for the gratification of - their pride. He had read much of history, acted much in troubled - times, reflected much. He could not conceal from himself, that a - dynasty which should reconquer Paris by means of grape-shot and - bombs would be for ever besieged by the horror of the people. - His field of battle had always been opinion. It was on it that - he wished to act; he hoped to regain it by timely concessions. - Only, like a prudent economist, he higgled with opinion like a - Jewish pawnbroker, in the hopes of purchasing it at the smallest - possible sacrifice of his system and dignity. He flattered himself - he had several steps of popularity to descend before quitting the - throne."--(Vol. i., p. 102.) - -The immediate cause of the overthrow of the throne, it is well known, -was the fatal order which the delusion of M. Thiers, when called to the -ministry, extorted from the weakness of the King, to stop firing--to -cease resistance--to succumb to the assailants. Marshal Bugeaud was -perfectly firm; the troops were steady; ample military force was -at their command; everything promised decisive success to vigorous -operations. Marshal Bugeaud's plan was of the simplest but most -efficacious kind. - - "Marshal Bugeaud, with his military instinct, matured by - experience and the habit of handling troops, knew that - _immobility_ is the ruin of the morale of soldiers. He changed in - a moment the plan of operations submitted to him. He instantly - called around him the officers commanding corps. The one was - Tiburie Sebastiani, brother of the marshal of the same name, a - calm and faithful officer; the other, General Bedeau, whose name, - made illustrious by his exploits in Africa, carried respect with - it, to his companions in arms in Paris. He ordered them to form - two columns of 3500 men each, and to advance into the centre - of Paris--the one by the streets which traverse it from the - Boulevards to the Hôtel de Ville, the other by streets which cross - it from the quays. Each of the columns had artillery, and their - instructions were to carry, in their advance, all the barricades, - to destroy these fortresses of the insurrection, to cannonade the - masses, and concentrate their columns on the Hôtel de Ville, the - decisive point of the day. General Lamoricière was to command a - reserve of 9000 men, stationed around the palace."--(Vol. i., pp. - 136, 137.) - -The despair of the troops when compelled to retire before a tumultuous -mob--to confess defeat in their own capital, and in the face of Europe, -is thus described:-- - - "At daybreak the two columns of troops set out on their march; - their progress was, every ten minutes, reported by staff-officers - in disguise. _They experienced no serious resistance on their way - to the Hôtel de Ville_; the crowd opened as they advanced, with - cries of '_Vive la Réforme!_' they trampled under foot, without - firing a shot, the beginnings of the barricades. Nevertheless, - the uncertainty of what was passing in the Tuileries paralysed - the arms in the hands of the soldiers. The Marshal, at length - constrained by the reiterated orders of the King, sent orders to - his lieutenants to make the troops fall back. Marshal Bedeau, - upon this, made his battalions retire. Some soldiers threw their - muskets on the ground, as a sign of despair or fraternisation. - Their return across Paris had the appearance of a defection, or of - the advanced guard of the revolution marching on the Tuileries. - The troops, already vanquished by these orders, took up their - position, _untouched but powerless_, on the Place de la Concorde, - in the Champs Elysées, in the Rue de Rivoli. The French troops, - when disgraced, are no longer an army. They felt in their hearts - the bitterness of that retreat; they feel it still."--(Vol. i., p. - 139.) - -But it was soon found that these disgraceful concessions to mob -violence would avail nothing; that M. Thiers and M. Odillon Barrot -were alike unequal to stemming the torrent which they had put in -motion; and that the King, as a reward for his humane order to the -troops not to fire upon the people, was to be called on to abdicate! -In the disgraceful scene of pusillanimity and weakness which ensued, -we regret to say the princes of the royal family, and especially the -Duke de Montpensier, evinced as much cowardice as the princesses did -courage;--exemplifying thus again what Napoleon said of the Bourbons -in 1815, that there was only one man in the family, and that man was a -woman. The decisive moment is thus described with dramatic power, but, -we have no doubt, historic truth, by M. Lamartine:-- - - "M. Girardin, in a few brief and sad words, which abridged minutes - and cut short objections, said to the King with mournful respect, - that changes of ministry were no longer in season; that the moment - was sweeping away the throne with the councils, and that there was - but one word suitable to the urgency of the occasion, and that - word was '_abdication_.' - - "The King was in one of those moments when truths strike without - offending. Nevertheless, he let fall, upon hearing these words, - from his hands the pen with which he was arranging the names of - the new ministry. He was desirous of discussing the question. - M. Girardin, pitiless as evidence, pressing as time, would not - even admit of discussion. 'Sire!' said he, 'the abdication - of the king, or the abdication of the monarchy--there is the - alternative. Circumstances will not admit even of a minute to find - a third issue from the straits in which we are placed.' While he - thus spoke, M. Girardin placed before the King the draft of a - proclamation which he had prepared and he wished to have printed. - That proclamation, concise as a fact, consisted only of four - lines, calculated to attract the eyes of the people. - - The abdication of the King. - - The regency of the Duchess of Orleans. - - The dissolution of the Chamber of Deputies. - - A general amnesty. - - "The King hesitated. _The Duke de Montpensier his son_, carried - away, doubtless, by the energetic expression in the physiognomy, - gesticulations, and words of M. Girardin, pressed his father - with more vehemence than rank, age, and misfortunes should have - permitted to the respect of a son. _The pen was presented, and the - crown torn from the monarch by an impatience which could not wait - for his full and free conviction._ The rudeness of fortune towards - the King was forgotten _in the precipitance of the council_. - On the other hand, blood was beginning to flow, the throne was - gliding away. The lives even of the King and his family might - be endangered. Everything can be explained by the solicitude - and the tenderness of the councillors. History should ever take - the version which least humiliates and bruises least the human - heart."--(Vol. i., p. 127.) - -Observe the poetic justice of this consummation. The member of his -family, who at the decisive moment failed in his duty, and compelled -his infirm and gray-haired father to abdicate, was the DUC DE -MONTPENSIER--the very prince for whose elevation he had perilled the -English alliance, violated his plighted word, endangered the peace -of Europe! The heir-presumptive of the crown of Spain was the first -to shake the crown of France from his father's head! Vanquished by -his personal fears, unworthy of his high rank and higher prospects, -a disgrace to his country, he evinced, what is rare in France in any -station, not merely moral, but physical pusillanimity. To this end have -the intrigues of the Orleans family, from Egalité downwards, ultimately -tended. They have not only lost the crown, to win which they forgot -their allegiance and violated their oaths, but they have lost it with -dishonour and disgrace: they are not only exiles, but they are despised -exiles. Such have been the fruits of the Orleans intrigues to gain the -crown of France. - -As a bright contrast to this woful exhibition, we gladly translate M. -Lamartine's account of the memorable scene in the chambers, where the -Duchess of Orleans nobly contended with an infuriated and bloodthirsty -rabble for the crown, now devolved to her son by his grandfather's -abdication. Had such spirited devotion been found in her husband's -family, they might have transmitted the honours they had won in the -Orleans dynasty. - - "The great door opposite the tribune, on a level with the most - elevated benches in the hall, opened; a woman appeared dressed in - mourning: it was the Duchess of Orleans. Her veil, half raised on - her hat, allowed her countenance to be seen, bearing the marks - of an emotion and sadness which heightened the interest of youth - and beauty. Her pale cheeks bore the traces of the tears of the - widow, the anxieties of the mother. No man could look on those - features without emotion. At their aspect, all resentment against - the monarchy fled from the mind. The blue eyes of the princess - wandered over the scene, with which she had been a moment dazzled, - as if to implore aid by her looks. Her slender but elegant form - bowed at the applause which saluted her. A slight colour--the dawn - of hope amidst ruin--of joy amidst sorrow--suffused her cheeks. - A smile of gratitude beamed through her tears. She felt herself - surrounded by friends. With one hand she held the young king, who - stumbled on the steps, with the other the young Duke of Chartres: - infants to whom the catastrophe which destroyed them was a subject - of amusement. They were both clothed in short black dresses. - A white shirt-collar was turned over their dresses, as in the - portraits by Vandyke of the children of Charles I. - - "The Duke of Nemours walked beside the princess, faithful to the - memory of his brother in his nephews; a protector who would ere - long stand in need of protection himself. The figure of that - prince, ennobled by misfortune, breathed the courageous but modest - satisfaction of a duty discharged at the hazard of his life. Some - generals in uniform, and officers of the national guard, followed - her steps. She bowed with timid grace to the assembly, and sat - down motionless at the foot of the tribune, an innocent accused - person before a tribunal without appeal, which was about to judge - the cause of royalty. At that moment, that cause was gained in the - eyes and hearts of all."--(Vol i. p. 177.) - -But it was all in vain. The mob on the outside broke into the assembly. -The national guard, as usual, failed at the decisive moment, and -royalty was lost. - - "An unwonted noise was heard at the door on the left of the - tribune. Unknown persons, _national guards_ with arms in their - hands, common people in their working-dresses, break open the - doors, overthrow the officers who surround the tribune, invade - the assembly, and, with loud cries, demand the Duke of Nemours. - Some deputies rose from their seats to make a rampart with their - bodies around the princess. M. Mauguin calmly urged them to - retire. General Oudinot addressed them with martial indignation. - Finding words unavailing, he hastily traversed the crowd to demand - the support of the national guard. He represented to them the - inviolability of the assembly, and the respect due to a princess - and a woman insulted amidst French bayonets. The national guards - heard him, feigned to be indignant, but _slowly took up their - arms, and ended by doing nothing_."--(Vol. i. p. 180.) - -In justice to Lamartine also, we must give an abstract of his animated -and eloquent account of the most honourable event in his life, and -one which should cover a multitude of sins--the moment when he singly -contended with the maddened rabble who had triumphed over the throne, -and, by the mere force of moral courage and eloquent expression, -defeated the Red Republicans, who were desirous to hoist the _drapeau -rouge_, the well-known signal of bloodshed and devastation:-- - - "In this moment of popular frenzy, Lamartine succeeded in calming - the people by a sort of patriotic hymn on their victory--so - sudden, so complete, so unlooked-for even by the most ardent - friends of liberty. He called God to witness the admirable - humanity and religious moderation which the people had hitherto - shown alike in the combat and their triumph. He placed prominently - forward that sublime instinct which, the evening before, had - thrown them, when still armed, but already disciplined and - obedient, into the arms of a few men who had submitted themselves - to calumny, exhaustion, and death, for the safety of all. - 'That,' said Lamartine, 'was what the sun beheld yesterday, and - what would he shine upon to-day? He would behold a people the - more furious that there was no longer any enemies to combat; - distrusting the men whom but yesterday it had intrusted with the - lead,--constraining them in their liberty, insulting them in their - dignity, disavowing their authority, substituting a revolution - of vengeance and punishment for one of unanimity and fraternity, - and commanding the government to hoist, in token of concord, the - standard of a combat to the death between the citizens of the - same country! That red flag, which was sometimes raised as the - standard against our enemies when blood was flowing, should be - furled after the combat, in token of reconciliation and peace. I - would rather see the black flag which they hoist sometimes in a - besieged town as a symbol of death, to designate to the bombs the - edifices consecrated to humanity, and which even the balls of the - enemy respect. Do you wish, then, that the symbol of your republic - should be more menacing and more sinister than the colours of - a besieged city?' 'No no!' cried some of the crowd, 'Lamartine - is right: let us not keep that standard, the symbol of terror, - for our citizens.' 'Yes, yes!' cried others, 'it is ours--it is - that of the people--it is that with which we have conquered. Why - should we not keep, after the conflict, the colours which we have - stained with our blood?'--'Citizens!' said Lamartine, after having - exhausted every argument calculated to affect the imagination - of the people, 'you may do violence to the government: you may - command it to change the colours of the nation and the colours - of France. If you are so ill advised and so obstinate in error - as to impose on it a republic of party and flag of terror, the - government is as decided as myself to die rather than dishonour - itself by obeying you: for myself, my hand shall never sign that - decree: I will resist even to the death that symbol of blood; and - you should repudiate it as well as I; for the red flag which you - bring us has never gone beyond the Champ de Mars, dragged red in - the blood of the people in '91 and '93; but the tricolor flag has - made the tour of the world, with the name, the glory, and the - liberty of our country.' At these words, Lamartine, interrupted - by the unanimous cries of enthusiasm, fell from the chair which - served for his tribune, into the arms stretched out on all sides - to receive him. The cause of the new republic was triumphant over - the bloody recollections which they wished to substitute for it. - The hideous crowd which filled the hall retired, amidst cries of - '_Vive Lamartine!--Vive le Drapeau Tricolor!_' - - "The danger, however, was not over. The crowd which had been - carried away by his words was met by another crowd which had not - hitherto been able to penetrate into the hall, and which was - more vehement in words and gesticulations. Menacing expressions, - ardent vociferations, cries of suffocation, threatening gestures, - discharges of firearms on the stair, tatters of a red flag waved - by naked arms above the sea of heads, rendered this one of the - most frightful scenes of the Revolution. 'Down with Lamartine! - Death to Lamartine! no Temporising,--the Decree, the Decree, - or the Government of Traitors to the lamp-post!' exclaimed the - assailants. These cries neither caused Lamartine to hesitate, to - retire, nor to turn pale. At the sight of him the fury of the - assailants, instead of being appeased, increased tenfold. Muskets - were directed at his head, the nearest brandished bayonets in his - face, and a savage group of twenty, with brutal drunken visages, - charged forward with their heads down, as if to break through - with an enormous battering-ram the circle which surrounded him. - The foremost appeared bereft of reason. Naked sabres reached - the head of the orator, whose hand was slightly wounded. The - critical moment had arrived; nothing was yet decided. Hazard - determined which should prevail. Lamartine expected momentarily - to be thrown down and trampled under foot. At that instant one - of the populace sprang from the crowd, a ball discharged from - below grazed his face and stained it with blood; while it still - flowed, he stretched out his arms to Lamartine--'Let me see him, - let me touch him,' cried he, 'let me kiss his hand! Listen to him, - oh, my citizens! follow his councils: you shall strike me before - touching him. I will die a thousand times to preserve that good - citizen for my country.' With these words he precipitated himself - into his arms, and held him convulsively embraced. The people were - moved at this scene; and a hundred voices again exclaimed '_Vive - le Gouvernement Provisoire!--Vive Lamartine!_'"--(Vol. i. pp. 393, - 402.) - -We purposely close our account of Lamartine's personal career with this -splendid passage in his life. His subsequent conduct, it is well known, -has ill accorded with this beginning. His popularity in Paris fell as -rapidly as it had risen; and on occasion of the terrible revolt of June -1848, he retired from the government, with all his colleagues, from -acknowledged inability to meet the crisis which had arisen. We have -heard different accounts of the real causes of his mysterious alliance -with his former opponent, and the head of the Red Republicans, M. Ledru -Rollin, to which this fall was owing. Some of these stories are little -to his credit. We forbear to mention them, lest we should unwittingly -disseminate falsehood in regard to a man of undoubted genius and -great acquirements. Perhaps, in some future "Confidences," he may be -able to explain much which undoubtedly at present stands in need of -explanation. We gladly leave this dubious subject, to give a place to -his dramatic account of the dreadful conflict in June, in the streets -of Paris, which is the more entitled to credit, as he was an eyewitness -of several of its most terrible scenes:-- - - "Assemblages of eight or ten thousand persons were already formed - on the Place of the Pantheon to attack the Luxembourg. M. Arago - harangued them and persuaded them to disperse; but it was only to - meet again in the quarters adjoining the Seine, in the Faubourg St - Antoine, and on the Boulevards. At the sight of them the faubourgs - turned out--the streets were filled--the _Ateliers Nationaux_ - turned out their hordes--the populace, excited by some chief, - began to raise barricades. These chiefs were, for the most part, - brigadiers of the national workshops, the pillars of sedition and - of the clubs, irritated at the disbanding of their corps, the - wages of which, passing through their hands, had been applied, - it is said, to paying the Revolution. From the barriers of - Charenton, Fontainebleau, and Menilmontant, to the heart of Paris, - the entire capital was in the hands of a few thousand men. The - _rappel_ called to their standards 200,000 National Guards, ten - times sufficient to overthrow those assemblages of the seditious, - and to destroy their fortifications. But it must be said, to - the disgrace of that day, and for the instruction of posterity, - that the National Guard at that decisive moment _did not answer - in a body to the appeal of the government_. Their tardiness, - their disinclination, their inertness, left the streets in some - quarters open to sedition. They looked on with calm eyes on the - erection of thousands of barricades, which they had afterwards to - reconquer with torrents of blood. Soon the government quitted the - Luxembourg and took refuge in the National Assembly, where, at the - headquarters of General Cavaignac, was established the supreme - council of the nation. - - "Government had reckoned on the support of the National Guard; - but the incessant beating of the _rappel_ failed in bringing it - forth to its standards. In several quarters they were imprisoned - by the insurgents. In fine, be it tardiness, or be it fatality, - the army was far from responding in a body to the imminence and - universality of the peril. Its numerical weakness aggravated the - danger. General Lamoricière, invincible, though soon besieged by - 200,000 men, occupied the whole extent from the Rue du Temple to - the Madeleine, from the Rue de Clichy to the Louvre--constantly - on horseback, ever foremost in fire, he had two horses shot under - him--his countenance black with powder, his forehead running down - with sweat, his voice hoarse with giving the word of command, but - his eye serene and calm as a soldier in his native element, he - restored spirit to his men, confidence to the National Guards. - His reports to government breathed the intrepidity of his soul, - but he made no concealment of the imminence of the danger, and - the insufficiency of the troops at his disposal. He painted the - immense multitude of the assailants and the vast network of - barricades which stretched between the Bastile and the Chateau - d'Eau, between the barriers and the Boulevard. Incessantly he - implored reinforcements, which the government as continually - summoned to its support by the telegraph, and officers specially - despatched. At length the National Guards of the neighbourhood of - Paris began to arrive, and, ranging themselves round the Assembly, - furnished an example to those of the capital. Then, and not till - then, confidence began to be felt in the midst of the chances of - the combat."--(Vol. ii., pp. 480-481.) - -It was a most fortunate event for the cause of order, and, with it, -of real freedom throughout the world, that this great revolt was so -completely suppressed, though at the cost of a greater number of lives, -particularly in general officers, than fell in many a bloody battle, by -the efforts of General Cavaignac and his brave companions in arms. It -is said that their measures, at first, were not skilfully taken--that -they lost time, and occasioned unnecessary bloodshed at the outset, by -neglecting to attack the barricades when they began to be formed; and -certainly the easy and bloodless suppression of the late revolt against -the government of Prince Louis Napoleon, by General Changarnier, seems -to favour this opinion. It must be recollected, however, that the -revolt of May 1849 occurred when the memory of the popular overthrow -of June 1848 was still fresh in the minds of the people; and it is not -easy to overestimate the effect of that decisive defeat in paralysing -revolt on the one side, and adding nerve to resistance on the other. It -is evident that Louis Napoleon is not a Duc de Montpensier--he will not -surrender his authority without a fight. But supposing that there was -some tardiness in adopting decisive measures on occasion of the June -revolt, that only makes the lesson more complete, by demonstrating the -inability of the bravest and most determined populace to contend with a -regular military force, when the troops are steady to their duty, and -bravely led by their chiefs. The subsequent suppression of the revolts -in Prague, Vienna, Madrid, and Rome, have confirmed the same important -truth. Henceforth, it is evident, the horrors of revolution may always -be averted, when government is firm, and the military are faithful. - -And these horrors are in truth such, that it becomes evidently the -first of political and social duties for the rulers of men to justify -the eminence of their rank by their courage, and the troops to -vindicate the trust reposed in them by their fidelity. Passing by the -woful _exposé_ of the almost hopeless state of the French finances, -with a deficit of above TWELVE MILLIONS sterling, despite an addition -of forty-five per cent to the direct taxes, made by Prince Louis -Napoleon to the National Assembly, we rest on the following curious and -important details taken from the _Times_ of July 12, in regard to the -effect of the revolution of 1848 upon the comforts and condition of the -labouring classes in France:-- - - "It appears it is the middle class of tradesmen that are now most - suffering from the effects of revolution. The funds on which this - class had been living, in the hope that better days would soon - arrive, and which amongst some of the small tradesmen formed their - capital, have become exhausted. Those who had no money had, at all - events, some credit; but both money and credit are now gone. The - result is, that even in this period of comparative tranquillity - more shops are closed than in the days of turbulence. - - "The following statement of the fluctuations of the revenues of - the city of Paris, occasioned also by revolution, and which goes - back to 1826, is taken from the _Débats_:-- - - "'The returns of the produce of indirect impost is the unfailing - testimony to the progress or decrease of public tranquillity. We - proved this truth yesterday in publishing, on the authority of a - well-informed journal, the comparative state of the receipts of - the Paris _octroi_ for the first six months of the years 1847, - 1848, and 1849. It is still further proved by valuable documents - which we have at this moment before us. Thus, the produce of - the _octroi_ was, in 1847, 34,511,389 francs; and in 1848, only - 26,519,627 francs, showing a difference of 7,991,762 francs. This - decrease is enormous, in relation to the immense necessities - created by the political and social crisis, the works undertaken - by the city, and the previous expenses it had to provide for. We - could analyse the different chapters of this municipal revenue, - which affords life to so many branches of Parisian industry; - but it is useless to inquire, for each of these chapters, the - particular causes of diminution. With the great event of 1848 - before us, all details disappear. One sole cause has produced a - decrease in the receipts, and that is the revolution of February; - which, at first menacing society itself by the voice of democratic - orators and the pens of demagogue writers, frightened away capital - and annihilated industry of all kinds. In order to be able to - judge of the influence of great political events on the receipts - of the Paris _octroi_, it will be sufficient to recur to the years - which preceded and followed the revolution of 1830:-- - - Francs. - In 1826 the produce was 31,057,000 - - In 1827 (the first shock in consequence - of the progress of the - opposition in the country, and - the dissolution of the national - guard) 29,215,000 - - In 1828 (fall of the Villèle ministry--continuation - of the political - movement notwithstanding - the Montignac ministry) 28,927,000 - - In 1829 (ministry of the 8th - August--presentiments of a - struggle between the crown and - country) 27,695,000 - - In 1830 (July Revolution) 26,240,000 - - In 1831 (incessant agitation--repeated - outbreaks) 24,035,000 - - In 1832 (continuation of revolutionary - movement--events of - the 5th and 6th June) 22,798,000 - - In 1833 (progressive establishment - of tranquillity) 26,667,000 - - In 1834 (the situation becomes - better, with the exception of the - events of the 13th and 14th - April, which, however, were - brief) 27,458,000 - - From 1835 to 1838 (calm--cabinet - of 15th April--the produce - in the latter year) 31,518,000 - - In 1839 (Parliamentary coalition, - 12th May) 30,654,000 - - In 1840 (fears of war--rupture of - the English Alliance, &c.) 29,906,000 - - From 1841 to 1845 (calm--progressive - increase in the latter - year) 34,165,000 - - In 1846 (notwithstanding the - dearness of food, the receipts - were) 33,990,000 - - In 1847 (commercial crisis, &c.) 33,033,000 - - In 1848 (revolution of February) 26,519,000 - - "The following from _La Patrie_ gives a good idea of the effects - of an unquiet state of society:-- - - "'Revolutions cost dear. They, in the first place, augment the - public expenses and diminish the general resources. Occasionally - they yield something, but before gathering in the profits the bill - must be paid. M. Audiganne, _chef de bureau_ at the department - of commerce and agriculture, has published a curious work on - the industrial crisis brought on by the revolution of February. - M. Audiganne has examined all branches of manufactures, and - has shown that the crisis affected every one. In the Nord, at - Lisle, cotton-spinning, which occupied thirty-four considerable - establishments, employing a capital of 7,000,000f. or 8,000,000f.; - and tulle making, employing 195 looms, were obliged to reduce - their production one-half. At Turcoing and Roubaix, where cloth - and carpet manufactories occupied 12,000 workmen, the produce went - down two-thirds, and 8000 men were thrown out of work. In the - Pas-de-Calais the fabrication of lace and cambrics was obliged - to stop before a fall of twenty-five per cent. The linen factory - of Capecure, founded in 1836, and which employed 1800 men, was - in vain aided by the Municipal Council of Boulogne and the local - banks; it at last succumbed to the crisis. In the department of - the Somme, 142,000 workmen, who were employed in the woollen, - cotton, stocking, and velvet manufactories, were reduced to - idleness. In the arrondissement of Abbeville, where the business, - known by the name of 'lockwork' of Picardy, yielded an annual - produce of 4,000,000f., the orders stopped completely, and the - unfortunate workmen were obliged to go and beg their bread in the - environs. At Rouen, where the cotton trade gave an annual produce - of more than 250,000,000f., there were the same disasters; yet - the common goods continued to find purchasers, owing to their - low price. At Caen, the lace manufacture, which in 1847 employed - upwards of 50,000 persons, or one-eighth of the population of - Calvados, was totally paralysed. At St Quentin, tulle embroidery, - which gave a living to 1500 women, received just as severe a - blow as in March and April, 1848; almost all the workshops were - obliged to close. In the east the loss was not less considerable. - Rheims was obliged to close its woollen-thread factories during - the months of March, April, and May, 1848. The communal workshop - absorbed in some weeks an extraordinary loan of 430,000f. - Fortunately, an order for 1,500,000f. of merinos, from New York, - allowed the interrupted factories to reopen, and spared the town - fresh sacrifices. The revolutionary tempest penetrated into Alsace - and there swept away two-thirds of the production. Muhlhausen - stopped for several months the greater number of its looms, and - diminished one-half the length of labour in the workshops, which - remained open. Lyons also felt all the horrors of the crisis. - In the same way as muslin and lace, silk found its consumption - stopped. For several months the unfortunate Lyons' workmen had for - sole subsistence the produce of the colours and scarfs ordered - by the Provisional Government. At St Etienne and St Chamond, - the principal points of our ribbon and velvet manufacture, and - where 85,000 workmen were employed, the production went down - two-thirds. At Paris M. Audiganne estimates the loss in what is - called Paris goods at nine-tenths of the production. The loss on - other articles, he considers, on the contrary, to have been only - two-thirds on the sale, and a little more than one-half on the - amount of the produce. We only touch in these remarks on the most - striking points of the calculation; the total loss, according - to M. Audiganne, amounts, for the workmen alone, to upwards of - 300,000,000f.'" - -Such have been the consequences to the people of listening to the voice -of their demagogues, who impelled them into the revolution of 1848--to -the national guards, of hanging back at the decisive moment, and -forgetting their oaths in the intoxication of popular enthusiasm. - -And if any one supposes that these effects were only temporary, and -that lasting freedom is to be won for France by these sacrifices, we -recommend him to consider the present state of France, a year and a -half after the revolution of 1848, as painted by one of its ablest -supporters, M. Louis Blanc. - - -PROTEST. - - "While Paris is in a state of siege, and when most of the journals - which represent our opinions are by violence condemned to silence, - we believe it to be a duty owing to our party to convey to it, if - possible, the public expression of our sentiments. - - "It is with profound astonishment that we see the organs of the - counter-revolution triumph over the events of the 13th of June. - - "Where there has been no contest, how can there have been a - victory? - - "What is then proved by the 13th of June? - - "That under the pressure of 100,000 soldiers, Paris is not free in - her movements? We have known this more than enough. - - "Now, as it has always been, the question is, if by crowding Paris - with soldiers and with cannon, by stifling with violent hands - the liberty of the press, by suppressing individual freedom, - by invading private domiciles, by substituting the reign of - Terror for that of Reason, by unceasingly repressing furious - despair--that which there is wanting a capacity to prevent, the - end will be attained of reanimating confidence, or re-establishing - credit, of diminishing taxes, of correcting the vices of the - administration, of chasing away the spectre of the deficit, of - developing industry, of cutting short the disasters attendant - upon unlimited competition, of suppressing those revolts which - have their source in the deep recesses of human feeling, of - tranquillising resentments, of calming all hearts? The state of - siege of 1848 has engendered that of 1849. The question is, if - the amiable perspective of Paris in a state of siege every eight - or ten months will restore to commerce its elastic movements, to - the industrious their markets, and to the middle classes their - repose."--_L. Blanc._ - -It is frequently asked what is to be the end of all these changes, -and under what form of government are the people of France ultimately -to settle? Difficult as it is to predict anything with certainty of -a people with whom nothing seems to be fixed but the disposition to -change, we have no hesitation in stating our opinion that the future -government of France will be what that of imperial Rome was, an -ELECTIVE MILITARY DESPOTISM. In fact, with the exception of the fifteen -years of the Restoration, when a free constitutional monarchy was -imposed on its inhabitants by the bayonets of the Allies, it has ever -since the Revolution of 1789 been nothing else. The Orleans dynasty -has, to all appearance, expired with a disgrace even greater than -that which attended its birth: the Bourbons can scarcely expect, in -a country so deeply imbued with the love of change, to re-establish -their hereditary throne. Popular passion and national vanity call -for that favourite object in democratic societies--a rotation of -governors: popular violence and general suffering will never fail to -re-establish, after a brief period of anarchy, the empire of the sword. -The successive election of military despots seems the only popular -compromise between revolutionary passion and the social necessities of -mankind; and as a similar compromise took place, after eighty years of -bloodshed and confusion, in the Roman commonwealth, so, after a similar -period of suffering, it will probably be repeated, from the influence -of the same cause, in the French nation. - - - - -Dies Boreales. - -No. III. - -CHRISTOPHER UNDER CANVASS. - - -SCENE--_Gutta Percha._ - -TIME--_Early Evening._ - -NORTH--BULLER--SEWARD--TALBOYS. - - * * * * * - -NORTH. - -Trim--trim--trim-- - -TALBOYS. - -Gentlemen, are you all seated? - -NORTH. - -Why into such strange vagaries fall as you would dance, Longfellow! -Seize his skirts, Seward. Buller, cling to his knees. Billy, the -boat-hook--he will be--he is--overboard. - -TALBOYS. - -Not at all. Gutta Percha is somewhat crank--and I am steadying her, sir. - -NORTH. - -What is that round your waist? - -TALBOYS. - -My Air-girdle. - -NORTH. - -I insist upon you dropping it, Longman. It makes you reckless. I did -not think you were such a selfish character. - -TALBOYS. - -Alas! in this world, how are our noblest intentions misunderstood! I -put it on, sir, that, in case of a capsize, I might more buoyantly bear -you ashore. - -NORTH. - -Forgive me, my friend. But--be seated. Our craft is but indifferently -well adapted for the gallopade. Be seated, I beseech you! Or, if you -will stand, do plant both feet--do not--do not alternate so--and above -all, do not, I implore you--show off on one, as if you were composing -and reciting verses.--There, down you are--and if there be not a hole -in her bottom, Gutta Percha is safe against all the hidden rocks in -Loch Awe. - -TALBOYS. - -Let me take the stroke oar. - -NORTH. - -For sake of the ancient houses of the Sewards and the Bullers, sit -where you are. We are already in four fathom water. - -TALBOYS. - -The Lines? - -BILLY. - -Nea, nea--Mister Talboys. Nane shall steer Perch when He's afloat but -t' auld commodore. - -NORTH. - -Shove off, lads. - -TALBOYS. - -Are we on earth or in heaven? - -BILLY. - -On t' watter. - -NORTH. - -Billy--mum. - -TALBOYS. - -The Heavens are high--and they are deep. Fear would rise up from that -Profound, if fear there could be in the perfectly Beautiful! - -SEWARD. - -Perhaps there is--though it wants a name. - -NORTH. - -We know there is no danger--and therefore we should feel no fear. But -we cannot wholly disencumber ourselves of the emotions that ordinarily -great depth inspires--and verily I hold with Seward, while thus we hang -over the sky-abyss below with suspended oars. - -SEWARD. - -The Ideal rests on the Real--Imagination on Memory--and the Visionary, -at its utmost, still retains relations with Truth. - -BULLER. - -Pray you to look at our Encampment. Nothing visionary there-- - -TALBOYS. - -Which Encampment? - -BULLER. - -On the hill-side--up yonder--at Cladich. - -TALBOYS. - -You should have said so at first. I thought you meant that other down-- - -BULLER. - -When I speak to you, I mean the _bona fide_ flesh and blood Talboys, -sitting by the side of the _bona fide_ flesh and blood Christopher -North, in Gutta Percha, and not that somewhat absurd, and, I trust, -ideal personage, standing on his head in the water, or it may be the -air, some fathoms below her keel--like a pearl-diver. - -TALBOYS. - -Put up your hands--so--my dear Mr North, and frame the picture. - -NORTH. - -And Maculloch not here! Why the hills behind Cladich, that people call -tame, make a background that no art might meliorate. Cultivation climbs -the green slopes, and overlays the green hill-ridges, while higher up -all is rough, brown, heathery, rocky--and behind that undulating line, -for the first time in my life, I see the peaks of mountains. From afar -they are looking at the Tents. And far off as they are, the power of -that Sycamore Grove connects them with our Encampment. - -TALBOYS. - -Are you sure, sir, they are not clouds? - -NORTH. - -If clouds, so much the better. If mountains, they deserve to be clouds; -and if clouds, they deserve to be mountains. - -SEWARD. - -The long broad shadow of the Grove tames the white of the Tents--tones -it--reduces it into harmony with the surrounding colour--into keeping -with the brown huts of the villagers, clustering on bank and brae on -both sides of the hollow river. - -NORTH. - -The cozey Inn itself from its position is picturesque. - -TALBOYS. - -The Swiss Giantess looks imposing-- - -BULLER. - -So does the Van. But Deeside is the Pandemonium-- - -TALBOYS. - -Well translated by Paterson in his Notes on Milton, "All-Devil's-Hall." - -NORTH. - -Hush. And how lovely the foreground! Sloping upland--with single trees -standing one by one, at distances wide enough to allow to each its own -little grassy domain--with its circle of bracken or broom--or its own -golden gorse grove--divided by the sylvan course of the hidden river -itself, visible only when it glimpses into the Loch--Here, friends, we -seem to see the united occupations of pastoral, agricultural--and-- - -BULLER. - -Pardon me, sir, I have a proposition to make. - -NORTH. - -You might have waited a moment till-- - -BULLER. - -Not a moment. We all Four see the background--and the middle-ground and -the foreground--and all the ground round and about--and all the islands -and their shadows--and all the mountains and theirs--and, towering high -above all, that Cruachan of yours, who, I firmly believe, is behind -us--though 'twould twist my neck now to get a vizzy of him. No use -then in describing all that lies within the visible horizon--there it -is--let us enjoy it and be thankful--and let us talk this evening of -whatever may happen to come into our respective heads--and I beg leave -to add, sir, with all reverence, let's have fair play--let no single -man--young or old--take more than his own lawful share-- - -NORTH. - -Sir? - -BULLER. - -And let the subject of angling be tabooed--and all its endless -botheration about baskets and rods, and reels and tackle--salmon, -sea-trout, yellow-fin, perch, pike, and the Ferox--and no drivel about -Deer and Eagles-- - -NORTH. - -Sir? What's the meaning of all this--Seward, say--tell, Talboys. - -BULLER. - -And let each man on opening his mouth be _timed_--and let it be -two-minute time--and let me be time-keeper--but, in consideration -of your years and habits, and presidency, let time to you, sir, be -extended to two minutes and thirty seconds--and let us all talk time -about--and let no man seek to nullify the law by talking at railway -rate--and let no man who waives his right of turn, however often, think -to make up for the loss by claiming quarter of an hour afterwards--and -that, too, perhaps at the smartest of the soiree--and let there be no -contradiction, either round, flat, or angular--and let no man speak -about what he understands--that is, has long studied and made himself -master of--for that would be giving him an unfair--I had almost -said--would be taking a mean advantage--and let no man-- - -NORTH. - -Why, the mutiny at the Nore was nothing to this! - -BULLER. - -Lord High Admiral though you be, sir, you must obey the laws of the -service-- - -NORTH. - -I see how it is. - -BULLER. - -How is it? - -NORTH. - -But it will soon wear off--that's the saving virtue of Champagne. - -BULLER. - -Champagne indeed! Small Beer, smaller than the smallest size. You have -not the heart, sir, to give Champagne. - -NORTH. - -We had better put about, gentlemen, and go ashore. - -BULLER. - -My ever-honoured, long-revered sir! I have got intoxicated on our -Teetotal debauchery. The fumes of the water have gone to my head--and I -need but a few drops of brandy to set me all right. Billy--the flask. -There--I am as sober as a Judge. - -NORTH. - -Ay, 'tis thus, Buller, you wise wag, that you would let the "old man -garrulous" into the secret of his own tendencies--too often unconscious -he of the powers that have set so many asleep. I accept the law--but -let it--do let it be three-minute time. - -BULLER. - -Five--ten--twenty--"with thee conversing I forget all time." - -NORTH. - -Strike medium--Ten. - -BULLER. - -My dear sir, for a moment let me have that Spy-glass. - -NORTH. - -I must lay it down--for a Bevy of Fair Women are on the Mount--and are -brought so near that I hear them laughing--especially the Prima Donna, -whose Glass is in dangerous proximity with my nose. - -BULLER. - -Fling her a kiss, sir. - -NORTH. - -There--and how prettily she returns it! - -BULLER. - -Happy old man! Go where you will-- - -TALBOYS. - -Ulysses and the Syrens. Had he my air-girdle, he would swim ashore. - -NORTH. - -"Oh, mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter annos!" - -TALBOYS. - -The words are regretful--but there is no regret in the voice that -syllables them--it is clear as a bell, and as gladsome. - -NORTH. - -Talking of kissing, I hear one of the most melodious songs that ever -flowed from lady's lip-- - - "The current that with gentle motion glides, - Thou knowest, being stopped, impatiently doth rage; - But when his fair course is not hindered, - He makes sweet music with th' enamelled stones, - _Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge_ - _He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;_ - And so by many winding nooks he strays - With willing sport to the wild ocean." - -Is it not perfect? - -SEWARD. - -It is. Music--Painting, and Poetry-- - -BULLER. - -Sculpture and architecture. - -NORTH. - -Buller, you're a blockhead. Dear Mr Alison, in his charming _Essays -on Taste_, finds a little fault in what seems to me a great beauty in -this, one of the sweetest passages in Shakspeare. - -BULLER. - -Sweetest. That's a miss-mollyish word. - -NORTH. - -Ass. One of the sweetest passages in Shakspeare. He finds fault with -the Current kissing the Sedges. "The pleasing personification which -we attribute to a brook is founded upon the faint belief of voluntary -motion, and is immediately checked when the Poet _descends_ to any -minute or particular resemblance." - -SEWARD. - -Descends! - -NORTH. - -The word, to my ear, does sound strangely; and though his expression, -"faint belief," is a true and a fine one, yet here the doctrine does -not apply. Nay, here we have a true notion inconsiderately misapplied. -Without doubt Poets of more wit than sensibility do follow on a -similitude beyond the suggestion of the contemplated subject. But the -rippling of water against a sedge suggests a kiss--is, I believe, a -kiss--liquid, soft, loving, _lipped_. - -BULLER. - -Beautiful. - -NORTH. - -Buller, you are a fellow of fine taste. Compare the whole catalogue of -metaphorical kisses--admitted and claimable--and you will find this one -of the most natural of them all. Pilgrimage, in Shakspeare's day, had -dropt, in the speech of our Poets, from its early religious propriety, -of seeking a holy place under a vow, into a roving of the region. -See his "Passionate Pilgrim." If Shakspeare found the word so far -generalised, then "wanderer through the woods," or plains, or through -anything else, is the suggestion of the beholding. The river is more, -indeed; being, like the pilgrim, on his way to a term, and an obliged -way--"the wild ocean." - -SEWARD. - -The "faint belief of voluntary motion"--Mr Alison's fine -phrase--is one, and possibly the grounding incentive to -impersonating the "current" here; but other elements enter in; -liquidity--transparency--which suggest a spiritual nature, and Beauty -which moves Love. - -NORTH. - -Ay, and the Poets of that age, in the fresher alacrity of their fancy, -had a justification of comparisons, which do not occur as promptly to -us, nor, when presented to us, delight so much as they would, were our -fancy as alive as theirs. You might suspect _a priori_ Ovid, Cowley, -and Dryden, as likely to be led by indulgence of their ingenuity into -passionless similitudes--and you may misdoubt even that Shakspeare -was in danger of being so run away with. But let us have clear and -unequivocal instances. This one assuredly is not of the number. It is -exquisite. - -TALBOYS. - -Mr Alison, I presume to think, sir, should either have quoted the whole -speech, or kept the whole in view, when animadverting on those two -lines about the kissing Pilgrim. Julia, a Lady of Verona, beloved by -Proteus, is only half-done--and now she comes--to herself. - - "Then let me go, and hinder not my course; - I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, - And make a pastime of each weary step, - Till the last step have brought me to my love; - And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil, - A blessed soul doth in Elysium." - -The language of Shakspeare's Ladies is not the language we hear in -real life. I wish it were. Real life would then be delightful indeed. -Julia is privileged to be poetical far beyond the usage of the very -best circles--far beyond that of any mortal creatures. For the God -Shakspeare has made her and all her kin poetical--and if you object to -any of the lines, you must object to them all. Eminently beautiful, -sir, they are; and their beauty lies in the passionate, imaginative -spirit that pervades the whole, and sustains the Similitude throughout, -without a moment's flagging of the fancy, without a moment's departure -from the truthfulness of the heart. - -NORTH. - -Talboys, I thank you--you are at the root. - -SEWARD. - -A wonderful thing--altogether--is Impersonation. - -NORTH. - -It is indeed. If we would know the magnitude of the dominion which -the disposition constraining us to impersonate has exercised over the -human mind, we should have to go back unto those ages of the world when -it exerted itself, uncontrolled by philosophy, and in obedience to -religious impulses--when Impersonations of Natural Objects and Powers, -of Moral Powers and of Notions entertained by the Understanding, filled -the Temples of the Nations with visible Deities, and were worshipped -with altars and incense, hymns and sacrifices. - -BULLER. - -Was ever before such disquisition begotten by--an imaginary kiss among -the Sedges! - -NORTH. - -Hold your tongue, Buller. But if you would see how hard this dominion -is to eradicate, look to the most civilised and enlightened times, -when severe Truth has to the utmost cleansed the Understanding of -illusion--and observe how tenaciously these imaginary Beings, endowed -with imaginary life, hold their place in our Sculpture, Painting, and -Poetry, and Eloquence--nay, in our common and quiet speech. - -SEWARD. - -It is all full of them. The most prosaic of prosers uses poetical -language without knowing it--and Poets without knowing to what extent -and degree. - -NORTH. - -Ay, Seward, and were we to expatiate in the walks of the profounder -emotions, we should sometimes be startled by the sudden apparitions -of boldly impersonated Thoughts, upon occasions that did not seem -to promise them--where you might have thought that interests of -overwhelming moment would have effectually banished the play of -imagination. - -TALBOYS. - -Shakspeare is justified, then--and the Lady Julia spoke like a Lady in -Love with all nature--and with Proteus. - -BULLER. - -A most beautiful day is this indeed--but it is a Puzzler. - - "The Swan on still St Mary's Lake - Floats double, Swan and Shadow;" - -But here all the islands float double--and all the castles and -abbeys--and all the hills and mountains--and all the clouds and boats -and men,--double, did I say--triple--quadruple,--we are here, and -there, and everywhere, and nowhere, all at the same moment. Inishail, -I have you--no--Gutta Percha slides over you, and you have no material -existence. Very well. - -SEWARD. - -Is there no house on Inishail? - -NORTH. - -Not one--but the house appointed for all living. A Burial-place. I -see it--but not one of you--for it is little noticeable, and seldom -used--on an average, one funeral in the year. Forty years ago I stepped -into a small snuff-shop in the Saltmarket, Glasgow, to replenish my -shell--and found my friend was from Lochawe-side. I asked him if -he often revisited his native shore, and he answered--seldom, and -had not for a long time--but that though his lot did not allow him -to live there, he hoped to be buried in Inishail. We struck up a -friendship--his snuff was good, and so was his whisky, for it was -unexcised. A few years ago, trolling for Feroces, I met a boat with a -coffin, and in it the body of the old tobacconist. - -SEWARD. - -"The Churchyard among the Mountains," in Wordsworth's _Excursion_, is -alone sufficient for his immortality on earth. - -NORTH. - -It is. So for Gray's is his Elegy. But some hundred and forty lines -in all--no more--yet how comprehensive--how complete! "In a Country -Churchyard!" Every generation there buries the whole hamlet--which is -much the same as burying the whole world--or a whole world. - -SEWARD. - - "The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep!" - -All Peasants--diers and mourners! Utmost simplicity of all belonging -to life--utmost simplicity of all belonging to death. Therefore, -universally affecting. - -NORTH. - -Then the--Grayishness. - -BULLER. - -The what, sir? - -NORTH. - -The Grayishness. The exquisite scholarship, and the high artifice of -the words and music--yet all in perfect adaptation to the scene and its -essential character. Is there not in that union and communion of the -solemn-profound, and the delicate-exquisite, something Cathedral-like? -Which has the awe and infinitude of Deity and Eternity, and the -prostrations and aspirations of adoration for its basis--expressed in -the general structure and forms; and all this meeting and blent into -the minute and fine elaboration of the ornaments? Like the odours -that steal and creep on the soft, moist, evening air, whilst the dim -hush of the Universal Temple dilates and elates. The least and the -greatest in one. Why not? Is not that spiritual--angelical--divine! The -least is not too exiguous for apprehension--the amplest exceeds not -comprehension--and their united power is felt when not understood. I -speak, Seward, of that which might be suggested for a primary fault in -the Elegy--the contrast of the most artful, scholarly style, and the -simple, rude, lowly, homely matter. But you shall see that every fancy -seizes, and every memory holds especially those verses and wordings -which bring out this contrast--that richest line-- - - "The breezy call of incense-breathing morn!" - -is felt to be soon followed well by that simplest-- - - "No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed"---- - -where--I take "lowly" to imply low in earth--humbly turfed or -flowered--and of the lowly. - -SEWARD. - -And so, sir, the pomp of a Cathedral is described, though a village -Church alone is in presence. So Milton, Cromwell, and other great -powers are set in array--that which these were not, against that which -those were. - -NORTH. - -Yet hear Dr Thomas Brown--an acute metaphysician--but an obtuse -critic--and no Poet at all. "The two images in this stanza ('Full many -a gem,' &c.,) certainly produce very different degrees of poetical -delight. That which is borrowed from the rose blooming in solitude -pleases in a very high degree, both as it contains a just and beautiful -similitude, and still more as the similitude is one of the most likely -to have arisen in such a situation. But the simile in the two first -lines of the stanza, though it may perhaps philosophically be as just, -has no other charm, and strikes us immediately as not the natural -suggestion of such a moment and such a scene. To a person moralising -amid a simple Churchyard, there is perhaps no object that would not -sooner have occurred than this piece of minute jewellery--'a gem of -purest ray serene, in the unfathomed caves of ocean.'" - -SEWARD. - -A person moralising! He forgot that person was Thomas Gray. And he -never knew what you have told us now. - -NORTH. - -Why, my dear Seward, the Gem is the recognised most intense -expression, from the natural world, of worth--inestimable priceless -price--dependent on rarity and beauty. The Flower is a like intense -expression, from the same world, of the power to call forth love. The -first image is _felt_ by every reader to be high, and _exalting_ its -object; the second to be tender, and openly _pathetic_. Of course it -moves more, and of course it comes last. The Poet has just before -spoken of Milton and Cromwell--of bards and kings--and history with all -her wealth. Is the transition violent from these objects to Gems? He is -moved by, but he is not bound to, the scene and time. His own thoughts -emancipate. Brown seems utterly to have forgotten that the Poet himself -is the Dramatic person of the Monologue. Shall he be restricted from -using the richness and splendour of his own thoughts? That one stanza -sums up the two or three preceding--and is perfectly attuned to the -reigning mood, temper, or pathos. - -BULLER. - -Thank you, gentlemen. The Doctor is done brown. - -NORTH. - - "The paths of glory lead but to the grave!" - -Methinks I could read you a homily on that Text. - -BULLER. - -To-morrow, sir, if you please. To-morrow is Sunday--and you may read -it to us as we glide to Divine Service at Dalmally--two of us to the -Established, and two of us to the Free Kirk. - -NORTH. - -Be it so. But you will not be displeased with me for quoting now, from -heart-memory, a single sentence on the great line, from Beattie, and -from Adam Fergusson. "It presents to the imagination a wide plain, -where several roads appear, crowded with glittering multitudes, and -issuing from different quarters, but drawing nearer and nearer as they -advance, till they terminate in the dark and narrow house, where all -their glories enter in succession, and disappear for ever." - -SEWARD. - -Thank you, sir. That is Beattie? - -NORTH. - -It is. Fergusson's memorable words are--"If from this we are disposed -to collect any inference adverse to the pursuits of glory, it may be -asked whither do the paths of ignominy lead? If to the grave also, then -our choice of a life remains to be made on the grounds of its intrinsic -value, without regard to an end which is common to every station of -life we can lead, whether illustrious or obscure." - -SEWARD. - -Very fine. Who says it? Fergusson--who was he? - -NORTH. - -The best of you Englishers are intolerably ignorant about Scotland. Do -you know the Reverend John Mitford? - -SEWARD. - -I do--and have for him the greatest respect. - -NORTH. - -So have I. He is one of our best Editors--as Pickering is one of -our best Publishers of the Poets. But I am somewhat doubtful of the -truthfulness of his remarks on the opening of the Elegy, in the -Appendix to his excellent Life of Gray. "The Curfew 'toll' is not the -appropriate word--it was not a slow bell tolling for the dead." - -SEWARD. - -True enough, not for the dead--but Gray then felt as if it were for the -dying--and chose to say so--the parting day. Was it quick and "merry as -a marriage-bell?" I can't think it--nor did Milton, "swinging _slow_ -with sullen roar." Gray was Il Penseroso. Prospero calls it the "solemn -curfew." Toll is right. - -NORTH. - -But, says my friend Mitford, "there is another error, a confusion of -time. The curfew tolls, and the ploughman returns from work. Now the -ploughman returns two or three hours before the curfew rings; and 'the -glimmering landscape' has 'long ceased to fade' before the curfew. The -'parting day' is also incorrect; the day had long finished. But if the -word Curfew is taken simply for 'the Evening Bell,' then also is the -time incorrect--and a _knell_ is not tolled for the parting, but for -the parted--'and leaves the world to darkness and to me.' 'Now fades -the glimmering landscape on the sight.' Here the incidents, instead -of being progressive, fall back, and make the picture confused and -inharmonious; especially as it appears soon after that it was _not_ -dark. For 'the moping owl does to the moon complain.'" - -SEWARD. - -Pardon me, sir, I cannot venture to answer all that--but if Mitford -be right, Gray must be very wrong indeed. Let me see--give us it over -again--sentence by sentence-- - -BULLER. - -No--no--no. Once is enough--and enough is as good as a feast. - -NORTH. - -Talboys? - -TALBOYS. - -Since you have a great respect for Mr Mitford, sir, so have I. But -hitherto I have been a stranger to his merits. - -SEWARD. - -The best of you Scottishers are intolerably ignorant about England. - -TALBOYS. - -In the first place, Mr North, when does the Curfew toll, or ring?--for -hang me if I remember--or rather ever knew. And in the second place, -when does the Evening Bell give tongue?--for hang me if I am much -better informed as to his motions. Yet I should know something of the -family of the Bells. Say--_eight_ o'clock. Well. It is summer-time, -I suppose; for you cannot believe that so dainty a person in health -and habits, as the Poet Gray, would write an Elegy in a Country -churchyard in winter, and well on towards night. True, that is a way of -speaking; he did not write it with his crow-quill, in his neat hand, -on his neat vellum, on the only horizontal tomb-stone. But in the -Churchyard he assumes to sit--probably under a Plane-tree, for sake of -the congenial Gloom. Season of the year ascertained--Summer--time of -Curfew--eight--then I can find no fault with the Ploughman. He comes -in well--either as an image or a man. He must have been an honest, -hard-working fellow, and worth the highest wages going between the -years 1745 and 1750. At what hour do ploughmen leave the stilts in -Cambridgeshire? We must not say at six. Different hours in different -counties, Buller. - -BULLER. - -Go on--all's right, Talboys. - -TALBOYS. - -It is not too much to believe that Hodge did not grudge, occasionally, -a half-hour over, to a good master. Then he had to stable his -horses--Star and Smiler--rub them down--bed them--fill rack and -manger--water them--make sure their noses were in the oats--lock the -stable before the nags were stolen--and then, and not till then, - - "The Ploughman homewards plods his weary way." - -For he does not sleep on the Farm--he has a wife and small family--that -is, a large family of smallish children--in the Hamlet, at least two -miles off--and he does not walk for a wager of a flitch of bacon and -barrel of beer--but for his accustomed rasher and a jug--and such -endearments as will restore his weariness up to the proper pitch for a -sound night's sleep. God bless him! - -BULLER. - -Shorn of your beams, Mr North, eclipsed. - -TALBOYS. - -The ploughman, then, does not return "two or three hours before the -curfew rings." Nor has "the glimmering landscape long ceased to fade -before the curfew." Nor is "the parting day incorrect." Nor "has the -day long finished." Nor, when it may have finished, or may finish, can -any man in the hamlet, during all that gradual subsiding of light and -sound, take upon him to give any opinion at all. - -NORTH. - -My boy, Talboys. - -TALBOYS. - -"And leave the world to darkness and to me." Ay--into his hut goes -the ploughman, and leaves the world and me to darkness--which is -coming--but not yet come--the Poet knows it is coming--near at hand its -coming glooms; and Darkness shows her divinity as she is preparing to -mount her throne. - -NORTH. - -Nothing can be better. - -TALBOYS. - -"'Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight.' Here the incident, -instead of being progressive, falls back, and makes the picture -confused and inharmonious." Confused and inharmonious! By no manner -of means. Nothing of the sort. There is no retrogression--the day has -been unwilling to die--cannot believe she is dying--and cannot think -'tis for her the curfew is tolling; but the Poet feels it is even -so; the glimmering and the fading, beautiful as they are, are sure -symptoms--she is dying into Evening, and Evening will soon be the dying -into Night; but to the Poet's eye how beautiful the transmutations! Nor -knows he that the Moon has arisen, till, at the voice of the nightbird, -he looks up the ivied church-tower, and there she is, whether full, -waning, or crescent, there are not data for the Astronomer to declare. - -NORTH. - -My friend Mr Mitford says of the line, "No more shall rouse them from -their lowly bed"--That "here the epithet _lowly_, as applied to _bed_, -occasions an ambiguity, as to whether the Poet means the bed on which -they sleep, or the grave in which they are laid;" and he adds, "there -can be no greater fault in composition than a doubtful meaning." - -TALBOYS. - -There cannot be a more touching beauty. Lowly applies to both. From -their lowly bed in their lowly dwellings among the quick, those joyous -sounds used to awaken them; from their lowly bed in their lowly -dwellings among the dead, those joyous sounds will awaken them never -more: but a sound will awaken them when He comes to judge both the -quick and the dead; and for them there is Christian hope--from - - "Many a holy text around them strewed - That teach the rustic moralist to die." - -NORTH. - - "Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe hath broke; - How jocund did they drive their team afield! - How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!" - -This stanza--says Mr Mitford--"is made up of various pieces inlaid. -'Stubborn glebe' is from Gay; 'drive afield' from Milton; 'sturdy -stroke' from Spenser. Such is too much the system of Gray's -composition, and therefore such the cause of his imperfections. Purity -of language, accuracy of thought, and even similarity of rhyme, all -give way to the introduction of certain poetical expressions; in fact, -the beautiful jewel, when brought, does not fit into the new setting, -or socket. Such is the difference between the flower stuck into the -ground and those that grow from it." Talboys? - -BULLER. - -Why not--Buller? - -TALBOYS. - -I give way to the gentleman. - -BULLER. - -Not for worlds would I take the word out of any man's mouth. - -TALBOYS. - -Gray took "stubborn glebe" from Gay. Why from Gay? It has been familiar -in men's mouths from the introduction of agriculture into this Island. -May not a Saxon gentleman say "drive their teams afield" without charge -of theft from Milton, who said "drove afield." Who first said "Gee-ho, -Dobbin?" Was Spenser the first--the only man before Milton--who used -"sturdy stroke?" and has nobody used it since Gray? - -BULLER. - -You could give a "sturdy stroke" yourself, Talboys. What's your weight? - -TALBOYS. - -Gray's style is sometimes too composite--you yourself, sir, would -not deny it is so--but Mr Mitford's instances here are absurd, and -the charge founded on them false. Gray seldom, if ever--say never, -"_sacrifices_ purity of language, and accuracy of thought," for the -sake of introducing certain poetical expressions. "All give way" is a -gross exaggeration. The beautiful words of the brethren, with which -his loving memory was stored, came up in the hour of imagination, and -took their place among the words as beautiful of his own congenial -inspirations; the flowers he transplanted from poetry "languished not, -grew dim, nor died;" for he had taken them up gently by the roots, -and with some of the old mould adhering to their tendrils, and, true -florist as he was, had prepared for them a richest soil in his own -garden, which he held from nature, and which the sun and the dew of -nature nourished, and will nourish for ever. - -BULLER. - -That face is not pleasant, sir. Nothing so disfigures a face as envy. -Old Poets at last grow ugly all--but you, sir, are a Philosopher--and -on your benign countenance 'twas but a passing cloud. There--you are as -beautiful as ever--how comely in critical old age! Any farther fault to -find with our friend Mitford? - -NORTH. - - "On some fond breast the parting soul relies, - Some pious drops the closing eye requires, - Even from the tomb the voice of nature cries, - Even in our ashes live their wonted fires." - -"'Pious drops' is from Ovid--piæ lachrymæ; 'closing eye' is from -Pope--'voice of nature' from the Anthologia, and the last line from -Chaucer--'Yet on our ashes cold is fire yreken.' _From so many quarries -are the stones brought to form this elaborate Mosaic pavement._" I -say, for "piæ lachrymæ" all honour to Ovid--for "pious drops" all -honour to Gray. "Closing eye" is _not_ from Pope's Elegy; "voice -of nature" is _not_ from the Anthologia, but from Nature herself; -Chaucer's line may have suggested Gray's, but the reader of Chaucer -knows that Gray's has a tender and profound meaning which is not in -Chaucer's at all--and he knows, too, that Mr Mitford is not a reader of -Chaucer--for were he, he could not have written "ashes" for "ashen." -There were _no_ quarries--there is _no_ Mosaic. Mosaic pavement! Worse, -if possible--more ostentatiously pedantic--even than stuck in flowers, -jewels, settings, and sockets. - -TALBOYS. - -The Stanza is sacred to sorrow. - -NORTH. - -"From this Stanza," quoth Mitford, "the style of the composition drops -into _a lower key_; the language is plainer, and is not in harmony with -the splendid and elaborate diction of the former part." This objection -is disposed of by what I said some minutes ago---- - -BULLER. - -Half an hour ago--on _Grayishness_. - -NORTH. - -And I have only this farther to say, gentlemen, that though the -language is plainer--yet it is solemn; nor is it unpoetical--for -the hoary-headed swain was moved as he spake; the style, if it drop -into a lower key, is accordant with that higher key on which the -music was pitched that has not yet left our hearing. An Elegy is not -an Ode--the close should be mournful as the opening--with loftier -strain between--and it is so; and whatever we might have to say of -the Epitaph--its final lines are "awful"--as every man must have felt -them to be--whether thought on in our own lonely night-room--in the -Churchyard of Grantchester, where it is said Gray mused the Elegy--or -by that Burial-ground in Inishail--or here afloat in the joyous -sunshine for an hour privileged to be happy in a world of grief. - -BULLER. - -Let's change the subject, sir. May I ask what author you have in your -other hand? - -NORTH. - -Alison on Taste. - -BULLER. - -You don't say so! I thought you quoted from memory. - -NORTH. - -So I did; but I have dog-eared a page or two. - -BULLER. - -I see no books lying about in the Pavilion--only Newspapers--and -Magazines--and Reviews--and trash of that kind---- - -NORTH. - -Without which, you, my good fellow, could not live a week. - -BULLER. - -The Spirit of the Age! The Age should be ashamed of herself for living -from hand to mouth on Periodical Literature. The old Lady should -indeed, sir. If the Pensive Public conceits herself to be the Thinking -World-- - -NORTH. - -Let us help to make her so. I have a decent little Library of some -three hundred select volumes in the Van--my Plate-chest--and a few -dozens of choice wines for my friends--of Champagne, which you, Buller, -call small beer---- - -BULLER. - -I retracted and apologised. Is that the key of the Van at your -watch-chain? - -NORTH. - -It is. So many hundred people about the Encampment--sometimes among -them suspicious strangers in paletots in search of the picturesque, and -perhaps the pecuniary--that it is well to intrust the key to my own -body-guard. It does not weigh an ounce. And _that_ lock is not to be -picked by the ghost of Huffey White. - -SEWARD. - -But of the volume in hand, sir? - -NORTH. - -"In that fine passage in the Second Book of the Georgics," says Mr -Alison, "in which Virgil celebrates the praises of his native country, -after these fine lines-- - - 'Hic ver assiduum, atque alienis mensibus æstas; - Bis gravidæ pecudes, bis pomis utilis arbos. - At rabidæ tigres absunt, et sæva leonum - Semina: nec miseros fallunt aconita legentes: - Nec rapit immensos orbes per humum, neque tanto - Squameus in spiram tractu se colligit anguis.' - -There is no reader whose enthusiasm is not checked by the cold and -prosaic line which follows,-- - - 'Adde tot egregias urbes, operumque laborem.' - -The tameness and vulgarity of the transition dissipates at once the -emotion we had shared with the Poet, and reduces him, in our opinion, -to the level of a mere describer." - -SEWARD. - -Cold and prosaic line! Tameness and vulgarity! I am struck mute. - -NORTH. - -I have no doubt that Mr Alison distressed himself with "_Adde_." It is -a word from a merchant's counting-house, reckoning up his gains. And so -much the better. Virgil is making out the balance-sheet of Italy--he -is inventorying her wealth. Mr Alison would have every word away from -reality. Not so _the_ Poet. Every now and then, they--the Poets--amuse -themselves with dipping their pencils into the real, the common, the -everyday, the homely. By so doing they arrest belief, which above -everything they desire to hold fast. I should not wonder if you might -catch Spenser at it, even. Shakspeare is full of it. There is nothing -else prosaic in the passage; and if Virgil had had the bad taste to say -"Ecce" instead of "Adde," I suppose no fault would have been found. - -SEWARD. - -But what can Mr Alison mean by the charge of tameness and _vulgarity_? - -NORTH. - -I have told you, sir. - -SEWARD. - -You have not, sir. - -NORTH. - -I have, sir. - -SEWARD. - -Yes--yes--yes. "Adde" is vulgar! I cannot think so. - -NORTH. - -The Cities of Italy, and the "operum labor," always have been and -are an admiration. The words "Egregias urbes" suggest the general -stateliness and wealth--"operumque laborem," the particular -buildings--Temples, Basilicas, Theatres, and Great Works of the lower -Utility. A summary and most vivid expression of a land possessed -by intelligent, civilised, active, spirited, vigorous, tasteful -inhabitants--also an eminent adorning of the land. - -SEWARD. - -Lucretius says, that in spring the Cities are in flower--or on -flower--or a flower--with children. And Lucan, at the beginning of the -_Pharsalia_, describes the Ancient or Greek Cities desolate. They were -fond and proud of their "tot egregiæ urbes" as the Modern Italians -are--and with good reason. - -NORTH. - -How judiciously the Critics stop short of the lines that would -overthrow their criterion always! The present case is an extraordinary -example. Had Mr Alison looked to the lines immediately following, he -would not have objected to that One. For - - "Tot congesta manu præruptis oppida saxis, - Fluminaque antiquos subter labentia muros" - -is very beautiful--brings the whole under the domain of Poetry, by -singular Picturesqueness, and by gathering the whole past history of -Italy up--fetching it in with a word--_antiquos_. - -SEWARD. - -I can form no conjecture as to the meaning of Mr Alison's objections. -He quotes a few fine lines from the "Praise of Italy," and then -one line which he calls prosaic, and would have us to hold up our -hands in wonder at the lame and impotent conclusion--at the sudden -transformation of Virgil the poet into Virgil the most prosaic of -Prosers. You have said enough already, sir, to prove that he is in -error even on his own showing;--but how can this fragmentary--this -piecemeal mode of quotation--so common among critics of the lower -school, and so unworthy of those of the higher--have found favour with -Mr Alison, one of the most candid and most enlightened of men? Some -accidental prejudice from mere carelessness--but, once formed, retained -in spite of the fine and true Taste which, unfettered, would have felt -the fallacy, and vindicated his admired Virgil. - -NORTH. - -The "Laudes"--to which the Poet is brought by the preceding bold, -sweeping, winged, and poetical strain about the indigenous vines -of Italy--have two-fold root--TREES and the glory of LANDS. Virgil -kindles on the double suggestion--the trees of Italy compared to the -trees of other regions. They are the trees of primary human service -and gladness--Oil and Wine. For see at once the deep, sound natural -ground in human wants--the bounty of Nature--of Mother Earth--"whatever -Earth, all-bearing Mother, yields"--to her human children. That is the -gate of entrance; but not prosaically--but two gate-posts of a most -poetical mythus-fed husbandman. For we have Jason's fire-mouthed Bulls -_ploughing_, and Cadmus-sown teeth of the dragon springing up in armed -men. Then comes, instead, mild, benign, Man-loving Italy--"gravidæ -fruges"--the heavy-eared corn--or rather big-teeming--the juice -of Bacchus--the Olives, and the "broad herds of Cattle." Note--ye -Virgilians--the Corn of Book First--the Oil and Wine of Book -Second--and the Cattle of Book Third--for the sustaining Thought--the -organic life of his Work moves in his heart. - -BULLER. - -And the Fourth--Bees--honey--and honey-makers are like Milkers--in a -way small Milch-cows. - -NORTH. - -They are. Once a-foot--or a-wing--he hurries and rushes along, all -through the "Laudes." The majestic victim-Bull of the Clitumnus--the -incipient Spring--the double Summer--_the absence_ of all envenomed -and deadly broods--tigers--lions--aconite--serpents. This is NATURE'S -FAVOUR. Then _Man's Works_--cities and forts--(rock-fortresses)--the -great lakes of Northern Italy--showing Man again in their vast -edifications. Then Nature in veins of metals precious or useful--then -Nature in her production of Man--the Marsi--the Sabellian youth--the -Ligurian inured to labour--and the Volscian darters--then single mighty -shapes and powers of Man--ROMANS--the Decii, the Marii, the Camilli, - - "Scipiadas duros bello, et te, maxime Cæsar." - -The King of Men--the Lord of the Earth--the pacificator of the -distracted Empire--which, to a Roman, is as much as to say the World. -Then--hail Saturnian Land! Mother of Corn! Saturnian, because golden -Saturn had reigned there--Mother, I suppose the rather because in -_his_ time corn sprung unsown--_sine semine_--She gave it from out -of her own loving and cherishing bosom. _To Thee_, Italy, sing I my -Ascræan or Hesiodic song. The Works and Days--the Greek Georgics are -his avowed prototype--rude prototype to magnificence--like the Arab of -the Desert transplanted to rear his empire of dazzling and picturesque -civilisation in the Pyrenean Peninsula. - -BULLER. - -Take breath, sir. Virgil said well-- - - "Adde tot egregias urbes operumque laborem." - -SEWARD. - -Allow me one other word. Virgil--in the vivid lines quoted with -admiration by Mr Alison--lauds his beloved Italy for _the absence_ of -wild beasts and serpents--and he magnifies the whole race of serpents -by his picture of One--the Serpent King--yet with subjects all equal in -size to himself in our imagination. The Serpent is _in_ the Poetry, but -he is _not in_ Italy. Is this a false artifice of composition--a vain -ornament? Oh, no! He describes the Saturnian Land--the mother of corn -and of men--bounteous, benign, golden, maternal Italy. The negation has -the plenitude of life, which the fabulous absence of noxious reptiles -has for the sacred Island of Ierne. - -BULLER. - -Erin-go-bragh! - -SEWARD. - -Suddenly he sees another vision--not of what is absent but present; -and then comes the line arraigned and condemned--followed by lines as -great-- - - "Adde tot egregias urbes, operumque laborem, - Tot congesta manu præruptis oppida saxis, - Fluminaque antiquos subter labentia muros." - -The first line grasps in one handful all the mighty, fair, wealthy -CITIES of Italy--the second all the rock-cresting _Forts_ of -Italy--from the Alpine head to the sea-washed foot of the Peninsula. -The collective One Thought of the Human Might and Glory of Italy--as -it appears on the countenance of the Land--or visible in its utmost -concentration in the girdled Towns and Cities of Men. - -BULLER. - -"Adde" then is right, Seward. On that North and you are at one. - -NORTH. - -Yes, it is right, and any other word would be wrong. ADDE! Note the -sharpness, Buller, of the significance--the vivacity of the short -open sound. Fling it out--ring it out--sing it out. Look at the -very repetition of the powerful "TOT"--"_tot_ egregias"--"_tot_ -congesta"--witnessing by one of the first and commonest rules in the -grammar of rhetoric--whether Virgil speaks in prose or in fire. - -BULLER. - -In fire. - -NORTH. - -Mr Alison then goes on to say, "that the effect of the following -nervous and beautiful lines, in the conclusion of the same Book, is -_nearly destroyed_ by a similar defect. After these lines, - - "Hanc olim veteres vitam coluêre Sabini, - Hanc Remus et Frater; sic fortis Etruria crevit, - Scilicet et rerum facta est pulcherrima Roma;" - -We little expect the following _spiritless_ conclusion:-- - - "_Septemque una sibi muro circumdedit arces._" - -SEWARD. - -Oh! why does Mr Alison call that line _spiritless_? - -NORTH. - -He gives no reason--assured by his own dissatisfaction, that he has but -to quote it, and leave it in its own naked impotence. - -SEWARD. - -I hope you do not think it spiritless, sir. - -NORTH. - -I think it contains the concentrated essence of spirit and of power. -Let any one think of Rome, piled up in greatness, and grandeur, -and glory--and a Wall round about--and in a moment his imagination -is filled. What sort of a Wall? A garden wall to keep out orchard -thieves--or a modern wall of a French or Italian town to keep out wine -and meat, that they may come in at the gate and pay toll? I trow not. -But a Wall against the World armed and assailing! Remember that Virgil -saw Rome--and that his hearers did--and that in his eyes and theirs -she was Empress of the inhabited Earth. She held and called herself -such--it was written in her face and on her forehead. The visible, -tangible splendour and magnificence meant this, or they meant nothing. -The stone and lime said this--and Virgil's line says it, sedately and -in plain, simple phrase, which yet is a Climax. - -SEWARD. - -As the dreaded Semiramis was flesh and blood--corporeal--made of the -four elements--yet her soul and her empiry spake out of her--so spake -they from the Face of Rome. - -NORTH. - -Ay, Seward--put these two things together--the Aspect that speaks -Domination of the World, and the Wall that girds her with strength -impregnable--and what more could you possibly demand from her Great -Poet? - -SEWARD. - -Arx is a Citadel--we may say an Acropolis. Athens had one Arx--so had -Corinth. One Arx is enough to one Queenly City. But this Queen, within -her one Wall, has enclosed Seven Arces--as if she were Seven Queens. - -NORTH. - -Well said, Seward. The Seven Hills appeared--and to this day do--to -characterise the Supremacy of Rome. The Seven-Hilled City! You seem -to have said everything--the Seven Hills are as a seven-pillared -Throne--and all that is in one line--given by Virgil. Delete it--no not -for a thousand gold crowns. - -BULLER. - -Not for the Pigot Diamond--not for the Sea of Light. - -NORTH. - -Imagine Romulus tracing the circuit on which the walls were to rise of -his little Rome--the walls ominously lustrated with a brother's blood. -War after war humbles neighbouring town after town, till the seas that -bathe, and the mountains that guard Italy, enclose the confederated -Republic. It is a step--a beginning. East and West, North and South, -flies the Eagle, dipping its beak in the blood of battle-fields. Where -it swoops, there fanning away the pride, and fame, and freedom of -nations, with the wafture of its wings. Kingdoms and Empires that were, -are no more than Provinces; till the haughty Roman, stretching out the -fact to the limits of his ambitious desires, can with some plausibility -deceive himself, and call the edges of the Earth the boundaries of his -unmeasured Dominion. - -SEWARD. - -"O Italy! Italy! would Thou wert stronger or less beautiful!"--was the -mournful apostrophe of an Italian Poet, who saw, in the latter ages, -his refined but enervated countrymen trampled under the foot of a more -martial people from far beyond the Alps. - -NORTH. - -Good Manners giving a vital energy and efficacy to good Laws--in these -few words, gentlemen, may be comprised the needful constituents of -National Happiness and Prosperity--the foremost conditions. - -TALBOYS. - -Ay--ay--sir. For good Laws without good Manners are an empty -breath--whilst good Manners ask the protecting and preserving succour -of good Laws. But the good Manners are of the first necessity, for they -naturally produce the good Laws. - -NORTH. - -What does history show, Talboys, but nations risen up to flourish in -wealth, power, and greatness, that with corrupted and luxurious manners -have again sunk from their pre-eminence; whilst another purer and -simpler people has in turn grown mighty, and taken their room in the -world's eye--some hardy, simple, frugal race, perhaps, whom the seeming -disfavour of nature constrains to assiduous labour, and who maintain in -the lap of their mountains their independence and their pure and happy -homes. - -TALBOYS. - -The Luxury--the invading Goth and Hun--the dismembering--and new States -uprisen upon the ruins of the World's fallen Empire. There is one line -in Collins' _Ode to Freedom_--Mr North--which I doubt if I understand. - -NORTH. - -Which? - -TALBOYS. - - "No, Freedom, no--I will not tell - How Rome before thy weeping face - Pushed by a wild and artless race - From off its wide, ambitious base, - With heaviest sound a giant-statue fell-- - What time the northern Sons of Spoil awoke, - And all the blended work of strength and grace, - With many a rude repeated stroke, - And many a barbarous yell, to thousand fragments broke." - -NORTH. - -Which? - -TALBOYS. - -"How Rome before thy _weeping face_." - -NORTH. - -Freedom wept at Rome's overthrow--though she had long been Freedom's -enemy--and though her destroyers were Freedom's children--and "Spoil's -Sons"--for how could Freedom look unmoved at the wreck "of all that -blended work of strength and grace"--though raised by slaves at the -beck of Tyrants? It was not always so. - -BULLER. - -Let me, Apollo-like, my dear sir, pinch your ear, and admonish you to -return to the point from which, in discursive gyrations, you and Seward -have been---- - -NORTH. - -Like an Eagle giving an Eaglet lessons how to fly---- - -BULLER. - -You promised solemnly, sir, not to mention Eagles this evening. - -NORTH. - -I did not, sir. - -BULLER. - -But, then, Seward is no Eaglet--he is, and long has been, a -full-fledged bird, and can fly as well's yourself, sir. - -NORTH. - -There you're right. But then, making a discursive gyration round a -point is not leaving it--and there you're wrong. Silly folk--not you, -Buller, for you are a strong-minded, strong-bodied man--say "keep to -the point"--knowing that if you quit it one inch, you will from their -range of vision disappear--and then they comfort themselves by charging -you with having melted among the clouds. - -BULLER. - -I was afraid, my dear sir, that having got your Eaglet on your back--or -your Eaglet having got old Aquila on his--you would sail away with -him--or he with you--"to prey in distant isles." - -NORTH. - -You promised solemnly, sir, not to mention Eagles this evening. - -BULLER. - -I did not, sir. But don't let us quarrel. - -SEWARD. - -What does Virgil mean, sir, by "Rerum," in the line which Mr Alison -thinks should have concluded the strain-- - - "Scilicet et rerum facta est pulcherrima Roma." - -NORTH. - -"Rerum"--what does he mean by "Rerum?" Let me perpend. Why, Seward, the -legitimate meaning of Res here is a State--a Commonwealth. "The fairest -of Powers--then--of Polities--of States." - -SEWARD. - -Is that all the word means here? - -NORTH. - -Why, methinks we must explain. Observe, then, Seward, that Rome is the -Town, as England the Island. Thus "England has become the fairest among -the Kingdoms of the Earth." This is equivalent, good English; and the -only satisfactory and literal translation of the Latin verse. But here, -the Physical and the Political are identified,--that is, England. -England is the name at once of the Island--of so much earth limited -out on the surface of the terraqueous globe--and of what besides? Of -the Inhabitants? Yes; but of the Inhabitants (as the King never dies) -perpetuated from generation to generation. Moreover, of this immortal -inhabitation, further made one by blood and speech, laws, manners, and -everything that makes a people. In short, England, properly the name of -the land, is intended to be, at the same time, the name of the Nation. - - "England, with all thy faults, I love Thee still." - -There Cowper speaks to both at once--the faults are of the men -only--moral--for he does not mean fogs, and March east winds, and -fever and agues. I love thee--is to the green fields and the white -cliffs, as well as to all that still survives of the English heart and -thought and character. And this absorption, sir, and compenetration of -the two ideas--land into people, people into land--the exposition of -which might, in good hands, be made beautiful--is a fruitful germ of -Patriotism--an infinite blending of the spiritual and the corporeal. To -Virgil, Rome the City was also Rome the Romans; and, therefore, sir, -those Houses and Palaces, and that Wall, were to him, as those green -fields, and hills, and streams, and towns, and those cliffs are to Us. -The girdled-in compendium of the Heaven's Favour and the Earth's Glory -and Power. - - "Scilicet et RERUM facta est pulcherrima ROMA, - Septemque una sibi muro circumdedit arces." - -Do you all comprehend and adopt my explanation, gentlemen? - -TALBOYS. - -I do. - -BULLER. - -I----do. - -SEWARD. - -I ask myself whether Virgil's "Rerum Pulcherrima" may not mean "Fairest -of Things"--of Creatures--of earthly existences? To a young English -reader, probably that is the first impression. It was, I think, mine. -But fairest of earthly States and Seats of State is so much more -idiomatic and to the purpose, that I conceive it--indubitable. - -NORTH. - -You all remember what Horatio sayeth to the soldiers in Hamlet, on the -coming and going of the Ghost. - - 'In the most high and palmy state of Rome, - A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, - The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead - Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets; - Stars shone with trains of fire, dews of blood fell; - Disasters veiled the sun, and the moist star - Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands, - Was sick almost to Doomsday with eclipse.' - -What does Horatio mean by high and palmy state? That Rome was in a -flourishing condition? - -BULLER. - -That, I believe, sir, is the common impression. Hitherto it has been -mine. - -NORTH. - -Let it be erased henceforth and for ever. - -BULLER. - -It is erased--I erase it. - -NORTH. - -Read henceforth and for ever high and palmy State. Write henceforth -and for ever State with a towering Capital. RES! "Most high and palmy -State" is precisely and literally "_Rerum Pulcherrima_." - -SEWARD. - -At your bidding--you cannot err. - -NORTH. - -I err not unfrequently--but not now, nor I believe this evening. -Horatio, the Scholar, speaks to the two Danish Soldiers. They have -brought him to be of their watch because he is a Scholar--and they are -none. This relation of distinction is indeed the ground and life of the -Scene. - - "Therefore I have entreated him, along - With us to watch the minutes of the night; - That if again this apparition come, - He may approve our eyes, and speak to it." - -TALBOYS. - - "Thou art a Scholar--speak to it, Horatio." - -NORTH. - -You know, Talboys, that Scholars were actual Conjurors, in the mediæval -belief, which has tales enow about Scholars in that capacity. Horatio -comes, then, possessed with an especial Power; he knows how to deal -with Ghosts--he could lay one, if need were. He is not merely a man of -superior and cultivated intellect, whom intellectual inferiors engage -to assist them in an emergency above their grasp--but he is the _very_ -man for the work. - -TALBOYS. - -Have not the Commentators said as much, sir? - -NORTH. - -Perhaps--probably--who? If they have in plenitude, I say it -again--because I once did not know it--or think of it--and I suppose -that a great many persons die believing that the Two resort in the way -of general dependence merely on Horatio. - -TALBOYS. - -I believed, but I shall not die believing so. - -NORTH. - -Therefore, the scholarship of Horatio, and the non-scholarship of -Bernardo and Marcellus, strikes into the life, soul, essence, ground, -foundation, fabric, and organisation of this First Ghost Scene--sustain -and build the whole Play. - -TALBOYS. - -Eh? - -NORTH. - -Eh? Yes. But to the point in hand. The Ghost has come and gone; and -the Scholar addresses his Mates the two Non-Scholars. And show me the -living Scholar who could speak as Horatio spake. Touching the matter -that is in all their minds oppressively, _he_ will transport _their_ -minds a flight suddenly off a thousand years, and a thousand miles or -leagues--their untutored minds into the Region of History. He will -take them to Rome--"_a little ere_"--and, therefore, before naming -Rome, he lifts and he directs their imagination--"In the most high -and palmy STATE." There had been Four Great Empires of the World--and -he will by these few words evoke in their minds the Image of the last -and greatest. And now observe with what decision, as well as with what -majesty, the nomination ensues--OF ROME. - -TALBOYS. - -I feel it, sir. - -NORTH. - -Try, Talboys, to render "State" by any other word, and you will -be put to it. You may analogise. It is for the Republic and City, -what Realm or Kingdom is to us--at once Place and indwelling Power. -"State"--properly Republic--here specifically and pointedly means -Reigning City. The Ghosts walked in the City--not in the Republic. - -TALBOYS. - -I think I have you, sir--am not sure. - -NORTH. - -You have me--you are sure. Now suppose that, instead of the solemn, -ceremonious, and stately robes in which Horatio attires the Glorious -Rome, he had said simply, "in Rome," or "at Rome," where then -his @psychagôgia@--his leading of their spirits? Where his own -scholar-enthusiasm, and love, and joy, and wonder? All gone! And -where, Talboys, are they who, by here understanding "state" for -"condition"--which every man alive does-- - -TALBOYS. - -Every man alive? - -NORTH. - -Yes, you did--confess you did. Where are they, I ask, who thus oblige -Horatio to introduce his nomination of Rome--thus nakedly--and -prosaically? Every hackneyer of this phrase--_state_--as every man -alive hackneys it--is a nine-fold Murderer. He murders the Phrase--he -murders the Speech--he murders Horatio--he murders the Ghost--he -murders the Scene--he murders the Play--he murders Rome--he murders -Shakspeare--and he murders Me. - -TALBOYS. - -I am innocent. - -NORTH. - -Why, suppose Horatio to mean--"in the most glorious and victorious -_condition_ of Rome, on the Eve of Cæsar's death, the graves stood -tenantless"--You ask--WHERE? See where you have got. A story told with -two determinations of Time, and none of Place! Is that the way that -Shakspeare, the intelligent and intelligible, recites a fact? No. But -my explanation shows the Congruity or Parallelism. "In the _most high -and palmy_ State,"--that is, City of Rome--ceremonious determination -of Place--"a little ere the _mightiest_ Julius fell,"--ceremonious -determination of Time. - -TALBOYS. - -But is not the use of State, sir, for City, bold and singular? - -NORTH. - -It is. For Verse has her own Speech--though Wordsworth denies it in -his Preface--and proves it by his Poetry, like his brethren Shakspeare -and Milton. The language of Verse is rapid--abrept and abrupt. Horatio -wants the notion of Republic; because properly the Republic is high -and palmy, and not the wood, stone, and marble. So he manages an -expeditious word that shall include both, and strike you at once. The -word of a Poet strikes like a flash of lightning--it penetrates--it -does not stay to be scanned--"probed, vexed, and criticised,"--it -illuminates and is gone. But you must have eyes--and suffer nobody to -shut them. I ask, then--Can any lawful, well-behaved Citizen, having -weighed all this, and reviewed all these things, again violate the -Poesy of the Avonian Swan, and his own muse-enlightened intelligence, -by lending hand or tongue to the convicted and condemned VULGARISM? - -TALBOYS. - -Now, then, and not till now, we Three know the full power of the lines-- - - "Scilicet et Rerum facta est pulcherrima Roma, - Septemque una sibi muro circumdedit arces." - -NORTH. - -Another word anent Virgil. Mr Alison says--"There is a still more -surprising instance of this fault in one of the most pathetic passages -of the whole Poem, in the description of the disease among the cattle, -which concludes the Third Georgic. The passage is as follows:-- - - "Ecce autem duro fumans sub vomere Taurus - Concidit, et mixtum spumis vomit ore cruorem - Extremosque ciet gemitus; it tristis arator, - Moerentem abjungens fraternâ morte juvencum, - Atque opere in medio defixa relinquit aratra." - -_The unhappy image_ in the second line is less calculated to excite -compassion than disgust, and is singularly ill-suited to the tone -of tenderness and delicacy which the Poet has everywhere else so -successfully maintained, in describing the progress of the loathsome -disease." The line here objected to is the life of the description--and -instead of offence, it is the clenching of the pathos. First of -all, it is that which the Poet always will have and the Critics -wont--the _Necessitated_--the Thing itself--the Matter in hand. It -shapes--features--characterises that particular Murrain. Leave it -out--'the one Ox drops dead in the furrow, and the Ploughman detaches -the other.' It's a great pity, and very surprising--but that is NO -PLAGUE. Suddenly he falls, and blood and foam gush mixed with his -expiring breath. _That is a plague._ It has terror--affright--sensible -horror--life vitiated, poisoned in its fountains. _Vomit_--a settled -word, and one of the foremost, of the reversed, unnatural vital -function. Besides, it is the true and proper word. Besides, it is -vivid and picturesque, being the word of the Mouth. _Effundit_ (which -they would prefer)--(I do not mean it would stand in the verse) is -general--might be from the ears. _Vomit_ in itself says mouth. The -poor mouth! whose function is to breathe, and to eat grass, and -to caress--the visible organ of life--of vivification--and now of -mortification. Taken from the dominion of the holy powers, and given up -to the dark and nameless destroyer. "_Vomit ore cruorem!_" The verse -moans and groans for him--it may have in it a death-rattle. How much -more helpless and hopeless the real picture makes Arator's distress! -Now, "_it tristis_" comes with effect. - -SEWARD. - -Yes, Virgil, as in duty bound to do, faced the Cattle Plague in all its -horrors. Had he not, he would have been false to Pales, the Goddess -of Shepherds--to Apollo, who fed the herds of Admetus. So did his -Master, Lucretius--whom he emulated--equalled, but not surpassed, in -execution of the dismal but inevitable work. The whole land groaned -under the visitation--nor was it confined to Cattle--it seemed as if -the brute creation were about to perish. But his tender heart, near -the close, singled out, from the thousands, one yoke of Steers--in two -lines and a half told the death of one--in two lines and a half told -the sadness of its owner--and in as many lines more told, too, of the -survivor sinking, because his brother "was not"--and in as many more a -lament for the cruel sufferings of the harmless creature--lines which, -Scaliger says, he would rather have written than have been honoured by -the Lydian or the Persian king. - -BULLER. - -Perhaps you have said enough, Seward. It might have been better, -perhaps, to have recited the whole passage. - -NORTH. - -Here is a sentence or two about Homer. - -BULLER. - -Then you are off. Oh! sir--why not for an hour imitate that Moon -and those Stars? How silently they shine! But what care you for the -heavenly luminaries? In the majestic beauty of the nocturnal heavens -vain man will not hold his peace. - -SEWARD. - -Is that the murmur of the far-off sea? - -NORTH. - -It is--the tide, may be, is on its return--is at "Connal's raging -Ferry"--from Loch Etive--yet this is not its hour--'tis but the -mysterious voice of Night. - -BULLER. - -Hush! - -NORTH. - -By moonlight and starlight, and to the voice of Night, I read these -words from Mr Alison--"In the speech of Agamemnon to Idomeneus, in -the Fourth Book of the Iliad, a circumstance is introduced altogether -inconsistent both with the _dignity of the speech, and the Majesty of -Epic Poetry_:-- - - 'Divine Idomeneus! what thanks we owe - To worth like thine, what praise shall we bestow! - To Thee the foremost honours are decreed, - First in the fight, and every graceful deed. - For this, in banquets, when the generous bowls - Restore our blood, and raise the warriors' souls, - Though all the rest with stated rules be bound, - Unmixed, unmeasured, are thy goblets crowned.'" - -SEWARD. - -That is Pope. Do you remember Homer himself, sir? - -NORTH. - -I do. - - @Idomenehy, pheri mhen se thiô Danahôn tachyphôlôn, - hêmhen henhi ptolhemô hêd' hallohiô hephi hergô, - êd' hen dahith', hote pher te gerohysion ahithopa ohinon - 'Argehiôn ohi haristoi henhi krêthêrsi kherôntai. - ehiper ghar t' halloi ge karêkomhoôntes 'Achaiohi - daitrhon phinôsin, shon dhe plehion dhepas ahiehi - hestêch', hôsper hemohi, piheein, hote thymhos hanhôgoi. - hall' horseu pholemhond', ohios pharos ehycheo ehinai.@ - -I believe you will find that in general men praise more truly, that is -justly, deservedly, than they condemn. They praise from an impulse of -love--that is, from a capacity. Nature protects love more than hate. -Their condemnation is often mere incapacity--want of insight. Mr Alison -had elegance of apprehension--truth of taste--a fine sense of the -beautiful--a sense of the sublime. His instances for praise are always -well--often newly chosen, from an attraction felt in his own genial -and noble breast. The true chord struck then. But he was somewhat too -dainty-schooled--school-nursed, and school-born. A judge and critic of -Poetry should have been caught wild, and tamed; he should carry about -him to the last some relish of the wood and the wilderness, as if he -were ever in some danger of breaking away, and relapsing to them. He -should know Poetry as a great power of the Universe--a sun--of which -the Song--whosesoever--only catches and fixes a few rays. How different -in thought was Epos to him and to Homer! Homer paints Manners--archaic, -simple manners. Everybody feels--everybody says this--Mr Alison must -have known it--and could have said it as well as the best-- - -SEWARD. - -But the best often forget it. They seem to hold to this knowledge -better now, Mr North; and they do not make Homer answerable as a Poet, -for the facts of which he is the Historian--Why not rather accept than -criticise? - -NORTH. - -I am sorry, Seward, for the Achæan Chiefs who had to drink -@daitron@--that is all. I had hoped that they helped themselves. - -SEWARD. - -Perhaps, sir, the Stint was a custom of only the @oinon gerousion@--a -ceremonious Bowl--and if so, undoubtedly with religious institution. -The Feast is not honorary--only the Bowl: for anything that appears, -Agamemnon, feasting his Princes, might say, "Now, for the Bowl of -Honour"--and Idomeneus alone drinks. Or let the whole Feast be -honorific, and the Bowl the sealing, and crowning, and characterising -solemnity. Now, the distinction of the Stint, and the Full Bowl, -selected for a signal of different honouring, has to me no longer -anything irksome. It is no longer a grudged and scanted cheer--but -lawful Assignment of Place. - -TALBOYS. - -The moment you take it for Ceremonial, sir, you don't know what -profound meaning may, or may not be in it. The phrase is very -remarkable. - -NORTH. - -When the "Best of the Argives" mix in the Bowl "the honorific -dark-glowing wine," or the dark-glowing wine of honour--when -@hote@--quite a specific and peculiar occasion, and confined to the -wine--you would almost think that the Chiefs themselves are the -wine-mixers, and not the usual ministrants--which would perhaps express -the descent of an antique use from a time and manners of still greater -simplicity than those which Homer describes. Or take it merely, that -in great solemnities, high persons do the functions proper to Servants. -This we do know, that usually a servant, the @Tamieus@, or the -@oinochoos@, does mix the Bowl. By the way, Talboys, I think you will -be not a little amused with old Chapman's translation of the passage. - -TALBOYS. - -A fiery old Chap was George. - -NORTH. - -It runs thus-- - - "O Idomen, I ever loved thyself past all the Greeks, - In war, or any work of peace, at table, everywhere; - For when the best of Greeks, besides, mix ever at our cheer - My good old ardent wine with small, and our inferior mates - Drink ever that mixt wine measured too, thou drink'st without those - rates - Our old wine _neat_; and ever more thy bowl stands like to mine; - To drink still when and what thou wilt; then rouse that heart of - thine; - And whatsoever heretofore thou hast assumed to be, - This day be greater." - -TALBOYS. - -Well done, Old Buck! This fervour and particularity are admirable. -But, methinks, if I caught the words rightly, that George mistakes the -meaning of @gerousôn@--honorary; he has @gerôn gerontos@, an _old man_, -singing in his ears; but old for wine would be quite a different word. - -NORTH. - -And he makes Agamemnon commend Idomeneus for drinking generously and -honestly, whilst the others are afraid of their cups--as Claudius, -King of Denmark, might praise one of his strong-headed courtiers, -and laugh at Polonius. Agamemnon does not say that Idomeneus' goblet -was _not_ mixed--was _neat_--rather we use to think that wine was -always mixed--but whether "with small," as old Chapman says, or with -water, I don't know--but I fancied water! But perhaps, Seward, the -investigation of a Grecian Feast in heroic time, and in Attic, becomes -an exigency. Chapman is at least determined--and wisely--to show that -he is not afraid of the matter--that he saw nothing in it "altogether -inconsistent with the dignity of the speech and the majesty of Epic -Poetry." - -SEWARD. - -Dignity! Majesty! They stand, sir, in the whole together--in the -Manners taken collectively by themselves throughout the entire -Iliad--and then taken as a part of the total delineation. Apply our -modern notions of dignity and majesty to the Homeric Poetry, and we -shall get a shock in every other page. - -NORTH. - -The Homeric, heroic manners! Heyne has a Treatise or Excursus--as -you know--on the @hautarkeia@--I think he calls it--of the Homeric -Heroes--their waiting on themselves, or their self-sufficiency--where I -think that he collects the picture. - -SEWARD. - -I am ashamed to say I do not know it. - -NORTH. - -No matter. You see how this connects with the scheme of the Poem--in -which, prevalent or conspicuous by the amplitude of the space which it -occupies, is the individual prowess of heroes in field--conspicuous, -too, by its moment in action. This is another and loftier mode of the -@hautarkeia@. The human bosom is a seat or fountain of power. Power -goes forth, emanates in all directions, high and low, right and left. -The Man is a terrestrial God. He takes counsel with his own heart, -and he acts. "He conversed with his own magnanimous spirit"--or as -Milton says of Abdiel meeting Satan--"And thus his own undaunted heart -explored." - -SEWARD. - -Yes, Mr North, the Man is as a terrestrial God; but--with continual -recognition by the Poet and his heroes--as under the celestial Gods. -And I apprehend, sir, that this two-fold way of representing man, in -himself and towards them, is that which first separates the Homeric -from and above all other Poetry, is its proper element of grandeur, in -which we never bathe without coming out aggrandised. - -NORTH. - -Seward, you instruct me by---- - -SEWARD. - -Oh, no, sir! You instruct me---- - -NORTH. - -We instruct each other. For this the heroes are all Demigods--that is, -the son of a God, or Goddess, or the Descendant at a few Generations. -Sarpedon is the Son of Jupiter, and his death by Patroclus is perhaps -the passage of the whole Iliad that most specially and energetically, -and most profoundly and pathetically, makes the Gods intimate to the -life and being of men--presents the conduct of divinity and humanity -with condescension there, and for elevation here. I do not mean that -there is not more pomp of glorification about Achilles, for whom -Jupiter comes from Olympus to Ida, and Vulcan forges arms--whose -Mother-Goddess is Messenger to and from Jupiter, and into whose lips, -when he is faint with toil and want of nourishment--abstaining in -his passion of sorrow and vengeance--Minerva, descending, instils -Nectar. But I doubt if there be anything so touching--_under this -relation_--and so intimately aggrandising as that other whole -place--the hesitation of Jupiter whether he shall VIOLATE FATE, in -order to save his own flesh and blood from its decreed stroke--the -consolatory device of Juno (in remonstrating and dissuading) that -he shall send Apollo to call Death and Sleep--a God-Messenger to -God-Ministers--to bear the dead body from the battle-field to his own -land and kin for due obsequies. And, lastly, those _drops of blood_ -which fall from the sky to the earth, as if the heart-tears of the Sire -of all the worlds and their inhabitants. - -BULLER. - -You are always great, sir, on Homer. But, pray, have you any intention -of returning to the @hautarkeia@? - -NORTH. - -Ha! Buller--do you speak? I have not wandered from it. But since you -seem to think I have, think of Patroclus lighting a fire under a tripod -with his own hands, to boil meat for Achilles' guests--of Achilles -himself helping to lay the ransomed body of Hector on the car that was -to take it away. This last is honorific and pathetic. Ministrations of -all degrees for themselves, in their own affairs, characterise them -all. From the least of these to Achilles fighting the River-God--which -is an excess--all holds together--is of one meaning--and here, as -everywhere, the least, and the familiar, and most homely, attests, -vouches, makes evident, probable, and facile to credence, the highest, -most uncouth, remote, and difficult otherwise of acceptation. Pitching -the speculation lower, plenitude of the most robust, ardent, vigorous -life overflows the Iliad--up from the animal to the divine--from the -beautiful tall poplar by the river-side, which the wheelwright or -wainwright fells. Eating, drinking, sleeping, thrusting through with -spears, and hacking the live flesh off the bone--all go together and -help one another--and make the "Majesty and Dignity"--or what not--of -the Homeric Epos. But I see, Buller, that you are _timing me_--and I am -ashamed to confess that I have exceeded the assigned limit. Gentlemen, -I ask all your pardons. - -BULLER. - -Timing you--my dear sir! Look--'tis only my snuff-box--your own -gift--with your own haunted Head on the lid--inspired work of Laurence -Macdonald. - -NORTH. - -Give it me--why there--there--by your own unhappy awkwardness--it has -gone--gone--to the bottom of the deepest part of the Loch! - -BULLER. - -I don't care. It _was_ my chronometer! The Box is safe. - -NORTH. - -And so is the Chronometer. Here it is--I was laughing at you--in my -sleeve. - -BULLER. - -Another Herman Boaz!--Bless my eyes, there is Kilchurn! It must -be--there is no other such huge Castle, surely, at the head of the -Loch--and no other such mountains-- - -NORTH. - -You promised solemnly, sir, not to say a single word about Loch Awe -or its appurtenance, this Evening--so did every mother's son of us at -your order--and t'was well--for we have seen them and felt them all--at -times not the less profoundly--as the visionary pomp keeps all the -while gliding slowly by--perpetual accompaniment of our discourse, not -uninspired, perhaps, by the beauty or the grandeur, as our imagination -was among the ideal creations of genius--with the far-off in place and -in time--with generations and empires - - "When dark oblivion swallows cities up, - And mighty States, characterless, are grated - To dusty nothing!" - -SEWARD. - -In the declining light I wonder your eyes can see to read print. - -NORTH. - -My eyes are at a loss with Small Pica--but veritable Pica I can master, -yet, after sunset. Indeed, I am sharpest-sighted by twilight, like a -cat or an owl. - -BULLER. - -Have you any more annotations on Alison? - -NORTH. - -Many. The flaws are few. I verily believe these are all. To elucidate -his Truths--in Taste and in Morals--would require from us Four a far -longer Dialogue. Alison's Essays should be reprinted in one Pocket -Volume--wisdom and Goodness are in that family hereditary--the editing -would be a Work of Love--and in Bohn's Standard Library they would -confer benefit on thousands who now know but their name. - -SEWARD. - -My dear sir, last time we voyaged the Loch, you said -a few words--perhaps you may remember it--about those -philosophers--Alison--the "Man of Taste," as Thomas Campbell loved -to call him--assuredly is not of the number--who have insisted on -the natural Beauty of Virtue, and natural Deformity of Vice, and -have appeared to place our capacity of distinguishing Right from -Wrong chiefly, if not solely, on the sense of this Beauty and of this -Deformity-- - -NORTH. - -I remember saying, my dear Seward, that they have drawn their views -too much from the consideration of the state of these feelings in men -who had been long exercised in the pure speculative contemplation of -moral Goodness and Truth, as well as in the calmness and purity of a -tranquil, virtuous life. Was it so? - -SEWARD. - -It was. - -NORTH. - -In such minds, when all the calm faculties of the soul are wedded in -happy union to the image of Virtue, there is, I have no doubt, that -habitual feeling for which the term Beauty furnishes a natural and just -expression. But I apprehend that this is not the true expression of -that serious and solemn feeling which accompanies the understanding of -the qualities of Moral Action in the minds of the generality of men. -They who in the midst of their own unhappy perversions, are visited -with knowledge of those immutable distinctions, and they who in the -ordinary struggles and trials incident to our condition, maintain their -conduct in unison with their strongly grounded principles and better -aspirations, would seldom, I apprehend, employ this language for the -description of feelings which can hardly be separated, from the ideas -of an awful responsibility involving the happiness and misery of the -accountable subjects of a moral order of Government. - -SEWARD. - -You think, sir, that to assign this perception of Beauty and Deformity, -as the groundwork of our Moral Nature, is to rest on too slight a -foundation that part of man's constitution which is first in importance -to his welfare? - -NORTH. - -Assuredly, my dear friend, I do. Nay, I do not fear to say that the -Emotion, which may properly be termed a Feeling of Beauty in Virtue, -takes place at those times when the deepest affection of our souls -towards Good and Evil acts less strongly, and when the Emotion we feel -is derived more from Imagination--and-- - -SEWARD. - -And may I venture to suggest, sir, that as Imagination, which is -so strong a principle in our minds, will take its temper from any -prevalent feelings, and even from any fixed and permanent habits of -mind, so our Feeling of Beauty and Deformity shall be different to -different men, either according to the predominant strength of natural -principles, or according to their course of life? - -NORTH. - -Even so. And therefore this general disposition of Imagination to -receive its character will apply, no doubt, where the prevailing -feelings and habits are of a Moral cast; and hence in minds engaged -in calm intellectual speculation, and maintaining their own moral -nature rather in innocence and simplicity of life than in the midst -of difficult and trying situations and in conflict with passions, -there can be no doubt that the Imagination will give itself up to this -general Moral Cast of Mind, and feel Beauty and Deformity vividly and -uniformly in the contemplation of the moral quality of actions and -moral states of character. - -SEWARD. - -But your words imply--do they not, sir? that such is the temper of -their calmer minds, and not the emotion which is known when, from any -great act of Virtue or Crime, which comes suddenly upon them, their -Moral Spirit rises up in its native strength, to declare its own -Affection and its own Judgment? - -NORTH. - -Just so. Besides, my excellent friend, if you consider well the feeling -which takes possession of us, on contemplating some splendid act -of heroic and self-devoting Virtue, we shall find that the sort of -enthusiastic transport which may kindle towards him who has performed -it, is not properly a moral transport at all; but it is a burst of -love and admiration. Take out, then, from any such emotion, what -Imagination, and Love, and Sympathy have supplied, and leave only what -the Moral Spirit recognises of Moral Will in the act, and you will -find that much of that dazzling and splendid Beauty which produced the -transport of loving admiration is removed. - -SEWARD. - -And if so, sir, then must it be very important that we should not -deceive ourselves, and rely upon the warmth of emotion we may feel -towards generous and heroic actions as evidence of the force of the -Moral Principle in our own breasts, which requires to be ascertained by -a very different test-- - -NORTH. - -Ay, Seward; and it is important also, that we should learn to -acknowledge and to respect, in those who, without the capacity of such -vivid feelings, are yet conscientiously faithful to the known Moral -Law, the merit and dignity of their Moral Obedience. We must allow -to Virtue, my dearest Seward, all that is her due--her countenance -beautiful in its sweet serenity--her voice gentle and mild--her -demeanour graceful--and a simple majesty in the flowing folds of her -stainless raiment. So may we picture her to our imagination, and to -our hearts. But we must beware of making such abstractions fantastic -and visionary, lest we come at last to think of emotions of Virtue -and Taste as one and the same--a fatal error indeed--and that would -rob human life of much of its melancholy grandeur. The beauty of -Virtue is but the smile on her celestial countenance--and may be -admired--loved--by those who hold but little communion with her inner -heart--and it may be overlooked by those who pay to her the most devout -worship. - -TALBOYS. - -Methinks, sir, that the moral emotion with which we regard actions -greatly right or greatly wrong, is no transport; it is an earnest, -solemn feeling of a mind knowing there is no peace for living souls, -except in their Moral Obedience, and therefore receiving a deep and -grateful assurance of the peace of one soul more, in witnessing its -adherence to its virtue; and the pain which is suffered from crime -is much more allied to sorrow, in contemplating the wilful departure -of a spirit from its only possible Good, than to those feelings of -repugnance and hate which characterise the temper of our common human -emotion towards crimes offering violence and outrage to humanity. - -NORTH. - -I believe that, though darkness lies round and about us seeking to -solve such questions, a feeling of deep satisfaction in witnessing -the adherence to Moral Rectitude, and of deep pain in witnessing the -departure from it, are the necessary results of a moral sensibility; -but taken in their elementary simplicity, they have, I think, -a character distinct from those many other emotions which will -necessarily blend with them, in the heart of one human being looking -upon the actions of another--"because that we have all one human heart." - -TALBOYS. - -Who can doubt that Religion infuses power and exaltation into the Arts? -The bare History teaches this. In Greece Poetry sang of Gods, and of -Heroes, in whose transactions Gods moved. Sculpture moulded Forms -which were attempted expressions of Divine Attributes. Architecture -constructed Temples. _De facto_ the Grecian Arts rose out of Religion. -And were not the same Arts, of revived Italy, religious? - -BULLER. - -They all require for their foundation and support a great pervading -sympathy--some Feeling that holds a whole national breast. This -is needed to munificently defraying the Costlier Arts--no base -consideration at bottom. For it is _a_ life-bond of this life, that is -freely dropped, when men freely and generously contribute their means -to the honour of Religion. There is a sentiment in opening your purse. - -SEWARD. - -Yes, Buller--without that sentiment, no man can love noble Art. The -true, deep, grand support of Genius is the confidence of universal -sympathy. Homer sings because Greece listens. Phidias pours out his -soul over marble, gold, and ivory, because he knows that at Olympia -united Greece will wonder and will worship. Think how Poet is dumb and -Sculptor lame, who foreknows that what he _would_ sing, what he _would_ -carve, will neither be felt nor understood. - -BULLER. - -The Religion of a people furnishes the sympathy which both _pays and -applauds_. - -TALBOYS. - -And Religion affords to the Artist in Words or Forms the highest -Norms of Thought--sublime, beautiful, solemn--withal the sense of -Aspiration--possibly of Inspiration. - -NORTH. - -And it guards Philosophy--and preserves it, by spiritual influence, -from degradation worse than death. The mind is first excited -into activity through the impressions made by external objects -on the senses. The French metaphysicians--pretending to follow -Locke--proceeded to discover in the mind a mere compound of Sensations, -and of Ideas drawn from Sensations. Sensations, and Ideas that were the -Relics of Sensations--nothing more. - -TALBOYS. - -And thus, sir, by degrees, the Mind appeared to them to be nothing else -than a product of the Body--say rather a state of the Body. - -NORTH. - -A self-degradation, my friend, which to the utmost removes the mind -from God. And this Creed was welcome to those to whom the belief in Him -was irksome. That which we see and touch became to such Philosophers -the whole of Reality. Deity--the Relation of the Creation to the -Creator--the hope of a Futurity beyond the grave--vanished from the -Belief of Materialists living in, and by, and to--Sensation. - -SEWARD. - -And with what a horrid sympathy was the creed welcomed! - -NORTH. - -Ay, Seward, I who lived nearer the time--perhaps better than you -can--know the evil. Not in the schools alone, or in the solitude -of philosophical thought, the doctrine of an arid speculation -circulated, like a thin and unwholesome blood, through the veins of -polite literature; not in the schools alone, but in the gorgeous and -gay saloons, where the highly-born, the courtly, and the wealthy, -winged the lazy hours with light or dissolute pleasures--there the -Philosophy which fettered the soul in the pleasing bands of the -Senses, which plucked it back from a feared immortality, which opened -a gulf of infinite separation between it and its Maker, was cordially -entertained--there it pointed the jest and the jibe. Scepticism a -study--the zeal of Unbelief! Principles of false thought appeared -suddenly and widely as principles of false passion and of false action. -Doubts, difficulties, guesses, fine spinnings of the perverse brain, -seized upon the temper of the times--became the springs of public and -popular movements--engines of political change. The Venerations of Time -were changed into Abominations. A Will strong to overthrow--hostile -to Order--anarchical--"intended siege and defiance to Heaven." The -irreligious Philosophy of the calmer time now bore its fruits. The -Century had prepared the explosion that signalised its close--Impiety -was the name of the Giant whom these throes of the convulsed earth had -borne into the day, and down together went Throne and Altar--But where -are we? - -BULLER. - -At the river mouth. - -NORTH. - -What! at home. - -BULLER. - -See the Tent-Lights--hear the Tent-Music. - -NORTH. - -Your arm, Talboys--till I disembark. Up to the Mount I shall then -climb, unassisted but by the Crutch. - - -_Printed by William Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh._ - - - - - Transcriber's Notes: - - - Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant - preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. - - Simple typographical and spelling errors were corrected. - - Italics markup is denoted by _underscores_. - - Bold markup is denoted by =equals=. - - Greek text has been transliterated and is denoted by @at signs@. - - Provided anchor for unanchored footnote on pp. 133 and 172. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. -66 No.406, August 1849, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, AUGUST 1849 *** - -***** This file should be named 43722-8.txt or 43722-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/7/2/43722/ - -Produced by Brendan OConnor, Richard Tonsing, Jonathan -Ingram and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Library of Early -Journals.) - - -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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